Read Blood Fire for Free Online Page B

deep plunge made her moan and shiver, made her grip his shoulders and scratch his back, and pleasure shot through her. She felt pleasure in every nerve.
    He kissed her hard, his mouth open, and he thrust so deep, she felt his groin bang hard against her—
    “Oooooooh!”
    Octavia arched up to him, driving her nails into his skin, wrapping her legs around him. She bit his neck. She sobbed against his warm, dewy throat. Screamed and cried and came apart in a million pieces and rushed back together—
    Then everything went black.
     
    “My dear, are you all right?”
    Octavia blinked. “Where—?” A strange canopy loomed over her, one painted with naked nymphs. She jerked up in a panic. Where was she?
    “Sweetheart?” asked a gentle voice.
    Lord Sutcliffe was in the bed beside her. Suddenly, everything rushed back. The sex, the pleasure—the amazing, intense pleasure that had left her so dizzy she’d passed out.
    “I’m all right.” She shyly looked toward Sutcliffe. She lay back down on the bed.
    “Did you actually lose consciousness?” He lay beside her, on his back, and he pillowed his arms beneath his head.
    “Yes. Is—is that unusual?”
    “Very, my dear.” His beautiful grin widened. “You are remarkable. That was better than anything I’ve had for—” He broke off. He rolled onto his side and gathered her to him. “It’s amazing that your mask is still in place.”
    He peered intently into her eyes, and she feared that he could guess who she was. She felt for the mask ties behind her head. They had loosened. Octavia was thankful the fire was almost out, and they were shrouded in darkness.
    Gently, Sutcliffe traced the lace edge of her mask. His fingers reached the place on the right side where the tie connected to the leather.
    “No,” she said quickly, heart thudding. She pressed the mask to her face and scuttled away. “You mustn’t.”
    “You know, you are the first nameless, mystery woman with whom I have shared a bed. Normally, I know who my lovers are.”
    “Well, you can’t. Not with me. It’s so much better if you don’t know my identity.”
    “That only intrigues me more.”
    Oh heavens. “You are supposed to be a rake. I thought it wouldn’t matter to you.” She scurried to the edge of the bed. Really, he had the reputation of bedding a different woman almost every night. Why was he so interested in knowing who she was? Given his notorious behavior, he should be happy she’d only wanted one night.
    She hadn’t thought of what would happen after lovemaking. Never would she have dreamed it involved Sutcliffe’s deciding he needed to know who she was.
    Sutcliffe slid across the sheets to her, and she hung onto her mask, about to protest, when he kissed her. And what a kiss. It left her as liquid as fresh honey. She wished she could stay all night like this, underneath him, hot and languorous and so well pleasured, while he did wonderful things to her mouth.
    A sharp rap sounded on the door. “Are you done in there?” shouted a deep, masculine, autocratic voice. “We need a room.”
    “Find another. We are busy,” Sutcliffe yelled.
    A muttered curse sounded through the closed door, along with a female giggle. Another hard thump came—a fist pounded in frustration—but Sutcliffe shouted again, sounding both autocratic and irritated. “Bugger off and find another room.”
    Would this come to a fight? Octavia froze with worry. Then she heard heavy footsteps heading down the hall, and a trail of giggling that grew fainter.
    “Sorry, my luscious mystery lover,” Sutcliffe murmured. “We can’t stay here.” He sat up, then slid out of the bed. He had his trousers on in seconds.
    As he fastened them, he faced her. “You need to go home. If you stay, another man will expect to bed you. I will escort you home, lovely creature.”
    Octavia panicked. Not because she wanted to stay at the orgy, but she couldn’t allow him to take her home. “No, it isn’t necessary. I