by Adele Clee
A smile played at the corners of her mouth. "I've decided to do things differently. I've decided to kiss you first and hit you later."
Her blue eyes were softer, revealing the depth of her desire.
"I need you to set the pace," he said. "Do what you will with me, without fear."
Panic flashed in her eyes. "I'm not good at this." She waved her hand back and forth between them. "I won't know how to please you."
They stood there like virgins on their wedding night: fully clothed, shaking, neither one knowing what the hell to do next. As the gentleman, he would have to do something.
"Trust me," he said pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor. "Anything you do to me will be more than pleasing."
His words seemed to give her confidence, but her gaze drifted down his chest, past the faint red marks that were still healing, to the branding mark of the Devil.
"What's that?" she said reaching out to run her fingers around the circle of barbed twine. "Is it a holy symbol?"
He almost laughed out loud. She was referring to the cross in the centre, of course. "It is a branding mark. I shall tell you more about it later, but for now, can we focus on the removal of your garments."
His distraction technique worked, and her eyes widened in response. "What? All of them?"
"Of course. Grace, I want to bathe in the splendour of your naked body. I want to feel the warmth of your skin pressed against mine."
"Oh."
Perhaps Henry Denton preferred to take her under the coverlet, with her dressed in a thick cotton nightgown.
Damn. He did not want to think about her in bed with another man. "I suggest you kiss me now then we will work towards the goal of freeing us both of all restrictions."
The corners of her mouth crept up into a sinful smile. "I think I have mastered the kissing part. It's up to you to help me master the rest." She stepped towards him, her hands coming to rest on his chest.
"Show me what you've mastered," he said, his cock pulsating against the fabric of his trousers.
She pressed her lips against his, softly at first. As her hands moved up to caress the muscles in his shoulders and neck, a seductive sigh breezed across his mouth.
"Close your eyes," she whispered, and he obliged. "I want you to show me how to worship your body, Elliot." The words drifted over his neck, the fine hairs at his nape tingling in response.
The anticipation was like nothing he had felt before.
Every part of him ached for her.
Every part of him shook with a need he could not define.
"I'll show you everything," he replied. As his lips formed the last word, she covered them with her own, her tongue penetrating his mouth so sweetly.
That's when it hit him.
With Grace, everything felt different.
With Grace, everything felt wonderful and new.
Chapter 13
Despite charging to the door in anger and telling herself she didn't need Elliot Markham in her life, Grace kissed him as though his mouth provided everything she needed to breathe, to exist.
This addiction she had for him, for his taste, his smell, for the deep groans resonating from the back of his throat, it controlled her thoughts and actions.
She tried to suppress it.
Nothing good could come of it. Not in the long term. But the part of her that wanted to experience real pleasure, the part that wanted to find a way to forget Henry Denton, that part would take this wonderful man as her lover regardless of the consequences.
Even the fear she'd once felt clawing away inside had been trampled down by her overwhelming need for him.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact she felt in control. Elliot did not dominate her, mistreat or abuse her.
The thought caused a rush of emotion to flood her chest, and she deepened the kiss in response, pressing her body closer to his in the process. Up until now, he had played a secondary role in this melding of mouths. But as her eager hands scrambled over the hard muscles in his arms and back in a bid to ease the ache deep in her core, he responded by swinging her around and fiddling frantically with the buttons on the back of her dress.
"I can't touch you with all of these layers," he complained, and he did not see the smile that touched her lips.
"Can you manage?"
He gave an arrogant snort as his hands brushed the sleeves from her shoulders and the material sank to the floor with ease. He clasped her elbow as she stepped out of the fabric pool.
"I'll leave the rest for a minute," he said pulling her into an embrace and he bent his knees as he claimed her mouth, letting his hands ride up underneath her petticoat and chemise.
The light touch of his fingers gliding over her bare legs caused a bolt of desire to shoot through her body, and the throbbing sensation between her thighs cried out for his touch.
"Let me ease your suffering," he whispered against her mouth as if he could read her thoughts, interpret her movements and before she could catch her breath his hot palms moulded around her buttocks. "Tell me," he continued, nuzzling her neck. "Do you flail and cry out in your release or do you pant and moan?"
His lips left a molten trail in their wake, and she swallowed before finding the breath to speak. "My … my release?" she asked with some confusion as her head fell back and another wave of pleasure pulsed through her. "I do-don't know what you mean."
He stopped suddenly and searched her face. A sinful grin formed. "You don't know what I mean?" He seemed pleased with her answer. "Oh, then you are in for a real treat."
Without another word he went to work on the hook and eye clasps, on the ties of her stays, removing her plain linen chemise until she stood before him, naked and exposed.
He stepped back and surveyed her form as though she were an exhibit of fine art. When he clasped his hand over his mouth, she feared there was something wrong. Henry had refused to look upon her like this, and she had a sudden urge to clutch her clothing to her chest and hang her head in shame.
"Wh-what's wrong?" she found the courage to say, moving her arms to cover her breasts.
