Page 42 of Outrageous

He was going to talk, and his talking would stop all the lovely sensations, just as he’d done last night before throwing her out of his room.

Well, she wouldn’t have it; she wouldn’t let him stop. She pushed against him, not quite straddling his leg, but trapping it between her knees. She bit her lip to hold in the cry of pleasure as she rubbed her aching sex against his thigh.

He released her and stared down with dark, unblinking eyes, his mouth hanging open. She liked the feel of his muscular thigh against her fragile flesh, but she liked his stunned expression even better.

“I am no ignorant schoolgirl,” she said in breathy voice, only partly lying. “I want—” She had no words handy for what she wanted, so she rubbed herself wantonly against him in demonstration.

An explosive noise of frustration burst from his parted lips, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in loud, soughing rasps. He pulled back slightly and she reached out to stop him. But instead of leaving her, he lifted his thigh ever so slightly. Eva whimpered and sucked in a harsh breath. Godric’s mouth closed with a snap, his lips compressing into a cruel, thin line as he pinned her with pupils so huge she felt as if she were teetering on the brink of a bottomless well.

His leg moved again and Eva made a guttural noise, her eyes struggling to stay open.

So good. It felt so very, very good.

But it’s him! a voice somewhere in the recesses of her mind shrieked. You hate him.

She did. She hated him, but she loved this.

The next time he thrust up she let her knees fall open and they both made raw, animalistic sounds. And then her impulsive, reckless nature took over and her body’s needs overcame her weak will. The pulsing and throbbing itch drove her to recklessness and she lowered her hand to the juncture of her legs and rubbed the outer folds that protected her sensitive nub. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, her breathing heavy. She knew how to finish this—to make this stop, to give herself the most intense pleasure she’d ever known. It would only take—

“Good God.”

Her eyes flew open as he backed her up so swiftly her head spun, not stopping until she was against the wall. He dropped to his knees and lifted her skirts and then froze, the hem just at her knees. When he looked up, the heat in his eyes and his taut face made her stomach twist and churn, made her sex pulse with exquisite sensations that rippled outward.

“Eva?” Gone was the sneering, distant aristocrat.

She glared down at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “What?” She didn’t care if she sounded petulant.

“Do you want me to stop? This is not—” His already flushed cheeks darkened even more, and his inability to articulate what exactly was going to happen made her braver; he was not as composed as he looked, not nearly so much in control.

His body was tense with the effort it took to restrain his eager limbs and he hummed with want. For her.

“Have I—” He bit out a vulgar curse. “Are you afraid, Eva?”

She was afraid, but not in the way he thought. “No.”

His mouth pulled into an odd, lopsided smile, and amusement joined lust on his devil-angel face. “No, you wouldn’t be—would you?”

She pushed her hips against him in answer and his pupils dilated almost to the edge of his irises.

His gaze dropped. “Hold your skirts up,” he ordered in a raspy voice that made her hands shake as she obeyed him.

“Higher.” His haughty lips thinned and tightened in a way that made her legs weak. She felt his hands lightly drifting over her exposed knees, thighs, and then cool air on that most private of places.

Again, thanks to the precious information Mia had shared, Eva knew what he was going to do—and her body wanted it with a ferocity that dazed her.

He looked up at her, his expression smug, knowing, and . . . arousing. “Spread your legs for me, Eva.”

She held his gaze, torn between the desire to disobey his arrogant command and the much stronger desire to feel what he wanted to do. So she moved her feet slightly and he lifted his eyebrows. Not until she’d spread her feet to the width of her shoulders was he satisfied.

“That’s a girl,” he muttered, the low, harsh desperation in his voice sending actual shivers through her. Eva bit her lower lip hard as he traced the seam of her sensitive lips, his finger grazing her swollen peak, which had grown larger and more sensitive.

Each stroke elicited a shudder and she tightened her inner muscles, prolonging the pleasure. His actions were skilled and confident, as though he’d done this same thing countless times before. Which he likely had.

Eva thrust away the stab of jealousy that pierced her chest at the thought—what did she care for such things? All she wanted from him was—

His thumbs parted her lips, opening the most private part of her to his view. He sucked in a harsh breath, looking awestruck. “So very, very beautiful,” he whispered, entranced.

Eva knew what he was seeing because her stepmother had urged her to learn the secrets of her own body—not to wait for some man to teach her about them. So she’d eagerly looked at herself in her dressing room mirror, examining the part of her that could be so demanding of attention, and could give such joy when obeyed. While it delivered unparalleled pleasure, she’d certainly not thought it was pretty. Nor had she been as dumbstruck by her sex that she’d stared the way Visel was currently staring.