Borne in Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

within her flesh. “Oh, yes. Do that again.”
    He complied, taking longer than usual in order to intensify her sensations. When her nipples swelled against his palms, he leaned down and used his lips instead of his fingers to excite her. “Tell me what you like,” he said softly.
    “You know what I like,” she said, holding him less tightly in order to give him more access to her body. “Don’t make me choose, just do what you know I like.”
    He hesitated a brief moment, then whispered, “If anything displeases you, tell me.”
    “You have never displeased me, not in bed.” She ran her fingers through the short, loose waves of his dark hair. “Not once.”
    He fingered the top of her hip, tracing the line of her body along her abdomen toward the deep folds between her legs. He parted the delicate tissues and sought out the small, hidden bud that responded to every nuance of passion. Many of the women he had known over the centuries had taken great pleasure in having that knot worked with his tongue, but Hero did not; she preferred what his fingers could do, so he continued to nuzzle her breasts while his hand awakened her desire to a state of rapture. She hovered on the brink of release while he moved to her neck. Now her breath quickened and shivers of ecstasy ran through her; she sank her fingers into his hair. As the first paroxysm surged through her, she let out three soft cries, gathering him close to her and rocking him through the throes of her fulfillment. She continued to enfold him as her excitement waned, as if their embrace would prolong and enhance her gratification.
    The bracket-clock sounded the three-quarter hour as they finally rolled apart. Hero looked over at the clock and scowled. “We probably shouldn’t linger. I can smell the venison already.”
    He uttered a single chuckle. “The meal will be on the table in another fifteen minutes,” he said as he started to sit up.
    She poked him in his side. “You don’t have to get dressed. I depend on you to help me.”
    “Certainly,” he said promptly. “You have only to tell me what you require,” he said as he rose to his feet and held out his hand to assist her.
    She slipped her hand into his. “I’ll want my Polish velvet walking-dress for this afternoon, the raspberry-colored one, with the standing collar.”
    “Very good,” said Ragoczy, opening her closet door and selecting the garment in question; this he laid on the bed, close at hand. “For a chamise?”
    “The Italian silk,” she said. “It’s ivory, with lace on the neck-bands.” She held her robe closed while she bent over to retrieve her stockings and shoes. “It’s warmer than what I was wearing this morning.”
    “Then by all means,” he said, “choose something that will keep you warm.” He waited while she pulled on her stockings and garters, and stepped into her shoes, then found her corset where he had dropped it; he came back to her, reached under her robe and prepared to lace up the back of the corset. “Will you want to wear an under-shift as well, or is this satisfactory?”
    “You do make an admirable ladies’ maid,” said Hero, enjoying the last flicker of her fading tantalization conveyed in his touch. “Not that I expect a ladies’ maid to attend to me so completely.”
    He kissed her as he aligned her corset, then began to tighten the lacings, working them carefully so the corset would not bind. “Just as well, given Wendela’s temperament. It pleases me to serve you,” he said with a slow smile before he kissed her, still continuing his efforts on her corset.
    When their kiss broke, she was a little breathless. “If only dinner wasn’t ready,” she said with a trace of regret. “Although you have already—”
    “Been nourished?” he suggested when she stopped speaking.
    “I suppose you could say that,” she told him quietly. “Yes, I want an under-shift. I should have put one on this morning; I wouldn’t have needed the