The Devil You Know (The Devil DeVere #3)(29)

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 beckon-ing. 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.

Dear God in heaven. She was tight and wet and smooth as silk, and he feared he would combust if either of them moved. He held her thusly for an interminable heartbeat, and then she began to tremble beneath him, the first stage of her impending orgasm.

He pulled back and thrust in again. She gasped. Her sex spasmed tighter about him, and he was suddenly lightheaded, the blood roar-ing in his ears. “Kiss me,” she whispered and rose up to him. He crushed his mouth down on hers, and his mind blurred to all but the urge to pound into her until they both exploded.

He had filled her with ***

his sex. Hot and throbbing, her body strained to adjust. It was part pain, part pleasure and the most exquisite agony she’d ever known. She was already writhing with the need for release. “Kiss me,” she whispered. And then his mouth was on hers, his tongue plunging in and out, sucking and swirling in rhythm with the hammering force of his sex. Plunge and drag. Sweet, slick friction. She clutched his shoulders, her fingers gouging his flesh, urging him on. He drove into her fiercely, relentlessly.

Breathing ragged, bodies coated in a thin sheen of sweat, the slap of flesh on flesh, the pressure increasing. Too much. Not enough. Rising higher. Dipping back. Harder. Faster. Spiraling out of control, her body jerked, and her orgasm came crashing, ripping over her in pul-sating waves. Her sex contracted in a last powerful spasm that rippled through her, leaving her in final breathless, boneless repletion.

Ludovic cried out, a guttural sound, before he jerked out of her body, shuddering and spilling hot jets of liquid fire over her. He collapsed against her with a groan, rolling her into his arms, her head pillowed by his body.

Her cheek resting against a chest still sounding a rapid drumbeat and steadily slowing to an even thud with his longer deeper respira-tions, she closed tear-filled eyes. Her heart surged inside her chest with gratitude...and something more she couldn’t define. They had exchanged no words after their mutual release, but to Diana, there were none sufficient to express her awe in the heart-sundering rapture she had experienced. In this warm cocoon of wondrous well-being she slipped into sated slumber.

***

Diana awoke hours later to feel a warm, stirring sensation against her thigh. In the pale light of dawn, she stole a look at her lover’s face, for there was no denying now what he had become to her in one passion-filled night. They were lovers now in truth, her reality now far exceeding her nocturnal fantasies. She thought about what he had done to her, how he had worshipped her body with his own, had led her to soaring heights without demanding anything more than she was willing to offer in return. It filled her with warmth, with the need to give back.

Her gaze lingered on the strong profile, the half-smile curving his soft, sensuous mouth, the wonderful wicked mouth that had wrought pure rapture. Her eyes drifted to the throbbing pulse of his neck, and she was suddenly filled with the powerful urge to lick it, to trace the column of it, to suckle his nipples, to pleasure him in every way he had her. She lifted the sheet and drank in the delicious vision of the lean, sculpted muscle and sinew that formed the solid wall of his abdomen, the erotic trail of black hair leading to his phallus, semi-erect in its nest of dark curls and resting benignly against her thigh. Her stomach fluttered at the remembrance of what he had wanted from her. An illicit shiver rippled through her at the thought of putting her mouth on his sex. She wondered if she dared, but desire soon over-came trepidation.

Her hair curtained his face as she feathered kisses against his strong, square jaw. Drifting downward, she enacted her wish and licked his neck, teasing with her tongue. She shifted her weight onto his body, and he stirred beneath her, his arousal surging upward, his hands moving automatically to grip her buttocks before his lashes had even fluttered fully open. She shifted deftly out of his grasp. He reached for her.

“No,” she said. “It is my turn now.”

Vivid, blue eyes met hers, questioning from beneath hooded lids.

She licked her lips and traced her tongue around the disk of his nipple. “Do you like that?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “You are wonderfully sensuous, Diana.”