"Wrong? Why would you think there's anything wrong?" He took her hands in his and held them out wide as his hungry eyes devoured every inch of her. "You're perfect. Perfect for me. Perfect in every way. And your breasts, well, the word spectacular springs to mind."
Her cheeks burned. She found she admired him a little more for the compliment.
If only she'd met him a year ago.
"Come," he said taking her hand and guiding her towards the bed. "There is something we must rectify before we can continue."
Curiosity burned away inside. "Now I'm intrigued," she said, her husky tone revealing her desire.
Elliot touched his lips to hers, pulled her to his hard body and moved so her breasts rubbed against the dusting of hair on his chest. The muscles deep in her core pulsed again. As their tongues became lost in each other's mouths, he lowered her down to the bed.
He came down on top of her and the slightest frisson of fear resurfaced. What if she felt squashed? What if she felt as though all the air was being squeezed from her lungs? Panic would set in. She would be plagued by nightmares of Henry.
She pushed at his chest, and he raised himself up on his arms. "Your trousers," she said by way of a distraction, just to give her a moment to catch her breath. "You need to remove them."
"In a moment. I won't hurt you, Grace. I'm about to show you how much I want you." He cast her a wicked smile, and her heart melted; all negative thoughts subsided.
Perhaps he sensed her fear; perhaps he could hear her thoughts.
Plundering her mouth with a swift but wildly erotic kiss, he moved to rain featherlight kisses down her neck, moving lower still.
Her heart thumped loudly in her chest when he took her nipple into his mouth, teasing it to peak. The fluttering sensation travelled all the way down to her toes. Grace threw her head back and closed her eyes to stave off her embarrass
ment.
But then he moved lower still, his tongue dipping into and circling her navel as he hooked his arms under her knees and bent her legs.
She was exposed to him now, laid open and bare. "Elliot, don't look. I … I can't …"
"Hush," he whispered. "Trust me."
When his mouth moved against her most intimate place, she gasped for breath, clutched at the coverlet. But he continued to torment her, sucking, licking and kissing, the tip of his tongue penetrating her entrance.
She should have felt shame. She should have tried to stop him.
But it felt so wonderful, so utterly divine.
Elliot lavished her with attention until her breathing grew raspy, until her mind grew foggy and she struggled to rouse a coherent thought. Her body tingled in response, the muscles in her core tightening and she reached down, grabbed his hair and rubbed brazenly against his mouth.
She heard a distant hum. Whether it came from his throat or hers, she didn't know, and she could feel herself being drawn towards a magical abyss.
It came upon her swiftly. The waves of intense pleasure rushed through her entire body. She writhed and moaned against him, called his name. The muscles in her core spasmed, clamped down around his tongue as he thrust it inside her shamelessly.
"Elliot. Oh, I … I …"
Her legs shook. She arched her back, surrendered to the strange yet glorious sensation rippling through her, lifting her from the bed and carrying her away to a heavenly place.
Feeling giddy and a little disorientated, she lay there until she found the courage to open her eyes.
Elliot raised his head, an arrogant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Now I'll remove my trousers."
Unbuttoning and sliding out of them with speed and efficiency he threw them to the floor, and she gasped again at the sight of his jutting erection.
If she told him she'd never seen a man naked before he would think it absurd. But as she stared and marvelled in wonder, she knew he could see the truth of it.
"Touch me," he said, coming to lie at her side. "Let me feel your soft hand wrapped around me."
Grace swallowed as nerves tried to push to the fore. But she was still soaring on the dizzying heights of her release. With trembling fingers she reached out and touched him, growing instantly aroused by the sheer strength and power emanating from within. His skin felt smooth, like a veil of silk shrouding a rod of solid iron and his growl of appreciation gave her the courage she needed.
As he lay back on the bed, she rolled onto her side and studied his reactions to try to find the right rhythm. She stroked him, pulling the skin taut to expose the glistening head. Grace wondered what it would be like to take him in her mouth, and her mind became distracted imagining the taste and sensation.
"Next time," he panted as he covered her hand. "I want you now, Grace."
As she rolled onto her back and his magnificent, sculptured body covered hers, she prepared herself to feel the heavy weight of him pressing her down into the mattress. But his mouth settled on her nipple, lavished them both with equal attention until she was writhing beneath him once more.
Lost in rapturous ecstasy, she'd not noticed him shift position, not until he pushed slowly inside her.
In one long fluid movement, he stretched her, filled her deep, and she grasped his firm buttocks and revelled in the slow grinding movements that sent bolts of pleasure shooting to her core. Elliot quickened the pace, thrust hard as he angled his hips. The motion brought with it the tightening feeling in her abdomen. Only now, she could feel it in every part of her body. Now the muscles clamped around him, squeezing and pulsating, drawing him deeper.
"Elliot."
They were panting, groaning, gasping for breath. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, anchoring him to her. Not wanting to let him go. Sweat trickled down his back. She dug her fingers into the muscled planes, pressed her body close to his as she knew he would soon withdraw.
"Grace … I … holy hell."
