To Romance a Charming Rogue (Courtship Wars) - Page 36

A faint smile wreathed his mouth. “Are you truly interested in discussing my chef just now?”

“I told you I don't want to discuss anything with you.”

“Good, then be quiet for now, love…”

He filled both his hands with her naked breasts and lowered his head. Eleanor suddenly forgot to breathe. Damon had never taken such liberties before…

His warm lips sent a sweep of sensation surging over her skin, but when he grazed her nipples with his tongue, the sweet shock made her gasp.

Then he closed his lips over one taut bud and drew it into his mouth. Her back arched off the mattress at the delicious spasm that arrowed down to her loins.

“Damon… you have to stop,” she rasped.

“In another moment…”

She didn't think she could bear another moment of his delicious torment. But he went on laving her nipple with his tongue, drawing the swollen flesh between his teeth, pulling at it with a hard sucking motion.

Eleanor gave up trying to fight him. He was seducing her, and she didn't care. Urgent longing had gathered inside her, pulsing to vibrant life in that secret place between her thighs.

She found herself clutching his head to her breast, trying to draw his tantalizing, relentless mouth closer. Desire rose even higher when she felt his leg move so that his knee rode intimately between her thighs.

She shifted helplessly at the erotic pressure, but when slowly he drew up the hem of her nightdress, she was startled enough to summon the will to pro test. “Damon… you cannot…”

With one last kiss to her breast, he raised his head. His eyes dark with heat, he gazed down at her.

“Aren't you curious about the pleasure I could show you?”

“Yes, no… I don't know.”

“I don't intend to take your virtue if that worries you.”

She winced. “I pray not. It is scandalous enough, what you are doing now.”

His slow smile warmed her even more than his eyes. “What is the saying? I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb?”

“I am most certainly not a lamb, and you are a wolf.”

Quiet laughter was his only answer as he slid his fingers downward, between her thighs, to lightly rest on her woman's mound.

Eleanor's breath faltered.

Those eyes held her spellbound. Those intense, beautiful, dark-fringed eyes…

A lock of dark hair fell over Damon's forehead as he stared down at her, waiting. His gaze delved into hers, shattering any resistance she had left.

“Hush and let me pleasure you, Elle.”

“Yes…” she whispered.

His searching fingers unerringly finding her feminine folds, he parted her slick flesh and touched her there.

Every nerve in Eleanor's body flared and tightened, while her breath fled. Damon had aroused her desire before with his kisses, but he had never gone further than fondling her breasts through her clothing. Until now.

His fingers moved maddeningly in light caresses over the heart of her, rimming the sleek cleft of her sex, teasing the damp bud he found hidden there. Arching against him, she shut her eyes.

When a whimper rippled from her throat, he captured the sound by kissing her again, more gently this time. His mouth shaped itself to hers, hot silk, while his warm, thrusting tongue plied with a slow, sensual rhythm, intensifying the brazen heat that was coiling inside her, centered between her thighs.

At length, her hands rose to Damon's hair and clenched in the silky thickness as she returned his kisses fervently. Her senses seemed imprinted with the scent and feel of him, with the relentless ache he made her feel. Her skin had grown hot and keenly sensitive, as if she had a fever.

Tags: Nicole Jordan Historical
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