Free The Jezebel by Saskia Walker Page B

pleasured and intense. He clearly approved of what he saw.
    The fact he was looking at her that way made her chest feel tight and breathless, as if a weight pressed down upon her. Yet it was pleasurable. Again she was astonished at the effect his intimacy had on her. Not only was she rapidly aroused once again, but she felt almost dizzy because of it.
    Her mind flashed to what could have happened, how different proceedings would have been if it had been Cyrus who had deflowered her. It would have been awful, of that she was sure, because she could not think of him that way, even though it was what he wanted. In contrast, mating with Captain Roderick Cameron made her feel stronger in every way. She thanked nature for playing a part, for landing her in his charge, when all she had to offer was herself.
    Much to her astonishment, she realized her legs shifted farther apart of their own accord, her body responding to him without censure. She covered her eyes with her hand, unable to bear witness. Control was gone, reason, too.
    The captain only took advantage of her opening legs, pushing the cloth against her plump folds and then swiping it up and down. When her body arched, then fell supine, it was because he had extended a finger beneath the cloth and probed her entrance.
    Clutching at the thin blanket that covered the mattress beneath her, she tried to calm herself. It was no good. His ministrations were about to make her lose her last vestige of self-control.
    “Oh, please,” she begged, pleading for mercy.
    “More?”
    She shook her head, adamant. “No, I did not mean that.”
    But it was too late. He was moving his finger inside her as if testing her.
    Her spirit flared. “You embarrass me, sire, and I sense you are enjoying it!”
    “You think so?” With his free hand he pinned her down at the collarbone, stemming the rise and fall of her torso, and then he glanced at her hips, still moving rhythmically in response to his touch.
    “You are a beast,” she blurted, then instantly regretted it.
    “Perhaps I am, but I am not blind. I can see you are enjoying it, no matter what you say.” With that he set about stroking her with even more deliberation. Abandoning the cloth, he extended one finger inside her and then rubbed at her swollen nub with his thumb.
    “Oh, oh, oh, I cannot allow it....” Her words trailed off.
    The rhythmic movement of his thumb while his hard finger was inside her was a dangerous combination, one made to drive a woman mad. Maisie’s body tightened at the intrusion, her hips rocking as he stroked his thumb back and forth. It was a fleeting, almost feathery touch, and it made her throb with want. His actions tormented her, yet drew her close to a rapid release.
    She reached out blindly, catching at his arm while she lifted her hips to meet his hand. Pleasure washed through her in a dense, hot wave, and for a moment the clutch and spill of her release made her feel faint. Panting for breath, she felt her body grow limp. It was astonishing, and she relished the way the heat seemed to reach every part of her. Minutes later, she found she was still clutching his arm. Reluctantly, she loosened her grip.
    “Apparently you can allow it,” he teased.
    There was humor in his expression and it reached her, warming her. Breathlessly, she accused, “You have the advantage of knowing how to touch a woman.”
    His expression grew more serious. “I did not believe you were a novice, for which I apologize. I’m sorry, too, for my rough handling of you, my demands.”
    “Did not believe?” She repeated his words, confused, barely able to speak because the sensations he had aroused in her were so oddly invigorating. Her body tingled, and the source of her magic, deep within, felt freshly stoked.
    “That you truly were a virgin.”
    She was not offended, for her virginity had become an immense burden to her, but she did not understand his confusion. She had stated her condition quite honestly to him.