The Devil's Thief (14 page)

 
“I feel guilty about it,” he said
angrily. “Which is stupid and irrational. I’m quite sure that I have met multitudes
of people of whom I have no recollection whatsoever. I don’t feel guilty about
that.”

Julianna
smiled smugly as she continued to shake the lemonade off her skirt. She was
really quite happy that he felt guilty. He should.

“Did
you give it to someone?” he asked suddenly.

It
took her a moment to understand his question. He was back to that infernal
pearl. “What I did or did not do with the pearl is none of your concern,” she
responded airily.

He
grabbed her arm suddenly and spun her to face him. He was standing so close that
her breasts brushed his chest. Her nipples tightened painfully and her
heartbeat, which had only just begun to slow down, raced again. But
it wasn’t fear that caused her reaction
,
it
was desire
. She still desired him despite everything. Well, she was a
greater fool than she’d ever imagined, then. That was disheartening.

“The
Stewart Pearl has been in my family for generations, Miss Harte. Being
custodian of the pearl is an honor and a duty, and one I take very seriously. I
want that pearl, and I am willing to do whatever I must to get it back.”

“You
may take the responsibility seriously, Mr. Sharp, but you do not carry out the
duties faithfully,” she said breathlessly. “Offering the pearl to women for
sexual favors is not the prescribed custodial behavior, I’d wager.”

He
cursed under his breath.
“Who?” he demanded, shaking her
roughly.
“
Who
did you give it to? Another
lover?”

Julianna
was enraged. “Another lover? You fool! You took my virginity just two days ago!
Do you think I found it such a magical experience, I rushed out and bought the
first man I could find with your precious pearl?”

“Yes,”
he challenged, yanking her flush against him. “I know you enjoyed every moment
of our night together, Juliet. You may lie to yourself, but I won’t believe
that you did not relish the night that I gave you.”

“You
bastard,” she said venomously. “Fine. Yes, I went out and bought another man,
and I enjoyed him even more.”

She
went to hit him with her empty glass, but he pulled it from her hand and threw
it to the floor, where the heavy crystal bounced and rolled on the carpet. When
she tried to break away from him, Alasdair wrestled her arm behind her back and
grabbed the hair on the back of her head, holding her stiffly in his arms. She
glared at him, and he glared right back. His face was tight with anger. “Well I
can’t buy another fuck, can I?” he snarled. “I already gave everything for the
right to fuck you.”

His
mouth crashed down on hers and Julianna fought him, but he was stronger, and he
was angry, and he felt so horribly wonderful against her that her heart wasn’t
truly in the fight. When he thrust his tongue against her closed lips, she
opened them without hesitation, let him inside to do what he wanted, to have
his revenge. If this
was
her punishment, she’d gladly
take it. She’d been starving for him for the past two days. How was it possible
to need someone so much in such a short time?

Alasdair
growled and Julianna refused to be the passive object of his anger. She wanted
him, but not like this. Never like this. She had one free hand and she buried
it in his hair and grabbed a handful, yanking his head back. He cursed her, and
his hand tightened in her hair. “Do you want me?” she asked, her voice rough with
desire, but also fear. What if he said no? What if this was all about anger and
not about her at all?

He
jerked his head and Julianna held on. She watched him intently, letting him see
her desire. Slowly his hand loosened in her hair and he cupped the back of her
head. His eyes were still hot, there was still anger in the lines of his face,
but he gentled his hold and released her arm while still keeping his arm about
her. “Yes, dammit,” he whispered. “God help me, but I still want you.”

Julianna
didn’t need any more encouragement. She wrapped her arms around his neck and
kissed him hungrily. She groaned as she thrust her tongue in his mouth and he
sucked it in and slashed his lips across hers, seeking a deeper connection.
They battled for control of the kiss as they’d battled a few moments earlier,
but this time Julianna let him have his victory. She was still too new to this.
She didn’t know how to go on.

