Kisses Like a Devil

by Diane Whiteside

  And heaven knows the courtesans ogled him.

  Morro had taken one look at her and Brian, accepted a scratch behind his ears, then settled down for a nap. It was the first time her watchdog had ever declined to accompany her.

  Should she make an excuse and depart? But they shared the single suite, with nowhere else for either of them to sleep.

  She had created this situation, too, when she asked him to ruin her.

  Ruin. Back at the capital, that had sounded appalling. Here, it seemed decadent, perhaps enjoyable.

  Donovan turned around to face her and stretched like a great cat, bracing his hands behind him against the stone, presenting her with a mouth-watering glimpse of effortless masculine grace. Muscular thighs, hips, shoulders, neck…

  Her body clenched.

  She rushed into speech. “That was quite a trip we had, wasn’t it?”

  She bit her lip, feeling like a fool. Drat it, she wasn’t a virgin. She’d been shown to his suite when they arrived and she expected to share his bed. She could hardly back out now, even if she wanted to. Especially with Sazonov lurking back at the Schloss, desperate to get his hands on her and the cannon’s plans through her.

  “The views were spectacular, weren’t they? The picnic lunch gave us some excellent opportunities to enjoy them, too.”

  “Eisengau is a very mountainous country, Mr. Donovan.”

  “That stuffy name belongs to my father when people are trying to butter him up.” He grimaced. “Please call me Brian.”

  “If you’ll call me Meredith.” She flushed a little. Her brothers called her Meredith but neither of those one-night wonders she’d shared a bed with ever had.

  “More champagne?” Brian asked. His dimple was much more apparent in this light when he smiled. He looked so lazy, stretched out against the stone balustrade like that. Yet he always knew when another lackey was approaching, even if they were coming up behind him.

  “Maybe a little.” Golden bubbles danced into her glass, filling it halfway. Later that evening, those long fingers of his would probably learn her body, touch her intimately. Could she allow him to? Would she want him to stop?

  “Have you been here before?”

  “Not here at the palace. Colonel Zorndorf and his staff lived at the barracks about five miles away, while I always stayed with the garrison commander’s wife.”

  Another burst of laughter split the air. It was somehow more laden with intimate promises than the beer garden dances she’d been to, even the ones where she’d been intimate with a man afterward.

  “Good,” Brian muttered.

  She blinked at him. He was staring at her mouth as if trying to memorize it. Oh my. Warmth shimmered across her skin.

  Perhaps if she thought of this as simply good fun, the way her first two lovers had been, then she could go through with it. After all, she’d only be with him for a couple of weeks.

  “Where are we located now, in relation to the capital?” He yanked his gaze away from her and studied the river drifting out of the lake.

  “The capital is in the northeast and downriver of Herzog Lake. St. Nicholas’s Pass is over there, almost hidden behind those very steep granite needles in the southwest.”

  She pointed, indicating a particularly sharp rocky spire. Herzog Lake lay below them, placid and brilliantly blue, with the Eisenfluss River spilling out of it. Railroad tracks were carved into its shores, arching over small rivers and climbing past unyielding promontories. A massive stone blockhouse, as much fortress as workhouse, stood high on a cliff, ready to disgorge spare rails or snowplows at need.

  “Looks like a nasty climb,” Brian commented. Somehow they were now only separated by an inch or two.

  “Very much, plus the Upper Falls have been cutting into the trail for the past decade or so. But you can’t see that stretch very well from here.”

  He whistled softly. “Sounds like a climb my cousin would enjoy.”

  Was family so important to him, that he’d introduce them into every conversation? She brought the subject firmly back to his original question, shivering at the sight of his firm mouth. Dear heavens, how his kiss had made her pulse pound.

  “You can see the limestone mines from here, on the hillside beyond the capital, and the spires of Altstadt, the old city.” She fought to keep her voice steady. Men shouldn’t have long eyelashes over blue, blue eyes. “It’s often flooded in springtime but it’s a popular summer escape for workers and their families.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Brian leaned on the railing next to her, his shoulder brushing hers through her thin silk sleeve. “It reminds me of Montana.”

