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her ravenous gaze. She devoured the vision of lean and sculpted muscled that closely resembled a god manifested in all his masculine splendor.
                "'Enter these arms, for since thou thought'st it best, Not to dream all my dream, let's act the rest.' You are called forth from my dream," he whispered. "I knew you would come."
                She stepped back with a gasp. "But how could you know that?"
                "Because this is ineludible, you and I. You can't escape it." He reached out a hand, his voice husky with desire. "Come to me now, my magnificent Huntress."
                 The words were an irresistible magnetic lure that drew her to him. She licked her lips, the wicked promise of unknown delights filling her with a sharp-edge hunger. Untying the sash at her waist, the silk wrapper slithered from her shoulders to pool softly at her feet.
                His pupils flared beneath his sleep-heavy lids as she stood before him, unabashed in her nakedness. She let him look his fill, his lazy inspection sending mixed anticipation and trepidation washing over her in tiny waves. He peeled back the sheet and sat up, her gaze riveting at once to the blatant proof of his arousal.        
                He drew her into his arms and the game began, a hungry breath- stealing match of capture and release that heated her blood and sent blazing jolts to her belly. Their mouths meeting and melding, his tongue darting over her lips, his teeth grazing them lightly, pulling on the lower, urging her to open. Their tongues met in a simulated lovers' dance that became an explosion of sublime sensation, sending a hot pool of moisture between her thighs.
                He cupped her breast, teasing her nipple with his thumb. His mouth broke away from hers to ply hot open kisses to her throat that left her gasping. Of their own volition, her hands engaged in a tactile exploration of his body, reveling in the erotic abrasiveness of his coarse hair against her own smooth skin. She roamed his hard chest, the rigid plain of his stomach, the powerful thigh muscles that now encased her hips, pulling her closer, tighter, and anchoring her against him until she could feel the hot pulse of his jutting manhood against her most private place.
                He took her hand in his, guiding her to his rigid staff and enclosing her fingers about it. It was thick and hard and hot and pulsing.  "I make no secret of how much I want you," he said low and hoarse. "Tell me you do too, Diana. Say you want to take me into your body."
                "But I'm here," she whispered. "Is that not proof enough?"
                "No."  He released her hand but his probing gaze kept her captive. Though I would worship you with my body, only you are in control of your pleasure. You must tell me you want this."       She licked her lips, her breathing coming in ragged puffs. "You have only to say yes, Diana, and I will lay paradise at your feet."
                At last a raspy reply sounded from her throat. "Yes." He caught the whispered exhalation with his mouth. His hands slid down her back to palm and squeeze her buttocks. He lowered his head to her breast, kissing, gently biting, his tongue rasping her nipple, sending racking rivulet of pleasure to her womb. Her arousal escalating to a blinding need to feel the hot hard length of him in her passage, she writhed and ground against him with a fierce cry.
                  Diana awoke with a sob, her body fevered, her sheets discarded, and her nightrail tangled about her waist. She lay in this heightened state of arousal, panting, disoriented, and aching to her very core, until at last she sought her own release.
     

Excerpt: THE DEVIL'S MATCH
     
    DeVere House, Bloomsbury- 1783
     
    "What the devil is it, Winchester?" Viscount DeVere snapped at the appearance of his majordomo. "I thought I