Chapter 11 #2
And two pale spots of pink seemed to appear briefly on his cheekbones. “You’re a beautiful woman. I am hardly immune to that and we both know it.”
She stared up at him, suddenly aware of her heart pounding, slow and deep, suddenly aware of how late it was, how dark, how quiet, and suddenly aware that the desire had never died.
She was alone with Devlin in her room, which was lit only by a few candles and the fire in the hearth, and he had just admitted that he found her beautiful.
“Do you want me still?” she whispered, but somehow she knew the answer.
His gaze held hers, unflinching. “Yes.”
She leaned forward. “Then I still do not understand, Devlin. Why leave me and go to her? I was in your arms—”
“I didn’t go to her. She was waiting in my room, Virginia, and I had forgotten she was there.”
“Why did you leave me?” she cried, her hands on his chest.
He finally smiled, though it was slight and filled with self-deprecation.
“I am the son of Mary and Gerald O’Neill,” he said, as if that explained everything.
But he didn’t move away from her. She felt his chest rising and falling beneath her palms, more quickly than was natural, and she felt his heart there, too, pounding, becoming erratic.
“That explains nothing.”
“I had a sister once,” he said, his jaw flexing hard. “Had she survived, she might have been like you—a planter’s daughter, a defiant and outspoken woman, someone brave and beautiful.”
And Virginia finally understood. “You were trying to respect me and your sister’s memory and your parents’ teachings.”
He didn’t speak.
“So you left me in order to save my innocence. Fiona was in your room when you went up—she means nothing,” she breathed.
“I see you are becoming a woman of the world,” he said. He took her hands and removed them from his person. “Nothing has changed. My resolve remains. I am not going to seduce you and I will not be your first lover. Good night.”
He was actually walking away, across the room, toward the door. It flashed through Virginia’s mind that the hussy would be in his bed once more, if she wasn’t there already. She could not bear that thought—just as she could not bear the thought of his leaving her now.
“I don’t want your respect,” she heard herself say.
He faltered, but did not turn.
“I want to know what it’s like, Devlin,” she added softly, her heart racing madly, heat etching its way down her thighs, up her belly, through her breasts.
He made a harsh sound and reached for the door.
She swallowed and said, “Show me. Show me everything that you can, now, tonight—show me, not her.”
He whirled, eyes wide, face strained. “Have you no self-control?” he asked harshly.
“Why should I struggle with it?” And she saw what she had been hoping to see. Virginia walked over to him, grasped his shoulders and leaned into his hard, aroused body. “Self-control is for ladies like Sarah Lewis,” she whispered.
For one moment she saw the indecision in his eyes; for one moment she saw the battle he waged. She smiled a little and touched his cheek, her heart beating frantically, like the wings of a caged bird. “Devlin.”
At once, his arms closed around her and his mouth covered hers.
Virginia cried out, and when she felt the rigid line of his erection she began to whimper.
His hands moved lower, large and bold. His powerful body was rigid with tension.
“Hurry,” she managed, as the daze of lust heightened and grew. “Devlin, hurry!”
She was suddenly in his arms and he was laying her down on the bed. “I have never met a woman like you,” he said, their gazes locking.
She tried to grin at him and failed. “Good.”
He didn’t smile, either. His eyes were ablaze. He pushed her open thighs apart with each knee and said, “I wanted this last night.”
She remembered instantly and she cried, “Yes.”
He released her hands and abruptly ripped her nightgown in two.
Stunned, Virginia stilled, almost afraid, and she saw him look over every inch of her naked body, from the small globes of her breasts with their hard, stiff tips to the delta between her spread thighs, and there, his gaze lingered.
She began to flush, as she had never been exposed like this before. She felt frighteningly vulnerable. She felt powerless—she was at his mercy—and oddly, it made it impossible to breathe. She could only yearn, her desire impossibly heightened.
“You are so beautiful…little one,” he murmured thickly, finally lifting his eyes to hers. “I won’t hurt you.”
Virginia knew she would never forget his eyes. She knew she had been a fool to worry about Fiona. She knew, somehow, instinctively and without a doubt, in that single span of time, that this man wanted her the way he would never want another woman. She knew his desire rivaled hers.
His mouth seemed to twist and Virginia gasped when he cupped her sex. “This belongs to me,” he said softly, a warning.
She could only nod, shocked by the barbaric statement. Then his hand eased and she felt his fingers sliding over each full lip and into the crevasse between.
