Blood Secret. Sharon Page

in her.

      Wide, nervous blue eyes gazed at him as he gently pressed a kiss to each knuckle. “There’s nothing to fear, you know, Lady Lucy,” he lied smoothly.

      Her brow rose. “I’m giving up everything. That does tend to make a woman fearful.”

      “No one has to know what has happened between us. Most English gentlemen are not very clever. I’m sure you could still convince one you are a virgin on your wedding night.” For the first time in his life, he felt a flicker of conscience. She was not going to have a wedding night, was she? Not after he did his duty and destroyed her.

      She shook her head. “I will never marry.”

      He jerked guiltily. But he had to play his part. Seducer, not dragon slayer. “You are a beautiful woman. Irresistible to most gentlemen, I should think.”

      “N-no.”

      He flicked out his tongue and touched the very tip of her index finger. She squeaked softly, like a startled mouse. “I think you liked that. Let me show you other places that will like to be kissed.”

      “My lips?” She drew back. “Could we not do this without kisses?”

      Sinjin blinked. Strange. Most women wanted the kisses. Most women hungered for kisses. They seemed to believe kisses were the proof of a man’s regard. “As you wish. No kisses on your lips. But you cannot deny me the pleasure of putting my mouth everywhere else.”

      “Everywhere?” she gasped.

      Lucy blinked. He could not mean everywhere, could he? Where else could a man kiss a woman but on her hand and her lips?

      The duke bent to her and pressed his lips to her neck. The oddest jolt of fire leapt from there. It rushed through her veins like flames licking at the sky.

      His long hair also tickled as he stroked his mouth along her throat and reached the rim of her ear. He brushed back her hair. Surprisingly, his breath was cool. Almost icy. She’d heard her maids speak of men blowing their breath by their ears—something that hadn’t sounded at all enticing—but the maids had described warm breath. The duke’s breath was cold.

      Still, the brush of it did feel surprisingly ... good.

      He nibbled her ear, making shivers tumble down her spine. “Where do you like to touch yourself that pleases you, Lady Lucy?”

      “W-what on earth do you mean?”

      “What parts are sensitive to your touch? Have you touched here?” He stroked the exposed skin at her collarbones. Goodness, how could it feel so hot—like a candle’s flame flickering close to her skin? But fear crawled back inside and nestled around her heart. This was wrong. Forbidden. She was supposed to do it, but not like it. She might be committing the sin of sex without marriage, but it was for necessity. Forgivable—as long as she didn’t behave like a wanton and actually like the sin.

      But try as she might, she could not deny his caress made her ache inside. The sort of ache she’d known before Mr. Ferrars had attacked her and had frightened her so badly.

      “Well, of course I have touched there,” Lucy said simply, embarrassed. “I would scratch it when I have an itch.”

      The duke laughed. A low, rolling laugh that rumbled like thunder. “Have you ever scratched here?”

      Sinjin tugged the sheets from her hands and slid them down enough to expose the swell of her breasts. His body tightened with arousal at the sight of the full, generous curves. His erection bucked against his stomach.

      Tracing her full breasts with his lips, he heard Lady Lucy whimper. From fear? Or desire? He couldn’t be sure. She was tense beneath him. He waited for signs of resistance. But she stayed still. So he lowered the sheets lower, until it slipped below her nipples. Marvelous dark brown nipples. Applying the lightest pressure, he drew the left one to a hard peak. It plumped up beautifully in his mouth.

      Bringing out his vampiric skill, he flicked her tongue around her nipple. She let out a soft groan. And he recognized it as a sound of pleasure. “Yes, Lady Lucy, you like that.” Pursing his mouth, he suckled. Beneath him, she squirmed. A smile played at his lips.

      If things had been different ...

      Hell, she was one of the family who had stolen his nephew. She was one of the clan of beasts who had mercilessly killed his family. Things could never be different. Yet still, he had to pleasure her.

      He gave a tug at her nipples. “No! Oh goodness, you can’t do that!” But he didn’t stop and her moans grew deep and throaty. He knew the dragon in her could take and enjoy a great deal of sensation. Her fists pressed against his shoulders as though she was trying to push him away. But she did it weakly, as though she was beginning to understand she didn’t want him to cease—she wanted more instead.

      He suckled. God, she was delicious. And she was moving beneath him. She arched to press her breast to his mouth.

      She was so damn delicious. Enough to make him want to forget who she was ...

      No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t let himself forget what dragons like her had cost him. He couldn’t forget his mission—if he did, he could lose his nephew forever.

      While he sucked each nipple in turn, he shoved down the sheets. Lady Lucy didn’t protest. She was lost to the sensation now—he could feel the emotions roiling in her. No doubt she was fighting her response, but at the same time, the pleasure would be flooding through her. She would hate herself for feeling this for him, a man she didn’t know, who held her in his power. Yet she would want more. Hunger for it. Do any wanton, naughty, sinful thing to get it.

      He pushed the sheets to her thighs. She gasped in protest. He ignored it, and slid his hand along the smooth curve of her stomach. She had generous curves, Lady Lucy Drake. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what she looked like when she became a dragon. They were beautiful creatures—not the fearsome beasts of storybooks. Their scales glowed like pearl, their forms were graceful and strong, their eyes as brilliant as diamonds. It was almost possible to forget how vicious and deadly they were.

      Crisp curls met his fingers. He stroked there, then lower, pushing his fingers between her nether lips, and he touched the hot, slick skin of her quim. His fingers coasted along her clit—she cried out at the contact.

      “Good, is it?” He played with her until she quivered beneath him like a frothy dessert. Her eyes were shut tight. She was lusciously moist.

      Her scent reached his nose. And hell, he was lost. Lost in wanting her. He rolled over her, coaxed her legs apart with his, and settled between, playing with her sweet cunny all the while.

      Then he released her taut clit, grasped his cock, and he guided it to touch her. She moaned. Then gasped. Her hands flew up to push on his chest.

      “I—Oh! I’m not ready. Please. Can we wait? Just a bit longer?”

      He circled the tip of his finger on her clit and watched her squirm. Watched her cheeks turn pink, and her breaths turn to gusty gasps. “I thought you were in a hurry to be ravished, so you could get home.”

      “I—I just need a moment. I thought I could. But I can’t—”

      His senses drank in pure fear. She was terrified. Actually frightened out of her wits. “Why are you so afraid of me?” he murmured. “I’ve done nothing to hurt you.”

      “It—It’s not you. I was ... my fiancé ... I can’t stop thinking about what it was like, when he attacked me. When I realized he was willing to kill me, that he was not going to hold back because he had asked me to marry him.” She shook with fear. Her dark blue eyes grew wide with remembered horror.

      “I don’t understand, love. Your fiancé tried to kill you?”

      “Oh goodness. It—I shouldn’t have said anything. It doesn’t matter.”

      She was wounded, this dragon. He needed to seduce her to pry the information from