A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(27)

Diana collapsed against him and felt herself lifted into his arms. She clung to his chest, breathless and helpless, feeling as if her spirit had left her body. He brought her briefly back to life with his lips on her mouth and carried her the few steps to his bed where he lay her down atop the snowy white linen. Dazed and satiated, she closed her eyes upon a sigh.

"Oh, no, you don't," he murmured, almost a threat. "We are far from finished."

She noted the strain in his face, the frustration in his voice, and realized with a flush that she had been too caught up in her own release to realize he had neither taken nor demanded his. The selflessness of it took her breath away. "What you did to me…it is beyond description."

"You experienced merely the briefest taste of what can be between us. I can show you so much more." His eyes glittered with promise.

"More? How can there be more? My heart would surely burst."

He laughed. "It is much as the French say—la petite mort, the little death. I can think of no more pleasant way to go. But if one ascribes to the Greek belief in three layers of heaven, you have only achieved the first."

"And the second?" she asked, wide-eyed in anticipation of his answer.

He guided her hand to his jutting erection. "The second is achieved when I fill you with my cock."

She flushed. "You still...you haven't..."

"I'm still hard as a spike and throbbing like hell," he answered tightly. "Do you wish to explore the second heaven now, Diana?" He bent over her, murmuring low and husky against her mouth. "Let me inside you now, and I will awaken you to all the ways of love."

He kissed her again, gently, tenderly at first, a whisper-soft brush and then traced her lips with his tongue. She flicked out her own and tasted the salty, sweet tang of her own passion still lingering on his mouth. The realization renewed the empty pang inside her. He deepened the kiss, and she rose up against him. He broke away to shed his silk banyan and reached for the placket of his breeches.

She sat up. "No. Please. Allow me."

He dropped his hands to his sides. His mouth twisted wryly. "Whatever your heart desires." With anticipation and trembling fingers, Diana fumbled with the buttons containing his straining sex. Freed at last, his manhood eagerly sprang forth. She stared, mesmerized by the smooth, purplish head, the long, thick shaft jutting from the nest of dark hair. She reached out but faltered. "I want to touch you, Ludovic. I want to give you pleasure, but I don't know how."

"You've never fondled a man's cock?"

"No, but I want to now." Her tongue darted over her lips. "If you would like it."

"Oh, I'd like much more than that," he growled. He took her hand and wrapped it around his turgid shaft. Tightening her grip around him, he slowly guided her hand down his length and up again. He was hot and hard, and smooth and silky, and felt like heaven in her hand. She squeezed and felt the pulsing throb of him. She slid her hand back up and down, finding a smooth steady rhythm, and stole a look at his face. His thick lashes shadowed his high cheekbone, his jaw was clenched, his body taut. The heady sensation returned to her in a rush. Growing more daring, she circled his smooth head with her thumb, spreading the seeping bead of wetness, making it slick. Suddenly his hand seized her wrist. His eyes glittered. His mouth was set in a grim line.

"Playtime is over now, Diana. Either use that lush mouth of yours, or let me fill your sweet quim."

***

She looked daunted by the thought. "My mouth?" she repeated. "Like you did to me?"

"That lesson can wait," he replied tersely. Though excessively fond of oral pleasures, the last thing Ludovic wanted was to intimidate or repulse her, but damn how he needed release. Now. Impatient to plunge into her, he shed his breeches and swiftly returned to her, caging her body beneath his, his mouth on her breast. He pressed his thigh between hers, urging them apart. She moaned and clutched him to her chest as his free hand guided the head of his cock to the swollen lips of her slick sex, sliding it in her folds, circling around her nub, rubbing the whole length of him in her dew and making her writhe. He fought down the urge to thrust wildly into her then and there.

Her urgent supplication bade his hands to seek the swells of her buttocks. He slid beneath them, raising her hips, spreading her wide. Her dewy pink lips unfurled to his view, reminding him of an exotic flower, an orchid in full bloom, her beautiful quim open and beckoning. It was the most exquisitely erotic sight. He thumbed the pulsing bud, and she whimpered. Still, he drank her in, licking his finger and stroking along her delicate folds with lust-filled fascination, until the hot surge of blood to his shaft and the tightening in his bollocks told him he'd had his visual fill.

He guided her long sleek legs while she gripped his shoulders. "Wrap your thighs around my waist." She surrounded him with her silky flesh and undulated, grinding her mons against him. She cried out, tearing at his hair, desperate for his possession. "Now. Please, Ludovic. Take me. Fill me up."

A primal sound escaped his throat as he plunged into her hot sheath in one deep, gliding stroke. She rewarded him with a sultry moan, and he jerked his hips with a grunt, impelling himself deeper, fully impaling her on his staff. He gripped her hips, pinning her in place as she stretched to accommodate his full length and breadth, her frenetically pulsing passage milking his manhood with delectable ripples while his heart pounded against his ribcage.