Hot Silk

by Sharon Page

  Did he share his bath with the other women here? Did he thoughtfully help them in?

  She wouldn’t think about that. She did rather a lot of not thinking with Devlin.

  His hands linked around her waist and he drew her back against him. Her hair streamed out on the water; her breasts lazily floated.

  “I don’t want to let you go yet, Grace.” He cupped her breasts and squeezed her wet nipples. The caressing heat of the water, the press of his hard body against her—it was all so delicious.

  “But I have to go,” she murmured. “My grandmother is at a house party and she wishes that I join her.”

  Devlin leaned back against the tub and stretched out his legs, lifting his feet so they hung over the edge of the tub and dripped on a discarded towel.

  She had never dreamed of being in a bath with a man. She’d learned to love bathing when Venetia and Maryanne had introduced her to a world of wealth. Hot water and lots of it! Scented soap. Luxuriant towels.

  But this was more pleasurable, more wonderful. Unforgettably so.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Devlin lift a bar of soap and thoughtfully rub it between his palms. “But she has had no part in your life up until now,” he said.

  “My mother knew, when she ran away with a scandalous artist, that her sins might not be forgiven—” Grace broke off as his soapy hands closed around her breasts.

  “But even when your mother was in trouble, when you needed money so desperately, they ignored you.”

  It was not a question.

  “Yes, that is true.”

  “Why go?” he asked. “What is there for you?”

  Nothing—it should be nothing. But it was everything. She gazed down at his hands, which were bronzed, with seductive long fingers. “My grandmother has wanted to see me for a long time, and now she has found the courage.”

  He moved his hands back and there was a long silence. Long enough that she peeked behind her again. Devlin rubbed more soap on his hands then set about washing his right leg. It was simply washing to him, but her chest was tight as she watched his hands caress up and down the length of his lower leg. She had to bite a wet knuckle as he casually soaped his foot and gently massaged his sole.

  His bathing room possessed a large paned window. She glanced toward it. If she strained, she could see the golden-red rays of the setting sun flowing over the meadow, over bluebells and wild daisies. She could also see two of his men leading four of the courtesans out into the meadow, all bathed in the vivid light.

  Apparently the orgy was moving outdoors. Did none of these men ever bed only one woman at one time?

  With a splash, Devlin lowered his leg. “But why go, love, for a woman who took twenty years to find courage?”

  She knew that when she spoke she might reveal the shakiness in her voice. Now it was only revealing itself in the tremor of her fingers against his hard thighs. His body was sinfully warm and strong and reassuring against hers. “She—she told me that she has wanted for years to see me. To meet me. But my—Lord Warren would not allow it. And she then realized the only way she could see me was to arrange a clandestine visit. She was going to Lord Avermere’s alone.”

  “Avermere?” He washed his other leg. “He is in Italy.”

  So Devlin was well aware of the comings and goings of the ton. Perhaps that was essential knowledge for a highwayman.

  “Well, then, he must have returned,” she said. “He would hardly have a house party if he wasn’t at home.”

  “Turn around, Grace. Let me see you and bathe you. You’ve never been shy with me before.”

  She had, but this time it had nothing to do with being shy. He looked so…tempting and desirable in his bath. Lying back, soaking, hair brushed back and droplets of water making his lips moist—he looked so devastatingly likeable.

  “Perhaps I am more comfortable this way.” And she was, lying back against him. “But I suppose, since I am your prisoner, I am supposed to obey. Isn’t that what the heroine did in the book you were reading—Clarisse? She obeyed her captor’s every command.”

  She felt his laugh in the rumble of his chest against her spine. “I was reading the book for release, not guidance on the treatment of a lady, Grace.”

  The need to protest rose, but she quelled it. She had looked through erotic books, had been intrigued by the orgies, all the while knowing she would not want to actually take part in one.

  “Why?” she challenged. “I should think you would not need that sort of release.”

