Page 115 of Doxy for the Ton
“No!” he said. “This is my pleasure and I shall indulge in it.”
Her body throbbed with desire at the raw, primal need in his voice, and she grew still while he tore off her garments until she lay on top of him in the bath, clad only in her stockings.
He grasped her thighs and parted them until she could feel his manhood, hard and hot against her center. She parted her legs further and moved to impale herself on him, but he held her still.
“Not yet,” he rasped. “The pleasure will be all the sweeter for the wait.”
Then he took her face in his hands and pulled her toward him to claim her mouth.
Pleasure flared in her center and a low mewl escaped her lips as she fought against the swell of pleasure, rising like a giant wave against which she had little defense.
He plunged his tongue inside her mouth, and she surrendered to the invasion, melting in his arms as the soft, velvety weapon sought to claim every inch of her. She curled her own tongue around his, and his whole body vibrated with a long, low growl of the primal beast claiming his mate.
To surrender was to step onto the path of destruction—but what sweet destruction! The urge to succumb to desire threatened to overwhelm her as their tongues circled each other in a slow, sensual dance, until he began to devour her, guttural sounds of pleasure vibrating throughout his body, sending a fizz of need through her blood—a pure, primal need to be thoroughly pleasured.
He was a drug and she the victim, unable to survive without tasting it.
She surrendered and, with her own tongue, began to devour him in turn, relishing the taste of spice, desire, and pure masculinity. One taste was not enough—it would never be enough—but if one taste were all that she could have, then she’d take her fill and relive the memory in the years to come.
She let out a cry of surrender, and he broke the kiss, cradling her face in his hands as if he cherished her more than his own life. His eyes, the color of dark sapphires, glowed with desire—and love, as if his soul called out to hers across a chasm, seeking to entwine with hers forever. Understanding shimmered in his eyes as if he recognized her cry for what it was. Wordlessly, he pulled her to him, then he rose to his feet, cradling her in his arms. Water ran off his body in rivulets as he stepped out onto the carpet. Then he took her hand and led her toward the door adjoining her bedchamber. He paused and lifted his eyebrows in a gentle plea, then waited, on the brink of the abyss of her total surrender.
One word and she would be his.
But he remained still. No persuasion, nor coercion—he simply waited for a sign, for permission, his gentle patience piercing her heart.
At length, she nodded. Then he pushed the door open and stepped inside her chamber. She stiffened as the door slammed shut, as if she had sealed her fate. Then he placed a kiss on her lips and stood still, as if waiting for her to relax once more.
He carried her across the chamber and placed her on the bed. He caressed her body with his gaze, and a delicious warmth spread through her blood at the desire in his eyes—not the desire of a man wanting pleasure, but the raw need of a man who wanted nobody but her, a man who wanted her so badly that he would destroy the world around him to claim her as his.
It’s a dream—a folly…
Mimi curled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palms to silence the voice inside her head.
The voice might speak the truth, but she would gladly silence it for one night of pleasure—the pleasure that he promised with a single, smoldering glance.
He reached for her stockings and peeled them off, peppering the bare skin of her legs with gentle kisses, tracing a line to her feet, where he kissed each toe with gentle reverence.
“Such soft skin,” he whispered. “And I shall worship every inch of it tonight.”
“Alexander, I—”
“Hush,” he said. “Let me give you that which you desire. Let me satisfy the need that I have seen in your eyes—the need that governs your every waking moment.”
“The need to be pleasured?” she asked.
Hurt flickered in his eyes, and he shook his head. “No, Mimi,” he said. “The need to be safe.”
He crawled onto the bed and placed a kiss on her belly, and want surged as his tongue flicked against her skin.
“The need to surrender and to trust…”
He followed a trail with his lips until he reached her breast, and her nipples hardened to painful points.
“And,” he whispered, his breath hot against the skin of her breast, “the need to be loved.”
He flicked his tongue over her nipple, and a fizz of need ignited in her center. She arched her back, offering her breast, chasing the pleasure.
“That’s it, my love,” he said, and she let out a mewl of frustration as he lifted his head from her breast. She drew in a sharp breath as an inferno filled her mind until all she could focus on was her body and its raw, base need to be satisfied.
