Little Red Writing by Lila DiPasqua Read Free Book Online Page B

ear. “I find you as intriguing as you are desirable.”
    “Really,” she responded blandly, though her fever spiked at his touch. “Please spare me your flowery words.” She’d heard enough of them from Roland to last three lifetimes. “You are wasting your efforts.”
    Anne turned to leave. He caught her wrist. She snapped her head around, ready to deliver up some hot words, when he stunned her into silence by pressing her palm to the bulge in his breeches. “You make me hard every time you walk into the room. I’m willing to admit how much I want you,” he said, his voice low, intoxicating. Anne fought back the strong urge to tighten her fingers around him. Even through his breeches she could tell he was thick and lusciously large, bringing to sharp focus the void between her thighs aching to be filled, and that a very lonely bed was waiting for her upstairs. “I’m not wasting my efforts as long as the desire is mutual. Your nipples are hard, begging for attention. Your pulse is racing and you’re wet for me, aren’t you?”
    Wet? She’d soaked her caleçons .
    He grazed her palm up his length and squeezed her hand hard against him. She lost her breath.
    “Why not give in to the sexual pull between us?” he asked, releasing his hold of her hand. “Neither of us can seem to tame it. A carnal encounter between us is inevitable.”
    Her body burned for him . . . Could she really do this? “You’re my patroness’s grandson.” She knew she was grasping for reasons. Dear God, she was still grasping his erection after he'd taken his hand away.
    She released him.
    In a quick fluid motion he picked her up and set her bottom down on the desk. She gasped and grabbed his shoulders. His hips were now suddenly wedged between her spread thighs. “That is no deterrence. She has nothing to do with this. She doesn’t own your body. You do. You’re a grown woman, Anne. It’s your decision to make. It’s just sex. Some shared physical pleasures.”
    He was right. Love was one thing. Physical pleasure quite another. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been any more successful with sex than she’d been with love.
    Nicolas could tell she wanted to surrender to him. She wanted to give in to the demands of her body and this stunning attraction between them that was only growing stronger by the moment. He was so close . . .
    Her procrastination was killing him.
    Slipping his hands around her, he gripped her soft derrière and pulled her up against his cock. A small sound escaped her throat the instant he’d come in contact with her sensitized clit. There were too many damn clothes between them. “Are you a virgin, Anne?” He could tell that her sexual experience was rather limited, but how limited, he didn’t know. “It’s all right if you are. I’ll leave you intact until you say otherwise,” he assured her. “There are still decadent delights we can enjoy.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. “Say yes, and we’ll begin right now.”
    The tip of his cock was wet with pre-come. His sac was tight. His body screamed for release. This woman had him so completely undone.
    Her hands slid down from his shoulders and fisted his justacorps at his chest, still indecisive.
    He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth and lightly bit her bottom lip. “Say it, and I’ll make it worth your while.” Rolling his hips, he stroked his length along the soft folds of her sex, this time with enough pressure to make her moan for him—a long sultry sound. Oh, yes . That’s it . Mentally, he willed her to acquiesce. “Say yes . . . Do it, Anne . . . and we can indulge in some mutual gratification,” he added. Seigneur Dieu , he was practically begging.
    He’d never begged anyone for anything.
    She pulled back slightly. “Mutual gratification?” She was breathless and flushed. “That’s . . .” She swallowed. “That’s what men say, but . . . in truth . . . in the boudoir they take