The Virgin Huntress (The Devil DeVere #2)(29)

Growing frustrated with his lack of response to her efforts to rouse him, she grew bolder yet. With her mouth and tongue, she kissed his neck and chest and then worked her way lower, following the erotic trail of dark hair to where it disappeared beneath the bed linens, the slightly tented bed linens, she observed with a smile. Although she had earlier held him briefly in her hand, she had not had a good look before. Vesta moved lower yet, exposing him to the knees and looked her fill at the wondrous instrument that had wrought so much pleasure. Her efforts had not been in vain after all, for he was aroused now. The sight of him, large and thick and erect, sent a flood of liquid heat straight to her sex. Utterly fascinated, she itched to hold it in her hand. She reached out a finger and tentatively stroked the underside. The skin was smooth and surprisingly soft to the touch.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of it.” Hew looked down at her with a mocking smile.

She startled and regarded him guiltily, as if she’d been caught doing something she oughtn’t. “I’m not afraid, but you said you didn’t like to be touched.”

“On the contrary.” He took her hand in his. “I said I was unaccustomed to another’s touch, but that does not mean I don’t desire it,” he said. “I have given myself to you, Vesta. My body is now yours, to do with as you will.”

“Is it really?” By way of answer, he wrapped her hand around his staff. She closed her eyes to relish the sensation. Vesta felt a faint quivering of anticipation now that she understood precisely what he meant. He was made just for her.

She tightened her grip and slid her hand slowly along his length and glanced up at his sharp intake of breath. She continued to stroke him, loving the feel of him, hot and pulsing and altogether wonderful. She bit her lips with a mischievous look. “Hew,” she asked in a deceptively casual tone. “Are there other scriptures you have meditated on?”

“I’m not a particularly religious man, if that is what you ask.”

“No, I don’t speak of the Ten Commandments, for surely we have just broken one of them—”

“A circumstance I wish to rectify with all dispatch,” Hew said, sober faced.

“But that’s not what I ask,” she said. “I refer to the poetic ones. You know, like you quoted earlier. Are there others like that? Ones that speak of love?”

“Well, yes...” he said with hesitation. “I know of one other at least.” She noted the high color in his cheeks and at the tips of his ears.

“Might I hear it?”

His color deepened, and the pulse jumped in his neck. “’Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. In his shade, I took great delight and sat down, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.’”

“That’s lovely,” she said. “But I would best describe you as an oak, although oaks don’t have fruit, do they? Might I taste you?” she asked, and felt his member surge in her hand. “When you tasted me, it was truly rhapsodic,” she said. “Might a man also receive pleasure thusly?”

He exhaled a long hiss, a reaction that made her stomach flutter. “Immense pleasure...I am given to understand,” he said.

She digested this only for a moment. “Then would you like me to do so?”

“Dear God, what a question.”

***

Hew was incredulous. When he had thought to take a wife, he had hoped to find a woman who would do more than simply tolerate her conjugal duty, but never could he have conceived finding one who would embrace the notion of the marital bed, let alone in all its variations, with such fervor. Vesta’s sexual curiosity and boldness excited the hell out of him.

Hew couldn’t suppress his shudder when she circled her index finger around the sensitive head of his cock and then ran her thumb lightly over the surface. “Would you like that, Hew?” she asked again. “I truly wish to please you.”

Her decadent suggestion instantly hardened his bollocks into stone and sent his heart galloping madly in his chest. She regarded him with both hesitation and desire evident in her luminous, green-gold eyes.

“If it is truly your wish, Vesta, I think I would enjoy it excessively.”

She smiled back at him. Her pink tongue darted over her lips, and Hew’s stomach lurched. Although he desperately wanted to watch, Hew knew he couldn’t, for it would just be too much, the surfeit to his senses above and beyond what he could bear. When she lowered her head, he closed his eyes, marshaling all his defenses for her sensual onslaught.

He felt the soft brush of her lush lips and her warm breath caressing his bollocks as she worked her mouth from his base to tip with feathery kisses. The tentative flicks and delicate rasp of her tongue along his length fired a jolt of sensation that tore through his body. He groaned with rapt agony.

With her breast pillowed on his thigh, she kissed his crown and began probing more boldly with her tongue. He tangled his hands in her hair. He ached to feel her lips surround him, yet held back the almost overwhelming urge to prod her mouth. Dear God, please.

The hot, wet heat that suddenly enveloped him was an answer to his prayer. She took him slowly into her mouth, and he thought he would expire on the spot. She caressed him with her slick, swirling tongue, while her hands stroked his staff. It was exquisite and utterly unbearable. The blood roared in his ears. His breathing became short. He knew he couldn’t hold back much longer. “Enough.” He moaned and withdrew from her mouth.