  “Is that where you live?”

  “No, I’m from California. My family has a weekend house in Marin County, just north of San Francisco. We can barely see San Francisco Bay because we have so many trees.”

  “Braggart!” She pretended to pummel him, just to touch him. She could be his lover for a few weeks, long enough to escape Zorndorf and Sazonov. She was free to enjoy herself for a little while.

  He laughed and trapped her hands, pulling her up to him. She came willingly, her eyes traveling over every detail of his face. “This is madness, Meredith. You deserve marriage with some proper young man.”

  Hardly.

  “You promised to ruin me.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. How long had it been since a man was definitely taller than she was? “It’s the only way to stop Zorndorf and Sazonov.”

  “I could sleep on the floor,” he tried another tack.

  “The servants would talk, especially that maid you found for me.” He was warm and smelled wonderfully masculine, like a sun-baked herb garden. A dreadful thought occurred to her. “Or have you changed your mind?”

  “Like hell!” He caught her shoulders. “But once you’re in my bed, you won’t climb out of it very quickly.”

  Her breath hung in her throat.

  “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  He gave a harsh bark of laughter, his eyes glittering. “You should be running away from me.”

  “Why?” She shifted her grip so she could explore the muscles in his upper arms.

  “Lord, Meredith, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He shuddered, his lashes briefly veiling his thoughts.

  “No, but I’m glad to learn.” Her chest was very tight, her blood pounding in her ears.

  “Are you a virgin?”

  “I’ve had two lovers, for a total of,” she paused to count up, “three hours.”

  He choked. “Are you always so precise?”

  “I look forward to enjoying the benefits of your greater skills,” she added demurely.

  He hugged her, shaking. She couldn’t read his expression but she didn’t think he was angry. She wouldn’t have dared to tease any other man this way.

  “And thank you for my maid,” she added primly. “I’ve never had a personal one before.”

  “You’re very welcome. Captain Blackwell knew a, ah, lady who was traveling with two of them and was willing to temporarily part with one’s services.”

  “Please extend both of them my thanks.” She leaned her head against Brian’s shoulder. Was a good girl supposed to stand between a man’s legs? Who cared when it brought them so very close, even if she was wearing a corset?

  He tilted her head back and ran his finger over her lips. Her tongue crept out to follow it, desperate for a taste of him—and he kissed her, teasing and tempting her. She moaned and pressed closer, stropping herself over him like a cat, trying to ease the ache in her breasts which lanced her core. She was hungry, so hungry, and his kiss only increased it.

  He growled and rubbed the back of her thighs through her dress, where her thin silk skirts and petticoats clearly conveyed his demand into skin and muscle. She gasped and arched, lust strumming her from his fingers to his mouth, tightening her lungs and core, melting her cream. “Brian, oh please, more.”

  He boldly fondled her again, his breath rasping her
throat until she shuddered. He licked and nibbled her lips and whispered explicit promises of how he’d enjoy her more intimate flesh the same way.

  She kneaded his shoulders, sighing her eagerness. His cock was a heated bar against her belly, hidden behind his enticing white trousers.

  Brian pulled his head back, his features harsh with determination, and slid her down off his lap.

  She groped for him, unable to think beyond the frantic need driving her blood.

  A man groaned nearby, closely followed by a woman’s cooing reply.

  What on earth was happening?

  “Come, Meredith, darling.” Brian kissed her cheek and turned toward the palace, taking her by the hand.

  The groans came again, deeper this time and more regular. More passionate? Surely she could take an instant to satisfy her curiosity.

  Meredith slid her fingers through Brian’s and leaned back, peering over the railing toward the staircase which led down to the lake.

  A courtesan was on her knees in front of a guest, his glittering uniform wrenched open at the throat and his trousers shoved down to his knees.

