Lord Ruin Read Online Free PDF

one leg came into sight. A very long, very lovely leg. Her nightdress had slid up while she slept, to nearly the middle of her thigh. The material was fine cambric. No common whore her, but then Devon never did anything the common way.
    Thinking she must any moment awaken, he trailed a finger from her knee to mid-thigh. When it came to women, he was patience personified. She stirred, and he waited. But she only flung one arm over her chest. His attention diverted from her leg, he took it upon himself to remove her hand from her torso, gently laying it on the mattress. He shifted just enough to push aside the linens, for they were now most definitely a hindrance to him.
    “Sweet Christ,” he breathed.
    Her breasts were on the large side, more than a palm-full, a sumptuous, overflowing handful. Long and slender legs, small waist and those lovely round breasts that sent heat directly to his groin. He vowed never again to overlook a woman who did not have a conventionally pretty face. A ribbon held together the top edges of her nightdress. One tug on the end, and he was separating the two halves. Not, unfortunately, far enough to see all of her. But even what a man might see in any ballroom impressed him. He slipped a hand inside. With the pad of one finger he brought her nipple to a peak. She moaned softly and with her next breath he had more flesh against his palm than he could hold.
    A vision of her calves touching his back prompted him to move his attention back to her legs. He inched the cambric higher. She stirred again, and he checked to see if she’d woken. Her chest rose with another breath, trembling on a sigh, but she still slept. He very much longed to touch her legs at a higher point. Pushing the nightdress up and past her hips called for a combination of strength and dexterity since the woman slept like a log. Now, though, he could not only see but touch the surprisingly dark nether hair. Lord, but her skin was soft. Unconscionably soft. She smelled sweet, felt warm and silken.
    That soft skin of hers had him running a palm everywhere he could touch, feather-light strokes. A sigh came from her and with but a little encouragement her legs parted just enough for him to slip a finger between her thighs. His searching finger found the flesh that would make her moan in passion. Another sigh. Would that low sound become another man’s name? Devon’s, perhaps? He listened, but heard only her breath, faster now he’d brought her close to passion. Tension in her formerly lax body told him she was awake and, easing back a bit so as to both prolong and increase her climax when it came, he whispered, “You’re almost there, love.” There was nothing better than a grateful whore.
    “That’s nice.” She sounded sleepy, groggy with it. The neck of her nightdress opened wider when she strained upward into his hand.
    “Yes, it is,” he replied. He stopped, waiting for a protest that didn’t come in the form of words. Her head tossed on the pillow when his finger slid inside her just long enough to find heat and wetness. Another moment, and he returned to his slow, stroking motion. He had her quickly at the edge. He left her there a moment longer than he should have because it was such a pleasure to watch her.
    When at last he gave her release, she abandoned herself to her body. Not one blessed ounce of inhibition. The long muscles of her legs tightened. Her pelvis arched to him, inviting the intimacy of his hand. A short while later her hands fisted at her sides. Her face in her moment of extremity had a look of wonderment so that a vain man might have thought himself the first ever to bring her to orgasm. Being neither a vain man nor a stupid one, he knew that wasn’t so. Devon would have brought her to such a state more than once. All the same, he found the reaction quite appealing.
    His fingers curled around her thigh just above her knee and stroked down. “There is something about a woman’s well-turned leg,”