Author Diane Whiteside » Spicy Excerpt from The River Devil

The River Devil Rosalind’s willpower fled as soon as his lips met hers again. Her body had even less interest in maintaining sanity this time than it had exhibited on the stairs. Months of loneliness fled, banished by the hunger racing through her blood, fueled by his demanding mouth and hands.

His hand fondled her back and swept down over her ass, cupping it and pulling her close. She moaned and wiggled against him, driven half wild by the first feel of his magnificent hard cock, outlined by his trousers’ rough wool. The scent of lilacs spilled into the room from the garden beyond, like a call to sensual delights.

He growled something and slid his hand inside the back of her waistband.

Rosalind jerked and stared up at Hal, panting for breath. How had he known she loved to have her backside fondled? Her breasts ached for his touch, her pulse thundered through her veins, and heat pulsed and melted and pooled between her thighs. “Hal,” she moaned.

He stared down at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes blazed blue fire, like a pirate gazing at golden treasure. “Damn, I need to see you.”

Fire seared her at the hunger in his gaze and his fierce growl. She managed a weak nod, but he didn’t wait for her permission as he lit a single lamp beside the bed.

Lightning scorched the air outside. The distant electrical storm was coming closer.

Hal’s fingers made short work of undoing her string tie and crisp wing collar. He growled softly as he kissed the pulse at the base of her throat. The vibration ran through her blood, bringing more dew onto her thighs. She shuddered and arched under his kiss. She caught his head, her fingers plunging into his silky hair as her thumb brushed the scar on his jaw.

He kissed and licked her throat before slipping her collar aside to explore other sensitive spots. Rosalind jerked and moaned, her head tossing against the brocade coverlet. She clutched his shoulders desperately, her fingers digging into the hard muscle under the fine linen. His scent reached her, a mix of sandalwood and male musk.

He nipped her lightly, then licked the hurt until she sobbed for more. Her black wool vest yielded to his impatient fingers, and Rosalind gasped at her sudden ability to catch a deep breath.

“It’s too damn stiff for a typical vest,” he muttered and bent the edge over his hand. It stuck out awkwardly, like a breastplate and without the fluid grace of first-rate Merino wool. “Is that how you do it? Built a corset inside your vest so no one can see your breasts?”

She licked her lip and tried to answer. But the hunger in his voice seemed to have snatched away her voice.

“Well, tonight this fellow is going to have a damn good time with your breasts,” he growled, his eyes sweeping over her as if trying to decide what portion to taste first. “And you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

Suddenly her clothes were too confining against the heated blaze of her skin.

Hal rapidly unbuttoned her shirt, somehow managing not to rip anything, made equally fast work of her undershirt’s buttons, then pulled it open to expose her.

Rosalind stilled, her breath catching in her throat. Her breasts were flushed and pointed, surmounted by her nipples’ hard little peaks. Would he find her lacking in feminine charms?

“Perfect,” Hal growled and dived for her nipple.

Rosalind shrieked at the fiery lance that blasted through her body. She arched until her hips nearly came off the bed. His hand cupped her mound, perhaps for reassurance or to control her, as he suckled her. She sobbed her pleasure, unable to form words.

He paid equal attention to her other breast as he rubbed her woolen trousers against her mound. Rhythmically, again and again, matching the tempo of his mouth working her. The roughness incited her delicate skin to further gushes of dew.

She writhed under him, her hips moving to the beat he set. “Hal,” she groaned. “Hal, do that again. Please.”

“Beautiful. You are so goddamn beautiful,” he muttered as he switched breasts.

She couldn’t even think well enough to wonder why he said so. Instead, his deep rumble heated her veins like a glass of Scots whiskey. And she cursed him when he took his hands away, in language better suited for Mississippi levees, but he simply chuckled.

He removed her Colts from her waistband and laid them on the bed, next to her hips. A few practiced moves by his strong hands saw her trousers open just enough to expose her canvas money belt.

She watched him, panting, unconcerned about anything except regaining those wicked fingers of his.

“Of course, your money’s concealed but you wear your guns openly. Damn, but you’re sexy with all these hidden surprises,” he muttered. He shuddered slightly and his tongue ran out over his lips. He laid a kiss on her belly, where bare skin showed above the last button. She shivered, and her eyes fell shut.

