Cynster - The Promise In A Kiss Part 46

Shehad wanted to see him, exactly like this, precisely for this reason. She wanted one last chance to show him all he meant to her, even if she could never tell him, never give him the words he wanted to hear. She could tell him in other ways.

Sebastian broke from the kiss; it had already raged beyond his control. Control-what a joke. He'd thought, despite all, despite the roiling need that had him in its grip, that the acc.u.mulated years of experience would see him still master of his desire.

Two minutes and she'd cindered every rein he possessed. Deliberately.

Held fast in his arms, she pressed against him, her supple curves, her lush lips, the trailing taunt of her fingers on his cheek, the rise and fall of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest-all a flagrant siren's call as old as time.

Her eyes glinted up at him from beneath her heavy lids.

So be it.

"Your room." His tone was gravelly with desire. "Come."

He released her, locked his hand about hers, and strode for her chamber. He didn't dare make more contact, had to move fast if he wanted to reach the privacy of her room. She hurried beside him without protest, committed, equally focused.

They reached her door, and he set it swinging wide. She went through, and he followed her.

Pushed the door closed behind him, never taking his eyes from her. He heard the latch click; in the same instant she turned to him and smiled her madonna's smile.

Held out her arms. "Come. Let us love."

A lamp was turned low on her dressing table. Even in the weak illumination, the light that shone in her face, in her eyes, was impossible to mistake. He crossed to her without thought, drawn by all he could read, all she let him see. He took her hands, raised them to his shoulders, released them, slid his hands about her waist, and drew her to him.

Bent his head to hers. "Mignonne,you must tell me if I hurt you."

Her fingers slid into his hair. "You will not."

Their lips met, fused-all pretense at rationality, at control, slid away. She pressed herself to him, drew him deep into the heated cavern of her mouth, teased him with her tongue, wantonly invited him to ravish, to ravage, to plunder. She was with him every step of the way-every step further into the maelstrom of desire, into the whirlpool of physical and emotional energies that sparked about them. It drew them in, drew them down.

Into a world where pa.s.sion ruled and desire reigned triumphant.

He was ravenous; she flagrantly encouraged him to devour. He wanted-she tempted him to take. He wanted to possess her so utterly she would never doubt she was his-she dared him, challenged him, urged him on-wanted him to do it.

Head reeling, he broke from the kiss to feel his robe slide from his shoulders. Desire burned beneath his skin, a sensual flame. She spread her hands over his flesh as if she could sense it, as if she sought to conjure it, to feed the fire. Chest heaving, he watched her face, watched the womanly wonder as she realized how much power she held over him-watched fascination dawn as it occurred to her just how she could wield it.

Her lips curved. She looked down. Let one hand slide from his chest, slowly down to his groin. He gritted his teeth at the feather-light touch, bit back a groan as she stroked, then closed her hand about him.

Saw her smile deepen.

Thought he would die when she brushed her thumb over his throbbing head.

He reached for her-and suddenly realized she was still fully dressed. Knew he would never be satisfied until she lay naked beneath him. He backed her to the bed. She clasped his side, her other hand cradling him. Looked up when he pinned her against the side of the bed. He kissed her deeply, letting his demons plunder, and set his fingers to her laces.

Stripping her bodice, panniers, skirts, and petticoats from her took mere minutes; with another woman he might have dallied, stretched the moments. With her he couldn't wait, refused to wait.

Then she was naked but for her fine chemise-the last barrier between his skin and hers.

He paused. She'd stood naked before him before; later she would lie naked beneath him again. But for now . . .

Shackling his demons, he glanced around, a.s.sessing the possibilities-then saw what he wanted. What they both needed.

He glanced down at her as she closed her hand about him again; he shut his eyes, let his head fall back. Groaned.

Helena took that as an a.s.sent to further her attentions. Last time she hadn't had a chance to explore-this time she seized it, held him gently, stroked, fondled.

Sensed the tension in his spine increase with every touch. Felt the rampant strength beneath her hand grow ever harder.

Realized how much pleasure her touch gave him. Set herself to pleasure him more.

"Enough." He closed his hand about her wrist, drew her hand from him. His gaze, darkly burning, met hers. "Come. It's my turn to pay homage."

To her surprise he stepped back, turned, and led her across the room, to where one tall window stood uncurtained. It was freezing outside, the sky crystal clear. Moonlight, pale and silvery, poured in, creating a wide puddle on the dark carpet.

He halted in the shaft of light, drew her so it fell full upon her. His gaze was not on her face but on her body, veiled by the filmy silk of her chemise. He looked-and his long lips curved with sensual satisfaction.

"Perfect."

He went down on his knees before her. Because of the difference in height, his head was level with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She looked down on him, one hand rising to spear through his hair. He settled lower on his knees before her, lifted both hands, and closed them about her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her lids fell as her body arched, wantonly inviting his caresses.

He caressed, gently at first, but as her b.r.e.a.s.t.s swelled and firmed, his touch turned possessive. Then his fingers closed on her nipples, and she gasped. He squeezed, then rolled the tight buds before releasing them.

Before leaning closer, lifting his face, inviting her kiss.

She kissed him, sank into his mouth, drowned in his heat, felt her senses drawn down, into the flood tide of need. Wrapping her arms about his head, she held him to her. He kneaded her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then again his fingers searched, found, tightened, tightened-until her knees turned weak and she sagged.

Releasing his lips, she let her head fall back, heard her own gasp.

He raised up; hands locked about her waist, he held her steady as his lips, his mouth, hot and wet, trailed open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, down the column of her throat, then fastened over the spot where her pulse raced. He sucked, licked, then he s.h.i.+fted and his mouth trailed lower.

Over the tight swell of one breast.

His lips were like a brand, burning through the thin silk. She gasped again, tightened her hand about his skull, urged him on. Wickedly knowing, his lips skated, pressed, skated again. Tantalized. Teased.

Just before she gathered her wits to protest, he pressed closer still and licked. Over and around the peak of one breast. He laved until the silk clung, damp against her heated flesh. Then, slowly, he closed his mouth over the aching peak, curled his tongue about the tortured bud, and rasped it.

She sucked in a violent breath, let it slowly out, felt the tension rising through her heighten further. He released that breast, repeated the subtle torture on the other neglected peak until both her b.r.e.a.s.t.s burned, heavy and full and tight.

Silk s.h.i.+fted, shushed in the night; she looked down, watched as, his large hands clasped about her sides, he stretched her chemise tight over her midriff, anch.o.r.ed it there. Settled lower on his knees and set his lips there. Sucked lightly, licked, tasted through the silk.

Traced her ribs, her waist, her navel, as if he were mapping his domain. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s still ached, but the heat was spreading, lower, lower. Following his intimate attentions. Pooling deep.

One hard hand came to rest at the back of her waist as he pressed his mouth to her stomach. Then he s.h.i.+fted again, sinking onto his ankles, gripping her hips and stretching her chemise taut so he could nuzzle her freely, provocatively probe the indentation of her navel. The intimacy-hot, wet, and rough, yet veiled in silk-made her shudder.

His hands eased from her hips, drifted around, down, then rose under the chemise, lightly caressing the backs of her thighs before closing possessively about the globes of her bottom.

While he pressed his mouth to her stomach, probed increasingly explicitly with his tongue, his fingers flexed, kneaded, held her captive. His to savor as he pleased.