Sweet as the Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

said, “Forgive me,” and only then glanced down to discover the origin of the complaint. Ah—Bella, apparently she did have limits. “Sorry, darling,” he gently added as he untwined her legs from around his neck and withdrew from her body. “Did I do damage?” Inhaling deeply to bring his breathing under control, he dropped into a sprawl beside her, slowly exhaled, and schooled his expression to one of contrition.
    “You might have,” Bella pettishly said, turning to him with a frown. “I’m not a bloody contortionist.”
    Sometimes you are. “My mistake,” he said instead, offering her a conciliatory smile. “Tell me what I must do to make amends.” Selfishly, he meant it. He’d been damned near to climax once again, his cock was still rock hard, and his train didn’t leave for another hour. He was quite willing to pay whatever penance was required. “I’m completely at your disposal, my sweet,” he murmured.
    “Umm,” she said with a little pout, debating whether to tell him he must stay as the price of atonement.
    He smiled faintly. “Anything within reason, puss.” He glanced at the clock. “You have forty minutes to order me about.”
    She softly exhaled, recognizing her momentary lapse, recognizing as well why Jamie had discerned her thoughts. Women always wanted him to stay. “Very well, kiss me,” she said with the merest touch of imperiousness to soothe her ego. “Nicely.”
    “Where?”
    His grin was sweetly boyish, damn him; she couldn’t help but smile in return. “Someplace I’ll like, you incorrigible rogue.”
    Coming up on one elbow, he leaned over and kissed her softly on her pouty mouth. “How’s that?”
    She gave a little shrug. “Lovely, if we were thirteen.”
    “Ah—you have something more carnal in mind.” His gaze was angelic as a choirboy’s. “Here for instance?” He slid his middle finger delicately up her sleek cleft. “Would you like a kiss here?”
    It took her a moment to answer, for he’d gently invaded her vagina, slipping two slender fingers deep inside her slick passage, touching a particularly sensitive spot with exquisite delicacy. When she found the breath to speak, she whispered, “Do you really have to go?” Every frenzied sexual receptor, every overindulged nerve ending, every pulsating bit of flesh was loathe to relinquish his virtuoso talents.
    “Not just yet,” he whispered back, and moments later when she was begging for more, for him, for his glorious cock inside her, he accommodated her frantic desire in a thoroughly conventional fashion, choosing the missionary position as most respectful of her comfort.
    An orgasm was an orgasm after all. Several of which he afforded her in rapid succession, himself as well with less frequency, until time and his train schedule intervened.
    With a light kiss, he slipped from the bed and quickly dressed under her sulky regard. Apologizing profusely, a custom of long standing on taking his leave, he moved toward the door, and in answer to her sullen query, promised to visit again soon. “Provided the empire doesn’t explode or some demented revolutionary doesn’t decide I’m the cause of his oppression. In which case, send flowers to my funeral.”
    Then he blew her a kiss, opened the door, and escaped. He immediately broke into a run, traversing the long upstairs corridor in seconds. Reaching the stairs, he descended them in flying leaps and exited Minton House as though the demons of hell were on his heels. Dashing into the street, he brought traffic to a halt at some risk to his life and found a hackney cab to take him to Euston Station. “Get me there by five and I’ll give you fifty quid,” he called out and leaped inside.
    After several near-death experiences, the cab reached the station, and Jamie jumped out before the vehicle came to a stop. Tossing the folded banknote into the driver’s outstretched hand, Jamie sprinted through the crowded station to the platform from which the