Authors: The Seduction of an Unknown Lady
She was only half-aware of being divested
of her gown. Deftly he released the hooks, tugging it to her hips. She had a vague sense of her corset being tugged away. The backs of his fingers skimmed the valley of her breasts. Stockings were unpeeled. But her gown and petticoats were caught beneath her.
“Lift your hips,” came an urgent whisper.
A tug, a twist, and she was naked.
She felt herself borne backward on the sofa. Swamped with arousal, Fionna laid her palms against his cheeks, loving the texture, the beauty of his mouth.
“Kiss me again,” she pleaded.
Even before she had finished, his mouth came down on hers. The hot seal of their lips unbroken, he shrugged off his jacket, then fumbled with his shirt, almost ripping it off. A part of her wanted to laugh at his eagerness.
With a groan he dragged his mouth away, pushed himself to his feet, then tore off his boots and his trousers.
Fionna half raised herself on an elbow. One glimpse of him quelled the impulse to laugh.
The only light in the room came from the fire burning in the fireplace, the glow of a small lamp. For the space of a single heartbeat, he stood above her, his body in silhouette, his frame reflected in shades of amber and gold. Yet in that instant that time could scarcely measure, she saw so much. Firelight flickered over his frame, playing over the sculpted tightness of muscle and skin. All she
saw was a sheer, primitive beauty and grace and power.
And then she caught sight of his face. His eyes, bright and blazing, locked fiercely with hers. Fionna had written of desire such as this, the greedy, almost desperate longing that Rowan harbored for Raven. But she had never seen it on a man’s face.
Never until now. And now that she did, it stole the breath from her lungs.
His cheekbones flushed with passion. There was something almost feral about the possessive need in his expression, and she was nearly moved to tears. Her throat tightened oddly. Never had she dared dream that a man might look at her thus, simmering with want.
She wished she could brand the memory of his face and body in her mind and heart and savor it forever.
But he moved too swiftly.
One glimpse of a wide, hair-matted chest, the merest hint of jutting arousal was all she had before he planted his hands very deliberately alongside her body. Fionna smothered a sound of disappointment. Maidenly modesty be damned, she’d wanted to see for herself the part of him that—
The thought was cut abruptly short when he stretched out above her. Skin against skin. Breasts against chest. Belly to belly. There was not an inch of her body that wasn’t engulfed by
his. Had he not propped himself up on his elbows, his weight would have been intolerable. He kissed her again, and she sensed his struggle to keep his desire in check.
A little playfully—no, perhaps naughtily—she ran her toe up and down the knotted muscles of his calf.
Aidan lifted his head. Now he was the one who gave a hoarse laugh. “Do you toy with me, you little witch?”
The shift in her leg had also made her breathtakingly aware of the steely erection that lay thick and hard against her belly…as well as the twin fullness that lay below. And—though the powers above might strike her down here and now—she felt even more of that ample fullness when he laughed…
She pretended great consideration. “I may not be experienced,” she found herself teasing, “but I should like to think that I am…well, perhaps just a bit learned.”
He gave an odd little laugh. “An interesting supposition,” was all he said.
And then he proceeded to prove to her that he was quite learned indeed.
His mouth on the arch of her throat, the wicked lash of his tongue. By the time he reached her breasts, her blood was surging. And her breasts…It was as if they swelled before her eyes—before his—her nipples tight and aching. He
sucked hard; Fionna’s breath sucked in as well. For all that she proclaimed herself learned, she was stunned to find that secret place between her thighs feeling just as swollen…
And already wet.
He played at her breasts until she thought she would go mad. The sight of his head there, the feel of his tongue tracing damp, lazily sensuous circles around one nipple while his hand indulged in the very same play on the other drove her wild.
“I shall have to remember how much you like this,” he whispered huskily, raising his head to gaze at her.
“Mmmm.” She caught his head and brought it back down so that his mouth hovered just above the very point of her nipple.
There was no question as to her desire.
A low chuckle preceded the moist heat of his breath upon that erect, straining peak. He touched the very tip, then tugged the whole of it into his mouth…the sound she emitted was half moan, half sigh.
And all pleasure.