He finished unbuttoning her trousers, pulled her shirt free, and paused to stare. “Men’s drawers too? Christ, you’re a special lady,” he growled softly as he lightly touched her linen drawers.

His words triggered another gush of dew onto her thighs and she cursed. She’d claw his eyes out if he didn’t do something, anything, to fill her.

He chuckled, a harsh broken sound, before his hand delved into her drawers, one callused finger finding her clit with arrogant ease. She moaned and her legs tightened around him. He fondled her, exploring her folds until she thought she’d scream. His hand left her, and she snarled, “Goddamnit, get your hand back there!”

Hal chuckled as he brought two fingers back to her pleasure. She groaned as he worked her, and she sobbed her gratitude when he circled her needy channel. One finger slipped in and she gasped.

“You’re a tight one, aren’t you, Rosalind? Will you take another finger for me?”

“Yes! Just finish me, damn you.”

He chuckled and plunged two fingers into her channel.

Rosalind howled and arched at the invasion. She’d only taken David’s member twice, and her body seemed to have forgotten the knack.

Hal’s hand stayed motionless. “Not much accustomed to men, are you, sweet Rosalind? Take a deep breath.”

He nuzzled her breast. “And another.”

Heat shimmered through her skin.

He swirled his tongue around her nipple, then nibbled it gently. “And another?”

Her pulse speeded and she shuddered. Her inner muscles slowly melted around those strong digits inside her as he suckled her nipple.

“Good girl. Now relax, then tighten.” His fingers moved a fraction further in, then out. Her channel promptly clamped around him in protest.

“That’s my girl,” he praised hoarsely. “Now we go faster.”

And he did. One hand thrust into her faster and faster, while the other squeezed her breast. She writhed and moaned, her hips rising and falling in a rhythm as old as time.

He added another finger until she was stretched wider than she’d ever been before. She wanted a climax, demanded a climax, couldn’t believe there was anything else he could do that wouldn’t provide a climax.

Yet still Hal pumped her, harder and faster, until her entire body was ablaze with heat and passion. Need built deep in her core, stoked by his wicked fingers pushing her into an agony of need.

Lightning burst from the skies, but Rosalind paid no heed. She flung her head back and cursed him, begged him, promised him anything, if he’d just finish her.

But his hand continued to ride her until she was a being of fire and hunger, completely focused on his touch and the agonizing pleasure he promised.

Her climax came closer and closer, but she couldn’t quite reach it. She sobbed in frustration, thrashing against the coverlet.

Thunder crashed overhead and rain poured from the heavens.

“Take it, Rosalind. Come for me now,” Hal snarled. He pressed down hard on her clit and waves exploded through her core and up her spine, like an engine’s steam bringing the train’s wheels to life. She howled soundlessly as the orgasm burst through every fiber of her being, changing her into a sensual being she’d barely glimpsed before.

Purring with delight afterward, Rosalind stretched and considered her prospects. She was still fully dressed except for her money belt and bow tie, both lying on the bedside table. Her frock coat was open, as was her shirt. She flexed her fingers and easily managed to touch her Colts.

Rain pounded on the roof and poured past the windows, filling the room with its delectable fresh-washed scent. Another lightning bolt flashed across the clouds, but farther away than before.

She turned her head toward the window and saw Hal beside his sea chest, stripping out of his clothes with ferocious haste. He was a magnificent sight, all broad shoulders and heavily muscled masculinity in the golden lamplight. Blond hair and a few puckered bullet scars marked his body, somehow adding to his attraction. A golden king of the beasts.

Mouth dry and guns forgotten, Rosalind rolled onto her side and leaned up on her elbow to see him better. Given his notorious distaste for good women, he was no candidate for a husband. But that was of no account now, only the chance to drown her senses in his arms.

Oddly, his shoulders and buttocks were completely covered by a network of silvery diamond-shaped scars, reminding her of an escaped slave’s flogging scars. But these marks were very different. They were too regular, as opposed to the branching pattern left by a whip, and they were far more numerous on his buttocks, even marking the top of his thighs. Who could possibly have done that to him and why?

Then he turned around and her breath stopped. Dear God in heaven, he had an enormous cock. It neatly matched the rest of him, but would have seemed a monster on a smaller man.

She stared, openmouthed. And moisture surged out of her core as if her previous climax had never happened.

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