her, holding her wrist, painlessly but firmly for all that.
‘Perhaps I can
make
you understand,’ he murmured, drawing her away from the door and deliberately kicking it shut with the toe of one immaculate, patent leather shoe. ‘Dislike you?’ His eyes seemed to kindle with desire as he added smoothly, ‘On the contrary, I find you enticingly attractive—very different from your sister who is so transparent.’ Another small pause during which Emma vaguelywondered why she wasn’t struggling for freedom or even threatening to scream. Instead, she merely attempted to avoid the lips that were coming down to fasten themselves to hers. But even as she averted her head, she felt a strong hand beneath her chin, and she was compelled to lift her face. His arms were about her slender frame, his mouth wide and sensuous, poised for the mastery of the victor. He was so sure of himself! And Emma felt weak and helpless . . . and already aware of rising emotions. The kiss was lacking in any kind of respect, and the roving hands seemed to hold a spell under whose influence she was swiftly falling. He caressed her nape, tormenting with unendurable mastery and persistence, while his iron-hard body pressed to hers until she felt moulded to its shape. Tremors shuddered through her frame—glorious emotional experiences which awakened a fierce, reluctant longing and set her senses strumming with erotic intensity. One hand was clasping her body tightly, while the other was now in possession of a captured breast, flesh bared, though she did not know how or when he had slipped one thin strap from her shoulder. The moist mouth was mobile and demanding, compelling her to part her lips. The thrust of his tongue sent shudders of ecstasy through every nerve cell in her being and she heard her own reluctant murmur . . . a plea . . . for what . . . ?
Her hands were resting on his shoulders; she wanted to touch his nape, spread her fingers into his hair, arch her body even closer so that she would be aware of his manhood. But a certain shyness mingled with the vague awareness that she ought not tohave allowed herself to be in this position at all. But it was too late for protests and struggles as one hand slid right down over her thigh to curl itself around her lower curves, while the fingers of the other hand employed their experienced finesse in manipulating the nipple, coercing it to a hard bud of desire. The ache of longing spread into Emma’s loins as erotic sensations burst into life, setting her entire body on fire. Her breathing became erratic; she knew a dryness in her mouth and throat and swallowed convulsively. He had lifted the hem of her dress, and she felt him quiver as his roving hand caressed the silk of her flesh.
‘Yes,’ he breathed throatily, his mouth almost buried in her shoulder, ‘you’re very different from your sister. I have a mind to take you, and keep you for a while. Let’s go up to my room—you’re trembling,’ he murmured and laughed. ‘It’s nothing to the way you will feel in a few moments—’
‘No!’ At last sanity was returning, and she thrust him away, taking him by surprise. ‘Oh, how could I let myself—! I hate you!’ she cried, pummelling at his chest in her frenzy of temper. ‘I hate you! Do you hear?’
‘Cut out the hysterics,’ was his heartless response as with brutal force he jerked her roughly to him again. This time his passion was so unbridled that she was carried into a raging tempest that sent her head spinning, her senses reeling, so that for several seconds she seemed to be poised on the brink of oblivion. His whipcord-hard body was all but possessing hers as his male hardness was thrust against her soft, vulnerable flesh, and the hands pressing herto him were merciless in their strength as once again, but weakly now, Emma made some attempt at escape. Shudders of ecstasy ripped through her, and she felt then that she was lost.
A cry—a plea—left her lips; she
Kathleen Duey and Karen A. Bale