“Take it off.”
She did, letting the night air caress her; then like Clarisse, she followed his next hoarse command. “Bend over the rail, display your lovely arse for me.” His hips pressed to her, and the long, hard line of his erection bumped the valley of her derriere. “I want to do the most intimate things with you, Grace, if all I have is tonight.” As he spoke, he arched forward and the head of his cock, thick and swollen, pushed into her wet quim.
G
race cried out in passion, her hot, tight cunny pulsing around him as she came again. Gritting his teeth, Devlin let his head drop back and shut his eyes tight.
Control. Control.
He couldn’t watch her come, damn it. He would explode inside her in an instant.
Grace thrust back against him, teasing his aching, ready-to-burst cock with her cream-slicked grip. It was torture to hang on, but he would do it.
Slowly he withdrew, pausing to punish himself with the head of his cock at the edge of her pussy. Grace slumped forward, greedily drawing in loud breaths, and Devlin felt his chest rumble with a laugh. He drew back finally, and his cock popped free, jerking up to rest against her lush arse.
She wriggled her derriere against him, slapping his cock against her cheeks.
God—
He dipped his fingers into her creamy quim, then rubbed the furled entrance to her rump. She gasped at the caress, and he stroked her until a deep, hungry moan tumbled from her lips.
“You like that,” he said softly.
“It’s good.”
“You’ll like my mouth there too,” he promised.
“Devlin, you can’t possibly do that—” But his tongue was already slicking over her rounded cheeks as he dropped to his knees behind her, and her words vanished into the hot, dark night.
His tongue flicked lazily over that sweetly tight opening and he tasted her most intimate flavors on his tongue. Clean from the bath but still earthy and ripe.
“I saw this…in a picture…” she breathed. “But I had no idea it was really done.”
He wanted to say that anything was possible, and he wanted to do anything that gave her pleasure, but he just slid his tongue into her anus instead, twirling it to tease her sensitive rim.
Her back arched in a graceful line and her golden hair tumbled down her back. Her cries of delight floated up to the stars. Devlin held her hips, rocking her back to him as he plunged his tongue up her arse. His cock jutted up from his groin, swaying heavily, and his juice dribbled out of the tip.
He couldn’t hold back any longer.
“That was so good, so astonishingly so,” Grace whispered as he stood.
He stroked the sleek line of her back, letting his hand cup her rump. “I want to make love to you that way.”
“You are certainly blunt!” But she nodded, her teeth worrying her lip. “You think I’m wanton, don’t you? Of course you do—”
“I think you are the woman I want to pleasure. Now, stop judging yourself, love. Enjoy.” He took hold of his shaft and brushed the head of his cock along the valley of her bottom.
She surged back, wriggling until the head touched her entrance. “Yes.”
“Take it slow.” He was warning himself, warning her. “Do you trust me?”
“Why?” she asked and her voice betrayed surprise. “Should I not?”
He chuckled at that, her blunt and simple question. “No, you have every reason to trust me.”
Slowly, he thrust forward, his shaft bending in a painful but arousing way as his slippery cock tried to penetrate. She wasn’t wet, but he was leaking juices. A small cry and her muscles opened to let him in, then resisted. She was gasping, panting.
He stroked her back, kissed the fragrant crook of her neck. “All right?”
“It’s irresistible now,” she answered. “I have to do it.” Her voice was soft, seductive, relaxed—promising that she did indeed trust him.
Why had he asked for her trust?
But he couldn’t think—her heat, her snug, enticing ring held him and teased him, squeezing the engorged head of his cock. Fists clenched, he worked his hips forward, pressing until she squeaked or gasped, then drawing back. They were locked in a sensual dance of anticipation. He would push in and she would take him, then gasp and pull away.
Each press forward was like dipping his wick into scalding flame. He watched his cock disappear inch by inch between the plump mounds of her arse as his heart pounded and his throat tightened. His ballocks pulled up tight as she cried “yes” and he surged forward, filling her, stretching her.
He slid his hand around front, between the swell of her tummy and the railing, and he found her clit, circling the bud with his finger.
She ground against his hand, then pushed back. She pumped against him, surprising him with her speed, her aggression. She half-turned, her cheeks a vivid flush.
If she wanted it hard and fast—
He thrust hard, giving her his cock to the hilt, and his brain stopped working, and his instincts took over.
Bury yourself in her heart. Rub her until she screams.
