Page 78 of Outrageous

Eva didn’t answer. Instead she moved a hand down her body, the action immediately drawing his eyes. That was the expression she wanted to see on his face at all times of the day: the expression that said she was the only woman in the world worth looking at. His breathing roughened as her hand moved over her belly, so she slid it lower, over the soft curve, and then into the thick, springy black hair that covered her mound.

“My God, Eva.” He made a noise like a death rattle and Eva grinned. This, she realized, was power. No wonder Mia so often claimed that gently bred women had tools and means at their disposal that men—and their own mothers and grandmothers—often tried to keep them from using.

He’d caught his breath and was as motionless as a statue, as if waiting for her next move. Eva shivered when her damp palm grazed the small, slick bud pushing between her lips.

When he looked up at her, his expression was . . . well, she couldn’t say what it was. But she liked it—she adored it.

And then he spoke, once again saying the unexpected. “Do you still hate me?”

“More than ever.”

He gave a deep, sensual chuckle, his eyes dropping to her hand as if he could not look away for longer than a second.

There was only one thing she could do when he looked at her like that: use her second hand. She absently rubbed her belly, drinking in his raw desire and savoring it as if it were the most expensive wine in the world.

“You are a temptress,” he muttered.

Eva’s breathing became that of a laboring horse as she took in the long, dark shadow distorting the thin material of his nightshirt.

She heard another low laugh and looked up to find his gaze fastened on her other hand, which had moved from her belly to her breast, where she was stroking and pulling at her stiffened nipple. Well, who knew that would feel so good?

“I see you were not jesting about your experience, were you?”

Experience? she almost asked, only at the last minute recalling her boast from yesterday. Was that only yesterday?

Judging by the way he was smiling at her, he liked the idea that she had prior experience.

She shook her head, unable to trust her voice, her eyes dropping from his face to the far more interesting thing poking at his voluminous nightshirt.

He reached over his shoulder and pulled the garment over his head in one smooth motion, and Eva froze—her hands, her breathing, her eyes. She had seen one before, a penis—a cock and a prick and a rod, she’d heard the stable lads call it when she’d lurked and eavesdropped while they thought nobody else was listening. She’d seen them soft and floppy when the boys swam in the pond on her father’s estate. And she’d seen his the other night. Still, it had been far away and the lighting dim. This time he was close enough to touch. The thick shaft was long and shiny, and something about it made her mouth water and her thighs clench.

He lowered himself swiftly over her, resting his weight on his elbows while kissing her with a vehemence that left her boneless. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, his teeth grazing her skin almost hard enough to hurt. “I want to eat you.”

Just as suddenly as he’d dropped over her, he pushed up on his hands, his lips parted as he breathed heavily. “Are you sure you want this?”

Eva nodded without hesitation; she’d wanted this experience even before Mia told her how much pleasure it could bring—she’d wanted it ever since she’d been fourteen and watched one of the footmen mount a maid in a bedroom they’d believed was empty. She’d gone back every day, catching them at it over and over. Watching the young footman’s powerful buttocks clenching and thrusting into the wide-spread maid had made her itch and squirm. Just as she was doing right now.

Godric didn’t hesitate, and she instinctively knew it would be an entirely different story if he knew the truth—that she was a maiden. If he knew the truth, they’d likely wait until they were married, or perhaps he’d never do it? And they’d certainly talk and talk about it, until she’d want to bash him over the head rather than do this with him.

He knocked her already spread legs wider with one of his knees and slid his hands beneath her thighs, pulling her hips up high, until she was close enough to his pelvis to touch his erect organ. Without releasing her, he reached under one leg and took himself in hand, placing the fat, shiny head against her opening.

“God, Eva—you’re so wet for me.”

His words made her woozy.

“Tell me you want it,” he ordered, pushing the alarmingly big head of his instrument against her entrance.

She gritted her teeth. “I want it.”

The last word wasn’t even out when he breached her with one powerful thrust.

* * *

Godric knew the truth the moment he plowed into her, violently and deep, employing all the care of a stallion mounting a mare. He’d never taken a virgin before, but it didn’t take prior experience to know he had one now.

To give her credit, she didn’t make a sound. But her already tight body—and by God, she was like a vise around his aching prick—stiffened until she felt like a warm, human plank in his hands. He lowered them both onto the bed, keeping himself buried, but not moving. Her hands had closed on his back like grappling hooks and her breathing was rapid and shallow.

“Oh, Eva.”