The Beast's Bluestocking (The Bluestocking War) by Eva Devon (e reading malayalam books .txt) 📗

as he, and he was beginning to fear that he’d go mad from how very much he desired her.

“I wish to do whatever you require, Phillipa,” he whispered.

“That pleases me very much indeed,” she breathed, her voice a caress that threw oil onto the fire that was burning inside him.

At last, he looked up and met her gaze.

In that instant, he wished he could change course. For it had been a blasted error, and he was determined to rip his gaze away and not lose himself entirely in her gaze.

He couldn’t do it.

The need in her blue eyes compelled him to see what she might request next.

Longing filled her eyes. Longing and desire. It was a heady mixture.

“You are what I require,” she whispered as she lifted her hand to his face.

Her silken fingers cupped his cheek with tenderness, but that touch was laced with desire as she bent and let her mouth linger over his.

For one brief moment, he was certain she was going to kiss him, but she didn’t. The scent of lavender and soap surrounded him, and her wild blonde hair brushed his cheeks and shoulders. She was waiting.

Waiting for him to give in to their mutual pleasure as much as she had.

Had he not already? Was that not why they were here? In his chamber?

Swallowing a strong fear that he might come to regret this moment, he lifted his own hand and cupped her cheek. His fingers shook as he caressed her perfect skin.

What would she truly think when she understood just how imperfect he now was?

But he wasn’t about to show her.

Not when he wanted this woman before him so much. Indeed, after so much pain, certainly he could have a taste of her.

Before he could think further or let reason test his shaky justifications, he slid her onto his lap. Though his leg pained him, he was able to manage her weight, for she braced her slippered feet against the floor and held onto the chair.

She was clearly aware of his potential for pain.

He refused to contemplate that too closely.

Instead, he tilted her head back and, for a moment, traced his thumb over her beautiful, pink, full lower lip.

Winding his fingers into the curls at the nape of her neck, he tilted his head and gave her a kiss meant to tempt her into bliss.

She gasped into his mouth and arched towards him. The faint touch of their lips was almost cruel considering how much he needed her, but they were going to enjoy every moment they had.

Anthony traced the line of her lips with his tongue and parted her lips.

Angling her head further back, he devoured her mouth, sucking gently on her tongue.

Kiss after kiss drove them both wild until her hands were gripping the chair behind him as if she might fall.

He’d never let her fall. But damnation, how he loved her wild abandon.

His body was tense with concern that at any moment some part of it might protest, but he was more than ready for her.

Still, he controlled himself by smoothing kisses down the line of her throat, moving lower and lower until his lips met the plump rounds of her breasts.

Heaven. He was at last out of the bleak depths of hell and in heaven.

In her arms.

He slipped his hand into her stays and lifted her breast so he could swirl his tongue around her nipple. So sweet and soft, it drove him further into his indescribable desire for all of her.

She moaned, pushing her nipple against his lips. Pure satisfaction crashed through him as he drew the soft flesh into his mouth and ever so slightly nibbled at the hard peak. Her hands dove into his hair, and he loved the slight pull of her fingers. A sure sign of her pleasure.

Now he was on the brink of losing control. After all, this was his dream. And it was real.

Her hand trailed lightly over his thigh and met the hard shaft pressing painfully against his breeches.

She hesitated, stunned.

He sucked in a harsh breath.

Reaching down, he pressed her hand tighter to him.

“Is that. . .for. . .” she whispered.

Bloody hell. She truly was going to be his undoing.

He nodded. “It’s for you, Phillipa.”

And he wanted to give it to her.

She kissed him wildly as he yanked at her skirts, exposing her thighs.

“Sit astride me,” he rasped

Without question, she did.

Her skirts slid up, pooling at her waist and down his legs as she positioned herself across his lap.

Knowing her sweet slit was so close and so exposed. It was almost too much.

Desperate for her to know the pleasure he could give her, he slid his hands up her thighs and then ran his forefinger along her soft folds. He hissed at the feel of her slick need for him. She was more than ready, but he wanted her as desperate as he.

Anthony stroked his finger over her sensitive folds, then circled gently but relentlessly over the spot he knew would give her bliss.

Phillipa’s breath turned ragged as she climbed towards pleasure. She held onto him as if she were lost in a storm, and he was her only anchor. His finger swirled and flicked till her thighs tensed, and then he slid a single finger deep inside her. Her body tensed against his and her head dropped back.

“That’s it, my love,” he whispered, loving the sight of her pleasure more than he’d loved anything.

As she gasped for breath, he quickly undid his breeches.

“I want you,” she breathed.

“And I you, love.”

Phillipa’s body was nearly overcome with the pleasure she’d just received. Yet, instinctively, she knew there was simply more. She knew she needed that hard shaft inside her body.

Her body was aflame, as if he had set match to it and she loved the wickedness of it. She gripped the chair back, determined not to hurt him.

When he drew his finger out of her, she moaned at the loss. She wanted more not less.

But soon, she felt his hand at his breeches.