Surrender to a Wicked Spy (26 page)

She gasped, protesting, so he simply covered her mouth with his own while he continued to tease and torment her breasts with his free hand, his hot, hard hand that took vengeance on her soft flesh. Hard fingers took her nipples between them, pinching sharply, causing jolts of pleasure/pain to run through her. She gasped into his mouth and he kissed her deeply, his tongue penetrating her lips over and over.

Then his hand traveled down her body, over her gown, until he cupped her mound in his big hand. He rubbed her there, roughly but with a knowing touch. The layers of cloth eased his roughness into a heated caress until she felt her body begin to respond. Her hands were still pinned, his tongue still violated her mouth, her breasts were still exposed, her nipples sore and tight in the cold air, and he continued to massage her through her gown.

Dark erotic pleasure radiated from beneath his hand. Her body turned to hot wax in his hands. Her core began to throb and swell with arousal, much to her dismay. She ought not to want this roughness. She ought not to let it have this effect on her. His punishing kiss and his intentionally rough handling of her were meant to scandalize and dominate.

It seemed she was partial to being conquered by her Viking lord.

Oh, she was wicked, just as he said. Wicked and shameless all the way through, for she was going to orgasm with his fingers digging into her, pushing her petticoat inside her, rubbing and pressing and—

She lost control, crying out into his mouth, shuddering in his grasp as her climax swept hard through her, stealing her will and her voice until she was only a shivering creation, formed by his touch.

He was as surprised as she, she realized dimly on her way back down from the heights. His massive erection pressed hotly against her hip and his breath came hard. She seemed to be sweeping him away just a bit as well.

His kiss turned softer, almost wondering, and his hand soothed her now, helping her slip down once more into the moment. He took his mouth from hers and kissed the tops of her breasts more gently, then laid his head upon them. She could feel him fighting for breath, fighting for control, fighting to keep his retaliation foremost in his mind.

She couldn't allow it. "I want you, Dane," she whispered to him, to his reluctant heart. "You cannot force the willing. I want you so that I burn for your merest touch."

He shook his head, burying his face in her breasts. She persisted, for she was fighting with everything she had. "Test me. Press me. Try me in any way you like. You cannot steal what is freely given. You cannot make me beg for mercy." She rotated her hips, pressing up against where his hand still rested in her lap. "All I will ever beg for is
more
."

He threw his head back then, pulling away from her. She reached for him, but he'd moved away. She heard the swift rustle of cloth. Then he was back, his bare skin beneath her hands.

He was wild on her now, sucking her nipples deep into his mouth, pulling her hair from its pins, yanking her gown and petticoats high to press her thighs wide. She surrendered completely, answering his urgency with her own, digging her fingers into his hair as she pressed his mouth down on her breasts. She raised her hips to welcome his touch on her wetness as he slipped two long fingers deep into her.

Then his hand moved away for a moment and came back covered in something cold and creamy that quickly turned warm and slick with her heat. He used it to coat her inside and out, thrusting his fingers in again and again, long after she was well covered. She rode his hand, rocking in a rhythm he set her to, allowing him to do his will on her as long, please God, as long as he did not stop touching her.

He brought her close, then backed off the rhythm. She cried out in protest, but he was merciless. He forced her high once more, only to stop before she hit the peak. She was nearly crying now, desperate for satisfaction, shamelessly begging him for more.

"You've never seen what it is you think you want," he growled. "Touch me now and tell me you want 'more.' "

He took her hands and wrapped them around himself.

Oh, dear heaven. He was huge and thick and so very hard. He throbbed at her touch, growing more so. Then he pulled himself from her hold.

"I—," she began.

"I care not what you think of me," he said. He pressed her back down upon the bed and laid his body between her thighs. The big, blunt tip of him pushed hard against her slick opening "I am demanding my marital rights, my lady," he said coldly.

He thought she'd been about to protest, to recoil, to pull away in revulsion. He thought he would be forcing himself on her. Her poor darling, so ready to be fended off.

