“No, I know.” Her gaze flitted toward the ceiling. “I want to try, I do. I’m just nervous.”
“Do not talk yourself into anything?—”
“I’m not! I want to, it’s only that I haven’t before and I want to do it properly.”
“When have we ever done anything properly? Wrong doesn’t exist here, Davina. Not between us.”
She nodded and finally released her lip from between her teeth. And I had to capture it with my own. I simply had to. This time, she allowed it, let me worship her as I desired. She melted into the kiss, her arms finding their way around my neck, nerves abandoning her.
I was perfectly content to sip from her whiskey lips until judgment day, but Davina had other ideas. Her hand fisted in the folds of my shirt, tugging up.
This was dangerous territory for my control, but I had, only moments before, told her wrong didn’t exist. And if I was honest, I couldn’t have denied her anyway. It wasn’t in me.
I shucked my braces and we broke apart only long enough for me to help her yank the offending linen over my head and away—somewhere. Our lips slipped back together as if there hadn’t ever been an interruption, but her hands… eager fingers traced the planes of my chest.
I was fairly certain her exploratory touch wasn’t intended to arouse, more to find her bearing on a new landscape. But I was positive that her searching palms were more erotic than the most skilled courtesan’s touch. Her little hands with the elegant fingers raked through the sparse hair before dipping to trace the lines of my abdomen.
I tried to tug her forward, to pull her over my lap the way she had been mere hours before. Instead she pulled away, dragging a groan from my chest.
“I have plans,” she whispered.
She used the opportunity to study my form, watching her fingers repeat the same patterns they’d learned by touch. I swallowed the desire to beg—for what, I had no idea. Her hands moved to my arms, one finger teasing the line of my sternum, finding my collarbone, and dancing along whatever path took her fancy.
“Kit…” Her voice was soft, reverent. It was a heady thing, hearing her say my name like that. I would be happy to never hear another sound for the rest of my days. Or I was until a moment later when she spoke again. “Take off your breeches.”
It took an embarrassingly long amount of time to discern that she had spoken aloud and that sentence wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
I should have protested, a good man would protest. Instead my hands dropped to the fall of my breeches, working the buttons there with little grace but no complaint.
I rose to shuck them, forgetting I still wore boots, and nearly fell over in my attempt to free myself from all vestiges of clothing. Though I felt like a prize idiot, her giggle was lovely against the warm crackle of the fire. I fell back onto the bed and, before I could set to work on my boots, Davina decided to shred the last of my sanity. She kneeled at my feet.
My voice abandoned me when she yanked first one boot, then the other off my feet and set them aside.
“Davina,” I croaked, reaching for her. She shook her head and nodded at my breeches again.
I was beginning to suspect the crux of her plan. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t heard of such a thing. But I never, not in my wildest fantasies, thought I would experience it. And with Davina Hasket? Never.
I released a great shuddering breath and stood again, then shucked the fabric more successfully. I dragged the stockings off along with the breeches, slightly more graceful, in spite of the fact that I’d lost sensation in my extremities. Every drop of blood in my body was rushing toward my cock with alarming speed.
I was a terrible man, headed straight for hell. Because I couldn’t find a single word of protest for what I suspected was about to happen.
Davina sat back on her heels, examining me my person with a fascinated expression. Her brows were drawn and lips parted. And her eyes—they had darkened in the firelight, flickering amber. I was able to read enough of her countenance to know that whatever she was feeling, it wasn’t revulsion.
I swallowed my heart back down in my chest where it belonged. Nothing could slow the pounding though.
“May I touch you?”Nothing except that.That stopped my heart entirely.
My response wasn’t so much a word as it was the desperate sound of a wounded animal. She seemed to interpret it as permission—which it absolutely was.
The second her hand found my prick, I had to bite back desperate, pleading words of love. Whatever was left of my head knew this wasn’t the time or place to confess my feelings beyond what I already had. I had to literally bite my tongue to manage it.
Never in my life had I been harder than when her fingers wrapped around my shaft, testing an instinctively perfect stroke.
And then, without a single warning, her lips dropped to my cock and I died. Blood rushed through my ears, drowning out sound. My periphery darkened. There was nothing in the world outside of Davina Hasket’s lips on my cock.
The combination of her intuition and my inexperience had my knees buckling. I fell back to the bed, which was fortunately still behind me, cursing as I slipped from her perfect mouth. Davina, my brilliant, beautiful menace, rectified that situation almost immediately.
I fisted the bed coverings as she took me in, desperately fighting the urge to thrust my hips.