Unbidden, her hands slid over his shoulders, skimming taut muscle sheathed in sleek, hard skin, testing its strength with the press of her fingertips. Her touch pleased him; a low sound vibrated in his throat.
Drawing back, Aidan eased back on one el
bow and gazed the length of her. There was just enough room on the sofa to accommodate his height and the width of both their bodies.
Fionna’s hand lodged on the center of his chest, looking rather small and pale against the thick forest of hair there. All at once she swallowed. Memory resurrected. The night he had pleasured her so thoroughly with nothing but his fingers returned in full force. He had promised then that the next time they were together like this, there would be nothing between them. No barriers of clothing, no barrier of words.
But most of all she remembered how he had promised it would be a different part of him inside her.
She had thought herself eager. She had thought herself fearless. Now she wished she hadn’t been so rash!
Her heart was pounding. She could scarcely breathe. His body was wondrously formed; it made her heart quaver and her throat constrict.
And she couldn’t deny her curiosity, nor could she dispel her shyness. Oh, yes, it took far more will than skill to dredge up the courage to look at him—really
look
at him.
Her mouth dry, her gaze ventured inevitably down, past the curls on his chest and belly, clear to where his rod thrust high and hard against the white of one bare thigh.
Her recall was instantaneous—as if she’d ever forgotten. As if she ever could! With stark, unre
mitting clarity, she remembered precisely how it had felt to touch him there, her knuckles buried in the coarse nest of curls that thickened and surrounded the base of his erection.
Oh, yes, she remembered exactly how it felt. And seeing it now…
It wasn’t quite what she’d remembered, she thought in awe. It was so much
more
than she remembered.
And Aidan had noticed as well. His eyes were dark, hued like the deepest of sapphires, cleaving directly into hers. The fist on his chest uncurled. A finger began to stray, tracing the line of hair down toward his navel. It was a slow, tentative movement, for this was all too new. Passion unchained. Not just her own nakedness, but his.
Especially
his. She was still half-afraid to touch him. Then all at once he caught her hand, as if he could stand it no longer, and guided it down the tight grid of his belly, between the ridge of his hips.
Straight to the heart of him.
She gasped in shock when he dragged her hand up and down, up and down. Her eyes flew wide. It was a caress as outrageously shocking as when he’d slid his fingers inside her; as bold and daring as the man himself.
“Aid—Aidan!” She stuttered his name, part-question, part jarringly shocked.
“No, it’s all right. Touch me, sweet, just like that…Oh, yes, just like that.”
His whisper compelled surrender. Watching him, the glint of his eyes, half-closed now, her reserve slipped away.
His mouth captured hers, almost ravenous. The bulk of his chest pressed her back into the cushions. With his knees, he stretched her thighs wide open.
She felt the velvet crown of his rod pushing through her nest of curls. Ah, he was there, breaching the outer folds of her channel, pushing steadily forward.
She clutched at Aidan’s forearms. Her nails dug in. She did not resist, but she felt her inner muscles tighten against his invasion.
She flinched. She expected pain, but the pressure was so intense.
Too
intense, she realized. He was hurting her, not intentionally she knew. It was simply happening too fast. She tried to relax, yet her flesh did not yield; her inner muscles sought to close out the invader.
She inhaled sharply. “Aidan.”
He didn’t seem to hear.
“Aidan. Aidan, stop!”
His eyes opened, smoky and dazed.
She struggled to smile. “Remember what you said earlier? That there is only so much a man can take?”
She had the sensation he saw her through a haze, if indeed he saw her at all.
“Aye,” he said at last.
Her smile was but a wisp. “Well, there is only so much that this
woman
can take.”
She knew the exact instant he understood. His arms tightened to the point where she feared he might crush her. Then he went utterly still.
“Christ,” he said grittily. “Christ!”
He withdrew himself very slowly.
Her smile faltered. Strangely enough, she felt…empty somehow. His expression was unsmiling, almost grim. Seeing it, her throat constricted. Her mouth trembled.
“Fionna. Oh, God, Fionna, don’t look like that! I’m sorry. It’s just that I want you so damned much. Too damned much…”
He kissed her nose, her eyelids, her tremulous lips, so achingly tender she nearly cried out. Drawing back, he braced himself above her.
