Nicole Jordan (34 page)

“I think by now it should be obvious how enchanting I find you. You are by far the most intriguing woman I have ever met. And your body is perfect,” he assured her.

And it was. Her lithe, curved body was the idol of erotic male fantasies. Just looking at her made him hungry.

He wanted her badly, wanted her passionate, wanted her arching beneath him, but he forced himself to go slowly, taking the time to remove the pins from her dark, shining hair.

“God, that beautiful hair,” Thorne said huskily. “You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured it down, how much I’ve wanted to feel it running over my skin.”

He stole another taste of her lips before stepping back to shed his own clothing.

Diana watched, feeling her pulse quicken. It was not only with her artist’s eye that she admired the graceful strength of his lean, muscular body, the tanned golden skin, the narrow hips and powerful thighs. It was with her woman’s senses, as well.

As she viewed Thorne’s beautiful nude body, her gaze unconsciously locked on his loins, on the thick column of flesh that sprang so boldly from between his thighs; already he was heavy and aroused.

A smile played across his lips as he noted her rapt focus. “As you see, your attractions fascinate me.”

His
attractions fascinated
her,
Diana thought, recalling last night’s sensual memory of his hot, hard flesh filling her.

Stepping closer then, he covered her bare breasts with his hands. Even with his palm bandaged, his touch sent a pulse of pure pleasure shafting through her loins.

Seeing her reaction, he gave her a smile of breathtaking charm. “You are absolutely perfect for me,” he assured her. “And I intend to show you how perfect.” He managed to invest so much sensual promise in his declaration that her breath faltered.

She felt dazed with anticipation when he led her to the fur and laid her down, spreading her hair across the rich sable before sinking back on his heels to study her.

“You’re an incredibly beautiful woman, Diana. If you could see yourself as I see you, you would have no doubts about how vibrant and sensual you are. How desirable I find you.”

Diana stirred restlessly at the now familiar quickening between her legs. The mere feel of Thorne’s heated eyes on her naked body made her quiver with sensation.

Yet he didn’t lie beside her as she’d expected. Instead he emptied the silk pouch onto the fur, showing her the contents: several small sponges with strings attached, as well as a vial of amber liquid.

“A sponge soaked in vinegar or brandy,” Thorne explained with his customary disarming frankness, “is the best way to keep my seed from taking root. I’ll have to place it deep inside your body.”

He wet a sponge and set the vial aside. When his hand splayed over her belly, her skin burned like a fever. Then his caress moved lower, his fingers encountering her thatch of fleecy curls, making her tense. He teased her cleft for a moment before finally inserting the sponge as he’d warned he would.

The chill made Diana shiver, but any shyness she might have felt was erased by the profound tenderness of Thorne’s expression. Holding her gaze with those astonishingly warm eyes, he pushed the sponge deep inside her. A stray lock of amber-gold hair fell over his forehead as he bent to his task, and she found herself yearning to reach up and smooth it back into place.

When he was done, he stretched out beside her, pressing his naked body against hers, letting her feel his arousal.

“Do you find my anatomy as fascinating as I find yours?” he asked in a low, provocative tone.

“You know I do.”

“Then show me.”

“But I don’t know what to do.”

“Use your instincts, my sweet. Start by touching me.”

When Thorne guided her hand to his broad chest, Diana willingly complied…caressing his finely muscled body, feeling the potent heat of him, marveling at his earthiness and obvious maleness.

Her fingers trailed lower, lingering on his hard, flat belly, but she hesitated to be even bolder. “You said you would teach me how to give you pleasure.”

“I would be delighted to.” His eyes shone with a heated brightness. “Touch me where I am most sensitive.”

“Where?” Diana asked curiously.

“My sacs. My cock.”

When she cupped the soft, velvety pouch of his loins, his body tensed. Then her fingers curled around his hard shaft, and the thick length surged in her hand.

“Is this the way?” she asked, lightly fondling the rigid, straining arousal.

“Yes,” Thorne replied, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Stroke me with your hand.”

