Risk the Night by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online Page A

again.
    She was absurdly sensitive from her climax, and she protested, not
sure she could bear to be touched, but he ignored her.   This time he only used his tongue, and
when she started to climax once more he pushed his fingers inside her, sliding,
pumping, until she dug her heels into the mattress, arching off the bed with a
scream of helpless pleasure, her body shaking, hard, as he kept tonguing her.
    He pulled away, collapsing on the bed beside her, panting.   “I almost came against the
sheets,”   he said.   “You have a dangerous effect on me, ma
belle .”
    A moment later he rolled off the bed with disconcerting energy.   “Would you like a glass of wine?”   he asked her with perfect
courtesy.   “Yes?   No?   I’ll bring you one anyway.   You look like you need it.”   He left her room, and she couldn’t move.   Had her brain melted along with her
morals?   What in hell had just
happened?   She knew she should get
up, lock the door, call someone, call the police, get him away from her before
she destroyed her life completely, before she lost everything.  
    It was too late.
    She managed to get to her feet, and she glanced down at the bed.   She’d lain on Drake’s discarded robe
while he’d tongued her.   Betrayal
was already complete.
    She followed the candlelight into the living room and stopped,
shocked, when she couldn’t see him.   Had he left?   The idea was
both absurd and reasonable, and then he moved in the shadows.   He was lounging on her sofa, a glass of
wine in one long-fingered hand, watching the rain come down.
    She stood in the candlelight, naked, past feeling shy.   She heard his swift intake of breath as
he looked at her.
    “Christ,”   he said.   “You’re fucking gorgeous.”   He started to rise, but she was already
beside the sofa, her touch on his shoulder urging him back down.
    “Stay there,”   she
whispered, and sank to her knees on the floor beside him.   She didn’t think about what she was
doing, she only acted, filled with a primal need, a deep hunger only he could
satisfy.   The zipper of his pants
was straining over his erection, and she fumbled with it, her hands shaking.
    He laughed softly.   “I’ll
take care of it,”   he said,
releasing the zipper.   He shoved
the trousers down his narrow hips, ready to shuck them off completely, when she
stopped him.   He was gorgeous,
iron-hard, and she wanted to touch him.   But some last remnant of sanity held her back, and she didn’t move.
    “Put your mouth on me.”   His words were quiet, and she still hesitated, even though she had
started this.   His hand shot out
and caught her chin, his fingers rough.   “Now.”
    She moved, and bit his hand, hard.   He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, the pain ignored.   “Don’t do that to my cock,”   he said in an even voice.
    “Bastard,”   she muttered,
releasing his hand from her sharp teeth, wishing she’d drawn blood.   And then she leaned over him, took him
in her hand, and let her mouth sink around him.
    He said nothing, but she could feel the pleasure ripple through him,
and an answering reaction spread through her naked body.   She covered the head of his cock,
sucking lightly, and he was smooth and cool and delicious.   She took more in, loving the feel of
him against her tongue, the strange sense of control and power that swept over
her.   This was madness, and she was
giving into it.   She held him in
her mouth, all his strength and masculinity, his very essence, and she took
more, filling her mouth with him, her fingers wrapped around the base as she
sucked, kneeling over him, her hair spread over his hips, wanting more, so much
more.
    She was shaking with desire.   Why was this arousing her more than anything she’d ever done with
Drake?   How could she be on the
verge of climaxing with no one touching her?   She could come simply from the surging thrust of his cock in
her mouth.
    “You can take