  Meredith stared at Brian. “She has his cock in her mouth!”

  Brian nodded, watching her warily.

  “Is that truly why those women came along?” She’d read some books but she’d never expected to actually see anything in real life.

  He nodded cautiously. “You’re not offended?”

  “No, of course not, they’ve only been polite to me. This is a very wicked place—and he’s enjoying it,” she added. What a wonderfully decadent place this was, where such adventures happened.

  Brian nodded again, much more vehemently, still eyeing her cautiously.

  She considered him and everything he hadn’t said. “Is it something very popular that’s only learned with experience?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, women need practice to master the art. But I’ve never heard of a man who didn’t immediately enjoy it.”

  She stole another glance at the oblivious couple far below. The woman was smiling, her fingers cunningly twisting and stroking the man’s privates.

  “They don’t care that we’re here,” she commented, fighting for breath. Her chest was uncommonly tight and her skin was crackling hot, despite the cool breeze. While her previous encounters had started at beer garden dances, they’d always finished privately in a hotel room. Was that a requirement here?

  “Are you offended?” Brian wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back against him, her head resting neatly into the hollow of his shoulder—and found his cock rubbing her ass.

  “No,” she admitted and wiggled her hips, trying to move a little closer. At least she was wearing her marvelous new ribbon corset which only reached the top of her hips. If she’d been wearing one of her mother’s preferred straight-front corsets, which covered her down to her thighs, she’d never have known his shape this soon. Oh my.

  “Do you want to watch them finish?” He nuzzled her throat. “Or find our room? I warn you, I won’t display my skills for you here.”

  “Have you done so in an alfresco setting before?” She tried to tease him. But it was so very difficult when he was trailing kisses over every frantically beating pulse point, while his hands guided her hips’ rhythmic rocking.

  “Of course,” he purred. “Sunshine is a marvelous aid to lovemaking.”

  Oh. She’d have to remember to ask him about that—but not now.

  Brian delicately nibbled her, shooting the most incredible fireworks through her breasts and into her core. She moaned and tilted her head, offering him full access.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and started walking, still kissing and nibbling on her. She went willingly, every cell focused on him.

  They were so close together that their legs brushed, sparks leaping back and forth between his woolen trousers and her silk skirts, raising friction. Her petticoats swished and frothed around her ankles, enhancing the sensation tenfold. Or was it the lust sparking in their eyes and their entwined fingers, desperately seeking to touch any bits of the other available?

  She couldn’t have said a coherent sentence. They passed galaxies of courtesans, now intermixed with male guests, but she didn’t give them a second glance. Men were loudly chanting, “One, two, three, prost!” in the ballroom. But the phrase sounded like encouragement to indulge in games, especially since it was followed by scrabbling sounds and laughter. And when Brian kissed her, her blood insisted that cheering and games had to mean bedroom sports, wonderful pastimes with a man like him.

  He swept her through a porte cochère and in the tower’s side door, pausing to kiss her yet again. She moaned helplessly, her head falling back against his shoulder, and clutched at him. Why hadn’t she known before how enchanting it was to feel fragile next to a man?

  He picked her up in his arms, making her squeak like a silly girl—how delicious!—and ran up the stairs. Their suite was only a few feet away from the top and he kicked the door in.

  Morro sprang to his feet, growling.

  Meredith closed her eyes, remembering exactly why her previous love affairs had been so very brief. She hid her face against Brian’s shoulder and tried to calm down long enough to frame a command.

  “Silence! Your mistress deserves her pleasure and you need your sleep,” Brian ordered sternly. In Gaelic.

  Morro rumbled something in a series of barks and yips that were barely loud enough to be heard. Then there was only blessed quiet.

  Brian started walking forward. Meredith turned her head slightly and dared to peek out.

  Morro was scratching and kicking his nest of pillows into shape, beside the outer door to the sitting room. He turned around thrice and flopped down, raising an eyebrow at her as if daring her to question his choice of activities.