She bucked back to him, and he felt her mound collide with his fingers with every frantic jolt.
“Devlin! Dev!”
She was coming. Beautifully. Ferociously.
Like a sixty-foot wave, his orgasm hit him, shattering his control. His balls jerked up tight and his surging come jetted out of him, filling her, coating him; and he gripped her to hold himself inside while his brain dissolved.
God, it was good—
He bent forward just as she arched back. His lips found hers and he drank in her cries. Her tongue teased his, and she kissed him with a fury that told him how intense her pleasure had been. She was claiming him, devouring him because he’d made her come so hard.
And he liked it.
“I’m not going to let you go, Grace.”
Sleepily, Grace blinked. Devlin’s words drifted into her thoughts, but she didn’t entirely understand them. Then her brain focused on the word
not
and she jerked up to realize she was lying in his bed, nude, and he was sprawled naked at her side. Her legs pressed against his, her breasts damp with sweat with trickles running between. She gaped at Devlin. His amber brows were slashes over his eyes, his mouth firm and determined.
“You have to let me go!” She cried. It should have been exciting, arousing, to wake in his bed. Now she just felt like a prisoner. “I’m a day late already. Don’t you understand? My grandmother will think I am not coming. I wrote to her there to say I would, but she will think I changed my mind. She’ll leave. She will be hurt—”
“Good for her, then. Nothing she doesn’t deserve.” Devlin sat up, resting his big shoulders against the headboard.
Grace waved her hands frantically. “It was not her fault! If her husband insisted she was not to have anything to do with us, what exactly was she to do, O wise and commanding Captain?”
He shrugged. “A woman can bend even the most unyielding idiot to her will.”
“Oh, really. And how is she to do that?” And then she slumped back and let tears fall. They were not entirely false—she was tired and shaking, and what if her grandmother really had given up on her arrival?
“Stop it. You have no right to cry over a shallow and callous woman.”
Grace loudly sucked in a sobbing breath and saw him wince. “Do you not understand what it is like to be shunned simply for your birth? For who you are?”
“Yes,” he grunted, his mouth harder. “I’m a marquis’ bastard.”
“Yes, but your father acknowledges you. Lady Prudence claimed your father prefers you—”
“That, my love, is not the truth.”
“You knew the house—you even knew its secret passages.” And she had only been in the home of the Earl and Countess of Warren once, incognito. She had taken one of the public tours with her sisters and mother. “All I want is just to speak to her.”
Devlin sat up abruptly and shoved back his hair with both hands. Lines furrowed his brow. “Damn and blast, all right. I won’t steal this from you, love.”
“You are going to let me go?” Grace grimaced as she asked the question. Who was he to dictate to her? Why should she have to ask his permission? But she knew, from a lifetime of biting her tongue, that it was better to coerce than to confront.
He bent forward, resting his elbows on her knees, and slanted her a glance. “Of course. Tomorrow morning.”
He looked so devastatingly handsome in that position, she had to force herself to look away. Leaving now meant leaving his bed and never returning.
It was for the best. Truly it was.
“Good,” she answered, “I was going to go, with your permission or not, my highwayman.” Now that she had her victory, she wanted to salvage some of her pride.
A wicked grin turned up his lips and she clutched the sheets—suddenly, she couldn’t slide out of bed. Then he rolled over, capturing her with his arms. “Men who live outside the law are not easily defied, sweetheart. Remember that.”
She intended to protest but his hips settled between her thighs and the only sound she managed was a flustered, “Ooh.”
“I’m hard for you, Grace,” he groaned and she felt his cock nudging against her. “I woke up hard for you.”
She gulped, remembering Lord Wesley whispering similar words. But Devlin did not look smug and lusty. He looked…ravaged.
Uncertain, Grace gazed up at his surprisingly solemn blue eyes and teased, “Even after all our lovemaking?”
Where was the rakish pirate? Why did he seem so deadly serious about his arousal? But then he grinned, treating her to how delicious he was with dimples and crinkles at his eyes. He winked. “Yes. I could make love to you forever.”
He thrust forward and she was so slippery, so wet, he slid right in. Filling her. Making her cry out.
“Yes,” she moaned. This was when they thought and felt as one. She arched up to him, meeting his thrusts. He slipped his hand between them, teasing her clit until she saw stars.
Sobbing, she came. And even though she’d climaxed a dozen times before, it was as good, as heart melting, as exquisite. She screamed—swallowed her cry as Devlin captured her mouth in a kiss.
