Read Online The Irish Devil by Diane Whiteside - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Diane Whiteside
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moan.
He urged her on as she experimented with various touches: hard or soft; push or circle; lips, tongue, or teeth. Blood raced through his veins, building in his cock and chest with the demand for more. He caressed her head, silently urging her closer. She leaned into his touch while continuing her attentions to his torso.
She jumped and stopped when the hot ridge under his trousers bumped her chin. His cock had just declared its objection to waiting for her.
“Open it, sweetheart.”
“Mr. Donovan, are you really certain we should do this?” she stammered, her fingertips still making small circles against his stomach. He had little patience to set against his clamoring lust.
“You gave your word. Now open it.” His harsh voice permitted no argument, all training gone from it until only a man’s hunger remained.
She gulped and obeyed, her fingers fumbling so much it seemed deliberate torture. His cock leaped out of his trousers when the last button parted, as hot and red as if he hadn’t ridden two women into exhaustion the previous night.
Viola stared as if she’d never seen an aroused man before, but she didn’t run even from equipment he knew to be larger than most men’s. Her tongue ran over her lips and she swallowed, a hot flush sweeping across her cheeks. She stayed still, shaking a little.
Willing, he’d call her. Eager, too…but ignorant.
Could Viola be an unawakened sensualist? The blessed saints knew she’d obeyed him sweetly, like a woman ready to yield control of that irritating discipline of planning the next move—in return for the freedom to feel without having to think. Perhaps she felt deference’s complex pleasure, the joy of service mixed with the power of having a man’s delight triggered by her touch.
Time to take her further. If she followed his lead eagerly, then the three months ahead could be better than any dream. William slowed his breathing until he forced his arousal back under control.
Then he lifted his hips. “Take my trousers and drawers off, sweetheart.”
“Yes, sir.” She took another deep breath and obeyed, slipping off his weapon belt and dusty high boots first, then placing the clothing on the desk. She settled onto her knees, waiting for his next instruction.
“Touch me again, sweetheart. Be certain to pay much attention to my cock.”
“Cock?”
So he’d have the fun of teaching her a new vocabulary, as well. He grinned. He stroked the pole rising from his groin, the flesh rippling under his firm grasp. “Cock.”
She blushed again. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of a woman’s rich musk in the air. She must be aroused under that respectable dress, thighs wet with her dew. Exultation roared in his veins, fired up by conquering a woman with only his voice and a few light touches.
She ran her hands lightly up his thighs, then explored another set of muscles and another, clearly enjoying the simple caresses. The last stroke found his pouch snug between her thumb and forefinger. She cupped it instinctively and William moaned. Triumph meant nothing to a man whose woman was fondling his balls.
The little hedonist kissed his cock.
He growled and his hips lifted, pushing himself against her mouth. If she didn’t start sucking him soon, he’d explode in her face like a young fool.
Viola glanced up at him. He stared at her, his hand stroking his chest in a similar pattern to what she’d used on his thighs. “More, dammit,” he snapped.
She smiled a purely feminine smile. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he’d succeeded. He’d taken her past the boundaries of ignorance until she’d had her first taste of a woman’s power. Sherman could keep his march through Georgia; this Irish lad would rather know conquests like these.
“Yes, sir.” She kissed his cock again and again, her mouth moving up and down the hard length while her fingers gently cradled his balls.
“Lick it for me, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “And play with the tip.
He urged her on as she experimented with various touches: hard or soft; push or circle; lips, tongue, or teeth. Blood raced through his veins, building in his cock and chest with the demand for more. He caressed her head, silently urging her closer. She leaned into his touch while continuing her attentions to his torso.
She jumped and stopped when the hot ridge under his trousers bumped her chin. His cock had just declared its objection to waiting for her.
“Open it, sweetheart.”
“Mr. Donovan, are you really certain we should do this?” she stammered, her fingertips still making small circles against his stomach. He had little patience to set against his clamoring lust.
“You gave your word. Now open it.” His harsh voice permitted no argument, all training gone from it until only a man’s hunger remained.
She gulped and obeyed, her fingers fumbling so much it seemed deliberate torture. His cock leaped out of his trousers when the last button parted, as hot and red as if he hadn’t ridden two women into exhaustion the previous night.
Viola stared as if she’d never seen an aroused man before, but she didn’t run even from equipment he knew to be larger than most men’s. Her tongue ran over her lips and she swallowed, a hot flush sweeping across her cheeks. She stayed still, shaking a little.
Willing, he’d call her. Eager, too…but ignorant.
Could Viola be an unawakened sensualist? The blessed saints knew she’d obeyed him sweetly, like a woman ready to yield control of that irritating discipline of planning the next move—in return for the freedom to feel without having to think. Perhaps she felt deference’s complex pleasure, the joy of service mixed with the power of having a man’s delight triggered by her touch.
Time to take her further. If she followed his lead eagerly, then the three months ahead could be better than any dream. William slowed his breathing until he forced his arousal back under control.
Then he lifted his hips. “Take my trousers and drawers off, sweetheart.”
“Yes, sir.” She took another deep breath and obeyed, slipping off his weapon belt and dusty high boots first, then placing the clothing on the desk. She settled onto her knees, waiting for his next instruction.
“Touch me again, sweetheart. Be certain to pay much attention to my cock.”
“Cock?”
So he’d have the fun of teaching her a new vocabulary, as well. He grinned. He stroked the pole rising from his groin, the flesh rippling under his firm grasp. “Cock.”
She blushed again. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of a woman’s rich musk in the air. She must be aroused under that respectable dress, thighs wet with her dew. Exultation roared in his veins, fired up by conquering a woman with only his voice and a few light touches.
She ran her hands lightly up his thighs, then explored another set of muscles and another, clearly enjoying the simple caresses. The last stroke found his pouch snug between her thumb and forefinger. She cupped it instinctively and William moaned. Triumph meant nothing to a man whose woman was fondling his balls.
The little hedonist kissed his cock.
He growled and his hips lifted, pushing himself against her mouth. If she didn’t start sucking him soon, he’d explode in her face like a young fool.
Viola glanced up at him. He stared at her, his hand stroking his chest in a similar pattern to what she’d used on his thighs. “More, dammit,” he snapped.
She smiled a purely feminine smile. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he’d succeeded. He’d taken her past the boundaries of ignorance until she’d had her first taste of a woman’s power. Sherman could keep his march through Georgia; this Irish lad would rather know conquests like these.
“Yes, sir.” She kissed his cock again and again, her mouth moving up and down the hard length while her fingers gently cradled his balls.
“Lick it for me, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “And play with the tip.
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