Secret of the Wolf (41 page)

exquisitely of woman, perspiration, and the unmistakable scent of desire. Her thighs

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straddled his, round and firm. Instead of shying away from the thrust of his manhood,

patently outlined through the sheets that barely covered him, she rubbed herself against

it
.

He groaned. "Johanna," he said, "unless you want this to end very quickly, you'd better

stop.”

"Am I doing something wrong?" She sat up, her gaze sweeping from his face to his

loins. Her hand found him, unerringly, and stroked, tugging the sheet below his

hipbones. "This is the source of pleasure, is it not?”

"Yes," he said through his teeth. "Bloody hell—excuse me, Johanna." He caught her

hand and lifted it away from him. "You're just too good at it.”

She smiled. "Am I? I have been a student of human nature for a long time. And I know

my anatomy—”

"It isn't all anatomy." He grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it higher as he sat up,

afraid that if he didn't keep himself covered he'd find his way inside her. Before she

could see his movement as a rejection, he cupped her hands between his
.

"Do you know where the center of your pleasure is, Johanna?”

The darkness wasn't enough to hide the flush in her cheeks from eyes like his. "I believe

so.”

"Have you ever touched it yourself?”

The blush cascaded down her neck to the collar of her nightgown. "I

have never been

one of those who holds that such activity is a form of abuse that can lead to blindness

and insanity. But I have not

" She swallowed. "Not purposely.”

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He tried not to imagine how she might have done so accidentally. "Then you'll have to

allow me to show you.”

"Right now?" Her voice squeaked several notes higher
.

"In a few moments." He slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder. "Relax, Johanna. This

is supposed to be enjoyable.”

"I know." She made a visible effort to loosen her muscles. "What is next, then?”

"This is also not a textbook lesson," he said, working his hand under the open collar of

her nightgown. "There are no rules.”

"No. Of course not." She held very still while he undid a few buttons and brushed his

fingers down from her collarbone to the deep cleft between her breasts
.

He'd thought of this countless times, holding her naked breasts in his hands. She was

bountiful, richly endowed, any man's dream of abundance. She had no idea how

desirable she was
.

Slowly he covered her breast with his hand. She gasped. Her firm nipple rubbed against

his palm. He curved his fingers around it, squeezing with utmost gentleness. She closed

her eyes
.

"It feels—”

"Tell me how it feels, Johanna.”

"I can't." She breathed in and out rapidly. "I hadn't realized that my

that they could be

so—”

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"Sensitive? You have no idea, my Valkyrie." He pulled her forward, ignoring the warmth

of her rump on his groin, and lifted her breast through the vee of her neckline. Cradling

it between his hands, he lowered his head
.

Her amazed cry was all he could have wished for. He curled his tongue around her

nipple, wetting it thoroughly, and then began to suckle. She arched up against him.

When he'd had his way with one breast, he gave equal attention to the other. By then

Johanna was hardly breathing at all
.

"Oh," she whispered
.

"This is what they were made for, Johanna," he said, pressing his face between her

breasts. "To be pleasured and to give pleasure.”

If she meant to protest his dismissal of their biological function, she hadn't enough

presence of mind to do so
.

"You

enjoy—”

"Indubitably." To prove it, he caressed her again
.

"Quentin?”

"Yes

”

"I have read about the experience of orgasm—" She kept her eyes firmly closed, as if to

protect herself from embarrassment. "But I do not know what it's like. Can you explain it

to me?”

He pulled back and muffled a laugh. "It's not something one can explain

especially

from a man to a woman.”

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"Is it possible to achieve without actual intercourse?”

"Why?”

"Because I think

I think

" She opened her mouth and shuddered, rising up on her

knees and falling back again. The impact on his erection was astonishing. Stars danced

in front of his eyes
.

"No," she said. "No, I

must have been mistaken. For a moment, I thought—”

Filled with an inexpressible tenderness, Quentin drew her close. "You'll know, Johanna,"

he said. He caught her face between his hands and kissed the tip of her nose. "And we

aren't nearly finished yet.”

Johanna was finally compelled to confess her ignorance. She hadn't had the slightest

notion, for all her reading and observation, how wonderful sex could be. And Quentin

had just begun
.

It wasn't only the physical sensations, which of themselves were startling and

indescribable. It was also the closeness—physical and emotional—that was so much

more than the proximity of bodies
.

She was eager to continue, but she contained herself. She was no wild wanton to lose

every last vestige of common sense, forget where she was and why. She wanted to fully

absorb every experience
.

In case it never happened again
.

"What is next?" she asked in a voice she hoped didn't betray her enthusiasm
.

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"I'll show you." He set his hands at her waist and lifted her easily, placing her on the bed

beside him. He rolled over to cover her with his body
.

Johanna tensed. His position reminded her too much of Fenris, and the feeling of

helplessness she so despised. But Quentin made no move to constrain her. He leaned

on one elbow and drew his fingers through her hair with his other hand, working the

braids loose
.