When he rolled onto his back, Diana rose up on her knees, the better to minister to him. She could feel herself growing warm and liquid as she stared at Thorne’s masculine beauty. When brazenly she began to stroke his swollen flesh, it quivered in her hand. In response, something deep within her body shivered in purely sensual reaction.

She glanced up to see that Thorne had shut his eyes, obviously enjoying her caresses.

“What else?” she inquired.

“Take me in your mouth.” The huskiness of his command hinted at the need that was spiking through his body, just as it was through hers.

She bent closer to the long, dark phallus that jutted from the curling hair at his groin. Trying to restrain her eagerness, Diana lowered her lips, tasting the rounded head of his shaft. His entire body clenched.

“Is that pleasurable?”

“Oh, yes…” His sound of bliss was half-sigh, half-groan.

She let her lips close over him fully then.

His flesh was smooth and hot, and she took great joy in exploring the hardness and detail of him, her tongue caressing every virile male inch of him. She wanted to make Thorne tremble and lose control the way he’d made her.

When she drew him farther into her mouth, sucking harder, she dredged another groan from his throat.

She drew back in dismay. “Does that hurt?”

“It’s pure torment.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Thorne’s strangled laughter clearly expressed his opinion, even before his hand reached behind Diana’s head to draw her back down to him. “Sweet mercy, no. I don’t want you to stop.”

Diana was glad for his reply, for she didn’t want to stop. Her body was beginning to throb and come alive with hunger, her erotic attentions arousing herself as much as him.

Thorne seemed to understand what was happening to her, for in a few more moments, he suddenly grasped her arms and drew her up to straddle his loins.

Diana knew an instant of surprise when she realized what he wanted from her. But when he positioned her cleft directly over his erection, her body was aching so shamelessly for him that she sank down eagerly upon him, almost impaling herself.

“Easy now,” Thorne murmured at her startled gasp. “You are still new to this.”

Yet in another few heartbeats Diana’s shock faded, and the intense pleasure returned. And Thorne was clearly determined to rouse her even further.

His heated gaze holding hers enthralled, he filled his hands with her breasts, plucking the nipples with his fingers, while his hips rose rhythmically to push his shaft more deeply into her.

Diana moaned to feel his rigid fullness inside her.

“See how perfectly you fit me?” Thorne asked. His voice was warm and devastatingly sensual, making her soft flesh clamor for release. “See how lusciously you flow around me?”

Then he surprised her again by gently rolling over with her, so that Diana lay beneath him.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered. “I want your thighs hugging me.”

At the same time his body began driving in a slow, maddening undulation above her.

Diana moaned in ecstasy while her hips surged against his.

“That’s right, let me feel you move,” Thorne rasped. “Grasp my buttocks as I’m thrusting into you….”

She was only vaguely aware of his erotic words in her ear. He was telling her how lovely she was, how much he wanted her, urging on her passionate response. But then she could no longer hear him over the keening cry of her shattering climax.

She went wild in his arms. And as wave after wave of rapture racked her quivering body, Thorne lost control himself and sought his own blinding, tumultuous release.

In the aftermath, they lay sprawled in a tangle of pleasure, their breaths coming in harsh pants.

Dazed, Diana kept her eyes shut, relishing the feel of Thorne’s warm, nude, male body covering hers. She could feel the smooth, shifting pattern of muscle in his back where her fingers still clung to him, could smell the hot musk of arousal between them.

Finally he eased away from her and drew her weary body against his. “See what heights you can reach,” he said hoarsely, “if you will only let yourself be a little wanton?”

She did indeed see, Diana reflected. The searing pleasure of their second joining had been even more remarkable than the first, intoxicating her beyond anything she’d ever known.

“Is lovemaking always this…shattering?”

“It should be. I intend to make certain of it.” He pressed his lips against her damp temple. “You still have a great deal to learn. And I need to work on mastering my savage urges. I have difficulty containing myself when I’m inside your sweet body, I still want you so badly. But I promise we will go more slowly next time, make it last longer. Give me a few moments to recover, and I’ll show you.”

Unable to repress a languid smile, Diana buried her face in Thorne’s bare shoulder. “I should have more mastery of myself. In fact, I should banish you from my studio before you end up making me as wicked as you are.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “That is precisely my intent, love, so you had best resign yourself.”

