My Lord Raven (The Ravensmoor Saga)

by Tamela Quijas

  “If I felt only lust for you, my Kate, I wouldn't seek to pleasure you.” He whispered against the heat of her thigh, the warmth of his breath causing her to shake with need. She exhaled a sharp inhalation of disbelief as the tip of his tongue did the unimaginable. She shuddered as he hungrily delved into the honeyed depths of her body, laving the swollen flesh until a small and gasping scream of pleasure erupted from her.

  Kate's back arched from the floor, her shoulders grinding into the plush carpet as her hands clutched at him. The soft curls of his hair wrapped about her fingers as the tip of Dante's skilled tongue imitated the action he executed with the solidness of his body. She arched again, gasping, her breath tight within her chest. Her hands slid from his head and scraped at the carpet. Ruthlessly, Dante continued to lave the silken splendor of her body, his expertly executed actions deliberate, and the warmth of his tongue persistent. Her body trembled with each twitch of his tongue, driving her mad. Her body bucked against the onslaught, her hips quivering, and her breath raw in her throat.

  “Lust, Kate?” He whispered, his lips grazing her trembling thighs. Deliberately, he left her weak and wanting, longing for more, her climax unfinished. He could feel her pulsating with unfulfilled need as he rose over her quivering body, his eyes staring deeply into hers. Her vision clouded and her thoughts dimmed. Dante ran his mouth across her parted lips, fully cognizant of the tortured groan torn from her parched throat and the intense scent of her womanhood on his skin. His body ached with repressed need, the solidness of his swollen manhood straining painfully against his trousers. He longed for release, wanting to bury himself deep into the throbbing heat of her body, to feel the tightness of her warmth firmly ensconce his length.

  “Tell me, sweet Kate, what do you feel?”

  She shook her head at his question, unable to speak, his name escaping her in a whisper. The powerful thud of her heart increased in tempo as her fingers curled into his flesh. Warmth flowed hotly through her, the ache increasing deep within her loins, her pulse dancing erratically. She was aware of the length of his body pressed intimately between her thighs, the abrasiveness of his trousers erotic against her sensitive flesh.

  “You say this is lust, my dear, but you don't comprehend the power you wield over me in your small hand.” He whispered huskily, his warm breath fanning her cheek. His heartbeat pounded strongly beneath her fingers, the tempo increasing with each passing word. Her hips arched upwards on their own accord, craving the feel on his hips buried deep between her thighs.

  She groaned aloud as his lips hungrily sought her jaw. He paid little heed to her weakly issued protest as his mouth trailed to the ivory length of her throat, inhaling the familiar scent of crushed roses. His strong teeth nipped at the exposed nerves jumping wildly beneath the pale flesh, his breath warm against her skin, his hair brushing her cheek. Kate groaned deep in her throat at the touch of his mouth, his tongue tracing her jaw with the same languid skill he performed on her womanhood.

  “Sweet Kate,” the husky issuance of her name was deep and sultry, filled with an unspoken promise. The leaping tongues of fire were incapable of matching the flames blazing within his taunt body as he slid down her body, then back over her trembling form. The slowness of the movement left her little doubt to the rampant passions coursing through him.

  “My own dear, sweet Kate,” Dante's head lowered and Kate's thoughts vanished as she stared at the sensuous lines of his lips. His mouth didn't meet hers in the kiss she breathlessly expected, returning to the arched column of her throat. His tongue played havoc with the hollow at the base of her neck, stilling any sound that longed to escape. His hands moved in a slow rhythm over her waist, fingering each quivering ridge and curve before resting on her hips. Kate's flesh ached, her breasts swelling and rising against him, her body curving into his solidness.

  The rough texture of Dante's tongue moved in languid patterns across the rounded swell of her breast. Kate trembled tempestuously in his arms as his teeth nipped at the swollen mounds, her hands twining into his dark hair and urging him hungrily forward. She arched in his embrace, mindlessly pulling him until her hips molded into the straining ache of his maleness. Her head spun at his tender assault, her anger draining from her, her lips throbbing for the feel of his mouth and her body yearning for his skilled caress.

