Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels #7) by Lisa Kleypas

By the time he filled her completely, she was feverish with need. A little sob of anticipation escaped her as he began to move. But every thrust was long and agonizingly slow, withholding the last bit of stimulation she needed. He held her more closely now, his weight on her from pelvis to breasts, while his hips rolled and circled, drawing up new surges of feeling. His mouth lowered to one of her breasts, licking and gently gnawing at the erect nipple. Squirming in frustration, she pushed her hips upward, but he pulled back reflexively.

“No, love. I could hurt you.”

“You won’t. Please … Keir …”

“Please what?”

“I need more.”

His laugh, a smolder of sound, could have come from the devil himself. “I dinna think you can take more than this, darlin’.”

“I can.” She strained against him.

“This deep?” he asked, reaching places in her that had never been touched before.

She shook at the pleasure of it. “Oh, God. Yes.”

His hands grasped her hips, keeping them angled firmly upward as he pumped in a steady rhythm. Slow in … slow out …

“Faster,” she said desperately.

“No’ yet,” he whispered.

“Please,” she begged.

His low, dark voice curled in her ear. “There’s a saying we have about whisky: Slow fire makes sweet malt.”

She whimpered as he rolled his hips gently, his hardness caressing everywhere inside. The deliberate pace didn’t alter, no matter how she tried to drive herself harder onto the rigid length of him. Every time she began to plead for more, his mouth came to hers in another one of those obliterating kisses.

None of this was what she’d expected. Her husband had been a considerate lover, doing everything she liked and giving her exactly what she wanted. Keir, however, was doing the exact opposite. He delighted in tormenting her until she didn’t recognize herself in the frantic creature she’d become. He was absolutely wicked, shameless, making love to her in ways that felt unimaginably good, always holding satisfaction just out of reach.

“You give me so much pleasure, darlin’ … more than a body can stand. The way you hold me so tight inside … like that … I can feel you pulling at me. Your wee, hungry body wants me deeper, aye? Put your hands on me … anywhere … ah, how I love your sweet touch …”

After what seemed like hours of sweet torture, he fell silent and pinned her down to keep her still, and she realized he was fighting to keep from climaxing. That excited her unbearably, and she couldn’t stop her body from clamping and pulsing on the hard invasion, over and over.

Keir buried his face in the pillow with a primitive grunt, then he turned his head and told her, “Stop that, you wee wanton.”

“I can’t help it,” she said faintly, which was true.

After a moment, he muttered, “Damn it, lass, you’re like to pull the marrow from my bones.” But his mouth curved against her ear.

His arms wrapped around her, and he rolled easily to his back, taking her with him.

Surprised and flummoxed, Merritt floundered a little as he gently pushed her up and arranged her legs to straddle him. “What are you doing?”

“Putting you to work,” he said, “since you’re so set on wringing me dry.”

She looked at the brawny male beneath her and shook her head slightly.

A brief laugh escaped him as he saw her confusion. “You’re a horsewoman, aye?” he asked, and nudged upward with his hips. “Ride.”

Genuinely shocked at finding herself in the dominant position, Merritt braced her hands on his chest for balance. Her first tentative movement was rewarded by an encouraging lift of his hips. It sent him even deeper than before, the angle seeming to open something inside her, and she quivered in sensitive reaction. Hot and excited and mortified, she understood what he wanted. As she began to move, she gradually lost her self-consciousness and found a rhythm, her sex rubbing and pumping against his. Every downstroke sent pleasure through her, every sensation connected to the thick length of him.

Panting heavily, Keir reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs stroking the stiff peaks. “Merry, love … I’m going to come soon.”

“Yes,” she gasped, a tide of heat approaching fast.

“You’ll … you’ll have to pull away, if you dinna want me to release inside you.”

“I want it,” she managed to say. “Stay in me. I want to feel you come … Keir …”

He began to pump fast and hard, his hands grasping her hips to keep her in place. His eyes half closed, the passion-drowsed intensity of his gaze pushing her over the edge. The release went on and on, new swells and crests washing over her, leaving her moaning and shivering in their wake. She felt his hands grip her thighs as he bucked beneath her once, twice, and held fast.

When he subsided, trembling like a racehorse held in check, she lay on top of him with their bodies still fused. Feeling euphoric, she nuzzled the dark golden fleece on his chest.

Keir let out a long sigh and relaxed beneath her. “Temptress,” he said after a while, his voice low and lazy. “Are you satisfied, now you’ve had your way with a poor green lad from Islay?”

With great effort, Merritt levered herself higher on his body and touched her nose to his. “Almost.”