Forbidden by Susan Johnson (best feel good books txt) 📗

pliant tissue of her velvety folds, massaging the rouge into every crevice, penetrating half a finger depth at times to make certain each swelling protuberance and silky volume was covered with glossy crimson.

The Duc only shut his eyes once to compose himself. He was a man of experience.

"Am I doing this right?" Daisy sweetly asked when she was finished, leaning over to touch the crest of his erection with the tip of her rouged fingertip. "As a virgin"—she smiled, sliding her fingers down his pulsing arousal—"I'm not absolutely sure."

His breathing changed then.

Her smile broadened faintly, satisfaction apparent in the subtle upcurving of her mouth. It pleased her his tranquility could be broached. It pleased her more to anticipate further ruffling his unruffled calm.

Taking one of the glass dildos from its velvet-lined compartment, she murmured, "How strange," looking perplexed as an artless virgin might. "Whatever is this used for?"

"Guess," the Duc dryly said, his eyes half closed in sardonic reply.

"Oh." Daisy's moue of revelation was pure dramai guileless in its innocence, and had his erection been less intensely pulsing, less rigid, less demonstrably ready to mount the seductively rouged actress teasing him, he might have laughed at her artless deceit.

"You're larger," she declared, placing the blue glass cylindrical object beside the Duc's erection lying hard against his stomach. "I can use this to practice then… so you won't hurt me later." Her voice was low and sweetly gentle, ingenuous in its simple statements, like an innocent might approach a new adventure. "Is it cool on your skin?" She slid the smooth glass up the rigid throbbing length of his arousal. When he didn't answer, having shut his eyes briefly against the surging rush of sensation, she repeated in a coaxing whisper, "Is it?"

"Yes," he answered finally on a controlled exhalation of breath.

"You're not talkative."

He gazed at her from under his lowered lashes, his heavy-lidded eyes intent for a moment. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"You aren't? It looks like you are," Daisy purred, sliding the glass dildo down again, exerting slight pressure so the pulsing turgid veins of his penis were smoothed flat for a moment.

The subsequent release of blood was graphic in its intensity. Etienne sucked in his breath.

"Tell me if you like this," Daisy went on in the same undramatic, even tone, moving the dildo to her genitalia, painted vividly like a harem girl's. The deep blue glass contrasted sumptuously with the scarlet rouge as did the glistening glass with the lesser oiled sheen of her satiny skin. "Are you watching?" she unnecessarily asked.

He was, moving unconsciously against the silk cords binding him, anticipating the dildo's penetration.

"Would a virgin like this?" she silkily inquired as she slid the tip of the smooth glass inside an inch of rouged flesh, looking up at him as he lay bound before her.

"Don't ask me." A certain gruffness infused his voice.

"I'll let you know…" And she applied a slow even pressure, until the blue glass disappeared inside her, only the silk tassel, attached to the looped end lying brilliant indigo against the peach silk of the coverlet. "The answer is… unconditionally… unequivocally… yes," she whispered a breath-held moment later as the full length of the indispensable harem object filled her, sending shuddering flashes of fire through her senses.

The Duc smiled faintly as her tone altered at the last. If she continued in that substitute exercise in pleasure, they would soon be less unevenly paced. "I'll keep it in mind if I'm ever with a virgin," he said, watching her face, her hand, the placement and movement of the dildo. "Do you like virgins?"

His quiet unexpected question drew her attention for a moment from the internal heat igniting her body and mind. How many men would think to ask a woman that. "Yes," she answered, lying because he was contemplating her with a familiar detachment not there a moment ago and she felt defenseless suddenly, although she was free and he was not.

A muscle briefly twitched in his lean cheek before his dark brows drew together in a faint scowl. But his voice was smoothly sardonic when he lazily said, "You like very young men then."

"Sometimes." She could be as blas� as he.

"You'll have to tell me about it someday."

"I can't imagine why?"

Damn you, he silently exploded, and damn all the men in your past, whatever their ages. But he understood her tempting allure, better perhaps than any, because he'd taken her away today in full sight of anyone wishing to see, without scruple for his name or scandalous consequence. "You're right, of course," he softly said, forcing himself to maintain control of his emotions in this oddly heated, volatile seduction. "Do you think that surrogate you're currently enjoying would have satisfied you for a lifetime in a harem?" He knew the answer to his question.

He could tell, she thought, what she was feeling, how transfixed and urgent was the pulsing center of her body and in defense, she abruptly pulled the dildo free. "It wouldn't have satisfied me for long," she declared, steeling herself against the frisson of urgent desire. "I suppose I would have had to find some way to gain the Sultan's attention," she added in a theatrically sultry purr intended to thwart Etienne's knowing smugness. "You know, something unusual…"

"I'd be interested in that," the Duc drawled in the small contest of wills that had developed over the history of the Sultan's bed and their various backgrounds in amorous experience.

"I thought you might." Daisy's smile was provocative.

Her fingers curved around his erection, forcing it away from his body so it stood upright, hard and long and engorged. "If Eastern males find the color red enflaming, this might have been of interest to a Sultan," she quietly said, dipping her finger into one of the tiny pots of rouge.

Summoning all his restraint, Taoist and otherwise, the Duc forced his breathing into a semblance of calm as Daisy delicately touched the sensitive pulsing crest of his arousal. Her fingers glided in widening circles of