Mistress of the Storm Read Free Page B

was feeling. Would he want a whore the way he wanted other women who shared his bed?
    He entwined their fingers and tugged her closer. She stepped away to gain some power over the situation before it spun completely out of her control. He would not allow it, drawing her back to him and wrapping his other arm around her waist once more. When she expected to feel his mouth on hers, he leaned toward her, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as though there was some scent.
    Isabel found herself unable to resist the temptation to do the same and discovered the smell of him drew her in. Falling into his embrace, she lifted her face to his. It was she who leaned up to touch their mouths. With the first touch of their lips, the storm that brewed between them exploded into something uncontrolled and unknown to her.
    Flames of a never-experienced desire leaped to life deep within her and Isabel wanted him in a way she’d never felt . . . and never wanted. She needed to pull the veil of self-control back into place, but every touch of his mouth to hers and every caress pushed it away. If she did not regain control, she would be destroyed by the very thing she wanted most in that moment—him.
    Lying down with other men had been like acting for her. She knew just when to sigh or moan, when to stroke flesh, when to resist and when to comply. But every ounce of confidence she had in her ability to keep herself separate from the acts of the flesh and safe from the demeaning nature of it all was being destroyed by Duncan. She knew his name, and he threatened it all with a look of longing and a hand held out in offering.
    She could not find the strength to leave his embrace and put an end to whatever was happening between them. Her traitorous body leaned against him, urging him for more.
    He did not hesitate, possessing her mouth as he released her hand to wrap both arms around her. He stole her breath with his lips and tongue, tasting her, then nipping along her neck, as her gasps kept pace with his kisses. Her breasts swelled, their tips chafing against the fabric of her dress. He had chosen it because of the way it rubbed her nipples and made them hard and visible to any man looking at her, but now the friction sent spirals of pleasure through her body. When Duncan moved his hand up to cup one, she could not help but arch against it, seeking more.
    He kissed her then, laughing against her mouth and she craved to hear it again. The deep rich sound echoed in her mind as her body reacted to it. The movements she usually had to force herself to perform became no chore. Isabel let her hands glide over the strong muscles of his back and down until she reached his buttocks, squeezing the muscular globes of his flesh. It was his turn to arch against her, and the proof of his readiness thrust against her belly.
    He lifted his mouth from hers, his breathing ragged and quick. He searched her eyes, then held her gaze as he reached down and gathered the folds of her gown in his large hand. The tension of it—knowing what would follow and both wanting and fearing it—made breathing difficult for her. She placed her hand on his arm, whether to stop him or to hasten him to his target she could not tell, but when his fingers slid between her legs, she found herself pushing him to go deeper still.
    Duncan smiled, realizing she did not want to enjoy what they did. He could feel it in his soul, though how, he knew not. Isabel leaned her head back as he thrust two fingers deep into her woman’s cleft and massaged the swelling folds.
    The heat of her core so near to his fingers threatened to burn his flesh. He could feel the moisture that poured from her as he rubbed and teased the bud within the folds. He felt her body pressing against his as he fought the need to lay her on the floor and plow into her as he wanted to. In that moment, he realized what he wanted most of all. Like a man dying of hunger, he needed to feel her touch on his skin. More than him