He tugged the silk from her hand.
“What are you doing?” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide.
“You are so beautiful,” he said in return, sliding his hands over her breasts and clasping them firmly.
Virginia wanted to be quiet and she failed—the terrible sensuality that had been building in her erupted and she cried out. Her eyes closed as he rubbed her nipples, making them harder and tauter and tighter than before, until she was trembling helplessly, moaning, her sex engorged and throbbing wildly for relief.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly.
Somehow her eyes obeyed, opening, and their gazes met. His were silver flames.
He smiled a little and bent and touched one tip with his tongue.
Virginia cried out, clasping his head, wanting to tell him not to do this—in the back of her mind she knew that Madame or Sofie could walk in on them—but she couldn’t, and as he licked her nipple she began to thrash, the explosion imminent.
Then she felt his hands slide down to her waist and begin to tug her pantalettes down.
In a haze of lust, she managed to worry about what he was doing. As if reading her very thoughts, he murmured against her aching, swollen nipple, “Let me please you, darling.”
“N-not here,” she managed.
But his face was against her navel now and she felt him smile through the corset she wore. “They won’t disturb us.” He tugged on her pantalettes and they disappeared, pooling at her ankles.
And finally mindless, Virginia grasped his shoulders, clawing him, pushing him down.
“Patience is a virtue,” he reminded her, sliding his face down until he rubbed his cheek over her mons.
“Oh, Devlin,” she wept.
He kissed the delta there, not once but twice and then three times.
She fell.
He caught her and laid her down on piles of silk and satin, and as she spread wide for him he separated the heavy folds of her sex and inserted his tongue there.
Virginia arched, sobbing, exploding, shattering and flying high. “Devlin!” she wept.
He sucked it deep then teased it softly as she shattered another time, sobbing and moaning and shaking like a leaf.
When she began to float, her mind came back to life. She gasped, opening her eyes, still on her back on the floor, naked except for her stockings and corset. Devlin crouched between her thighs, which remained spread shamefully for him. She quickly began to close them but he palmed her sex. “Don’t.”
Desire surged. She lay still, panting. “What if—” she began, barely able to think of an intrusion by the couturier or her niece.
He began toying with the folds, combing through the hair. “They won’t interrupt us.”
Virginia wanted to refute him but forgot the subject, arching high against his hand. His fingers entered her, and now there was no barrier. The sensation was so powerful, of his being inside her, even if it was just his two fingers, that her stomach seemed to disappear and the room blackened.
“Can you come for me again, little one?” he asked roughly.
She somehow looked at him and was met with a blaze of silver. “Please…put more…there,” she whispered.
He shoved harder, fiercely, and she saw sweat rolling down his brow.
But it wasn’t enough. And Virginia knew what she wanted. She began to sit, reaching for him, brushing her hand over the stiff, rigid line raised brilliantly against his pale britches—but he pushed her hand away.
Incredulous, she met his gaze.
He moved hard in her.
