Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels #5) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,58
rising worry, and he laughed softly. She felt pressure, and the helpless feeling of being invaded, and realized he was trying to slide two fingers inside her.
“Relax . . . You’re so sweet, so soft . . . Phoebe . . . for the next ten thousand nights, I’m going to dream about your beautiful mouth, and the miraculous shape of you, and all these freckles that turn you into a work of art—”
“Don’t tease,” she said breathlessly, and bit her lip as her body yielded to the gentle intrusion, his fingers wriggling slightly as they filled her.
“You want proof of my sincerity?” Deliberately he pressed his aroused flesh against her thigh. “Feel that. Just the thought of you does this to me.”
The man was shameless. Boasting about his male part as if it were something to be proud of! Although . . . one had to admit . . . it was impressively substantial. Phoebe struggled with nearly irresistible curiosity before letting her hand steal down to investigate. As her palm slid along the incredibly hard, heavy length of him, she blinked and said faintly, “Good heavens.” She drew her hand back quickly, and he smiled down at her flushed face.
“Kiss me,” he whispered. “As if we were in bed with the whole night ahead of us.” His fingers eased deeper. “Kiss me as if I were inside you.”
Phoebe obeyed blindly, butterflies swirling. He caressed and played with her, sometimes entering her with his fingers, sometimes withdrawing completely and toying with the damp curls between her thighs or gliding up to stroke her breasts. It was astonishing, how much he seemed to know about her body, the places that were too sensitive to be touched directly, the steady rhythms that aroused her most.
She had never been filled with such acute sensation, every nerve lit and glowing. Whenever her excitement built to the point of release, he stopped and made her wait until the heat receded, and then he started again. She was trembling with the need to climax, but he ignored her pleas and protests, taking his time. His fingers filled her gently, and his other hand came to her mound, massaging on either side of her clitoris. Her intimate muscles clenched and released, over and over, in deep pulsations beyond her control.
Pleasure resonated through her at a clarion pitch, and this time he didn’t stop, guiding her right into the feeling and through it. Her vision was flooded with brilliance, her muscles spasming, jerking. He took her low cry into his mouth and kissed her as hard and long as she wanted, and he didn’t stop stroking and teasing until the shudders had eased to shivers, and the shivers had faded to quiet trembling. Very gradually, the long, flexing fingers eased out of her body. He held her, cradling her against him, while she gasped for air and slowly returned to herself.
Sorting through the exhausted muddle of her thoughts, Phoebe wondered what would happen next. From the way they were entangled, she could feel that he was still aroused—would he want satisfaction? What should she do for him, and how? Oh, God, her mind was all blurred and comfortable, and her body was as limp as a sack of crushed salt. She felt excruciatingly shy about what they’d just done, but also grateful and close to tears. Nothing had ever felt as good as this, being gathered in by his arms, every part of her safe and warm and replete.
Carefully West reached into the wild disorder of her clothes and began to pull garments into place, tying and fastening her clothes expertly. All she could seem to do was lie there like a discarded doll, dreading the return to reality.
He eased her up to a sitting position. When he spoke, his tone was dry and amused. “About those feelings you no longer have. You were saying . . . ?”
Phoebe glanced at him in surprise and stiffened as if he’d just thrown cold water in her face.
It wasn’t what West said that shocked her, it was his detached expression, and the way one corner of his mouth curled upward in an arrogant smile. The tender lover had vanished, leaving her with a sardonic stranger.
All the feelings of warmth and connection had been an illusion. He hadn’t meant anything he’d said. All he had wanted was to prove that she still had physical needs, and he’d succeeded spectacularly, humiliating her in the process.