Seduction in Mind

Her breathy plea jolted through his body, his own covetousness at fever pitch and moving swiftly, he deposited her on the bed, stripped off her drawers, and tossed them aside. Wrenching open the buttons on his trousers, he undressed in seconds, lowered himself between her open thighs, and plunged in without fore-play or preliminaries, without so much as a kiss, because she was clutching at his shoulders and rising to meet him and so damned wet, he was sliding into her yielding flesh without resistance. Whimpering, she arched up to meet him, impatient, needy, the supple strength of her thighs in counterpoint to his driving invasion. And when he was fully submerged, when he was buried to the hilt, she blissfully sighed. Gratified, he moved slightly upward so she would feel the pressure more intensely.

'Oh, God, oh, God…'

And it felt as though her breathy cry were vibrating through every pulsing nerve in his body. There was no accounting for the inexplicable feeling, for the tremulous, breath-held sensation, and he understood in those seconds that a fuck was no longer a fuck. That he wished to feel this again-that he would. And if the strength of Miss Ionides's grip-everywhere-was any indication, she was going to eat him alive.

Or he her, because this astonishing pleasure was unique in his much-explored sexual universe.

Wishing to experience the momentous rapture once again, he withdrew against her protest, and driving back in caught his breath against the awesome pleasure. 'Christ,' he whispered, and holding himself hard against her womb, he absorbed the shimmering ecstasy while she panted beneath him. Impaled, stretched taut, enchantment rolled over her in heated waves. And then he pressed forward that exquisite distance more, and she screamed.

Neither was capable of restraint after that, and in the grip of such fierce desire they moved in a greedy, fevered flux and flow, rocking the seraglio bed, exploring the extremity and dimension of their need, avaricious-famished- frenzied.

She discovered he was as good as rumor maintained-better, in fact, and beyond his practiced skills and expertise, he had all the natural gifts-breadth, width, length-to bring a woman extraordinary pleasure.

But her fleeting moment of appreciation was interrupted by his next powerful downstroke and any further reflection was swamped by glorious sensation, by the hovering imminency of orgasm. The explosive pleasure broke, shocking, violent, so intense it rocked her senses, burned through her body, inundated her soul with glowing rapture-was beyond anything she'd ever known. And blissful moments later, panting, flushed, her senses still reeling, she marginally lifted her lashes and met the viscount's faint smile.

'Tell me when it's my turn,' he whispered.

She was about to speak, but he moved just then and she caught her breath, a delirious splendor riveting her attention. And when he glided a fraction deeper, she cried out, ravishing sensation jolting down every nerve and pulsing tissue.

'No,' she breathed, overwrought, overwhelmed.

'Yes,' he said almost as softly, and sliding his hands under her bottom, he lifted her into his next downstroke.

She screamed-the sound filling the canopied bed, the room, echoing through the high-ceilinged studio. And she came again in a wild, agonizing convulsion that brought tears to her eyes.

He kissed away her tears afterward, murmuring sweet love words along the dampness of her lashes, down her cheeks, across her parted lips, and her body warmed to his caresses as he knew it would. Whether it was chivalry or politesse or a novel degree of affection for the lady in his arms, he indulged her easily incited senses with both patience and gallantry three times more before he allowed himself his own indulgence and withdrew to come on her stomach.

The afternoon sun was low in the sky, a lemony light pervading the room, bathing their sweat-sheened bodies. Contentment was palpable in the air.

'This must be an enchanted bed,' Sam whispered, brushing her cheek with a kiss.

She smiled up at him. 'Now it is.'

'The world has taken on a cloudless charm.' His gaze was warm, close.

'All because-'

'I saw you in Leighton's painting at Grosvenor House.'

'I was going to say… I invited you in.'

'Definitely because of that,' he agreed, lightly running his fingertip over the curve of her lush bottom lip. 'And because I had to have you.'

'And I you.'

He smiled. 'After I overcame your reservations.'

She shook her head gently. 'When I no longer could resist.'

'That I understand,' he simply said. 'Because I'm not leaving anytime soon. Don't go away.' Rolling off her, he leaned on his elbows and surveyed the room, looking for a towel.

'Over there.' Half raising her hand, she pointed toward the door to her bathroom.

'I hope you can read my mind. I wouldn't want to think this was so routine, you-'

'If it were routine, darling, I'd have the towels close by.'

'Excellent answer. You're eligible for a prize.'

'I hope you can read my mind,' she noted playfully, 'in terms of prizes.'

He was already halfway across the room. 'No problem there.'

'Good. Bring extra towels.'

'I don't suppose it would do any good to mention that men don't like women who tell them what to do.'

'If you don't mind being told that women abhor dictatorial men.'

'I'd say you need some schooling in the finer points of courtship,' he observed playfully. 'Aren't women supposed to be pleasant and agreeable?'

'I doubt what just transpired was courtship. Unless the word has taken on a new meaning since last I heard?'

'I meant it in the broadest sense.' Looking back, he wet his finger with his tongue and ticked off an imaginary mark. 'Another demerit, Miss Ionides, to add to your list. You may not receive your reward if you're not more complaisant.'

'Perhaps I can think of some way to please you,' she purred.

He disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared quickly, carrying several towels. 'See, you're learning already.'

Her small moue was enticing. 'If you weren't so well endowed, my lord, I wouldn't be inclined to listen to you at all. However…'

'I am-with all due modesty.' His gaze was amused.

'Lucky me.'

'Lucky us,' he said. 'But if I offend you with my teasing,' he added with a new gravity, 'let me know. I don't wish to offend you.'

'Don't worry, darling. I have no trouble speaking up.'

He liked the sound of darling when she uttered it, the endearment gentle to his ear. And their benevolent mood may have continued indefinitely had not a man's face at the window brought him to a standstill. Tossing her a towel, he gruffly muttered, 'Jesus God, he's back.'

She turned, following the direction of his gaze, and found herself looking into Harry's soulful eyes. Suppressing the exclamation that came to her lips, she quickly swiped the towel over her stomach and, rising from the bed, wrapped the sheet around her. 'Excuse me.'

'Will you be gone long?' A contentious note rang in his words.

'No, but if it's a problem for you, you're excused.'

'Maybe he brought you more flowers.'

With Harry, one never knew. 'I'll be right back.'

'Fucking hurry.'

She turned at the fiat in his tone. 'I beg your pardon?'

He glowered for a fleeting moment and then said with exquisite restraint, 'I'd appreciate if you'd return as soon as possible.'