"Trust me, Johanna," he said
.

"I do." She allowed him to separate the strands of her hair and spread it out across the

pillow
.

"Beautiful," he said
.

"A very ordinary brown," she corrected
.

"Let me be the judge of that." He kissed her, lightly at first, and then with greater

passion. Her arms moved of their own accord to pull him down. He demonstrated the

amazing variations possible in a simple kiss, from agile use of the tongue to subtle

movements of strong, masculine lips
.

And then he showed her all the other places on her body that could also be kissed
.

He began with the other parts of her face: brow, cheeks, chin, jawline. He suckled the

lobe of her ear, provoking waves of delicious shivers. She hadn't suspected how

incredibly sensitive the flesh of her neck and its junction with her shoulder could be,

especially when he grazed it with his teeth and salved it with his tongue afterward
.

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Inch by meticulous inch he worked his way down her body. She almost cried out in

anticipation as he reached her breasts and repeated his previous caresses. His mouth

closed over her nipple, sucking and tugging in a way that sent lances of sensation

shooting directly into her womb
.

She felt

beautiful. Her breasts were beautiful, the slight roundness of her stomach,

the full breadth of her hips. Each part he worshipped in turn. He kissed the gentle

projection of her ribs and ran his tongue in teasing circles around her navel. All the while

she felt him drawing closer to the place that begged for his attentions. Her breath rang

hoarse and loud in her own ears
.

He paused, giving her brief deliverance from the high pitch of excitement. Yet she didn't

want him to stop
.

"Please," she murmured
.

"You aren't afraid?" he asked again. His voice was just as unsteady as hers. "I can slow

down, if you like.”

"No," she answered, half in a daze. "No.”

"It was a very foolish question." He took her hips between his hands and kissed his way

down her body again
.

The first touch of his tongue to her femininity was a considerable shock. She felt as if

she'd been struck by lightning, every volt of it focused on this one part of her body. She

thought she might die in the next few seconds
.

She didn't die. Quentin was an expert. He pushed his tongue into the soft, moist flesh,

stroking and exploring. She clutched handfuls of sheet in her fists, wondering how she

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could bear it. How any woman could. And to think that some male physicians actually

believed that females could or should not know this

this ecstasy
.

A moan escaped her. Quentin's caresses became more urgent, as if he were propelling

her toward the climax he'd promised she would recognize. Surely she was already

there. But the feeling of sheer pleasure became one of rising, rising toward some

immeasurable height, a Valhalla that only the blessed could know
.

Quentin led her there, drew her to the edge, and then let her go
.

She exploded, tumbled, spun to the bottom in a rush of light and joy. Quentin was

waiting for her. She felt herself pulse against his mouth while he reveled in her delight
.

Every limb weighted with gratified exhaustion, Johanna rested her head on the pillow

and let the overwhelming sensations fade. At last she knew what it was to reach the

ultimate physical completion. The feelings Quentin had aroused in her when he'd

touched her breasts were nothing compared to this. She couldn't help giggling a little at

her own naïveté
.

"I don't believe I've ever heard you giggle before," Quentin said, rolling onto his back

beside her. "You found it acceptable?”

"Acceptable? You can ask that when—" She paused, noting the gleam of bedevilment

in his eye. The hopeless rogue. She reached for his hand. "More than acceptable.”

"I am glad." He propped himself up on his elbow to gaze at her. "You have a certain

natural talent yourself.”

"But I've done nothing. It has been quite—one-sided, has it not?”

Quentin licked his lips. "I found it very pleasant, I assure you.”

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"But you have not—we have not finished." Even as she spoke, she felt a renewed ache

between her thighs—the ache of emptiness, of a powerful need to be filled in a way only

Quentin could do
.

"Not everything must be done at once," he said. "We aren't on a schedule, are we?”

He was putting her off, she was sure of it. In spite of his initial acquiescence, he hadn't

let go of his qualms. He held back from the ultimate expression of the desire she knew

he felt. The bold stance of his admirable, rather awesome male part had not diminished

in the slightest
.

She sat up and slid her hand down his belly. "Maybe not," she said. "But now it is my

turn.”

"You needn't—" He gulped back his words as she reached the base of his manhood

and stroked up with one finger. He was so hard, so silky, and so very fascinating
.

"I have seen this before, of course," she said in her best professional voice, "but never

one so, so

superior.”

"Thank you," he said. "I think.”

"And never in this state, I must confess." She wrapped her hand around him and drew it

up and down experimentally. His body jerked. "How long can you maintain it, I wonder?”

"Not

very much longer," he rasped. "Johanna—”

"I'm not being too rough?" She smiled serenely and reversed the direction of her caress
.

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He groaned in answer. After a few moments of experimentation she found just the right

rhythm. He gave up any effort to speak and closed his eyes
.

She loved the feeling of pleasuring him as he had done for her. Still it was not enough.

Her innate, driving curiosity remained unassuaged
.

One thing remained to be tried. She adjusted her position so that she could bend over

him without losing her balance
.