Page 142 of Forbidden

“Yes. No.”

He forced breath into a body that was clamoring for another intimate kiss, for the sleek glide of her tongue tasting him.

“Can’t you decide?” Amber asked, knowing full well how deep Duncan’s pleasure had been. “Perhaps this will help.”

She repeated the wild caress, lingering over the part of him that was most intriguingly different.

And most sensitive.

“Have I told you,” Amber murmured between caresses, “how much your body pleases me?”

“If you please me any more, I will come unraveled.”

“Then I shall just have to knit you up again.”

“The heart, falters at the thought.”

“The heart, perhaps, but not the flesh. It tugs like a stallion too closely tied.”

Duncan laughed despite the heat flooding through him, driven by the wild rush of his blood and the feel of Amber caressing him with her words, her hands, her tongue.

Smiling, knowing how much she was exciting him, Amber shook her head until her hair fell like a veil over Duncan’s loins. But not all of him could be easily veiled. Passion stood forth proudly, demanding to be eased.

Or teased.

“I particularly like this,” Amber said. “Hard, yet so smooth to my fingertips, like polished silver warmed by the sun.”

A deep shudder went through Duncan as he watched and felt the pink flame of her tongue licking over him, setting him utterly ablaze. Strong hands buried themselves in her hair.

“Come here,” Duncan said hoarsely.

“Soon,” she whispered. “But first…”

Amber’s mouth circled him, tasted him, tested his hardness and resolve with loving caresses. The wildness that gathered in him also gathered in her. At any instant she expected Duncan to overturn her, draw up her knees, and bury himself within her.

Abruptly Duncan sat up and drew Amber’s leg across his thighs until she was astride him, open to him. He found her drenched with the same passion that made his body gleam as though polished with oil.

His hand moved between her thighs, testing and savoring her in the same caress. His fingers came away glistening with her desire. Watching her, he lifted his hand and breathed in deeply, infusing himself with her fragrance.

“Next time,” he said, “I shall know your taste as well. But not this time. This time I am already undone by your sweet mouth.”

“You look quite whole,” she whispered.

Her fingertip rested for an instant on him, just long enough to steal the single, hot drop that had eluded his control. When she brushed her fingertip over her lips, tasted, and smiled, Duncan made the sound of a man in torment. Another drop welled up, called by her pleasure in him.

“Come, witch. Ride the dragon you have summoned from mortal flesh.”

“How does a maid ride a dragon?”

“Like this.”

Duncan’s hands closed on Amber’s hips, pulling her closer even as he lifted her. A instant later his blunt, eager flesh parted her. With a cry of fulfillment, she slid down on him, claiming him as deeply as he was claiming her.

Amber tried to say Duncan’s name, but could not. His pleasure in her had stolen her voice. The sudden clenching of his hands on her hips scattered her thoughts and focused her desire. She began moving, riding him more surely with each slow motion of her hips, feeling his passion and her own with unusual clarity.

When he would have speeded the pace of the ride, Amber lifted one of his hands, kissed it, and put it on her breast.

“You’re enjoying tormenting me,” Duncan said through his teeth.