The Virgin Huntress (The Devil DeVere #2)(27)

“Believe me, Vesta, there is nothing closer to my own desire, but I don’t think you truly are ready to obey my wishes. We will not rush this just because you desire it so. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Hew. I’ll do as you ask.” She felt close to tears in her frustration. Her body positively cried out for him.

He released her hands. “You will keep your arms where they are,” he commanded. “And you will not move until I give you leave to do so.” He waited for her acknowledgment that came as a tearful nod, and then he was skirting down her belly with whisper soft caresses, kisses, and little nips of her flesh that made her shiver with delight. When he lingered to lap at her navel, the empty pang in her belly only increased. She wanted to writhe against him, every instinct called for her to do so, but she tamped it down. Still, he was growing ever closer to...oh my!

***

Hew cast his gaze up at her pink flushed face where she lay still, arms overhead just as he had commanded. Her eyes were closed, but her rosy lips were softly parted as if awaiting another kiss. Her breasts rose and fell in an erratic rhythm with her breathing. He grazed his fingers through the soft mass of hair, and she trembled.

He knew she was more than ready for him. Even with his dearth of first-hand experience, he recognized the intensity of her arousal. It was present in every soft sound of pleasure she made, the way her body responded under the lightest touch and—God help him—the essence of her sex. His hands stroked her smooth thighs, moving steadily upward, while his mouth made its own stealthy descent. He wanted to bury his face in her mons and drink in the downy texture and tangy scent of aroused woman. The thought alone nearly undid him, so overwhelming was the realization of his erotic dreams to his deprived senses.

But Hew was supremely self-possessed, and this was, indeed, an exercise in discipline. Experience had already taught him the futility of trying to rein Vesta in by any conventional means, for she was governed only by her passions. Thus, he would use passion to govern her.

“Spread your legs for me, Vesta” he commanded.

“But—”

“Do you wish me to touch you again?”

“Yes, I do. Truly!” She gasped.

“Then do what I ask of you.”

“But, Hew! You mustn’t!” She cried out when he nuzzled her nest of curls, inhaling deeply of her heady perfume. “It’s...indecent!”

“Says who?” He chuckled. “Have you not read the Scriptures, Vesta? ‘Awake, O north wind, and come, wind of the south, Make my garden breathe out fragrance, let its spices be wafted abroad. May my beloved come into his garden and eat its choice fruits.’”

“You can’t possible think that means...”

He cocked a brow at her. “After extensive meditation on it, indeed, I do, my dearest.”

He parted her quivering thighs, allowing himself to finally gaze upon the exotic vision he had hitherto only imagined. “And what a lovely and fragrant garden you have.”

She made a halfhearted sound of protest as he gently parted her nether lips for more intimate exploration. Unfurled before his eyes like a hothouse flower, she resembled an orchid in truth, all delicate folds, so pink and slick and soft against his tongue. He took his initial taste of her desire, and Hew felt something akin to drunkenness, intoxication by lust. It was sheer agony to his throbbing cock to touch her, to kiss her so intimately, knowing she wanted him, writhed for him.

Yet he gently licked and kissed each part of her, watching, listening to her sultry sounds, learning her body and responding to her cues, resolved to bring her into submission if it killed him. “You may lower your arms now,” he instructed, “for I wish to see you touch your breasts.”

“You want me to...”

“You heard me,” he said. “I want you to fondle your breasts while I kiss your sex. Your obedience is wanting, Vesta. Perhaps I should desist?”

***

“No!” she whimpered and readily complied. “What you did— it’s so...so...sublime, Hew. Please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop!” She cried out, and her entire body shuddered with each decadent kiss and probing stroke of his tongue. His mouth was magical, creating warm, wickedly wanton waves of pleasure that rippled deep inside her, but at the same time, making her passage pulse with empty yearning. She squirmed against him. “I can’t bear the torture anymore! I am so very ready for you, Hew. I feel so empty, I ache. Please! Please make it go away.”

“Be patient, my sweet, for I intend to make it very much better...for both of us.”

His tongue located her secret hidden place, the sensitive bud of her clitoris, and he kissed her again. This time, his tongue swirled in deliberate circles, and his fingers traced and gently probed the opening to her body, the place where he would enter her. Her pulsing blood roared in her ears as the throbbing tension pulsed frenetically, mounting and coiling up inside her. It was too much!

Her breath seized, her mind blurred, and then her body racked with convulsive waves as if nothing existed outside the black void of sensation. When the rapturous aftershocks had subsided, she lay quietly, gazing into his face with wonderment. He looked down upon her as well, his expression tender and a small smile hovering over his perfect lips, but then something different flared in his eyes, and Hew was over her, claiming her mouth in a hungry kiss as the heavy weight of his body pressed her thighs wider.