De Warenne Dynasty: The Prize Part 21

She tried to grin at him and failed. "Good."

He didn't smile, either. His eyes were ablaze. He pushed her open thighs apart with each knee and said, "I wanted this last night."

She remembered instantly and she cried, "Yes."

He released her hands and abruptly ripped her nightgown in two.

Stunned, Virginia stilled, almost afraid, and she saw him look over every inch of her naked body, from the small globes of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with their hard, stiff tips to the delta between her spread thighs, and there, his gaze lingered.

She began to flush, as she had never been exposed like this before. She felt frighteningly vulnerable. She felt powerless-she was at his mercy-and oddly, it made it impossible to breathe. She could only yearn, her desire impossibly heightened.

"You are so beautiful...little one," he murmured thickly, finally lifting his eyes to hers. "I won't hurt you."

Virginia knew she would never forget his eyes. She knew she had been a fool to worry about Fiona. She knew, somehow, instinctively and without a doubt, in that single span of time, that this man wanted her the way he would never want another woman. She knew his desire rivaled hers.

His mouth seemed to twist and Virginia gasped when he cupped her s.e.x. "This belongs to me," he said softly, a warning.

She could only nod, shocked by the barbaric statement. Then his hand eased and she felt his fingers sliding over each full lip and into the creva.s.se between.

Virginia cried out, eyes closing, arching helplessly up against him. "Devlin,"' she chanted. "Oh, Devlin, do help me!"

His explorations increased, his fingers opened her wide, sliding over slick recess after slick fold, until Virginia was certain she could not stand it. Then she felt his mouth.

At first she thought she was mistaken and she stiffened, paralyzed, eyes flying open-surely he was not kissing her there. She half sat up and saw, shocked, that his head was between her thighs, and there was no mistaking now that it was his lips nibbling hers.

Then she felt his tongue.

A caress beyond any other.

Virginia's vision blackened.

That tongue moved deep and sure, patting the turgid nub of flesh hidden in the broader folds there. Virginia began to faint, the desire so great it was overwhelming her every sense, her ability to breathe, the ability for her blood to go to her brain.

"Come for me, little one," he murmured. His tongue flayed her swollen flesh like a silken whiplash, insistent, brutal, soft, determined.

The blackness lingered and then she was hurled past it, into brilliant light. Virginia held him, sobbing in sheer joy, in stunning pleasure, in ultimate ecstasy. She sobbed and sobbed as he flayed and flayed until finally, she began to float.

She didn't know how long she floated outside of herself in the clouds, but slowly, she became aware of her body again. Every inch of her femininity remained swollen and inflamed, his tongue continued to caress her flesh, his lips moved ceaselessly, in a raw frenzy, as if he were kissing her mouth. Now, with the pleasure, there was pain.

She didn't know if she could stand it again. "Devlin," she breathed.

He didn't stop. His tongue swept up and down, like a starving dog's.

"Devlin," she begged now, the pain vast, and she wanted him to stop, but she also wanted him to continue, harder, because she knew which universe beckoned.

She tried to push him away, but his tongue merely swept deeper; she tried to pull him closer, but he only nipped her, a warning she understood.

"I can't," she gasped, pain and pleasure mingling so tightly now she didn't know if she were living or dying, and she didn't know where the one began and the other ended.

"You can, darling, you can," he choked, and he pinned both heavy folds back with his fingertips and then his tongue encircled the turgid nub, distending it, and she screamed.

He softened and she exploded.

A hundred times, like Independence Day fireworks, her body spinning, tumbling, out of control, flying away, high in the universe. And she was still there when his mouth found hers, his body crus.h.i.+ng her into the mattress.

"Virginia," he panted.

Instantly, she felt the huge tip of him against her entrance and she jerked, eyes flying wide, meeting his. She saw the beast of l.u.s.t and nothing more in his hot gaze-she did not see love.

"Virginia." Somehow her name was spoken as a command and he kissed her deeply and she tasted s.e.x for the first time. His hard thighs pinned hers down and apart, and suddenly he was probing against her.

Panic came. He was too big. She was only eighteen. He was her captor. She was afraid and she wasn't ready. What if he didn't love her!

But his heat was searing into her body and her brain.

"Devlin, don't," she began.

