Awakened by a Kiss (6 page)

She was always playing games.

Well, he had a game for her. One that would overwhelm her senses, break down her resistance. Only, he wasn’t going to resort to drugging her—as she had him. But he
was
going to take control—a control she’d snatched from him that night.

His game was one he’d mastered a long time ago—seduction.

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

He stepped closer. She stepped back into the door. A crack in her façade.

“I want you to scream,” he reiterated, his tone matter-of-fact. “I’m going to make you come, and I want to hear you scream out your pleasure.”

“Pardon?”
The word rushed out on a breath, Catherine’s bravado vanishing. In its place was stunned disbelief, and—Adrien was certain—a quiver of excitement.

He was wrong. There
was
something honest about her. Sexual arousal. She was naturally sensuous. Made for passion.

She craved it—beneath the veneer of propriety.

So why was her experience so limited? She’d been married, and as beautiful as she was, she could easily have her choice of lovers. Then there was Philbert de Baillet. Hadn’t he sampled any premarital delights? Marriage was the last thing on Adrien’s mind, but if he were betrothed to a woman like Catherine, he would have bedded her long before the exchanging of the vows.

Adrien snaked his arm around Catherine’s waist and pulled her to him tightly. Ignoring her gasp, he threaded his fingers in her soft hair, resting his palm on the nape of her neck. His fever for her spiked the moment their bodies touched. His cock pressing against her belly was already pulsing painfully. What was it about this woman? She scintillated his senses with no effort at all.

“You asked what I wanted, Catherine. I want to have another go at you, without any aphrodisiacs involved. But first and foremost, I want your mouth.”

He swooped in for a kiss, her jasmine-scented skin inebriating him. She fisted the material of his knee-length coat against his back but, thank God, didn’t push him away. Instead, she made tiny sounds at the back of her throat each time he locked and relocked their mouths.

Her breathing was already erratic, inciting his own. Yet by the slight stiffness in her body, he knew she warred with her desire, wanting to stop him as much as she wanted him to continue. He forced himself to slow down. To concentrate on her responses, keeping her enthralled so that she didn’t pull away from him.

Adrien brushed his tongue against her lips, coaxing them apart, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, penetrating it, possessing it the moment she complied with his sensual demand. He celebrated in her surrender. She tasted delicious. Even better than he remembered.

Her soft form melted against his body, dragging a groan up his throat.
Dieu
, he wanted her.

The moment he felt her hands relax and flatten against his back, he cupped her breast and grazed his thumb over the hardened nipple. She rewarded him with a sultry moan. Pinching the pebbled tip through her clothing, he had her writhing and arching hard against him.

Catherine’s hands shot up his back and tangled in his hair, her kisses now frantic. She gave his tongue a long, sensuous suck that practically buckled his knees.

His heart pounding against his ribs, he plucked at the ribbon between her breasts, loosening the front of her gown. Just as he started to spread open the bodice, she grabbed his hand and mewed, “No . . .” in protest ever so faintly against his mouth. She’d guessed his intent—that he had more than just sexual interest in seeing her exposed breasts. There were three small freckles on the outer curve of her left breast that he wanted revealed.

She didn’t.

Cursing his eagerness, he stilled his hand, fearful of shattering her sexual abandon altogether. “Shhh, I won’t,
ma belle
.” This was novel. He always had carte blanche in the boudoir. No one ever said no to anything he wanted. “We’ll only do that which we both want,” he quickly assured her and reclaimed her mouth, starved for more. Gripping her pert derrière, he pressed his thigh between her legs and against her sex with enough pressure over her clit to draw a gasp from her, bringing her focus back to the pleasure at hand, away from his blunder.

“I know what you want.” Adrien rubbed her clit with his thigh. She jumped. He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. Her cheeks were flush, and she had that fiery glow in her eyes that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with hot, fierce desire. “This is what you want, isn’t it? It’s what we both want, Catherine. You’re going to come for me—so hard—”

She grabbed his face and thrust her tongue inside his mouth, cutting off his words, her lower body rocking erotically against his thigh. Sounds of her sharp, short breaths, as her tongue tangled with his, stoked his lust. Decimated his control.

He pushed her up against the door and removed his thigh from between her legs. Lifting her voluminous skirts with urgent yanks, he at last reached her drawers and cupped her through the cloth of the
caleçons
, already damp with her juices.

He caressed her lightly. “You’re wet for me, Catherine.”

“Oh . . . God . . .” Her voice was shaky. She pressed against his palm, more seductive sounds emanating from her. Urging him further. He needed no encouragement. He was so hard, he felt dizzy, the ferocity of his need stunning.

“Open your legs wider.” His voice was gruff. Using his foot, he widened her stance. “Stay like that.” Adrien slid his fingers in the slit of the garment, through her moistened curls, grazing over her slick flesh. She was hot, dripping with desire, and moaning louder.

Slowly, he pushed a finger inside her, feeding her a knuckle at a time until he buried it completely. The silky wet heat clasped around his finger was mind-numbingly tight. His prick twitched with anticipation. He couldn’t wait to sink his cock into her.

He eased his finger out and slid two back in. She whimpered, her head falling back against the door.

“You’re soaking my hand. Your body is begging for more.” Massaging her clit with his thumb, he pushed and pulled his fingers with a deep and steady rhythm. She squeezed her eyes shut, dug her fingers into his shoulders, and bit her lip, trying to muffle her sounds of pleasure, her lovely breasts rising and falling rapidly. She looked gloriously wanton.

“You like this, don’t you? It feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked.

