Devil's Mistress by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

him.
    His mouth found hers. The gentle, seductive quality was gone, but this kiss seduced Brianna no less than the first. It was hungry. It ravaged and demanded and swept her into a tempestuous windstorm she was helpless to resist. His mouth left hers to find her breast, to caress the nipple with lips and tongue and teeth. Again the lightning knifed through her, leaving her trembling, clinging to his shoulders, her nails curving convulsively into flesh. She sobbed out a broken moan, of dismay, of yearning—of something she had never experienced before—the burning ache that blazed from a secret place deep within her.
    She was unaware that she tossed her head upon the pillow, back and forth, emitting soft little moans. The world for her had ceased to exist; she was adrift upon a sea of sensation, and he was the sensation that overwhelmed all else. His lips and hands moved down her torso, still hungry, still demanding, and she could do naught but swirl along with him in the vortex of his storm. She wondered vaguely what would have happened if she had had the will to resist him. It probably wouldn’t have mattered in the least. He was like the steel of a forge, heated strength, and his limbs, the hard-muscled arms, the lithe, corded thighs, were like the finest blade. He could have subdued her, had he wished, at any time, with the long fingers of a single hand.
    A gasp escaped her as his hand spanned over her thigh, fondling, exploring. His lips burned against the shadowed hallow of her abdomen beneath her hip. Unwittingly she tore her fingers into his hair again; he caught her wrists, and laced his fingers through hers, and held her hands at her thighs as his mouth continued to taunt the vulnerable flesh of her belly. His tongue drew moist patterns, following the line of her hips, circling lower and lower until he brushed against the blue-ebony curls that were the frame of her innocence. She should have been shocked at the intimacy, but it was her body that responded now, not her mind. And her body writhed and arched.
    A shudder went through her, an incomprehensible cry escaped her. Her fingers tightened, knuckles white, upon his. She writhed to escape him, the sweet glory of the liquid fire that swept her, but he held her hands firm. In seconds her writhing was not to escape him, but to have more and more of him.
    His mouth came to hers again; the heat and strength of his body enwrapped her. His chest crushed against her breasts, and even that sensation was intoxicating, as was the shaft of his sex, pulsing powerfully against her. She shivered beneath him, vaguely aware that they had passed a point of no return.
    Sloan exulted in her. Her exquisite form heightened his desire unbearably. He had never known a woman to give pleasure so unthinkingly, whose innate sensuality alone could send a man into tempest. He slipped his hand between her sleek thighs, parting them. They trembled slightly, and gave to his touch.
    The invitation of her body totally severed the fine line of his control. He groaned aloud as the floodgates of his restraint shattered, leaving him totally at the mercy of his need. He entered into her with explosive force, and was stunned as the scream tore from her throat, shocked at the message that vaguely filtered into his mind.
    But he couldn’t withdraw from her. Nor would any purpose now be served. Questions would have to come later. She had come to him, and her innocence was irretrievably lost. He could only hope to gentle his approach, coax her along as he would have had he known …
    It was too late to ease the pain he had inflicted with his first explosive thrust—it was equally too late to leave her.
    “No. Dear God, no! Leave me!” she pleaded brokenly. And then her voice rose in anger. “Leave me!”
    She suddenly pitted her strength against him like a madwoman.
    Sloan was startled, and then furious. No man was expected to come—to be seduced—to this point and then to withdraw with chivalry. He