In answer to his threat, she twined her long legs about his hips and pulled his mouth down to hers for a deep, wet, loving kiss. He went very still, profound astonishment positively radiating from him.

"I love you, you phenomenal ass," she whispered against his mouth. "All I ever wanted was to be your lady."

His breath caught. She wished they had a candle—and not only so she could feast her eyes on his amazing physique but also so she could see his eyes, to see if there was anything else there behind the desire and the anger and the surprise… any answer at all to her declaration of love.

He said nothing but only slowly, carefully, began to press inside her. The slick, cold hardness of the rods had done nothing to prepare her for feeling her man within her. He was warm and smooth and
Dane
.

The air left her lungs in a long sigh as he drove slowly, inexorably, within. She felt the sting of flesh stretched too far and hissed slightly. He stopped instantly, holding himself there until she felt her body relax further. She rotated against him, taking another half inch by herself. He followed her signal, pressing into her once more.

She stopped him twice more, each time hoping she would not have to stop entirely. Her body seemed to know what to do, and all she had to do was think about that day, someday, when he would sweep her up into his arms and look at her with love in his eyes. It never failed to turn her protesting flesh to supple submission again. Gradually, cautiously, he filled her absolutely. It was difficult and daunting… and
heaven
. At last, he was hers.

Dane could not believe it when he felt himself buried entirely within her. It was a dream, a gift, an impossible undertaking that no woman could do, yet she had done it. She still had her limbs wrapped tenderly about him, holding him right where he was.

She'd said she loved him. He willfully dismissed that. Words only, after all.

But this—this came close to breaking his heart with the thrice-damned
generosity
of it. He felt her tightness ease into comforting snugness yet more as he lay within her, his face buried in her sweet-smelling hair as it cascaded over the pillow. He dared not thrust, though his body trembled with the need to. He dared not think about what it might do to her—

"Move inside me," she whispered. "I want to feel you come in again."

She was incredible. Turning his head away with the ecstasy of withdrawing from her, he closed his eyes against the feel of her heated sheath caressing every inch of him, the way her tightness tugged at him with exquisite suction, the way she sighed with loss when he left her—

"Come back," she called softly.

He cupped her shoulders carefully in his hands and drove inside her once more. He gritted his teeth for control as he forced himself to penetrate her unhurriedly, allowing her body to accept him in its own time.

"Yesss," she breathed in his ear. "I love how you fill me."

He arched over her, his body shuddering with tightly reined desire as he deliberately moved within her. He'd imagined himself thrusting wildly into her, vengefully, without care or concern, yet he found himself highly attuned to her body's quiet signals. The way she clenched her thighs when something hurt, the way she relaxed beneath him when it pleasured her. The soft break in her breathing, the hint of smile he heard in her words.

He kissed her, unable to resist feeling her mouth open beneath his willingly, welcomingly. The taste and feel and soft, womanly acceptance of her… he could lie in her arms forever.

"Dane," she whispered to him, "I want more."

He blinked, startled from his careful rhythm, from the place he'd retreated to in order to control the pounding in his blood. "What more?"

She traced her fingertips down his bare back, her touch like cool fire on his skin. "I want your climax now."

He shook his head. "I—I cannot. I don't dare—"

"Well, I do," she said firmly. She wrapped her calves over his lower back and brought him down into herself, deep and hard. Bright ecstasy exploded behind his eyes even as she cried out sharply.

Dane pulled almost entirely from her, concerned. "You should not have—"

She did it again. The pleasure stole his breath even as she cried out again.

He pushed himself up and away, though her legs still encircled him. "Stop!" he gasped. "You cannot—"

She let out a fierce hoarse sound as she forced him within her once more. "It… doesn't… hurt," she gasped. "I want… you."

Black erotic need nearly stole away the last of his awareness at her words. She wanted him, all of him, fast and hard. It was his deepest fantasy come true. "Wait—" He managed to speak, although it cost him. "The… the cream."