She gave him a shaky nod.

“Does it feel as good as it did five years ago?”

Maddeningly stubborn, she wouldn’t answer.

“You know I know how to make it feel even better.” He curled his buried fingers and rubbed the sweet spot inside her vaginal wall. She cried out and bucked her hips at him, her soaked sex pouring more juices onto his hand.

“Should I stop?” he rasped. Without relenting on the ultrasensitive spot, he lightened the pressure and was no longer teasing her clit, deliberately keeping her on the edge.

She rolled her head against the door, her eyes still closed. “No!”

“You want to come badly, don’t you?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes . . .” The sound of her breathless voice tightened his groin.

“Look at me.”

She opened her eyes.

“Tell me you want my cock inside you.” He had to have her. He couldn’t stand it a moment longer.

“I want . . . I need—”

“What do you want and need?”

She licked her lips. “You . . .”

“Adrien, I need your cock,” he amended, barely able to speak. “Say it.”

“I need your . . . cock . . . Adrien.”

Though he’d heard those words before, hearing them out of her lush mouth shot a bolt of lust through him that rocked him to the core. He pulled out his fingers. She shuddered in his arms. Clutching her skirts in one hand, he loosened her
caleçons
with the other and watched them slip down her thighs. The sight of the wet, downy curls between her legs made his mouth water.

Yanking open his breeches, he freed his stiff prick, gaining little relief as it sprang from its confines. Glancing at Catherine, he noticed her gazing hungrily at his engorged cock. If he hadn’t been so aroused, he would have smiled. Here was the real Catherine: a highly sensual woman naturally drawn to decadent delights.

Grabbing her hips, he captured her mouth in a fierce kiss and slid his shaft between the folds of her sex, coating it with her essence, making it slick for easy penetration. He was so far gone, he knew he wasn’t going to be gentle. “This is what you need.” He wedged the crest of his cock at her opening.

“Yes
. . .
”
She panted.
“Hurry!”

He drove his prick into her, possessing her with a single thrust. She cried out.

Adrien closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the door, his chest heaving. Her hot, creamy sheath was stretched so tightly around him it made his cock throb, the pleasure rippling down his length momentarily rendering him speechless.

Pinned against the door, impaled on his shaft, she trembled. He felt her tighten her arms around him, her warm, fast breaths tickling his neck.

“I need your cock,” she whispered near his ear.

That undid him.

He reared and thrust again. And again. And again. The friction felt so good. She felt so good. She had the sweetest sex. It was to die for. Vaguely, he heard her gasps and moans over the blood roaring in his ears.

She shoved her hips forward, taking fully each solid thrust he gave her. “Don’t stop . . . Don’t stop . . .” she pleaded each time he slammed into her.

As if he could? As if he had the will? “Tell me you’re my midnight enchantress.” His voice was so rough, it didn’t even sound like his own. “Tell me . . . what I want to hear, Catherine . . . Tell me . . . you’re the woman who came to my bed that night and I’ll let you com—”

She screamed, her body jerking sharply as her orgasm crashed over her, taking them both by surprise, her inner muscles squeezing and releasing around his thick cock, milking his thrusting shaft with each powerful spasm.

Digging his fingers into her soft bottom, Adrien clenched his teeth and growled her name. Exquisite contractions running along his prick went on, and—
ah, Dieu
—on. He drove into her repeatedly, fiercely, fighting back his orgasm to bask in her incredible cunt as long as he could.

How many times had he dreamed of this? Of having this woman again. Of sampling more of the scalding desire they’d shared. She was rapture incarnate. No aphrodisiac was necessary between them, and somehow he’d known it all along.

Her sex clamped down around him a final time, snapping his flimsy control, his climax suddenly rushing over him. He jerked his prick out of her at the last moment, snatched her from against the door and crushed her in his arms just as his explosive release rocked him, his semen shooting out of him in hot torrents. His mouth against her shoulder, he let out a long, fierce groan, his body shuddering with each spurt of come until he’d emptied his cock.

His legs felt weak. His body, lax. Ecstasy hummed in his veins. Memories of their last encounter, years ago, materialized in his mind. It had been exactly the same—soul-satisfying sex.

The night when you unwittingly took a virgin
.

The sexual fog dissipating little by little, he became aware of his harsh breathing, the light scent of jasmine that hung in the air, and her soft breasts crushed against his chest.

Adrien eased his hold on her. She slumped against the door. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly swollen and parted. She had the prettiest blush to her cheeks. He brushed back a lock of her hair from her delicate brow. She looked like a woman who’d been well fucked and thoroughly sated.

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He took a small step back and glanced on the floor. His come was on her fallen drawers. Adrien kicked them out of the way, and wiping his glistening cock with his shirttails, he readjusted his clothing. Unlike his father, he took care not to make bastards.

Catherine opened her eyes. At first she looked away, seemingly embarrassed, but then she straightened her spine and met his gaze.

Lightly, he caressed her cheek with his knuckles. How he loved the feel of her skin.

Adrien felt mellow. He felt oddly content. He felt good.

No, he felt great.

“I’ve made a mess of your
caleçons
,” he said. Not to mention he’d mussed her lovely hair and horribly wrinkled her gown.

“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice was soft.

His smile grew, pleased that she wasn’t put off.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you for the . . . tumble.” She slid out from between him and the door and stepped away, her gown falling into place. “Please see yourself out.”

Adrien felt as though cold water just splashed him in the face.
Jésus-Christ
, she’d dismissed him. As though he were a stud for hire.