  “I haven’t taken part in the orgies for a long time, sweeting.” His knuckles slid up her spine, sending erotic tremors over her skin. “I’d hoped that you might want to stay longer, Grace. I’ll deliver you unharmed, but I wanted a few days alone together, in this bedroom, with nothing to do but explore fantasy.”

  “Explore your fantasies, you mean. Like Clarisse?”

  “This has nothing to do with that bloody book.” Water splashed as he jerked his hands out of the water and she turned back as he raked his fingers through his hair. “The thing is I want you. I’m half mad with it. Twice, I’ve almost got a ball through my heart because I glimpsed blond hair on a coach’s occupant and thought it might be you. I’ve scaled more damned trellises than I care to count, to stand into the shadows of a ballroom and hunt for you.”

  “You did that?” Grace pulled away from his strong, hot body, astounded yet confused.

  “You came to my bath. I think you do want to stay, Grace.”

  “One night. I can stay for tonight. But tomorrow morning, I have to leave. And I will.”

  Steam swirled in Devlin’s bedchamber and Grace brushed at the droplets clinging to her bare shoulders and the swells of her breasts. But as hot as the air was, she felt more heat inside.

  “It’s too hot in here, Grace. Let us go outside.”

  After her declaration, he had spoke only of inanities. He had remained firmly in the here and now—did she want him to wash her? Did she wish to wash her hair? What was her favorite scent? Dinner had appeared and then fresh strawberries and thick cream, but he had let her eat that entire treat herself.

  He had watched as she dipped each strawberry, caught a soft cloud on the ripe red tip, then sucked off the cream. Over and over, she had done it, until his tension filled the room and she had then bitten into the berry and made a game of slurping juice and licking her lips.

  He had been naked and she had seen his cock bounce as she ate each berry. His hand had strayed there twice, but he’d fisted his hand instead of touching himself. As though he’d wanted to draw out the agony.

  She had to admit she was amazed by his control. Now, night had fallen and he was still hard. His cock jutted out like a saber as Devlin, naked, pushed open the doors, revealing a terrace lit by a splash of moonlight and fathomless darkness beyond. She slipped on his robe—the blue one he had given her. Even cloaked by darkness, she could not boldly walk outside naked.

  He stood at the railing, and for a fanciful moment she imagined him on the bridge of a ship, wheel gripped in his hands. What was it like to sail? Her feet had never left solid ground.

  Except now—even with the sturdy terrace beneath her, she did not feel on solid ground. A mass of a million stars filled the sky. Devlin caught her hand and drew her to his side. “There—that is Orion. And the Dipper. There, sweetheart, is the North Star.”

  “How do you know so much about the stars?” She whispered the question, awed into silence by the whisper of the breeze in the meadow and the melodies of the nighttime insects.

  “For navigation, love. On a ship the knowledge is practical. Here with you, it’s more…romantic.” He slid his arm around her. The night was sweltering and, as he cradled her close, his robe clung to her damp skin. The silk stuck to her hard nipples.

  “What do you want to do tonight?” she whispered. “Did you want me to join your orgy?”

  “You asked that rather breathlessly. Is that what you want, Grace? In truth, I want to
keep you for myself.”

  She gazed out over the dark woods and a puff of breeze set the leaves shivering, flashing like silver coins. “That’s what I want—” She broke off as he undid the belt of her robe.

  “Take it off.”

  She did, letting the night air caress her; then like Clarisse, she followed his next hoarse command. “Bend over the rail, display your lovely arse for me.” His hips pressed to her, and the long, hard line of his erection bumped the valley of her derriere. “I want to do the most intimate things with you, Grace, if all I have is tonight.” As he spoke, he arched forward and the head of his cock, thick and swollen, pushed into her wet quim.

  9

  Grace cried out in passion, her hot, tight cunny pulsing around him as she came again. Gritting his teeth, Devlin let his head drop back and shut his eyes tight. Control. Control.

  He couldn’t watch her come, damn it. He would explode inside her in an instant.

