Legendary Lover (9 page)

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mouth
, kissed her knuckles. "I've never played the innocent before."

"That I believe." She jerked her hands away. "Now behave or I'll go home."

"And miss fucking me for days on end . . ."

The insinuating heat, the delicious promise in his words stirred her senses, whetted her impetuous passions,
riveted
all her quickening attention.

"That's what I thought," he whispered, trailing his finger up her throat, over her jaw, along her cheek, following the rising flush pinking her delicate skin.

"You're much too smug." The throbbing between her legs had settled into an undeniable, hard, steady rhythm.

"But ready to fuck you again."

"That's your specialty, isn't it?"

"Yes," he softly said, holding out his hand. "Let me show you my bed."

She hesitated, piqued by his shameless assurance.

"You can chastise me later," he gently noted. "Right now, I'll make you come."

"Or I'll make you come," she insolently offered.

"Better yet."

Turning, she walked into the bedroom as if she were Queen of the Nile and he followed, charmed by her feisty challenge, intoxicated by her sexual need, looking forward-to the tempestuous and mutual heat of their passion.

"I want to know something—and don't lie to me, because it doesn't matter that much." She was standing against the heavy footboard of the oak bed, grasping the carved center roundel.

"You're the first woman I've brought here."

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"That's much too glib. 1
haven't
asked you yet."

"I could tell by the fire in your eyes. And it's not glib, it's the truth. Ned's been here fishing with me, but no one else. Now don't be angry with me. I adore the thought of having you in my bed."

She softly sighed, her grip on the footboard relaxing. "I dislike this inexplicable need."

"As do I, but—" he shrugged "—what's the point?"

"You make me feel insatiable. It's disturbing to my peace of mind."

"We'll be insatiable together. I share the feeling—for the first time as well. Better?" he softly said, moving toward her. "Knowing you're not alone in this insanity?"

"Much better," she whispered, feeling the heat of his body against hers, circling her arms around his waist. "I've always been able to walk away."

"You're speaking to a master on that subject, but don't
worry,
we'll explore this fantastical
outre-mer
together."

"And we've never actually made love on a bed," she playfully noted, consoled that he was as equivocal as she.

"Reason enough to test this one out."

He undressed her while she stood docile under his hands, returning his playful kisses, smiling at his teasing, delighted to be sharing her afternoon with him. She lounged on the bed while he discarded his clothing; a young lady of wealth and fashion, she didn't think to help him.

He took note of her indolence and thought how suited she was to the sumptuous leisure of carnal play. In a way, her self-indulgence matched his, her earthy acceptance of passion as generous and
open
, her desires as

8
₇

greedy
. They fit in temper and disposition, he thought, unclasping his belt, and rather than being unnerved by the prospect, he found it agreeable.

The lady's disinterest in marriage, no doubt, assuaged his habitual caution. He didn't allow himself to consider the more startling assumption that perhaps they indeed suited.

"This bed is deliciously soft," Venus said, stretching languidly. "I may just stay here until we leave."

"Sounds good to me."

How dark his skin was, she thought, as he stood before her, half nude. How pleasing he was to the eye. "You'll have to wait on me, then."

He looked up from unbuttoning his trousers. "I might be persuaded."

"Although you did promise me fishing."

"And swimming."
He stripped off his trousers. "I'll carry you to the river. It's quiet in the evening. You won't have to dress until we return to London."

"
Mmmm
... To be waited on and serviced by a man of your . . . charming proportions.
I feel like a sultan's favorite."

"You're definitely mine. I should thank Peggy . . . for her insight."

"As should I.
I was sure I despised you."

"I almost walked away when I saw you in the garden."

"And now we're here."

"In hot rut, if you'll forgive my plain speaking."

"I prefer plain speaking.
The way I prefer your cock to everything at the moment.
I'm completely in thrall to licentious feeling. I want you now and in five minutes

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and
then again in a few moments more. How tiresome it must be to always hear that from women."

He walked to the bed. "But never tiresome from you." His gaze traveled from her undone hair spread on the pillow, slowly downward, and then up again to her smiling face, thinking himself the most fortunate of men.

"Do I pass muster?"

"You pass on every conceivable level.
Although perhaps that's obvious from the state of my arousal."
His glance flickered down.

"It pleases me to please you," she murmured with dulcet coyness that brought a grin to his face.

"God Almighty, you're going to wear me out. Not that I'm complaining." Dropping into a sprawl beside her, he twined his fingers through hers and stared at the whitewashed ceiling. "Who would have thought when I ran into you yesterday—
"

"That we'd be lying
here,
shamelessly filled with lust."

He chuckled. "I was going to say that we'd enjoy the same things."

"So polite, darling.
Personally, I've never lusted for a man like this—never."

"Hmmm," he breathed, gauging the exactitude of his feelings. Lust, of course, was a constant in his life.

"I expect something polite in response." She came up on one elbow and regarded him with a smile.

He shook his head. "It's not that. I was distinguishing this lust from—"

"All the other women?"

He shook his head
again,
his dark curls in stark contrast to the white pillow cover. "No, to the myriad other

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emotions
you provoke." He traced a finger down her arm, his brows drawn together. "My emotions are
never
involved."