  “I always wanted you, from the moment I set eyes on you.” He stared at her, his eyes nearly as dark as the night, searching her dilated gaze. He pulled her upturned face to his, ruthlessly assaulting the tender flesh of her mouth, forcing her to experience the pain she had driven him to so long ago.

  “Dante!” She moaned as he pulled away, her body straining. Kate didn't know what to do, turn and flee from the temptation or permit him to continue with the assault on her willing body. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, lingered traces of his betrayal. As his hands pressed her to him, the anger and frustration ebbed. Rational thoughts disappeared as she stared into his heavy lidded eyes. A flush of passion highlighted his cheeks and a frown marred his rugged features. His hands repeated the slow and methodical trail before resting on her tiny waist. Although he held her close, there was an unexplained reticence in his actions.

  “I didn't invite Angelica.”

  Kate believed him, recalling his tightly leashed fury. She had seen too many men guilty of inviting their wife and the latest paramour to the same function, who relished the unavoidable confrontation. Dante was outraged, his contriteness evident as he banished the woman from his home.

  “I know.” She responded.

  Dante breathed a ragged sigh of relief, the sound an involuntarily weak groan. Her hands slid over his tense shoulders and he captured the warmth of her mouth, taunting her. He traced the silken softness she offered, taunting her with the passion he attempted to hold under control.

  Kate expelled a raged breath and twined her fingers into his hair, holding his head firmly in place as she pressed her tingling mouth to his. A slow groan of immense feminine pleasure seeped from her as he quivered, inducing her to lave the scintillating texture of his tongue with the gentle caress of her own. He responded with unbridled passion, pressing against her, yearning to meld into her.

  “You learn well, my sweet heathen.” He groaned his praise aloud and reluctantly pulled his mouth away, weak and trembling.

  “I've had the best teacher.” She admitted beneath her breath, her eyes glowing with an eerie green fire. He captured her lips and skillfully ran his tongue over the delicate flesh, swollen from his touch. The turgid shaft of his manhood, aching to be set free from the snug confines, pressed intimately against her.

  His hands slid across her flesh, the tanned skin in stark relief to her alabaster softness. Dimly, he thought her skin rivaled the finest silk money could purchase and her lips were sweeter than honey. Kate was his inescapable obsession, he thought. He paused, his touch lingering on her thighs as he came to the understanding he would never be capable of obtaining his fill from her precious body.

  “I intend to be your only teacher.” He whispered in his smoky tones and Kate felt a moan slip from her as he stroked the hardened nub of her breast. An indescribable fire leapt magically at his touch, the blood in her veins singing as Dante's tongue darted across the swollen nipple before drawing it gently into the warmth of his mouth. His teeth nipped at the tender flesh, taunting, teasing, and every tantalizing. Kate closed her eyes in ecstatic response as he pressed her closer. The roughness of his fingers stroked the curve of her hip, drawing her, molding her pliant form into him. She recalled the vivid sensation of his flesh against her, the memory nearly as explosive as the multitude of confusion racing through her.

  Dante groaned against her neck, a shudder of desire wracking his solidness, echoed by a tremor of her own. The feel of her flesh never failed to scintillate his inflamed sense, the blood ringing loudly in his ears, his pulse rate deafening. A small but whimpering sound of pleasure escaped her as he slid over her body. A strangled gasp fell fr
om his lips as he twined his fingers into her hair and stared into her flushed features.

  Dante's thoughts were disjointed as his slid his hips against her, his legs intertwining with the silken length of her long limbs. He molded her to him, noting she fit as if he was meant only for him. She was his other half, the one capable of making his heart quicken, the only woman who made his life complete.

  He felt her shiver as he moved his clothed hips against her. He growled throatily, his eyes closing as Kate responded with the instinctive arching of her rounded curves. Dante's fingers moved from the silkiness of her hair and grasped her hips, grinding her against his undeniable arousal. Kate's spine arched, savoring the sensation he evoked, responding ardently to his very touch. Despite the barrier of clothing, the implied intimacy of the act left her aching for more, hungering for fulfillment.

