heat cracking over him like a whip. And he couldn’t pretend this was all about her anymore. These appetites had always seemed a weakness to him. A part of his brother’s corruption; a part of man’s corruption. And yet, he could feel no corruption here in this.
Not here in this room that had become their sanctuary. No one else was invited; no one else and nothing else could gain a foothold here. A storm could be raging outside and the two of them would never know, shielded here, buffeted by the thick walls of the palace. This concerned only the two of them, and for the first time he understood that corruption crept in when the door was left open. But with it closed now, barred, in their own private refuge, he felt he was gathering strength rather than losing it.
That in fact, this might be the safest place for him to lose control, so that he might better rebuild it when he was outside these walls.
He would put up no argument to that conclusion at all. He was incapable.
He looked down at her, at the gleam in her blue eyes. Wicked, provocative. She squeezed him gently and a wave of desire moved through him.
He was a man after all. For surely stone could not feel these things. She sat up, getting onto her knees, leaning into him, increasing the pressure of her touch.
His throat tightened and he swallowed hard, his chest aching. Being stone, he imagined, was in many ways easier than being a man. But a stone could feel no excitement at the touch of Olivia’s hand. And that meant he had no desire for the ease that might come with life as a rock.
She surprised him then, not going to the closure of his trousers, but to the buttons on his shirt. He stayed motionless while she set about her task. Removing his tie, pushing his jacket to the floor, followed by his shirt. And then her hands went to the closure of his pants. Her movements were deft, certain, as she divested him of the rest of his clothing.
When he was naked before her, she pressed her palm against him again, her breath hissing through her teeth. He had no idea what expectation females might have of the male body. And he had never had a reason to cultivate modesty. So he found himself now standing before her, not nervous, but assessing.
A small sound escaped her lips that was akin to a whimper.
“Tell me your thoughts,” he commanded.
Perhaps this was not the best time to be talking, but he found that he needed to know what was on her mind. And he had no experience of reading people. Not like this.
“I’m impressed,” she said, her voice thick, husky. She traced the ridge of his erection with the tip of her finger, her eyes never leaving his. “You are most impressive.”
“Am I?”
She blinked. “Surely you know. I cannot be the only woman to praise your natural endowments.”
“You are.”
Her eyes widened. “Then, the other women you’ve been with have very bad manners.”
“I have never been with a woman before.” The admission broke past his lips and his best intentions to keep this a secret.
She jerked her hand back as though she’d been burned. “What?”
“I told you. I had taken a vow to cast off earthly pleasures. I had to keep my focus. I could not be allowed to be distracted, even for a moment.”
“Somehow I didn’t imagine you meant you had cast off everything.”
“Is it so unusual?”
Something in her expression softened. “In my experience, that would be the last thing a man chose to discard.”
“I can see that. My brother was consumed by his lusts. For power. For women. I thought it best not to taint myself with those needs.”
“And now?”
“My responsibilities have changed. They now include you.”
A crease formed between her brows. “I’m not sure if I like the idea of this being a responsibility.”
He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, drawing her palm back to his arousal. “Does this feel like a responsibility?”
“No. It certainly doesn’t.”
“I want this,” he said, barely able to force the words through his throat. “But I know very little about what I’m supposed to do to ensure your pleasure. I read a book.”
“You read a book?”
“Yes. To better learn how to please you.”
Color heightened in her cheeks. “Well, you’ve done a good job so far.”
He took hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face upward. “Have I? Have I pleased you?”
“Yes. You couldn’t tell?”
“I felt you. I felt you climax around my fingers.”
She blushed. Somehow he had made her blush. He found that near as heady a rush as making her climax had been. “You’re a good study.”
“I am a thorough man. In all things.” He swallowed, looking down at her body. “And you are far too precious for me to approach this with no skill. With no control.”
“I had no complaints about your skill.”
“Perhaps I have been too honest.”
“No.” She pressed her hands against his chest, bracing herself against him. “I’m glad you were honest.”
She looked up at him, then focused in on his torso, pressing a kiss there. He closed his eyes, doing his best to maintain his hold on his control. What control he had. Dimly, he thought back to his earlier realization that allowing her to have his control here, in this place, might make him stronger outside of it.
She angled her head, kissing him lower, and he reached back and grabbed hold of her hair, working his fingers through the soft blond strands. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the base of his shaft, squeezing him as she curved her lips around the head.
He tightened his grip on her, flexing his hips toward her. She widened her mouth, taking him in deeper. White light exploded behind his eyes and he gritted his teeth hard to keep himself from reaching his release then and there. He had never conceived of such pleasure. Never imagined the intensity that might come from wrapping something other than his own fist around his body. Certainly, there had been times when he hadn’t been able to transcend the ache, that knot deep in his gut late at night. Then he had dealt with it quickly, as efficiently as possible. But this wasn’t about efficiency. This wasn’t about simply satisfying the ache. This was about relishing it. Enjoying every pass of her tongue along his length, every sweet jolt of pleasure wrapped up in pain.
He recalled then the pain he had experienced at the hand of his brother. Pain designed to break him.
He looked down at the soft, beautiful woman pleasuring him with her mouth, subjecting him to a new kind of torture. He was as out of control now as he had been then. At the mercy of his captor. But he had never had such a beautiful captor.
Her gentle hands on the most male part of him were more powerful than any whip brought across his skin had ever been. He had a feeling she could turn the tide inside him with a flick of her wrist. Or rather, a skilled turn of her tongue.
She took him in deeper, and he could think no more. There was nothing, nothing but a blessed blankness, carrying him through the darkness on a wave of sensation. He had, at points in his life, been filled so full of pain he had been afraid it would burst forth from him in an endless torrent. That it was too much for his physical being to contain. A knife plunging into his skin, deeper and deeper, until he was certain it would hit something vital and end him forever.
Now it felt as if the blade had turned. And it was still too much. Still too deep. But it was pleasure he was drowning in rather than pain.
He