(The Devil DeVere #5) 

Victoria Vane

Having once lived his life only for larks, laughter, and ladies of easy virtue, Captain Simon Singleton has returned from the war with the colonies a shambles of a man. Now free from six years of captivity, he’s still fettered by irrational fears that confine him to a life of seclusion.   

Once the crowning jewel of the most lavish brothel in London, the exotic Salime finds her reputation and livelihood destroyed by a bitter rival. With a closely guarded secret stripped away, Salime fears no man will ever desire her again. Seeking aid from one who once saved her life, Salime accepts a proposition to repay her debt by becoming a companion to his war-scarred friend.  

 Circumstance brings these two damaged souls together; but fate ignites a love story worthy of the Arabian Nights.


He fisted his hands in her silky hair, pleading
between ragged breaths, “Please Salime. You must stop.”
She slid him from her mouth and squeezed the head of
his sex. Although his chest still heaved with the effort of holding back, the
urgency abated.
“You need not fight it,” she spoke in a
sultry whisper. “I wish you to take your pleasure from me.”
Suppressing a groan, he closed his hand over hers,
freeing it from his phallus. “After all I have said to you, is this all
you think I desire? For you to service
me like…like a …”
A look of pain flashed in her eyes. “You do not
enjoy such pleasures? In my experience it is what all men most desire.”
“I am not other men,” he growled, “and I don’t want you to think of me
in that way. I thought… Bloody hell! Am I just like them to you? Do you feel nothing more for me? I need to know,
Salime, do you really desire me? Or do
you only act out of your obligation to DeVere—”
Although she’d been with many men, none but Simon had
ever inspired her desire. How could he not know this? She longed to feel his
kisses, to see passion blazing in his eyes as he moved inside her.
She cut him off, bringing his hand to her breast and placing
it over her heart. Rising on her toes, she whispered against his lips, “Can
you not tell when a woman’s desire is real? Do you not feel this beneath your
hand? It gallops.” She slid their joined hands to the center of her chest.
“And my lungs struggle to catch up with my racing heart.”
He drew in a sharp breath when she moved still lower,
guiding his hand over the plane of her belly… and lower yet, sucking in a
breath with a guttural sound, when she stopped at the apex of her thighs. It
was a heady thing, how powerfully the simplest touch affected him.
She pressed his palm into her mons. “And this? Do
you not feel the wetness weeping from my womanhood? Do you not know this sign? I
burn for you, Simon. Only for you.”
His grey eyes had grown almost black. Almost instantly
he cupped her nape, claiming and branding her with a new urgency she was
helpless to resist. His hands were everywhere, mapping her body, caressing her
breasts, cupping her arse, sliding between her legs, while mercilessly
marauding her mouth. She dug her fingers into his hair, grinding against him
with aching loins. The friction of his engorged sex sent shocks of pleasure to
her core.
She cried out. He swallowed the sound with his own
hoarse moan, lifting her against his tumescent sex. She wrapped her legs
tightly around him, and he carried her to her bed, where they tumbled headlong
onto it. Limbs tangled, bodies sliding, they reveled in slick friction, and plummeted
deeper into pleasure. He rolled on top of her, caging her with his hard and hot
body. Bringing one hand between them, he positioned his hard member into her
folds, rocking his hips slowly, coating himself in her juices. His cadence
increased, his hips thrusting, his thumb circling and massaging her hooded bud.
His mouth came down on her neck, sucking and biting, his breath hot and humid
on her skin.
 “I want to
watch your eyes when I plunge into you, Salime. After that, I want to take you
like the heathens and in every conceivable way. Salime… Salime,” he
murmured her name. Seductive and hypnotic, it fell from his lips. “I’ve
never wanted a woman as I want you.”
The symphony of sensation created by his hands, his
mouth, his sex against hers, was exquisite. Mind-numbing, but it was still not
enough. The emptiness was excruciating, the ache agonizing.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked.
“Still so many words? You talk too mu—”
She gasped as he pierced her, impaling himself deeply inside
her in one smooth, hard thrust.


Victoria Vane is an award-winning romance novelist and history junkie whose works range from wildly comedic romps to emotionally compelling and intensely erotic romance. Victoria also writes historical fiction as Emery Lee and is the founder of Goodreads Romantic Historical Fiction Lovers and the Romantic Historical Lovers book review blog. Look for Victoria’s sexy new contemporary cowboy series coming in summer 2014.
Author Website:
DeVere Fan Site:
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Facebook: Author Victoria Vane
Twitter: @authorvictoriav
A Wild Night’s Bride (book#1)
The Virgin Huntress, (book#2)
The Devil You Know (book#3)
The Devil’s Match, (book#4) August 2012
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