Shuddering, Devlin came with her and it was almost as good as coming herself. Limp, sweaty, whirling, she wrapped her arms and legs around him. And held him tight.
Three naked women slept in an erotic jumble on the daybed in his study. Devlin found himself chuckling at the sight, entertained but not aroused.
He’d left Grace in his bed while he walked around to see what was happening within the house. He would love to see her slumbering there on his daybed in the evenings: lovely, creamy perfection, exhausted by his lovemaking, tucked in with silken throws. He would tend to his work and watch her. He could never tire of watching her—
“Who is she?”
Devlin looked up to find Rogan St. Clair standing in the doorway, wearing only a pair of trousers. His lieutenant was barefoot and held a bottle of port in one hand, a lit cheroot in the other.
“Who is she?” Rogan repeated—“Who is the woman you took hostage, captain?”
Devlin sauntered past the slumbering women and casually poured a brandy. “She is not a hostage.”
“Your evasive answer makes me think that the luscious lovely is worth a bloody boatload of money. True?”
“She will not be ransomed.”
Rogan had walked into the room and flopped into one of the wing chairs drawn up close to the low fire. “From a good family, is she? Lovely way of speaking she has. Obviously she’s a lady, and from the look of the clothes on her back, I’d say she’s a wealthy one.”
His lieutenant took a swig from his bottle, then wiped his mouth and leered. “Lovely tits on her. So what do you want with her, Captain? The novelty of introducing a well-bred virgin to the dirty, sweaty pleasures of fucking?”
He fisted his hand, itching to slam it into Rogan’s nose, but he knew that to fight now would only increase St. Clair’s interest in Grace. There was an angry edge to Rogan’s words that Devlin did not like. Worry over lost money? Or something else? “Get the hell out, St. Clair,” he said cheerfully but with an edge of warning beneath his own words.
“So I take it she’s not a virgin. Not anymore. Still, how much do you think her fine family would pay to get her back?”
Devlin clenched his hand and the brandy glass exploded. The fine amber drink dripped to the floor along with droplets of his blood. “I’ve saved your bloody hide a dozen times, St. Clair. Do not push me or I will shoot you where you stand. You are to treat the lady with the utmost respect. She will not be frightened or harmed. And she will not be ransomed.”
Rogan got to his feet, and the jovial grin had been replaced by hard anger. “What’s the harm, Captain, if you don’t intend to hurt her? You’re planning to let her go home, and her family would pay for the privilege, none the wiser.”
Devlin took out the key to the drawer that contained a set of fine dueling pistols.
“She’s worth a bloody fortune and we are a team, the lot of us,” St. Clair said. “You have no right to deny the rest of the men this chance—”
The gleaming wood box settled on his desk with a thud that silenced St. Clair.
“I won’t kill you, St. Clair. Instead, I will give you the opportunity to fight for it.”
Rogan pulled the cheroot from between his teeth. “You’ve never missed before, Captain. I’d be a fool to do it.” His lips had drawn back from his teeth in rage. “You’re only offering because you know you’ll win.”
“Go back to the orgy, St. Clair. Spare your hide.”
Snarling, Rogan turned abruptly, then stalked out of the room.
Devlin returned the box to the drawer and pocketed the key, realizing how wrong he had been, how very correct Grace was. She could not stay. In the morning, as he’d agreed, he had to let her go. He had no damned choice.
So he would not waste another minute apart from her.
Oh, but she was sore. Grace’s thighs ached from stretching around Devlin’s hips, but it was a wonderful ache. Even though she was now dressed, she lay on the sofa, trying to find the energy to walk. She had rode Devlin while sharing breakfast with him—a delicate feat while drinking chocolate.
He had lounged back with his coffee on the delicate chair in the parlor and let her ride him like a wild woman. He’d flicked her clit with his coffee-warmed tongue until she’d exploded over and over.
And now she had to go.
Devlin popped in the door of the drawing room. “Ready, sweetheart?”
She nodded. This was her choice—she must be prepared to go, but her heart felt heavy as she got to her feet, then joined Devlin.
He walked with her out to the circle of gravel in the front of his house. Only one of his men waited for them, relaxing against her carriage, smoking. He held a pistol, letting it rest against his thigh. He was the raven-haired man who had had two women sucking his privates. He was Devlin’s lieutenant, Mr. St. Clair.