Virginia cried out, eyes closing, arching helplessly up against him. “Devlin,”’ she chanted. “Oh, Devlin, do help me!”
His explorations increased, his fingers opened her wide, sliding over slick recess after slick fold, until Virginia was certain she could not stand it. Then she felt his mouth.
At first she thought she was mistaken and she stiffened, paralyzed, eyes flying open—surely he was not kissing her there. She half sat up and saw, shocked, that his head was between her thighs, and there was no mistaking now that it was his lips nibbling hers.
Then she felt his tongue.
A caress beyond any other.
Virginia’s vision blackened.
That tongue moved deep and sure, patting the turgid nub of flesh hidden in the broader folds there. Virginia began to faint, the desire so great it was overwhelming her every sense, her ability to breathe, the ability for her blood to go to her brain.
“Come for me, little one,” he murmured. His tongue flayed her swollen flesh like a silken whiplash, insistent, brutal, soft, determined.
The blackness lingered and then she was hurled past it, into brilliant light. Virginia held him, sobbing in sheer joy, in stunning pleasure, in ultimate ecstasy. She sobbed and sobbed as he flayed and flayed until finally, she began to float.
She didn’t know how long she floated outside of herself in the clouds, but slowly, she became aware of her body again.
Every inch of her femininity remained swollen and inflamed, his tongue continued to caress her flesh, his lips moved ceaselessly, in a raw frenzy, as if he were kissing her mouth. Now, with the pleasure, there was pain.
She didn’t know if she could stand it again. “Devlin,” she breathed.
He didn’t stop. His tongue swept up and down, like a starving dog’s.
“Devlin,” she begged now, the pain vast, and she wanted him to stop, but she also wanted him to continue, harder, because she knew which universe beckoned.
She tried to push him away, but his tongue merely swept deeper; she tried to pull him closer, but he only nipped her, a warning she understood.
“I can’t,” she gasped, pain and pleasure mingling so tightly now she didn’t know if she were living or dying, and she didn’t know where the one began and the other ended.
“You can, darling, you can,” he choked, and he pinned both heavy folds back with his fingertips and then his tongue encircled the turgid nub, distending it, and she screamed.
He softened and she exploded.
A hundred times, like Independence Day fireworks, her body spinning, tumbling, out of control, flying away, high in the universe. And she was still there when his mouth found hers, his body crushing her into the mattress.
“Virginia,” he panted.
Instantly, she felt the huge tip of him against her entrance and she jerked, eyes flying wide, meeting his. She saw the beast of lust and nothing more in his hot gaze—she did not see love.
“Virginia.” Somehow her name was spoken as a command and he kissed her deeply and she tasted sex for the first time. His hard thighs pinned hers down and apart, and suddenly he was probing against her.
Panic came. He was too big. She was only eighteen. He was her captor. She was afraid and she wasn’t ready. What if he didn’t love her!
But his heat was searing into her body and her brain.
“Devlin, don’t,” she began.
But it was simply too late. Crying out, he thrust into her, breaking down the barrier of her virginity, causing a brief, burning pain, and then she felt the huge, hot hardness inside of her, filling her, hurting her. Stiffening, she closed her eyes, blinking back tears of sudden despair.
He gasped, not moving, his entire body shaking. Virginia remained stunned, capable only of feeling him stretching her apart. Devlin remained still but shaking, when he suddenly kissed her temple. Her eyes opened, wide. “Devlin?” she whispered, wondering if she had imagined his tender kiss.
His only answer was to tighten his hold and she became aware of being wrapped in his powerful arms, of being immersed there, and then she felt the insistent throbbing inside of her own body, huge and hard, but the pain was dissipating.
An answering warmth unfurled slowly inside of her.
She felt his mouth move again, this time on her cheek, and then he moved.
Very slowly, he pulled away, and as slowly, he eased back inside her. Her body was softening, warming, tensing—intensely, brilliantly. “Oh,” she gasped, surprised, as he filled her again.
She thought she felt him smile against her face. “Breathe, little one,” he whispered, thrusting again, not quite as slowly.
And as the massive man filled her, so completely, so thoroughly, a tidal wave of intense pleasure swept over her, taking her by surprise. Stunned, the pleasure threatening to turn black, she raised her hands to his shoulders, rippling now, and his back.
He made a sound, choked and hoarse, male.