Count Maxime's Virgin. Susan Stephens
and trusted comfortable knickers. But they were very old now, and she couldn’t bear for Lucien to see them. By the time he turned back to her she had rolled them up in her discarded skirt.
Dipping his head, Lucien buried his face in her cleavage before rasping his stubble against her supersensitised skin, and by the time he tugged on her nipples again she could only cry out with abandonment. ‘Oh, Lucien, I can’t bear this…’
‘Can’t bear what?’ he demanded sternly. ‘This?’ He suckled fiercely on one nipple, teasing the other between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Or this…?’ His voice was firmer still as he slipped a hand between her thighs, teasing the silky curls.
‘Both,’ she cried out in a voice that begged him for more. ‘I can’t choose… I don’t know…’
By this time she was crazy for him and squirmed shamelessly beneath his touch. She had no idea how to ease the frustration mounting inside her, and only knew that she must… ‘No!’ she cried wildly when Lucien stopped touching her.
Lifting his handsome head, he studied the effect he was having on her with slumberous intent. ‘No?’ murmured.
‘No, don’t stop!’ she explained frantically. Burying her fingers in his thick hair, she brought him back to her. Nothing—nothing—must stop this feeling inside her… It was going somewhere wonderful, though she didn’t know where. Lucien had awoken appetites she had never guessed she had, and these appetites were sucking out the common sense from her head and replacing it with hot, hungry need.
He had anticipated her skin was like silk that carried the faint aroma of summer meadows, but he had not expected his fingertips to tingle with awareness like this. He took his time to trace each smooth pale inch of her, marvelling as he did so at the way her breasts filled his palms as if they had been made to fit there. Wherever he touched made her groan with pleasure, and whenever she groaned he found some new place to explore and increase that pleasure. Long before he had been ready to undress her she had started wriggling out of her wretched skirt, and he’d only had to help her to remove it. When he’d turned back to her after securing protection for them both, she had attacked his shirt without any of her former timidity, tugging it out of the waistband of his trousers and pushing it from his shoulders with a gasp of admiration. He wasn’t a vain man, but he had always made time to work out. As she whimpered and reached for him, he realised he had never known a woman so hungry for love before. She was moving and clutching and sighing and even parting her thighs for him before he had thought of preparing her. ‘Not so fast,’ he warned. ‘You’ll enjoy it so much more if you learn to take your time…’
He had intended this to be a lingering seduction, but it seemed to him that Tara’s intentions were very different. Perhaps she had been instructed to snare him fast? Perhaps those were her orders from her sister, Freya? Freya had hinted as much to him with her knowing looks and lascivious smiles in the direction of her younger sister, though if he had sensed Tara was at all unwilling he would have acted quite differently. Reluctantly, he was coming to the conclusion that Tara was part of a sophisticated double act in which she played as crucial a role in padding out the family finances as her sister.
There was an upside to this. It gave him the freedom to enjoy her, and he would make it worth her while. He was disappointed in her, he couldn’t deny it, but the thought of sinking into that moist, plump flesh…the thought of pleasuring her, was irresistible.
But he would not make Guy’s mistake and imagine this was more than it was.
‘Lucien?’
He was instantly distracted by a voice as sweet and as innocent as Freya could have wished for. ‘What is it, ma petite?’ He had to hand it to Freya—she had trained her sister well. ‘Tell me, chérie,’ he encouraged. Tara was still new enough at this for him to want to take care of her.
She pouted prettily, a device no doubt learned from her sister. Tara might lack Freya’s polished skills, but that didn’t stop her throwing everything she had into this pursuit of her wealthy target. ‘You have forgotten me, Lucien,’ she complained.
‘Never,’ he murmured, soothing and petting her. But it wasn’t enough; she wanted more. Of course she did. She had been told she must return to Freya like a hunter with her prize of a wealthy lover in the bag.
Even at the age of eighteen and a virgin, Tara knew the danger signals and had chosen to ignore them. She believed this was her one and only chance to live the fairy tale and have an incredible-looking man like Lucien Maxime make love to her. But, more importantly, she felt safe with him, and she had never felt safe before. In his eyes she could see the reflection of a sophisticated, smooth-running world where everyone was safe. She longed to be part of that world, under Lucien’s protection, and knew she never could be, though for this one night she could pretend…
At the touch of his fingertips on her naked arms she exhaled raggedly. Lucien could communicate so much through touch. He promised so much pleasure, and she wanted to experience that pleasure. She wriggled shamelessly into a position where his hand must encounter her breast again. She might be plain, but she had seen men look at her chest before, and knew they liked it… If she could just keep Lucien’s thoughts on the pleasures her body could afford him, perhaps he wouldn’t turn away just yet…
She was perfect. Her breasts were a feast of perfection and he thought her lovely. This might be going nowhere, but he could lose himself for now. Tara was doing everything she could to make this possible for him and in return he would take her to paradise and back. If there was one thing he understood about a woman, it was her body and how to make it sing.
He lavished attention on every smooth and perfect inch of her, kissing and caressing her as he made her wait so that her senses sharpened. When that moment came and she couldn’t wait any longer she grabbed his hand, guiding him to the sweet swell of her belly and pushing his hand down between her legs again. She parted those legs as if it was the most natural thing on earth to her, and even lifted her knees to encourage his exploration.
Moving down the bed, he tasted her and found her more than ready, but it pleased him to hold her back a little longer, knowing her pleasure would increase if she would only wait. She called to him during all this time with little whimpers of desire, which he answered by parting those swollen lips to find the receptive little bud trembling in anticipation of his touch. At the first lash of his tongue she shrieked his name. He caught her as she bucked and held her firmly in place to make sure she derived maximum pleasure from the experience. Far from subsiding in his arms when it was over, she clung to him and begged for more.
‘Of course, ma petite…’ He reasoned that she would want him to go ‘all the way’ so she could report back to Freya that she had bagged the Count as instructed. And she had, he thought a little sadly, knowing he was being manipulated. With his appetite, it was hardly likely that one night of excess with such a voluptuous young woman would be enough for him. His only hope of salvation was that by morning he would wake to find reason had returned.
Having protected them both, he slipped a pillow beneath her hips to tilt her into the most receptive position. Moving over her, he paused. The anticipation of sinking into that warm, throbbing flesh was so intense he wanted to hold back and savour the moment, but she wouldn’t have it and, drawing up her knees as far as she could, she looked at him plaintively. He feasted his gaze on somewhere other than her face before testing himself inside her. They both exhaled sharply, which told him that neither of them could possibly have predicted this level of sensation. Even with his experience, this was a revelation. He withdrew completely, only in order to enjoy entering her again. He went deeper this time, taking her slowly and gently, conscious that he was stretching her. Whatever he thought of her, and whatever her level of experience, he was so much stronger than she was and honour demanded that he must treat her with care. When he thought he might be hurting her he stopped, but she urged him on, clamping her fingertips into his buttocks and working with him.
‘Please Lucien…don’t stop now,’ she begged him when his impulse was to soothe her. But she was very tight, and he was very large, which made him move with the utmost care. Finally