"Don't be alarmed. I don't
want
anything from you." Her lashes fluttered.
"Besides that."
Cupping his heavy testicles in her hand, she bent and touched her warm mouth to the gleaming crest of his arousal.

Quickly pushing her back on the bed, he rolled over her and eased between her legs. "That's enough foreplay," he whispered, a half-smile quirking his mouth.

"1 also
adore
your sense of timing."

"We're without finesse. I almost feel as though I should apologize."

"No apologies required—provided I come to climax in the next thirty seconds."

"A sweet bitch in heat," he affectionately murmured.

"I hope you can oblige me."

"Or?"
His expression sharpened minutely.

"Or I'll wait until you can. My lecherous tastes seem to be centered on you."

Gratification softened the set of his mouth, his rare possessive impulse mollified. He glanced at the clock quietly ticking on the mantel. "Do I have some leeway on the thirty seconds?"

"You can have anything you want." Indulgence was delicious, in her voice.

"Then I want you under me for the indefinite future."

"Indefinite—how tantalizing."
She arched up to kiss the fine curve of his mouth.

"I may never let you go," he breathed.

"The way I feel right now, I may be willing." She gently moved her hips. "Are we done talking?"

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His gaze was amused.
"Thirty seconds and counting."

Her arms twined around his neck, her thighs fell open and, lifting her hips, she met the first silken penetration with a low contented sigh.

She had what she wanted. He gave her swift, bewitching surcease in the prescribed
time,
and then again ten seconds later, the particular specificity of his blissful penetration so exquisite she wondered how long it had taken him to become so skilled. But a few seconds later, renewed passion obliterated thought and she was swimming through a gossamer cloudbank of ecstasy. And when she came out the other side and opened her eyes, he was gazing down at her.

"More?" he softly asked, his dark gypsy eyes heated.

"No . . ." Dazed, half numbed by excess, she barely moved her head.

"Sure?" His lower back flexed.

And she uttered a low, feverish moan.

"Just a little more," he whispered, gliding deeper. "How does that feel?"

As if she were falling off her gossamer cloud, she thought, the heat beginning to curl upward again, her body melting around his long, rigid length as though she had no control over her senses. "You should stop," she whispered, not sure she was capable of withstanding another orgasm.

"After this ..." His driving descent stretched her wider, the tension in his arms caught in the rhythm of his body. "After
we
both come . . ." His head moved down close to hers and he gently bit her ear, marking her, tasting her, making her skin tingle.

She moved against him, desire building within her again, coursing through her blood, hot and glowing, in-

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satiable
. Whatever he was making her feel was so impossibly fine, so pure, she wanted to tell him how good he was.

But he already knew.

Making love was his specialty.

And for an instant she hated all the women before her with a mindless, useless jealousy that didn't make any sense with a man like Jack.

He wasn't looking for praise or flattery or resentment in bed. He was here only for this.

His hands suddenly closed over her hips, holding her captive, his next plunging
downstroke
disintegrating conscious thought. Ravenous desire took center stage in her mind, exhilarating pleasure racing faster and faster, her heart beating wildly.

Their entwined bodies moved in a frenzied, intemperate taking and giving until the first trembling shudders grew by exquisite degrees into a
hotspur
, ferocious orgasm, and this time they both climaxed.

Almost immediately, Venus fell asleep in his arms, exhausted. Covering her with a quilt, Jack offered up silent thanks to Lady Luck, who'd brought him the delectable Venus
Duras
. They had at least two uninterrupted days of solitude before Sam would be back, and after that he'd see what their schedules would allow.
Although he had no intention of letting her slip away.

Not-just yet.

Easing away after a time, he left the bed and poured himself a brandy. Lounging in a chair near the windows, he surveyed the tranquil river view, the gardens running down to the
river.ablaze
with poppies. The peace and beauty of the scene always offered solace to his restless spirit.

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Today though, the interior scene was one of equal peace and beauty. He turned to his sleeping guest and smiled. Her legs were uncovered, their slender length perfection, pure in line and form and only recently wrapped around him in the heat of passion. Instant lust stoked his sexual desires, and he wondered how soon he could wake her or how impolite it would be to make love to her while she slept.

She was unbelievably tempting, her beauty dazzling, but he knew beautiful women by the score and none appealed so intemperately. Perhaps her candor and frankness intrigued him, a novel concept in the ranks of women who'd passed through his life.

He raked his fingers through his hair and looked away to the river as though a change in scene might curtail his unease. He disliked feeling this intense craving, this irresistible need. And while his shift of focus may not have assuaged his disquieting thoughts, three brandies better served to soothe his disconcerted emotions. When Venus woke, Jack was pleasantly relaxed, once again in his normal degage mood. "Ready for a swim?" he pleasantly inquired.

She said, "In a minute," her voice still soft with sleep.

Her tawny hair tumbled down her shoulders, her flamboyant breasts rose above the crumpled quilt, her heavy-lidded gaze held a delicious, sultry warmth.

Drawn to her like a magnet to the poles, he set his glass aside and rose from his chair. Walking to the bed, he sat down beside her and touched her rosy cheek, tracing a finger down her silken flesh to her
pouty
mouth. Sliding the tip of his finger over her lips, he gazed at her with affection. "I can't get enough of you."