But it was simply too late. Crying out, he thrust into her, breaking down the barrier of her virginity, causing a brief, burning pain, and then she felt the huge, hot hardness inside of her, filling her, hurting her. Stiffening, she closed her eyes, blinking back tears of sudden despair.

He gasped, not moving, his entire body shaking. Virginia remained stunned, capable only of feeling him stretching her apart. Devlin remained still but shaking, when he suddenly kissed her temple. Her eyes opened, wide. "Devlin?" she whispered, wondering if she had imagined his tender kiss.

His only answer was to tighten his hold and she became aware of being wrapped in his powerful arms, of being immersed there, and then she felt the insistent throbbing inside of her own body, huge and hard, but the pain was dissipating. An answering warmth unfurled slowly inside of her. She felt his mouth move again, this time on her cheek, and then he moved.

Very slowly, he pulled away, and as slowly, he eased back inside her. Her body was softening, warming, tensing-intensely, brilliantly. "Oh," she gasped, surprised, as he filled her again.

She thought she felt him smile against her face. "Breathe, little one," he whispered, thrusting again, not quite as slowly.

And as the ma.s.sive man filled her, so completely, so thoroughly, a tidal wave of intense pleasure swept over her, taking her by surprise. Stunned, the pleasure threatening to turn black, she raised her hands to his shoulders, rippling now, and his back.

He made a sound, choked and hoa.r.s.e, male.

Virginia's hips found an answering rhythm. She wanted him deeper, faster, harder. She urged him to take more. And he knew, breathing her name, somehow penetrating impossibly, the spasms beginning, for her, for him, and suddenly the man moving within her began to carry her across the bed, across time and s.p.a.ce, as the fever of need became a crus.h.i.+ng urgency. Virginia cried out, grasping his shoulders, an instant from ecstasy, trying to find his mouth with hers. "Hurry, Devlin, hurry!" she moaned.

He was driving hard and fast now and he turned to take her mouth in another mating as urgent and frenzied as the other one.

Virginia felt her body break apart into a million pieces. Even so, she was aware of the exact moment he gave her his seed-she felt him expand impossibly, then she felt his body convulsing in her arms just as it convulsed inside of her, and she held him tightly, stroking his back, as he simply kept coming.

When he was done, she lay very still, stunned, impossibly aware of the man who lay heavily on top of her, who remained inside of her, half as hard now, half as huge, and she held him in her arms, moved in a way she had never dreamed of.

This was right, she thought, remaining stunned. No wonder she had wanted him so. Nothing was more right than this moment, lying there in his arms, sated and replete, still joined as if one.

She felt the moment he was himself again. His body tensed; he s.h.i.+fted and moved away from her, breaking the union of their bodies.

She lay very still, and unable to help herself, she turned only her head to look at him.

He lay on his back, his eyes closed, still completely clothed, although his britches were open and his s.h.i.+rt askew. His chest rose and fell harshly. She stared at his perfect profile, already strained with emotions she dared not guess at. But she knew he was already thinking.

"Devlin?" she whispered, suddenly worried. She was on the verge of a great happiness, and surely she need not worry now! Not after what they had just done, the beauty of what they had just shared. Surely he was feeling what she was, too.

But he did not answer her and he did not open his eyes.

She knew he was not asleep. Suddenly she wished that he would reach out and stroke her arm, her hair, anything, smile just a little and rea.s.sure her that he, too, was feeling simply wonderful.

The bed dipped as he sat up. She also sat, expecting him to turn to her, to say something, and she waited, but he stood, not looking at her-not even once. She glimpsed his expression, and she thought she saw his features rigid and strained with displeasure, and perhaps, with anger.

"Devlin?" she whispered again, and heard how fragile and pleading her tone did sound.

There was the rustle of cloth as he fastened his britches and tucked in his s.h.i.+rt. He finally glanced at her, his face smooth and expressionless. "Go to sleep, Virginia," he said.

She stared, his dispa.s.sionate words as painful as the stabbing of a knife.

"It's late," he added, his brief smile forced.

Oh, G.o.d, what was he thinking? Why was he behaving as if nothing had happened? Why wasn't he happy?

"Devlin," she began, suddenly panicked.

But he was crossing the room, he was leaving.