He slowed his pace and closed his eyes, his face revealing the pleasure he gleaned from the last few strokes. When he collapsed on top of her, breathless and exhausted, she didn't feel squashed or overwhelmed. She felt happy. Yet her mind soon became occupied with a whole host of thoughts and feelings.
Their joining had been like nothing she had ever experienced before. Fragments of desire still pulsed through her body. She felt connected to Elliot in a way she never thought possible. He had not only claimed her body, but she feared he had claimed her heart and soul, too.
One terrifying question consumed her. Why had he not withdrawn?
"Now do you know what I mean when I promised you release?" he said, drawing her closer to his warm body and rolling onto his side, despite the fact he was still buried inside her. "I assume you found it pleasurable?"
She cuddled into him as a way of banishing all worries from her mind temporarily. "I feel wonderful. I did not know it was possible to experience such a thing."
He chuckled. "You writhe in such a seductive way, and the sweetest moans escape from your lips. It is a wonderful sight to behold."
"As is your face. It lit up the whole room." Knowing she had no option but to ask the next question, she caressed his chest as a distraction. "You know when you want to prevent … when you don't want—"
"I am incapable of fathering a child, Grace," he said as he eased himself out of her and rolled onto his back. "I've been told it is a consequence of my affliction."
A hard lump formed in her throat. It took a moment for her to determine why.
She wanted him, for now, for always. But she wanted children.
"Will it always be that way?" she said, and her voice sounded a little solemn.
"I'm afraid there is no cure. Of that I am certain."
A cold chill breezed over her and she shivered. Was there more to this illness that he hadn't told her?
"You're cold. Let's slide under the sheets and we'll soon have you warm again."
She studied his face as it was difficult to know what he was thinking. "You want to stay in bed for a while?"
"I do." He sounded just as surprised.
Perhaps it was time to touch upon another of her fearful thoughts.
"Is it wise? I … I heard you never touch the same lady twice."
He stared into her eyes, brushed her hair from her face. "For you, I will make an exception."
Chapter 14
Elliot pulled back the sheets and they climbed into bed.
He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he wanted her again. Now. He wanted to hear her little pants and moans. He wanted to feel her essence surround him, wanted to feel the same bone-shattering release he'd felt moments earlier.
When she propped herself up on her elbow and her sapphire-blue eyes studied his face, he knew the question she would ask before her lips formed the words.
"How did you come by this terrible affliction? If it is not contagious, how is it Alexander has it, too?"
He contemplated lying to her. But knowing Evelyn, she may have already told her about the golden-haired temptress. Besides, Grace had confided in him, confessed to her mistakes.
She would not judge him.
Elliot closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He couldn't do it. He couldn't let the words leave his lips. They lay buried beneath a veil of arrogance that had taken years to perfect, buried so deep they were almost lost to him.
"It is complicated," he said in an attempt to placate her.
"You do not have to tell me anything, Elliot. But know you can trust me with your secret."
In the last four years, he had never considered telling anyone about his affliction. If he waited for an eternity, he doubted he would find anyone else he could confide in.
"It is not a disease, Grace," he suddenly said, a little shocked at how easily he had submitted. "It is the Devil's curse. The story of how I came by it is far worse than any nightmare."
A frown marred her pretty
brow. "A curse? You're not serious?"
"I have never been more serious about anything."
"Someone cursed you?"
Elliot swallowed. "Someone bit me. Transferred their evil poison into my blood."
"Bit you! But why?"
It was a question he had spent long torturous hours deliberating. "I have no idea. I have asked myself the same question a hundred times, and there is only one feasible answer — revenge."
Her eyes grew wide. "You know the person who did this to you?"
He struggled to raise a smile. "No. I do not know her. But she had a look in her eyes, a hatred for man. She also bit Alexander and Leo—"
"Your friend, the Turkish prince," she gasped. "He suffers with it, too?"
"We were bitten at different times, in different locations. Although all within miles of her home it seems."
"But if you do not know her, why would she mark you as the object to satisfy her need for revenge?"
Elliot brushed his hand through his hair. "The only commonality we shared is that we were all libertines. We all used women for our own pleasure without thought or feeling."
Grace raised a brow. "Were libertines?" The words carried a hint of contempt mingled with disbelief.
"I refuse to change my ways because some golden-haired temptress ruined my life in a fit of rage. I refuse to let her beat me. I refuse to let her win."
A look of sadness swamped her countenance. "But have you won, Elliot? Does refusing to show any emotion truly make you the victor?"
"I show emotion with you," he said acknowledging she was not simply another woman he used to ease his boredom.
"Of course," she replied, although he sensed her doubt, her lack of confidence in him. "Do you still see her?"
Elliot sighed as he stared up at the ceiling. "I have not laid eyes on her for four years. Not since that fateful night in Bavaria."
"Bavaria?"
She fell silent for a moment, and he became aware of her full breasts pushing against his ribs. In the past, whenever he thought of the dreadful night he turned from human to demon, he'd look to his ravenous appetite to numb the pain. Until today, he had not cared where he put his cock.