  Grace thrust back against him, teasing his aching, ready-to-burst cock with her cream-slicked grip. It was torture to hang on, but he would do it.

  Slowly he withdrew, pausing to punish himself with the head of his cock at the edge of her pussy. Grace slumped forward, greedily drawing in loud breaths, and Devlin felt his chest rumble with a laugh. He drew back finally, and his cock popped free, jerking up to rest against her lush arse.

  She wriggled her derriere against him, slapping his cock against her cheeks.

  God—

  He dipped his fingers into her creamy quim, then rubbed the furled entrance to her rump. She gasped at the caress, and he stroked her until a deep, hungry moan tumbled from her lips.

  “You like that,” he said softly.

  “It’s good.”

  “You’ll like my mouth there too,” he promised.

  “Devlin, you can’t possibly do that—” But his tongue was already slicking over her rounded cheeks as he dropped to his knees behind her, and her words vanished into the hot, dark night.

  His tongue flicked lazily over that sweetly tight opening and he tasted her most intimate flavors on his tongue. Clean from the bath but still earthy and ripe.

  “I saw this…in a picture…” she breathed. “But I had no idea it was really done.”

  He wanted to say that anything was possible, and he wanted to do anything that gave her pleasure, but he just slid his tongue into her anus instead, twirling it to tease her sensitive rim.

  Her back arched in a graceful line and her golden hair tumbled down her back. Her cries of delight floated up to the stars. Devlin held her hips, rocking her back to him as he plunged his tongue up her arse. His cock jutted up from his groin, swaying heavily, and his juice dribbled out of the tip.

  He couldn’t hold back any longer.

  “That was so good, so astonishingly so,” Grace whispered as he stood.

  He stroked the sleek line of her back, letting his hand cup her rump. “I want to make love to you that way.”

  “You are certainly blunt!” But she nodded, her teeth worrying her lip. “You think I’m wanton, don’t you? Of course you do—”

  “I think you are the woman I want to pleasure. Now, stop judging yourself, love. Enjoy.” He took hold of his shaft and brushed the head of his cock along the valley of her bottom.

  She surged back, wriggling until the head touched her entrance. “Yes.”

  “Take it slow.” He was warning himself, warning her. “Do you trust me?”

  “Why?” she asked and her voice betrayed surprise. “Should I not?”

  He chuckled at that, her blunt and simple question. “No, you have every reason to trust me.”

  Slowly, he thrust forward, his shaft bending in a painful but arousing way as his slippery cock tried to penetrate. She wasn’t wet, but he was leaking juices. A small cry and her muscles opened to let him in, then resisted. She was gasping, panting.

  He stroked her back, kissed the fragrant crook of her neck. “All right?”

  “It’s irresistible now,” she answered. “I have to do it.” Her voice was soft, seductive, relaxed—promising that she did indeed trust him.

  Why had he asked for her trust?

  But he couldn’t think—her heat, her snug, enticing ring held him and teased him, squeezing the engorged head of his cock. Fists clenched, he worked his hips forward, pressing until she squeaked or gasped, then drawing back. They were locked in a sensual dance of anticipation. He would push in and she would take him, then gasp and pull away.

  Each press forward was like dipping his wick into scalding flame. He watched his cock disappear inch by inch between the plump mounds of her arse as his heart pounded and his throat tightened. His ballocks pulled up tight as she cried “yes” and he surged forward, filling her, stretching her.

  He slid his hand around front, between the swell of her tummy and the railing, and he found her clit, circling the bud with his finger.

  She ground against his hand, then pushed back. She pumped against him, surprising him with her speed, her aggression. She half-turned, her cheeks a vivid flush.

  If she wanted it hard and fast—

  He thrust hard, giving her his cock to the hilt, and his brain stopped working, and his instincts took over. Bury yourself in her heart. Rub her until she screams.

  She bucked back to him, and he felt her mound collide with his fingers with every frantic jolt.

  “Devlin! Dev!”

  She was coming. Beautifully. Ferociously.