"Devlin?" She could not believe he would leave without a meaningful word, kiss, or even a look.

But at the door he paused, not turning to look at her. "I'm sorry I hurt you," he said.

She knew he referred to the physical invasion of his large body into her small, narrow one, and she was finally disbelieving.

He walked out.

HE WAS A MAN ON A MISSION. He traversed the house with hard, purposeful strides, refusing to think. He only knew one thing. Never again.

He had failed to keep the vow he had made, to her and himself, and he had failed his parents, both alive and dead-he had failed. In the end he had been caught up in a hunger that was impossible to control or resist. He had never felt such urgency before and he was never going to feel it again.

Never again.

He stood before Sean's closed bedroom door. He did not see the wood there-he saw only violet eyes, wide and glazed, and he heard only her wild cries of pleasure, her begging for more. What was wrong with him? A woman was only a vessel. Elizabeth, Fiona, they were objects to be used. G.o.dd.a.m.n it. When he was inside of her, something had begun to break apart inside of him, something had begun to tear apart, almost like a dying man in an endless black tunnel, finally glimpsing the shadow of faraway light and life.

He didn't like it.

He didn't like it one bit.

Never again.

He realized he was standing in front of his brother's door. He could still hear Virginia's cries, he could still taste her, he could even smell her, all over him. If he dared, he could walk through the blackness and seize that faraway light.

The idea s.h.i.+mmered, beckoned. Devlin shoved his terrible thoughts aside and focused on a far more important matter. What if he had gotten her pregnant?

He reminded himself that he wouldn't be around to find out.

His mind was ruthlessly made up. If anything, the thought of her being pregnant confirmed his decision. He banged upon the door twice.

Sean answered it, clad only in his drawers and looking as if he had been soundly asleep. But he took one look at Devlin and his eyes widened.

Devlin meant to smile at him. Nothing was more impossible. "Fine," he said.

"What?" Sean asked, shock in his gaze, for he clearly knew what his brother had just done.

"You have my permission to court Virginia. Court her, woo her, win her love, it's all the same to me-but in the end, you will marry her."

Sean gaped.

Devlin slammed the door in his face.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

VIRGINIA ALMOST WEPT.

She no longer felt eighteen, never mind that she was a woman now-the little girl she'd once been had returned, bewildered and hurt. She lay in bed, desperately trying to understand what had just happened. She had just let Devlin O'Neill make love to her. She had let the man who had abducted her and who was holding her prisoner make love to her, and it had been everything she had expected and more. But he had walked out a moment ago as if their lovemaking meant nothing to him.

She refused to cry. Instead she tried to understand him, she tried to make excuses for him. It was late. He was tired. For all she knew, the act exhausted men. Tomorrow he would really smile at her, and he would pull her aside to kiss her and hold her and tell her that he was falling in love.

Virginia moaned. She sat up, absolutely ill with dread. Who was she fooling? She didn't even know the stranger whom she had allowed such complete possession of her body. And what she did know of him did not allow much hope. He was a brave man, but he was also hard and cold. He had just left her bed without a single affectionate gesture or word. And last night he'd been with a different woman. What had she done?

Why had she enticed him into her bed? Virginia knew very well that she had seduced him, never mind how inexperienced she was. Now she simply failed to understand how she could have done such a thing. He was her captor, a man with an iron heart, if any. But dear G.o.d, it had been more than wonderful, it had been right. Yet she was so shaken now, so confused, at once sick and desperate and even afraid. Never had she felt so lost and alone.

If only he had said something kind to her before he'd so abruptly left.

If only he had kissed or held her, if only there had been one sweet caress.

If only...

And finally, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

Angrily she brushed it away. She was a strong woman and she would not cry over something she had so wanted! Besides, maybe tomorrow he would really smile at her, and that would be enough. One smile to show her that he did care, just a little, after all.

Virginia realized that she was terrified to face him again.

She was terrified that he would not be kind, or worse, that he would be indifferent.

Virginia turned onto her back again. In the mora.s.s of her confusion and fear, only one thing was clear. She should go home. If she went home, everything would be all right again. Wouldn't it?

But she didn't even know if she still had a home, and if she somehow did leave Ireland, what about Devlin O'Neill?