Thorne visited her studio frequently after that, using his consummate skill to introduce Diana to a stunning world of sensuality.

Continuing their lessons in pleasure, he taught her to enjoy the passionate fire between a man and a woman. And as promised, he liberated her from the careful strictures that had ruled her actions for much of her life. It was as if she became someone else when he touched her, someone without shame or inhibitions.

Diana refused to think about her wanton behavior, however, or about right or wrong. Nor would she contemplate the future, or probe Thorne’s motives too deeply.

Instinctively she understood why he was so set on pursuing her. Clearly part of him loved the challenge of overcoming her resistance; the rest of him wanted her. But he was an expert seducer, and for now she was determined simply to enjoy the moment.

Her career also took some startling new twists over the next few days. Diana was amazed when her notoriety resulted in several, totally unexpected, positive events.

The first was when a stranger called at her studio, wanting to purchase her artwork. The card he sent up proclaimed him to be a Mr. James Attree, Merchant, and when Diana agreed to receive him in the drawing room with one of Thorne’s footmen standing protectively by, she was greeted by a balding, large-girthed, elderly man whose accent proclaimed him to be of the lower classes.

After shaking her hand, Mr. Attree lowered his large bulk onto the settee at Diana’s invitation.

“I am known for me plain-speaking, Miss Sheridan, so I will come straight to the point. Madam Venus’s splendid portrait—I must ’ave it.”

Diana felt surprise widen her eyes. Her allegorical portrait of Venus had been hung at the British Academy’s newly opened spring exhibit only two afternoons ago, along with several of her landscapes, a more stately historical painting, and a simple genre scene. She still owned the last three, but not the first.

“I would like to accommodate you, Mr. Attree,” Diana replied politely, “but the portrait is not mine to sell. Once the exhibit has ended, it will belong to Madam Venus.”

Attree frowned. “I’m a nabob, Miss Sheridan. Made me fortune with the East India Company and will make no bones about the price. Just name a figure.”

“I am sorry, but I really can’t help you, sir.”

“Ah, then, I suppose I’ll ’ave to negotiate with Venus. No doubt she’ll drive a ’ard bargain. So what other pieces do you ’ave for sale?”

“Other pieces?” Diana repeated.

“I know quality when I see it, Miss Sheridan, and I want yer work. I have me own private collection of paintings and am planning me own exhibit shortly.”

When Diana hesitated, he went on. “Sure, you’ll think me pretensions odd—a Cit with no breeding buying respectability. Call me a mushroom if you like. But I fancy good art, and I like to promote it. Me dearly departed wife was a painter ’erself. And I’m making a name for meself in the field.”

Clearly Mr. Attree was of the opinion that the acquisition and display of fine art lent an air of culture to the owner, yet Diana was immediately suspicious of his offer to purchase her work. She gave the merchant a cool smile. “By any chance, did Lord Thorne put you up to this?”

“Eh? Lord Thorne? No, no, never met ’is lordship, though I’ve ’eard many a tale about ’im. No, this is just a’tween you and me. I’ll offer you a pretty price, I promise you. Can I see your paintings now? Or I could return at another time, if it’s more convenient for you. I’m quite determined to ’ave your work, Miss Sheridan.”

“Well, if you will give me a moment to display my inventory in my studio, I will be happy to show you what pieces I have for sale.”

Thus it was in short order that Diana found herself selling Mr. James Attree, Merchant, four of her best paintings—two landscapes, a portrait, and a domestic scene. He did have an excellent eye for quality, as well as a generous nature. He wrote her out a bank draft on the spot for a hundred pounds more than her asking price, saying he would send a footman to wrap and fetch them that very afternoon.

Still a little dazed by her strange good fortune, Diana confronted Thorne the moment he arrived at her studio, demanding to know if he’d coerced the merchant into making a purchase.

Thorne looked offended and pleased all at once. “I swear, sweeting, I had nothing whatsoever to do with his interest. But I commend your Mr. Attree for his superb good taste. Now come here, and we’ll make love to celebrate.”