Blame It on Bath Page 0,74
didn’t mind if she admired his body, but it gave her a burst of bravado. “I’ve only really seen you,” she said. “Do other men look the same?”
“Not half as fine,” he scoffed. “How fortunate you are to have me, eh?”
“I have never denied it.” Her gaze caught on one part of him, which was growing larger and harder as she watched.
He noticed. “You like me here, in particular?” He stroked one hand over his organ.
Kate blushed and looked away. “Yes. That part is also pleasing.”
He chuckled softly. “Merely pleasing?”
She stole another glance at it. Even wrapped in his big hand, it looked large. She remembered how it felt when he thrust inside her and squirmed a little. “Not ‘merely,’ no,” she managed to say. “Very pleasing.”
He lifted his hand away. “Touch me, then.”
She darted a shocked look at him. He was serious, despite the wicked smile that lingered on his lips. She reached out and gently touched him. “More,” he said, his voice deepening. She jumped, but lightly ran her palm down his length. “Harder,” he murmured. She hesitated, then gave him a firm stroke. To her surprise Gerard sucked in his breath and put back his head. “Again,” he growled when she paused. “Do that again, Kate.”
She did, growing more confident with each stroke. He was satiny smooth, incredibly hot, and pulsing with life against her hand. “What do you call . . . this?” she asked.
“A hundred different things,” he said, now breathing deeply and unevenly.
“Like what?” She ran her thumb lightly over the swollen head, and his whole body jerked.
“What do you call it?”
She paused. “I don’t know. A man’s part, or organ.”
He laughed. “Prim words! Prick. Tool. Cock.”
“Prick?” She gave a small laugh in spite of herself. “Like a needle?”
“Neither so sharp, nor so slender.”
“I don’t like ‘tool,’ either.”
“Darling, if you keep stroking it as you’re doing, you may call it anything you like.”
“Cock sounds like an animal,” she said, and audaciously wrapped her fingers around him as he had done himself. “It doesn’t look like an animal at all.”
In the blink of an eye Gerard rose, caught her around the waist, and flipped her onto her back. She looked breathlessly up into his face, dark and taut. “But it is a beast,” he whispered, swooping down to kiss her as he shoved aside the dressing gown she wore. “Wild, untamed, and voraciously hungry.” His hand was between her legs, his fingers exploring the dampness hidden in the dark blond curls there. “If you taunt it, madam, it may devour you . . . although I see you are a willing sacrifice.” He fitted himself against her and nudged.
Kate arched beneath him, wantonly begging to be devoured. “What do you call that?” she asked, blushing anew. “That part of me you wish to—to devour.”
“This?” He paused to touch her again, his thumb teasing lightly over the tiny bit of flesh that made her gasp and tremble. “The French call it le chat—the pussy. The Welsh named it quim. The crude English call it by its purpose: cock lane. But I . . .” He thrust forward, deeply into her. “I call it paradise.”
“Blasphemy,” she managed to say.
“Gospel,” he said, harsh and low. He pushed into her again, harder and deeper. Kate mewed, half in desire, half in alarm. “Shh,” he whispered, sliding one hand under her hip and tilting her to a better angle. “I’m doing penance.”
“For—for what sin?” She clutched at his arms, trying to right herself under the onslaught of his desire.
“Arrogance.” One by one he caught her hands and held them fast, spreading her arms to pin her to the bed. “Greed.” His hips flexed, and he thrust so deep, she thought he would split her in half. His lips brushed hers as he settled his weight over her, holding her down, open and helpless under him. “But my greatest sin . . . Ah, that would be lust,” he whispered against her mouth.
“ ’Tis not a sin”—she gulped back a moan as he thrust again—“to desire your own wife.”
“But to devour her?” He was moving again, nudging her thighs wider apart so he could drive himself into her even farther. Kate felt tears gather behind her eyelids as her insides clenched and shivered at the raw power of his possession. He had never taken her like this before, as if he couldn’t get enough and couldn’t restrain himself from taking it. He was right, though; she was a willing sacrifice to