  Like a sixty-foot wave, his orgasm hit him, shattering his control. His balls jerked up tight and his surging come jetted out of him, filling her, coating him; and he gripped her to hold himself inside while his brain dissolved.

  God, it was good—

  He bent forward just as she arched back. His lips found hers and he drank in her cries. Her tongue teased his, and she kissed him with a fury that told him how intense her pleasure had been. She was claiming him, devouring him because he’d made her come so hard.

  And he liked it.

  “I’m not going to let you go, Grace.”

  Sleepily, Grace blinked. Devlin’s words drifted into her thoughts, but she didn’t entirely understand them. Then her brain focused on the word not and she jerked up to realize she was lying in his bed, nude, and he was sprawled naked at her side. Her legs pressed against his, her breasts damp with sweat with trickles running between. She gaped at Devlin. His amber brows were slashes over his eyes, his mouth firm and determined.

  “You have to let me go!” She cried. It should have been exciting, arousing, to wake in his bed. Now she just felt like a prisoner. “I’m a day late already. Don’t you understand? My grandmother will think I am not coming. I wrote to her there to say I would, but she will think I changed my mind. She’ll leave. She will be hurt—”

  “Good for her, then. Nothing she doesn’t deserve.” Devlin sat up, resting his big shoulders against the headboard.

  Grace waved her hands frantically. “It was not her fault! If her husband insisted she was not to have anything to do with us, what exactly was she to do, O wise and commanding Captain?”

  He shrugged. “A woman can bend even the most unyielding idiot to her will.”

  “Oh, really. And how is she to do that?” And then she slumped back and let tears fall. They were not entirely false—she was tired and shaking, and what if her grandmother really had given up on her arrival?

  “Stop it. You have no right to cry over a shallow and callous woman.”

  Grace loudly sucked in a sobbing breath and saw him wince. “Do you not understand what it is like to be shunned simply for your birth? For who you are?”

  “Yes,” he grunted, his mouth harder. “I’m a marquis’ bastard.”

  “Yes, but your father acknowledges you. Lady Prudence claimed your father prefers you—”

  “That, my love, is not the truth.”

  “You knew the house—you even knew its secret passages.” And she had only been in the home of the Earl and Countess of Warr
en once, incognito. She had taken one of the public tours with her sisters and mother. “All I want is just to speak to her.”

  Devlin sat up abruptly and shoved back his hair with both hands. Lines furrowed his brow. “Damn and blast, all right. I won’t steal this from you, love.”

  “You are going to let me go?” Grace grimaced as she asked the question. Who was he to dictate to her? Why should she have to ask his permission? But she knew, from a lifetime of biting her tongue, that it was better to coerce than to confront.

  He bent forward, resting his elbows on her knees, and slanted her a glance. “Of course. Tomorrow morning.”

  He looked so devastatingly handsome in that position, she had to force herself to look away. Leaving now meant leaving his bed and never returning.

  It was for the best. Truly it was.

  “Good,” she answered, “I was going to go, with your permission or not, my highwayman.” Now that she had her victory, she wanted to salvage some of her pride.

  A wicked grin turned up his lips and she clutched the sheets—suddenly, she couldn’t slide out of bed. Then he rolled over, capturing her with his arms. “Men who live outside the law are not easily defied, sweetheart. Remember that.”

  She intended to protest but his hips settled between her thighs and the only sound she managed was a flustered, “Ooh.”

  “I’m hard for you, Grace,” he groaned and she felt his cock nudging against her. “I woke up hard for you.”

  She gulped, remembering Lord Wesley whispering similar words. But Devlin did not look smug and lusty. He looked…ravaged.

  Uncertain, Grace gazed up at his surprisingly solemn blue eyes and teased, “Even after all our lovemaking?”

  Where was the rakish pirate? Why did he seem so deadly serious about his arousal? But then he grinned, treating her to how delicious he was with dimples and crinkles at his eyes. He winked. “Yes. I could make love to you forever.”