Fionna was still almost unbearably conscious of the point of his erection hard and thick at the apex of her thighs.
“Do you trust me, sweet?”
Her eyes clung to his, trapped by something she couldn’t name. Endlessly she searched his features. He remained unsmiling, but he wasn’t so very grim now. And she sensed a curious tenderness that allowed her the courage to nod.
“Most excellent,” he murmured, brushing one last kiss against her lips.
Fionna had thought he could shock her no more.
But what he did next…
Pleasantly rough fingertips skimmed the sensitive skin behind her knees, then lifted them high. With the breadth of his shoulders, he braced her wide apart. Wide apart…and open.
She gasped, for now she was vulnerable in a way she’d never dreamed might happen.
“You said you trusted me,” he reminded her, one side of his mouth curling up. “Do you trust me, Fionna?”
Fionna let out a ragged breath. Acknowledgment came in the merest rise and fall of her chin.
Yet her body jerked when he brushed his lips across the hollow of her belly.
Her heart jolted when his mouth traced a shattering path to the inside of one slender thigh.
Her every thought gave way when the journey continued. His hands slid beneath her to cradle her buttocks. With the pads of his thumbs, he parted her soft down, exposing hot, furrowed flesh. Her eyes widened, for she had gleaned his intent. Her heart was near to bursting.
With the wanton blade of his tongue he touched the center of her core, circling that aching bud of desire and tugging it into his mouth, much the same way as he had sucked her nipples. And in so doing…he proved that he was far more learned than one might ever have imagined.
And immensely more talented as well.
Time stood still as he tasted her again and
again, his mouth divinely tormenting. Tasted her until she was slick from his tongue, slick with desire.
Primed and wet and wanting, he heaved himself up over her again. Their bellies rubbed; his expression was scalding. Lean fingers slid through her hair, turning her face up to his. His mouth opened over hers.
Her gasp echoed in the back of his mouth. His penetration was almost agonizingly slow this time. Little by little, inch by inch, he advanced, the head of his rod encased in velvety folds. She felt rather than saw a lightning thrust of his hips; her breath suspended high in her throat, she waited for that instant of pain.
But he’d readied her well—so sleek and slick and wet that when he split the barrier of her maidenhead and pushed home, she felt but the slightest sting.
By the time she released the air in her lungs, it was gone.
But Aidan was not. He was inside her—such a strange realization. The pressure was immense. Intense. She didn’t know that Aidan had plunged as far as he dared, as much as she could take.
He released her lips and turned his head ever so slightly, nuzzling the hollow beside her ear. “All right now?” he murmured.
Fionna nodded. It spun through her mind that he’d certainly ravaged her powers of speech to
night. It also spun through her mind that she couldn’t take a breath without feeling him—all of him.
“Are you sure?”
His mouth grazed hers. The huskiness of his tone nearly made her come undone. “I am,” she whispered, and then again, “I am!”
Her arms twined around his neck. Her cry seemed to release a frenzy inside him. He expelled a ragged breath. Hearing it, seeing the way his flesh stretched taut across his cheekbones, it came to her how great was the control he’d exerted over himself.
“Fionna.”
The hot, melting way he said her name made her want to cry.
“Watch,” he whispered hoarsely. “Watch me make love to you.”
No power in the heavens could have made her look away as he withdrew—all the way so that she saw the passionate sheen of her body’s juices glazing his rod.
Her eyes widened. Coarse dark hair mingled with soft, chestnut curls, a sight that was incredibly erotic. Even more erotic was when he plunged again, gliding deeper this time, harder. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. She was both amazed and stunned at the way male joined female, feeling the walls of her passage yield—soft tender flesh clinging tight and wanton to hard male steel. Everything inside her went wild. Ev
ery part of her was melting, every fiber of her being.
With a helpless little moan she caught the sides of his head. She wanted to tell him how wonderful he made her feel. But the power of words had once again deserted her. The pleasure was climbing, spiraling high and fast, taking her by storm. Unable to hold back, her hands slipped to his shoulders. She clutched at him; sensation gathered there, in the very center of her body, the place he possessed so fully. Had she surrendered? Or had he? she wondered vaguely.