He
was holding her so tightly she was amazed she could still breathe, and she
loved it. She wiggled her hips and he pulled her in closer, shoving one leg
between hers and pressing his well-muscled thigh against her mound, and a
delicious frisson of sexual awareness shivered down her spine and settled in
her sex, vibrating there.

His
hands began to roam wildly along her back and hips. One hand cupped her neck
briefly,
then
ran down her back to squeeze her buttock
as he thrust against her. He groaned and Julianna whimpered.
How she wanted him!
Her desire for him
was all consuming. Nothing mattered but having him, right here and now. He
yanked his hands around to cover her breasts, squeezing them before pinching
her nipples through the cloth, and Julianna felt her insides quiver at the
rough caress.

She
broke away from his kiss, gasping for air, desperate to have him inside her.
“Alasdair!” she cried out, and he pulled her close again, whispering, “Shhh!
Quiet. Do not bring the house down upon us.”

She
shook her head violently. No, no she didn’t want that. She didn’t want anyone
to burst through the door and pull them apart.

Alasdair
grinned wickedly as he reached around her and swept his arm across the surface
of the large desk behind them, knocking papers and an inkwell to the floor,
revealing the gleaming wood beneath. Julianna’s heart was beating so hard with
excitement it was trying to escape her chest. This was carnality, she decided.
This was lust, a kind of fever of insanity that could be cured only by rutting
like animals. She wanted to howl at the moon. Instead she laughed and grabbed
Alasdair around the neck as he lifted her onto the desk, his hands rough on her
hips.

“Oh,
you want it, don’t you, little thief?” Alasdair spoke roughly, yanking her
skirt and petticoat up, forcing Julianna to wrap her legs around his waist as
she lifted her bottom up so he could shove the skirts all the way up. They
pooled around her hips and she sucked in a shocked breath as the cool wood of
the desk hit her bare bottom. He thrust his hips and she could feel his hard
length pressing against her through his breeches. She moaned, and Alasdair
laughed with a low, wild, aroused sound.

“You
want it, too,” she whispered huskily, pulling him down and kissing his neck
above his cravat. She licked a path to the delicate hollow behind his ear and
then she bit his earlobe, hard. He tasted so good, better than anything she’d
ever consumed.

He
sucked in a breath and let it out in a growl as he ground against her. “Yes,
damn you, you little cat. I want it. I want you.” He grabbed her wrists and
tugged her arms away from his neck, but not without a struggle. She didn’t want
to let him go. He eased her down so that her back was on the desk and he
fumbled with the front of his breeches before pushing them down and she saw
him, hard and beautiful, reaching out for her.

He
didn’t speak. He didn’t ask permission. He just took her. He pinned her wrists
to the desk above her head with one hand and slid the first inch of his hard
length inside her. She arched her neck with pleasure. Before she could say a
word, he thrust the rest of the way into her. She had to bite her lip to keep
from crying out at how good it felt to have him there again.

“Yes,”
he hissed, and she wasn’t sure if he was pleased by her reaction, if he shared
her pleasure, or both. She hoped both. He settled his hips snuggly against her,
rocking inside her, making her moan. Then he laced his fingers through hers and
pressed their hands over her head against the desk. “Don’t make a sound,” he
whispered harshly into her ear. “I’m going to fuck you hard, Juliet, and I
don’t want anyone to hear us. Do you understand? You’re to lie there and take
what I give you and you’re going to like it.” She nodded her acquiescence.

 
He pulled back, but not out. She bit back
another whimper and raised her hips, seeking him, begging silently for the connection
she craved. He didn’t slam into her as he had done at first, but it was a firm,
hard thrust, seating himself deep. And then he did it again, and yet again in
an excruciatingly slow rhythm. And Julianna knew this was her punishment, this
dizzying, unsatisfying, wildly arousing coupling.

