Page 91 of A Deal with the Devil

He surged up, catching her off her feet. She squeaked, and he spun her around, laying her gently in the chair. “Didn’t anyone ever warn you not to taunt the Devil?”

She couldn’t answer. His mouth was already on her and he was feasting with obscene sounds that proved he wanted to be nowhere else. He wedged his broad shoulders between her knees, widening her for his pleasure. She was already half mad with her own pleasure. He sucked and licked at her until she was squirming and gasping, trying to get away, trying to get closer. He slipped two fingers into her glistening heat, rolling her bud into his warm mouth. She jerked—too many sensations, too much tension building. “Not yet,” he said. “I could do this all night.”

“Please,” she babbled. “Please, please.”

“I suppose,” he finally relented. “Since you asked so nicely.” He did not alter the pattern of his ministrations, only went deeper, sucked harder. “Now,” he growled. “Come now.”

Her climax finally slipped its leash and bore down on her, all soft silk and teeth. It was almost too much, just this side of pain, demanding everything from her. She keened. There was no other word for it. And then she went limp, blinking. There was such luxury to this kind of exhaustion.

“I think I’m seeing stars,” she murmured.

“Good.” Rhys shrugged out of his dressing gown and used it to wipe his face, before tossing it away. His cheekbones were flushed. The rest of him was gloriously naked as he knelt before her—muscles shifting, an intriguing line that cut from his hip and lower, one she wanted to bite. He thickened as she watched, cock growing even harder, the tip engorged and glistening. For her. She scraped her nails lightly down his chest. She wanted to purr. Actually purr.

“Your turn to stand up,” she ordered him.

He rose slowly, as if he were doing her a favor by obeying. This man. She wanted to grin, even as her quim pulsed at the way he looked down at her. As if she were beautiful; as if he might die if she didn’t take him in her hand or in her mouth. She had to clench her legs together. She stroked him lightly, once, twice, then bent her head to explore, first with a kiss, then by licking the length of him. He shuddered. She glanced up at him through her lashes, and he groaned. “I’ve never done this before,” she admitted. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” he assured her, even as he sounded like he was in pain. She gathered it was the good kind, the kind that tickled and teased. “Do what feels right, firecracker. What feels good. I can guarantee it will also feel goo—” he broke off with a gasp because she had taken his words to heart and closed her mouth around his cock. “Jesus,” he growled.

She swirled her tongue around him as she tried to suck him deeper.

“Jesus,” he said again. “You feel fucking perfect.”

She did feel rather perfect, like a queen, even though she was on her knees. He tasted clean and warm, faintly of salt. She licked and sucked until her cheeks hollowed and her jaw ached in the best way. She used her hands after that, gripping him hard even as she licked the tip of his cock almost delicately. His thighs tensed. They were so thick, so strong. And shaking. She smiled around him.

“You are the only devil here,” Rhys said, pulling free of her, only to press her back into the thick rug, The soft light of the oil lamps cocooned them, glinting off the gilded titles of the books, the swirls of a sunset painted behind tree branches on the ceiling. Of course it would be in a library surrounded by books. The rightness of it had her reaching for him as her thighs opened and he surged between them.

He entered her slowly, teasing again, but with a darker, sweeter edge of passion. She arched to meet every thrust, demanding more. She tightened around him too soon, intimate muscles fluttering as her pleasure crested again. And again. He panted roughly in her ear and his hips stuttered. He pulled out and spent himself into his dressing gown crumpled beside her, his tendons and muscles straining, teeth bared.

He finally turned his head and kissed her, sweat gleaming on his shoulders. He lowered himself and pulled her on top of him. “The floor is hard,” he muttered.

She snuggled into him, comfortable and happy even as worry began to nibble at her. What if—

“Kitty.” Rhys said her name both sternly and fondly, and she loved it. He gently ran his fingers through her tangled hair. It was soothing. “The worries will be there tomorrow.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You are a loud thinker.” He continued to stroke her hair, wrapping his other arm tighter around her. “Rest now, firecracker.”

Dawn found Devil in his study, examining a package with sapphire earrings, a collar of more sapphires with diamonds, and a tiara fit for a queen. They sparkled under the light of the candle on his desk.

He intended to see Kitty wearing them.

Nothing but them.

Just as soon as he could convince her to accept them. She was skittish, mule headed.

Perfect.

He’d never had to convince anyone to accept gifts before. To beg to let him spoil them. Because he was going to pamper her, however covertly he had to do it. It was a primal need. A demand inside his blood and bones.

Protect. Pamper.

Keep.

Whatever that means.

He’d have better luck intimidating the stars from the sky.