Fascinated

him a seductive smile. 'I'd thought I'd make myself available.'

'You don't think I could take you if I wanted?'

'It would be a change, at least. You never have to take, do you?'

'Make a selection, perhaps,' he insolently drawled.

'But you want me now, don't you? What if I said no?'

'You can't.'

'Nor can you.'

'A not unpleasant dilemma, I'd say. Are you ready to try this again?' he softly asked. 'Because I'm not finished yet.'

'Do you often play like this?'

He had no intention of answering. 'Do you?'

'You know better.'

'Somehow I like being the first,' he murmured with a sinful smile, placing the chocolate against her mouth.

She did as well, the blatant beauty of his smile only one of his numerous charms. And she took the candy into her mouth to please herself and him and bit into it while he watched with a modicum of caution she found amusing. As the chocolate coating cracked, a tiny rivulet of cherry cream oozed down her chin.

'How sweet you look with pink cream running down your face,' he murmured, lifting the candy away. Leaning forward, he licked a lingering path upward, devouring the sugary trickle. 'Definitely good enough to eat,' he whispered as his mouth came to rest on hers. 'Now don't move,' he warned, easing away.

His warning was unnecessary, her understanding clarified, her body taut with longing.

Tipping the chocolate, he dribbled a thin stream of pink liquid over one nipple and then the other, lightly smearing the creamy sweet over and around each tingling crest. Then dropping the chocolate shell back into the box, he sat back to admire his handiwork. 'Look, darling. How do you like being my favorite bonbon?'

She glanced down, the rose crests slick with the pale confection, glossy and emblazoned because Flynn required it. 'To be your bonbon is my greatest desire.' Her voice was low, infused with seductive flattery. If need be, she would paint her body with sweetness to have him.

'How delightfully submissive.' A slow half smile graced his mouth. 'You learn quickly, my sweet dairy maid.'

'If you would look on me kindly, my lord, I await your pleasure.'

'I find humility a most charming asset in a servant,' he said, his grin as insolent as her statement. 'You may win a place in the main house for such deference.'

'Would that mean I might warm your bed, my lord?'

'You'd have to take your turn, of course.'

'Perhaps,' she whispered, delectable promise in her voice, 'I could find a way to please you best.'

He gazed at her for a breath-held moment, her lush body incarnate female, voluptuous, full-breasted with a narrow waist and curving hips and soft thighs that could only have been made for love. That were made for love. 'Perhaps you could,' he whispered, a sudden, unnerving truth to his words. But as quickly he deflected such perilous sentiment. 'I think we're done now,' he abruptly said. For half his life, sex had been his entertainment and amusement, a means of keeping feeling at bay. And he reverted to type with ease.

His mouth closed over one frosted nipple, and with delicate concentration, he swiftly sucked first one, then the other clean. No longer interested in play, he was intent on the simple act of fornication, needing the physical gratification and oblivion that only a woman's body could bring. Easing her down on the bed, he slid between her thighs and plunged inside because he didn't want to think or speculate or change his life in any way; he only wanted to feel the seething rapture of an orgasm. Forcing himself deeper, he buried himself in the anonymous female sweetness that had always offered deliverance. But this time at the farthest limit of his downthrust, his throbbing erection rammed against a soft, specific, highly personalized womb.

Perhaps a fertile, life-giving womb.

The terrifying thought almost arrested the powerful rhythm of his lower body, and if not for the mindless urgency compelling him, he might have been able to stop. But he didn't, couldn't, wouldn't, and as he drove into her again, she suddenly came like she was wont to do in a swift, wild delirium that warmed his cock, his lustful soul and oddly his heart.

Heedless of all but his selfish quest for orgasm, he continued his savage hammering into her, ignoring his misgivings, immune to consequences, rash, impetuous, fevered like a callow youth when he had never been imprudent even then. But everything seemed different this time, his nerves raw to the quick, his sensory receptors so vigilant he was conscious of the pulse beats in the hot, sleek tissue of her vagina-in the answering beat of his heart. And familiar lust was overwhelmed by another kind of pleasure, finer, more pervasive, deep-felt, as though a new vista had opened in the sumptuous realm of sensation.

He was selfish when he rarely was, intent on taking, on possessing and owning her-not in play, but in fact. The rhythm of his body was so violent, she was steadily pushed upward. And even when the pillows piled against the headboard arrested his progress, he continued his assault, softly grunting with each powerful downstroke, forcing her thighs wider with each savage thrust, needing to dominate her completely.

He was unaware of her orgasmic cries when he climaxed, conscious only of a shameless sense of mastery and triumph and the panting voice in his ear, growling, 'You're mine,' as he poured into her.

But he had avoided attachment for so long, he quickly came to his senses and with cooler, post-orgasmic reason, recalled his commitment to personal freedom. Quickly disengaging himself, he rolled away, the consequences of unprotected sex and entrapment suddenly in the forefront of his brain. Raising himself on one elbow, he scowled at the woman beside him. 'Why aren't you concerned with protection-condoms or sponges or cervical caps.' His precise litany was for clarity's sake, and that he wanted an answer was equally clear.

Felicia didn't stir from her languid pose, nor did a modicum of distress crease her brow. On the contrary, when she smiled he was reminded of sunshine. 'Are you accusing me of something?'

'I'm just wondering why you're not worried about conception.' Gruff and grumbling, he was already contemplating how much she would want.

'You don't seem to be worried.' That same mild unconcern.

'I'm not the one who might get pregnant,' he muttered.

One brow rose infinitesimally, and her voice was amused. 'You mean it's my problem?'

'You're enjoying this, aren't you?'

'This? This sexual marathon? Yes, very much,' she pleasantly added. 'Are you?'

'I was.'

'Until your lust-filled brain cooled sufficiently to wonder whether I was trying to trap you?'

His scowl deepened. 'Are you?'

'Now, why would I want to do that?'

'Some women might.'

'You really mean all women, don't you?' She smiled. 'But I'll give you the benefit of a doubt. As for myself'-her voice was serene-'let me assure you, my motives are as selfish as yours and as finite. I'm only interested in sex with you, not motherhood or fatherhood. I was married for four years as you know. Did I fail to mention I never became pregnant? So you're quite safe, Flynn. You may discard that black scowl and continue to think of me as nothing more than your current sexual partner. Is that better?'

He slowly exhaled and then ruefully smiled. 'I beg your pardon, most profoundly.'

'Apology accepted. Might I suggest, though, if you're concerned with some woman trapping you, you should consider using a condom. It would be a sensible idea.'

'I usually do.'

Her eyes opened the merest fraction more. 'But not with me?'

He looked momentarily afflicted, and then he dazzled her with his warm, boyish smile. 'I have no explanation.'

'And you have no intention of thinking about it.'

He grinned. 'No.'

Her smile this time was well-bred and urbane. 'Nor do I. We are neither in a position to think unduly about'-she