"Yes." She released him and he reached for the small pot of sweet tallow he'd used on her before. His desperate hands fumbled it and nearly dropped it in the dark. He caught it in midair by some outrageous good luck and brought it back to where she waited for him. He knelt before her again and pressed it into her hands. "Cover me with it to ease the way," he told her, his voice husky with the ferocity of his restraint.

She took the pot. Then he felt her hands, chilled and slippery, wrap around his cock. He gasped and threw his head back as she slid her slicked grip up and down his length, the fingers of her two hands wrapped tightly around him. It was very nearly as good as being in her body—but not quite.

"Enough!" he gasped. He pulled her greasy hands from him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Kiss me," he demanded roughly. "Kiss me hard."

She rose to kneel bosom to chest with him, his cock pressed between them, her nipples hard points against his chest. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and then she kissed him as if her life depended on it. No gentle press, no tender touch of tongues. Her kiss was as hard and needful as his had been punishing and angry before.

It did him in.

«
^
»

Surrendering completely to his need, Dane toppled Olivia backward, rolling with her until he was lying between her thighs once more. This time when he entered her, he was not slow or gentle or careful. He thrust in deep and hard, nearly sliding her up the bed with his ferocity. She screamed his name out loud and wrapped her thighs tightly around him. He pulled back slowly, savoring the feel of her sheath pulsing around him, then thrust hard again.

She took every thrust with a cry; she answered every withdrawal with a lost whimper. The sweet, lustful animal sounds she made only drove him higher. The black cloud of abandon threatened him again, daring him to turn his lust loose on her at last. Control… control…

She raised herself on her elbows and kissed him hard. Then she bit him on the chin.

Control fled and he unleashed himself upon her at last. He took her hard and fast, wrapping her hair around his fists to turn her mouth up to his hungry kiss as he drove them both wild. She clung to him, her cries incoherent as she climaxed, her body shuddering beneath him.

Her tight sheath throbbed around him, sending red jolts of aching rapture into what was left of his brain. He exploded into her with a roar, thrusting hard even as he emptied his seed into her.

For a moment, dark, perfect pleasure ruled. Then his mind began to move again, his thoughts sluggish.

He'd done it. He knew now what the everlasting fuss was about. Although, he suspected as he collapsed next to his softly panting woman, he was fairly sure it wasn't that good for most men. If it was, they'd stay indoors and never do anything else. He lay limply next to her, one muscular thigh thrown over hers. The smell of her, of him, of what they'd made together, rose to envelop them both in the close, musky air of the cottage. Dane closed his eyes.

Olivia relaxed beneath the press of his heavy, sleepy body and breathed him in. She didn't dare speak for fear of reminding him that he wasn't very fond of her right now.

Dane might have been wreaking vengeance or fulfilling a physical need, but she loved him and she'd been given another—or last—opportunity to show him.

He might have been using her… but she had been loving him. It had been a risk, surrendering to him that way. She might find herself ever deeper in love, and alone. Fear of that very thing lived inside her heart even as she lay in his arms.

Yet if she failed, it would not be because she'd chosen not to fight. She closed her eyes. Failing wasn't the same as giving up.

And she was never one to give up.

Just after dawn broke the night, Dane watched Olivia sleep limply on the bed, her blue silk gown twisted around her, ruined forever. She lay with her arms open, as if she'd welcome him back into them any time he liked.

He resisted the temptation. He had some thinking to do and he wanted to figure out his problem without the interference of his desire for her.

Then stop looking at her. Or listening to her breathe. Or thumping the wood about in the wood box hoping it will wake her up so you can have her once more before you have to be rational again.

He closed his eyes against the sight of her, leaning his elbows on the old, polished mantel and resting his head on his palms. The truth was, she'd affected him more deeply than he'd thought possible.

Never in his life had he felt so
accepted
. Not only by her body but by her heart and soul as well. His body, his problem, his anger, his fear, his every doubt—she had accepted all of him, swallowing him into her well of warmth and comfort and desire. She had accepted all his darkness and asked for more, until they were both spent and exhausted. This exhilarated and terrified him. He found himself in great danger of forgetting everything else… and that he could not allow himself to do.