He
held her down, his cheek pressed against hers, his breath fanning the hair at
her temple, his heartbeat pounding against her chest. She could hear the sounds
of his advance and retreat inside her, the slap of his flesh on hers. It was
maddening and the most wonderful thing imaginable. She turned her head,
pressing her cheek harder against his, his hair a ghostly kiss upon her lips,
holding his hands so tightly she knew her nails were scoring the backs. She
fought her moans, her cries of delight. This she could give him, her absolute
obedience and her complete surrender. She gripped him tighter about the waist
with her legs, pressed her sex hard against him with each thrust, open and
wanting and his. His thrusts became harder, deeper, and she could hardly
breathe for wanting to scream at the exquisite torture. He stretched her arms
over her head as far as they would go without releasing her hands, and the
movement lengthened his body over hers, changing the angle of his penetration.
That was when she lost her control—she sobbed once as the pleasure
overcame her and she quaked under him, holding him tight between her legs as
the spasms of release racked her body.

When
it was over she felt weak, and each thrust shot an almost painful pleasure deep
within her. She closed her eyes and took it, took what he gave her.

“Oh,
no, little thief,” he growled. He stopped and pulled out, and her eyes flew
open, disappointment and an almost desperate panic seizing her. Not yet. He couldn’t
be done yet. She wanted more, needed more. He drew back and broke her hold, and
she was cold and bereft until she looked into his eyes. They still held a
blazing heat that told her that the night was far from over.

“Get
on the desk.” It took her a moment to understand what he wanted. He grasped her
hips and urged her backward, and she scrambled to pull her feet up onto the
surface.

“On
your knees,” he growled. His eyes were more aroused than angry, which reassured
her. Alasdair climbed on the desk behind her, his shaft still long and hard.
The sight should not have aroused her so, should it? But it did. She loved
seeing the evidence of his desire for her. She’d missed this in the dark the
other night. She hadn’t realized how much better it would be in the light. “You
need to kneel on the desk,” he told her, speaking slowly, each word sharp and
clear. “Can you do that?” He helped her to her knees with a hand under her
elbow. “Turn around.”

His
commands were short and brooked no refusal. Awkwardly she turned around so that
her back was to him, still on her knees, still on the desk. “Put your hands on
the desk.” She did as he asked, trepidation and arousal fighting each other
inside her.

“Pull
your skirts up,” he rasped, and she realized he was as affected as her. Julianna’s
fear dissipated and she reached back with one hand and yanked her skirts up
around her waist. She blushed as she realized that he must be able to see her
as clearly in the light as she could see him. She was completely exposed,
completely vulnerable. She placed her hand back on the desk and waited for
whatever was to come.

He
spread her legs wider when he moved between them, not roughly but with an
urgency that excited her, pushing her lower with a hand on the back of her
neck. “You make me feel like a beast,” he said. He thrust into her then, and
Julianna shivered at the penetration. She seemed to be even more sensitive to his
touch now, and he knew it, too. It was exquisite torture, and she loved every
minute of it.

Each
thrust rubbed his chest against her back, his thighs against hers, and her
muscles clenched in pleasure at the contact. She spread her legs wider and
pressed her hot cheek against the cool wood of the desk. He took her offering,
pressing into her hard and deep. She was made for him, made to feel this way—this
full, this pleasured. She wanted nothing more than to give
herself
to him and let him use her and fill her. She was filled with a wild, mad lust
and she reveled in it.

There
was no tenderness, no consideration, and she didn’t care. She peaked again,
relishing the way he made her feel. It all felt good, the wanton feel of being
on the desk, in the library—fully clothed with her skirts tossed up—knowing
anyone could walk in and see her like this with Alasdair. But it was perfect
because it
was
Alasdair. Because
she’d lived in despair for two days thinking she’d never see him again, never
have him again.

“Damn
you, Juli,” he groaned. “Damn you.” He pulled out even as she shuddered and he
yanked her up and turned her around to face him, handling her like a rag doll.
He pulled her close and she somehow managed to straddle his lap and then he was
inside her again, his face buried in her neck, and she held him close, almost
soothing him with a hand in his hair, her arm wrapped around his shoulders.
Then his mouth was on hers and they were frantically thrusting against each
other.