  Kate sighed his name, her nails biting into his shoulders as he buried his face into the scented curve of her neck. Fluidly, he rolled to his back, pulling her after him. His dark hair spread against the thick Aubusson and Kate stared into his tense features. She realized they were lined with the effort of restraint, his heavy lidded eyes nearly black with passion, his lips pulled tightly across his teeth. His breath escaped in short and ragged gasps and his skin glowed. Kate murmured his name before capturing his lower lip between her teeth, suckling the tender morsel of flesh until he groaned aloud.

  Her body ached with a need as intense as his, judging from the throbbing maleness pressed against her. Her lips lingered on his jaw, feeling the light growth of dark stubble on his skin, relishing the rough feel. She nuzzled at his neck, imitating his actions, stifling a pleased smile as he shuddered. His name burst from her as he rose, leaving her weak and breathless on the carpeting. Slowly, she opened her eyes, fearing he deserted her. She found him staring into her flushed features, his expression barely discernible in the dim glow of the waning fire.

  “Dante!” She groaned aloud, her hips swaying back and forth in sensuous appeal, hungering to pull him closer.

  “Such long legs for one so small,” he observed throatily as he knelt, his heated hands traveled over her exposed body. He shook, his fragile hold on control vanishing with the gentleness of her touch. Scarcely capable of inhaling a much-needed breath, the intense hunger caused waves of unspoken but delicious pain to ripple through him. “I can't….damn, sweet, another moment and you'll unman me.”

  Kate reeled at the hoarse sound of his words, each mind numbing syllable brushing her sensitive body. His fingers stroked the quivering flesh of her thigh and his name fell hungrily from her lips, the heat of his touch branding her.

  “I want you, my sweet. I need you.” He confessed as he listened to the rapid throb of her heart.

  I love you, he longed to whisper, the words failing to fall from his lips.

  Her trembling fingers traced his lips as he whispered her name. Kate lowered her heavy lids as he pulled from her and the final remnant of his attire slide from his tightened flesh. She knew this was her last opportunity to deny him what her body craved, to retreat into the safety and sanity of her own world. She couldn't refuse him, wanting him as hungrily as he craved her.

  She gasped aloud as he impatiently covered her. The overpowering warmth of his thighs burnt into her skin, his rigid shaft pressing against her body. His knee slid firmly between her trembling legs, instinctively parting the limbs to place himself between the softness of her silken thighs. He paused at the dampened portal of her womanhood, tingling from the expert assault of his tongue, his desire wracked gaze searching for the protest he expected to burst from her. When her protest remained unvoiced, his eyes ignited with the glow of a triumphant fire, his heart welling within his chest.

  “Kiss me, my love.” He commanded brokenly, his throbbing member brushing the auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs. “Kiss me, sweet Kate.”

  She complied eagerly, her hands sliding up the flexing muscles of his throat and across the straining shoulders. His strong arms supported her arched back before his heated tongue slid over her parted lips, her expression revealing her consent to her wild lord of the manor.

  “Don't torture me, little one.” He groaned, the hardened tips of her sensitive breasts brushing his inflamed flesh.

  “Dante,” she whispered his name, hungering for his touch, his great hands pressing her straining body close to his molded muscles.

  “Sweet Kate,” He groaned the endearment, unable to control his spontaneous response. Her name fell from him in a strangled semblance of a sob as he surged into her inviting warmth, filling her straining form with the full force of his aching velvet rod.

  She moaned as he pressed her back into the floor, her hips writhing against the tender assault. The action incited him and he buried himself deeply and without precedence, nearly painfully, into the warmth of her body. Despite her anger, Kate couldn't deny herself, responding torridly to each impassioned thrust. Kate's hips rose, enveloping the swollen shaft, meeting Dante in an act as old as time. Her senses reeled as the world vanished and deep moans of pleasure filled the room, her nails digging exacting half crescents into the straining muscles of his forearms.

  Kate's name was issued in a rough whisper, Dante's other words lost as he slowly withdrew himself from the damp temptation of her silken heat. He paused, awaiting Kate's aching groan of need before filling her again, his hips rotating to fill her to the fullest with his solid length. His heart ached with the deliberateness of each impassioned stroke, his body craving release.