  He’d obeyed Brian. He’d accepted Brian’s extremely close grasp of her, something he’d never tolerated from another man. She didn’t want to think about the implications, not now, not when Brian was almost to the bedroom.

  Sunset streamed through the lace curtains, gilding everything inside. The furnishings were deceptively simple, as if the palace’s builder had wanted to play at wilderness life while still enjoying every comfort. The massive bed had been built in England decades ago and was draped in crisp white. A couple of chairs, a small table, a chest, an oriental rug—the room’s openness was closer to Scotland’s freedom than anything Meredith had encountered in Eisengau.

  Her lover bumped the door closed with his hip and laid her on the bed. “Meredith,” he purred and leaned over her.

  “Hmm?” She stroked his arms restlessly, her blood catching fire at the look in his eyes.

  He slid his hands up her ankles—under her skirts—and caressed her stockinged legs.

  “Brian!” She arched upward, jolted by the fiery lance which ran from his fingers through her hips and pussy to her breasts.

  “Do you like this?” He stroked and kneaded her calves, spreading her wider, easing her skirts up to her knees.

  “Brian, I, ah.” She tried again, made restless by a pleasure which seemed to have no purpose except to drive her mad. “Don’t you want to do more?”

  “Why? We have plenty of time.” One hand found the back of her knee.

  She flung her head back and drummed her feet on the bed. How could he tease her so much through silk stockings?” “Brian, please!”

  “Guess that means you’re enjoying yourself.” He opened her more and tossed her petticoats up, baring her drawers. “Lovely. I’ll have to cable for more of these.”

  “Huh?”

  “I like how they’re trimmed with lace and ribbon—and how much I can see of you through their slit.”

  “What???” She tried to sit up. His strong hands pressed her back, the heel of his palms at her knees and his thumbs on the inside of her thighs. His grip’s warmth and strength was like living iron bonds, flexible and perfectly matched to her legs. Made for her alone.

  He fondled h
er again, his thumb rubbing over hidden places. Cream heated and pulsed in her core, eager for him. He kissed her breasts, plumping them above her décolletage. She moaned again and stroked his arms.

  His hands slid up her thighs, teasing her until she couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel his touch. She writhed under him, begging for more, needing more. Hunger pulsed in her blood, rocked her hips, made her muscles clench.

  His broad, callused finger toyed with her through the slit in her drawers. “Nice,” he drawled.

  She whimpered and tried to drive herself down onto it. Her skin was so hot and tight, surely she’d fly apart if he didn’t satisfy her soon.

  “Pretty.” He chuckled hoarsely and lifted her hips.

  Pretty? Her?

  He slipped off the bed, pulled her to the edge—and over his shoulders. He’d stripped off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt at some point—and she encountered bare, satiny skin, carved with muscles and tendons.

  She gasped.

  A hot, wet tongue swirled through her folds.

  She climaxed, melting into a thousand swirling pieces laced with stardust.

  Before she could think again, he ripped open her drawers and lifted her hips, sliding his fingers over her beautiful ribbon corset. He tongued her again, avidly seeking out every bit of cream.

  And he took her up to the heights again and again, using tongue and fingers—and teeth!—until she was a writhing, sobbing, passionate woman.

  When she lay hoarse from shrieking her pleasure through more orgasms than she could count, he looked up at her. Triumph was etched across his face, lined with a harshness she didn’t quite understand.

  “Meredith,” he growled.

  He stood up and knelt over her, shoving her back across the coverlet. Her skirts were a tattered, irreparable wreck but who cared when she’d finally have him? She dared to caress his hip. He shuddered before jerking off his belt and shoving his pants down his hips, grabbing up a condom from the packet on the bedside table.

  An instant later, he was finally, finally in her. Big and solid and hot. Dear heavens, thank God he’d stretched her beforehand because she was surely tight now. And it was wonderful. She wrapped her legs around his, and savored him.