A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(84)

She was close enough that he could smell the salty tang of perspiration mixed with attar of damask rose, the scent Diana most favored. His nostrils flared in an effort to breathe her into his lungs, only to have a third component jolt his olfactory senses—feminine desire. He was not mistaken; she was becoming as aroused as he. But it was not enough to smell it. He wanted to see it—the passion in her eyes, the telling pink flush on her skin. With every nerve fiber in his body ignited, he could no longer control his breathing. The slow, deep respirations became erratic and ragged as she moved down his body, sneaking knowing glances through the slit in her veil. She knows damned well what she is about!

Her gaze fixed on his face, she poured more oil in her palm and with agonizing languor, wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, squeezing and pulling upward with warm, slick motions. She repeated the task with her opposite hand, and his mind blurred from the sheer bliss of sensation. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back with a groan, giving himself up to the pleasure of her decadently dexterous and deliberate ministrations—by turns, milking and massaging his shaft, the bulbous head of his cock, and his bollocks until he thought he would explode. He was hard as stone, full to overflowing with his own essence, and ready to spend with violence when she arrested her attention to his shaft and slid her fingers to the sensitive spot behind his sac. A moment of pressure and the urgency of his need eased off. How the devil did she learn this? He was almost afraid to know.

When she returned her attention to his jutting rod, he closed his hand tightly about her wrist. "You will remove your veils now, Didem," he commanded.

"Please, no, Effendi," she answered.

"But I wish to see your face when you pleasure me."

"But I must not."

"Must not show your face? Or must not finish what you started? For I believe that was our bargain...Diana."

***

He knew! The bastard knew all along! "How?" She gasped, pulling from his grasp to rip off the veils. "How did you know it was me?"

"Your carriage, your form...your scent," he answered. "They are all imprinted upon my brain. I would know you among a hundred women, Diana. Every time."

His unexpected answer took her breath away, but she was quick to recompose. She refused to let him rattle her. "Then why did you allow me to proceed?" she demanded.

"Because inhibitions are greatly lessened when one is incognito. I wanted you to be relaxed and unreserved. I also wanted to see how bold you would become, how far you would take this little game of subterfuge with no urging from me. I confess you surprise me. Greatly."

"Do I?" She couldn't help a sly smile. "I told you I would come to you when I was ready."

"You are more than ready, my dear." His eyes narrowed. "Might I ask how you came by this knowledge? How are you acquainted with Salime?"

"She first came to me, my lord. It seems she harbors an inordinate amount of affection for you."

"She merely feels a strong sense of obligation for her manumission. It is not unusual."

"It's more than that. Can't you see? She's in love with you, Ludovic."

"Then she mistakes her feelings," he said dismissively and sat up.

"You are wrong," Diana protested. "And if you cannot reciprocate, you should not encourage her. It is cruel." I know well the agony of unrequited feeling.

"I do not encourage her," he insisted. "Salime is not, nor has she ever been, my lover. Not in the true sense."

"No?" Diana laughed her skepticism. "Then what do you call all this?" She gestured to the hammam.

"You do not understand how it is in the East, Diana. She is merely a servant. She attends me here because she has the skills to do so, but I have never asked her for sexual gratification."

"Yet you have received it at her hand?" she accused.

"Yes. Upon occasion. And she has been very well compensated."

"And you do not call her your lover?"

"Absolutely not. For I have never encouraged her nor reciprocated in kind. Do you not understand the difference, Diana? I am no martyr. I have physical needs that I refuse to deny, but I have not shared my bed with any other woman since you. I have not spilled my seed inside any other woman's body."

Once more, Diana was shocked to silence. "You really expect me to believe that?" she asked when she found her tongue.

"Why should I lie? I have no need to do so. You are already here, and if you intend to uphold your word, you are mine, regardless. I still desire you, Diana, above any other woman. It's beyond my comprehension. I travelled extensively, hoping to find an end to this restlessness that incessantly plagues me, but to no avail. I wonder now if it was really you I needed all along. The only peace I have ever experienced was briefly, evanescently, with you. And now that you are here, I intend to lie with you and f*ck you senseless day and night in countless ways, until you are either purged from my system completely or branded on my very soul."

***

He didn't know where it had come from. He had never spoken of private needs to anyone. Part of him was horrified, as if he suddenly and uncontrollably sputtered nonsense, but the words were out and not to be taken back.

He studied her for what seemed an endless beat, his chest painfully contracting as he watched her face, her green eyes wide with hope, apprehension, and then doubt. It was clear she didn't trust him, but he had said all there was to say. The rest was only to be proven by deed.