  “My dearest love,” he whispered raggedly, feeling her stiffen and shudder. Her breath escaped her in gasping sobs of ecstasy, her legs twining about his thighs, drawing him into her pulsating core. She exclaimed his name on a broken sigh, her eyes flying wide. Her mind spun and her body throbbed. His response was aching, tortured in its own right as he savored each of her tortured gasps. She rose and arched beneath him, unwittingly, drawing him deeper into the swirling vortex of passion. Dante covered her mouth with his lips as he swallowed the intense utterance of his name, her body quivering and shaking. Kate's explosive response triggered his savage release, his body trembling as his very soul disappeared into her softness.

  Dante slowly regained his breath, his face pressed into Kate's neck. As his body slowly relaxed, she lay beneath him, not uttering a word. His lifted his dark head slowly, the sensuous warmth of his lips marking a trail across her jaw, his magnificent eyes staring deeply into her drowsy orbs.

  “You're mine, Kate.” He stated in a possessively fierce whisper, the warmth of his breath fanning her flushed skin. When she failed to respond, Dante rolled to his side, pulling her after him. His body remained intertwined with hers, preventing her from moving, their thudding pulses an echo of one another.

  “No, Dante.” She whispered her denial as she closed her eyes in exhausted surrender. Despite the consuming passion and the love she felt for him, Kate ached with the torturous knowledge that she was deceived. The painting in the ballroom was evidence to the ulterior motives he held for bringing her to Colinwood.

  “You can't deny me, Kathleen Bennett.” He ground out. “I'm in your soul, woman. You can't tell me otherwise.”

  Kate murmured his name, incapable of coherent thought as his hands traveled over her tingling skin. She knew his words were true. He had invaded her soul, taunting her relentlessly in her dreams and her day-to-day life.

  “You're mine, sweet Kate.” He responded softly, the touch of his calloused hands gentle. All logical thoughts fled as she lifted her face to receive the full onslaught of his masterful kiss and she surrendered to his skillful touch.

  ***

  “You'll destroy him if you leave.”

  Kate paused in mid step, her hand on the cold brass of the doorknob. She lowered her head before turning toward the familiar voice.

  “He'll never notice I left.” Kate responded with a heavy voice. “I'm nothing.”

  “You believe that as you leave him in your bed?” O'To
ole harrumphed in disbelief, Kate's betraying blush providing the answer she sought. “You don't understand much of what goes on about this house, do you?”

  The woman shook her head with the comment, wiping her gnarled hands on the heavy apron tied about her waist. She had risen early, having felt a foreboding sense of despair gnashing deep within her. A few seconds difference here or there and she would have missed the girl entirely.

  “He's the lord of the manor. I'm just Kate Bennett, granddaughter of the family bookkeeper.” Kate supplied with dogged obstinacy. “I'm nothing more than the hired help.”

  “Ah, girl, that as it may be but I gave you more credit.” O'Toole grumbled, shaking her graying head. “The boy may be lord of the manor, but he's just a man.”

  Kate couldn't bite back her watery smile at the persistent and repeated moniker assigned to the slumbering earl.

  “You see him as you do, O'Toole. You've been at Colinwood since his birth.” Kate answered, lowering her head.

  “I'll grant you that.” O'Toole conceded with a brisk nod. “So, I do know the boy. I'll admit he's far from perfect.”

  Kate remained, her head lowered, knowing the stern woman had spoken the truth. Dante had always displayed an absolute ease in admitting his imperfections.

  “Dante wants the woman in the portrait, not me. I'm simply a copy.” She uttered the words bitterly.

  “Miss Bennett….” O'Toole attempted to placate the bitterness evident in Kate's words.

  “Am I correct?”

  “Girl, the woman in the portrait is merely that, a woman in a portrait.” She grumbled thickly, repeating Dante's own words. “There's more to that painting and the Ravensmoors than you can understand.”

  “Then why the mystery?” Kate probed.

  “The tale will only make sense if you're willing to understand. Open your heart to the man.” She paused, her heavy features twisting as she looked up at the towering ceiling of the foyer.