The Seducer by Madeline Hunter Page B
Authors: Madeline Hunter
.”
“Of me now?”
He caressed her face, and his hand smoothed lower, to her neck. She could not believe what the meandering caress did to her.
“That is probably wise.”
She could not heed the little warning. The sensations streaming through her skin distracted her too much.
So did the next kiss. If his words suggested she stop this, his actions demanded that she not. The searching strokes of his fingers on her skin lured her into a wonderful madness. His passion was all in his actions—she was the one whose gasps and sighs filled the carriage.
He touched her mouth. He coaxed her lips open. Fingers sliding into her hair to hold her firmly, his teeth played at her, teasing with nips. His tongue flicked to touch hers, then entered.
The invasive intimacy sent deep, visceral thrills down to her hips. It served as a stark announcement of what they were doing and a bolder warning than his words had given.
The warmth of his embrace and the beauty of this small joining defeated her. She had never been held in any way in her life, let alone like this. Never been wanted by anyone. Never felt so alive in her essence. A poignant sigh of relief choked her. She wanted to nestle forever in this human connection.
He kept taking more. More of her body and will. He had her in a tiny place full of pleasure, where her selfness got blurred away.
“Are you still cold?”
She shook her head. They could be lying in the snow and she would not be cold.
He peeled away his cape and let it drop to the floor. Kissing her deeply, his fingers unlaced the tie of her cloak and pushed its edges back from her body. A chill shook her that had nothing to do with the temperature.
His chest crushed her arm. Without thinking, she slid it away and up around his shoulders.
A twig might have snapped, so clearly did the mutual embrace change him. His kisses became insistent and his caresses bolder. Her body reveled shamefully in its discoveries. The breast not pressed against his chest itched resentfully from the lack of contact. The whole of her silently urged his hand to move in different ways.
As if he heard, his caresses stroked lower. With long, warm lures through the thin silk, he touched her body with scandalous intimacy. Tilting his head, he kissed to the skin above her gown, then to the gown itself. The heat of his breath beckoned and she arched toward it. His mouth teased at her breast, nipping through the silk, closing on the tip.
It made her crazy. She had never thought anything could feel so good and necessary. The pleasure, and the desire for more, totally conquered her.
And he gave more. His embracing arm shifted her, so he could encompass her more securely. Even as he aroused one breast with his mouth, his hand slid up to titillate the other. He coaxed cries out of her and encouraged her to relinquish herself to the delicious euphoria.
She could not resist what was happening. She did not know how to. She did not
want
to.
He paused and gazed at her. She sensed a brittle tension rise in him, waver, and then soar higher. His hand swung back and knocked on the carriage wall.
He kissed her deeply and caressed her with a possessive hand that knew no restraint. The little pause had given her back a bit of sense, however. Reality intruded for an instant. She saw starkly what was happening and could not ignore the scandalous implications of how he now handled her.
He took her breast in his mouth again and stroked higher on her legs. She tottered on the edge of total abandon again. Her body desperately wanted to succumb and something uncivilized in her soul did too. The pleasure promised her that it would be wonderful. But another voice, barely surviving, warned it would be dangerous.
She forced her arm to drop from his shoulders. She leaned away. “We must not. You know we must not.”
It took all of the strength she had. Too much of her rebelled at the denial and prayed he would not accept it.
He looked at her. His hand still
“Of me now?”
He caressed her face, and his hand smoothed lower, to her neck. She could not believe what the meandering caress did to her.
“That is probably wise.”
She could not heed the little warning. The sensations streaming through her skin distracted her too much.
So did the next kiss. If his words suggested she stop this, his actions demanded that she not. The searching strokes of his fingers on her skin lured her into a wonderful madness. His passion was all in his actions—she was the one whose gasps and sighs filled the carriage.
He touched her mouth. He coaxed her lips open. Fingers sliding into her hair to hold her firmly, his teeth played at her, teasing with nips. His tongue flicked to touch hers, then entered.
The invasive intimacy sent deep, visceral thrills down to her hips. It served as a stark announcement of what they were doing and a bolder warning than his words had given.
The warmth of his embrace and the beauty of this small joining defeated her. She had never been held in any way in her life, let alone like this. Never been wanted by anyone. Never felt so alive in her essence. A poignant sigh of relief choked her. She wanted to nestle forever in this human connection.
He kept taking more. More of her body and will. He had her in a tiny place full of pleasure, where her selfness got blurred away.
“Are you still cold?”
She shook her head. They could be lying in the snow and she would not be cold.
He peeled away his cape and let it drop to the floor. Kissing her deeply, his fingers unlaced the tie of her cloak and pushed its edges back from her body. A chill shook her that had nothing to do with the temperature.
His chest crushed her arm. Without thinking, she slid it away and up around his shoulders.
A twig might have snapped, so clearly did the mutual embrace change him. His kisses became insistent and his caresses bolder. Her body reveled shamefully in its discoveries. The breast not pressed against his chest itched resentfully from the lack of contact. The whole of her silently urged his hand to move in different ways.
As if he heard, his caresses stroked lower. With long, warm lures through the thin silk, he touched her body with scandalous intimacy. Tilting his head, he kissed to the skin above her gown, then to the gown itself. The heat of his breath beckoned and she arched toward it. His mouth teased at her breast, nipping through the silk, closing on the tip.
It made her crazy. She had never thought anything could feel so good and necessary. The pleasure, and the desire for more, totally conquered her.
And he gave more. His embracing arm shifted her, so he could encompass her more securely. Even as he aroused one breast with his mouth, his hand slid up to titillate the other. He coaxed cries out of her and encouraged her to relinquish herself to the delicious euphoria.
She could not resist what was happening. She did not know how to. She did not
want
to.
He paused and gazed at her. She sensed a brittle tension rise in him, waver, and then soar higher. His hand swung back and knocked on the carriage wall.
He kissed her deeply and caressed her with a possessive hand that knew no restraint. The little pause had given her back a bit of sense, however. Reality intruded for an instant. She saw starkly what was happening and could not ignore the scandalous implications of how he now handled her.
He took her breast in his mouth again and stroked higher on her legs. She tottered on the edge of total abandon again. Her body desperately wanted to succumb and something uncivilized in her soul did too. The pleasure promised her that it would be wonderful. But another voice, barely surviving, warned it would be dangerous.
She forced her arm to drop from his shoulders. She leaned away. “We must not. You know we must not.”
It took all of the strength she had. Too much of her rebelled at the denial and prayed he would not accept it.
He looked at her. His hand still