Auctioned Virgin to Seduced Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

alone!’ But she was already digging into the open drawer.
    â€˜What is this? Oh!’ Laurel dropped the intricately carved ivory object back into the drawer with a thud. Why would anyone want… No, don’t think about it.
    Feathers. She picked up a handful and regarded Patrick thoughtfully over a bouquet of them. Sauntering back to the bed, she dropped them one after another onto his struggling body and watched the effect. Yes, that was a most satisfactory response. If she brushed the ostrich plume down his chest he moaned and his nipples hardened. She lifted it from his body and let it drift down her own torso. When she opened her eyes, panting slightly, Patrick’s were fixed on her. He licked his lips as though they were dry. His eyes promised things she could only guess at. He had played these games before, that was quite clear.
    Laurel dropped the plume, got her unsteady legs under control then went back to investigate further, pulling out another drawer.
    Books, with pictures. She leaned down and thumbed through. Her mouth went dry. Oh, my. Perhaps not. Not yet…
    The next drawer was full of coiled leather.
    â€˜Oh, no. Absolutely not,’ Patrick said as she pulled out a long whip, its thong trailing across the floor. His hands clutched at the rope in a futile effort to break it as she gave an experimental flick. The crack made both of them jump.
    â€˜No,’ Laurel agreed with some feeling, dropping the whip. Then her fingers found a mass of soft ribbons and she pulled it out. Not ribbon: long shreds of suede were attached to a handle. She eyed it with interest and came back to the bed. There was so much to learn about her own body, about his, but she was beginning to grasp the basic principles. Caress, tease, titillate.
    â€˜Don’t you dare,’ Patrick warned, straining against his bonds. His body, Laurel thought, was magnificent. Dressed, he was tall and lean and moved elegantly. She was still fascinated by how, naked, that leanness revealed itself as hard, fit muscle.
    â€˜But you can’t do anything.’ Laurel trailed the ribbons over his feet, up his leg. She bent over and blew, sending the feathers into the air and removing his last protection. She trailed the suede strips higher, watching his muscles tighten and bunch, his erection grow in the nest of dark curls.
    â€˜You like this,’ she stated when he growled at her and she flicked the implement, raining dozens of feather-light blows across his groin and stomach. ‘Oh, yes, do not deny it. Perhaps I should get that other whip after all.’
    Patrick moved so fast that she had no chance of escape. His legs came up, caught her in a tight grip that pulled her to him, trapping whip and feathers between them. He succeeded in catching one loop with the opposite hand and twisted the wrist free. Then she was under him.
    â€˜Wicked,’ he said and grinned. Then the amusement faded away and they lay there, silent, reading each other’s eyes. ‘You are sure?’ he asked after an aching minute. ‘Laurel, my darling. You are quite sure?’
    â€˜Yes.’ Never more sure of anything , Laurel thought. Then she saw the expression of possessive tenderness in his eyes and was suddenly shy. ‘Patrick?’
    â€˜Don’t worry,’ he said, sounding as though he understood. He rolled off and began to kiss her—slow, drugging kisses—as his hand stroked lower until he was cupping the mound between her thighs. Laurel gasped as she pressed against his palm, aware that she was hot and wet and aching for him. ‘It will be all right. See—your body knows what to do.’
    Laurel wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in the angle of his shoulder and neck and he laughed, a low, husky sound as his weight shifted over her. She opened for him, wondering at the way her body made a cradle for his, wondering at how slow and careful he was being after the urgency