The Charming Jezebel

by Farmer, Merry

  There was something supremely erotic in the sight of him standing there, shirtless and with his breeches bunched over his thighs, his staff erect and in full view, something almost vulnerable. If he had been fully naked, it might have been different, but it was as if she’d caught him in the middle of something naughty. He even arched an eyebrow as if daring her to make a move.

  Make a move she did. She stepped into him, resting her hands on his chest for a moment and feeling the furious beat of his heart. Then she moved her hands lower, exploring the firm muscles of his chest and abdomen before moving downward.

  They both sucked in breaths as she stroked a hand over the bare length of him. He was hard and smooth at once, power and beauty combined. He’d made magic with her body the other night, but she hadn’t really seen or handled him so intimately then. Now it was all she could do to contain herself as she learned how he felt, how he reacted, as she caressed him. He tensed, holding his breath as she closed her hand around him, brushing her thumb across his flared tip. Everything about him fascinated her, from the rich color of his skin to the hint of moisture that formed at the slit atop his head.

  Memories of secrets Felicity and Eliza had whispered rushed back to her. She glanced up at him, finding his face a mask of pleasure. “I want to see what you taste like,” she said, hardly believing she could say those words.

  His eyes widened, alight with arousal. It was enough to give Ophelia pause, so she pushed herself to boldness, sinking to her knees before he could protest. That brought her straight to the level of his cock. She adjusted her hands around him, taking a moment to caress his balls, curious to know what they felt like. It spurred her on, and before she could lose her nerve, she leaned in, kissing the head of his penis.

  He was salty, with just a hint of musk. She kissed him again, opening her mouth wider to take him in, as though eating a plum, brushing her tongue against his tip. He let out a primal sound and jerked slightly into her. The movement was undoubtedly involuntary, but it pushed him deeper into her mouth. Caught up in the sensation, she pulled him in even more, tentatively at first, but with mounting curiosity. How could something so odd arouse her so much?

  Heart pounding against her ribs, she grasped his hips, pulled back just a bit, then bore into him once more. As uncertain as she was, she found that if she softened her tongue and relaxed her throat, she could fit a great deal of him in her mouth. The deeper she swallowed him, the more her sex ached and her breasts felt heavy. He made another guttural sound and buried his hands in her hair, rocking gently as if to show her what he wanted. It made her feel like a perfect wanton to give it to him, to have her mouth stretched wide around him as hungry sounds caught in her throat.

  “I can’t,” he said at last, his voice surprisingly desperate, pulling away from her. “You don’t know how much I want to, but I can’t.”

  She rocked back, catching her breath and gazing up at him. He seemed like even more of a god of sexuality from that angle, his penis still straining and now slick. “I’ll do whatever you want,” she said, meaning it from the bottom of her heart.

  The fire that flared to his eyes made her sex squeeze in anticipation. He could do a great many things to her that would both frighten and delight her. But instead, he stepped back farther, sinking into the chair beside her vanity in order to tug off his boots. As he did, she stood, backing up to the bed and sitting lamely on the edge, not knowing what else to do and too inflamed with arousal to think.

  A moment too late, she reached behind her back to tug at the ties holding her bodice together, but before she could do more than pull the top of her dress forward enough to expose her stays and chemise, he surged toward the bed, completely naked.

  “What I want is for you to feel pleasure like you’ve never known,” he said in a dangerous voice. “I want your world to explode with pleasure.”

  “I—” She got no further before he bent down to kiss her, sending shivers of longing through her. She couldn’t keep herself upright with the force of need that pounded through her, but he continued to kiss her as she fell back against the bed.

  He climbed over her, covering her still fully-clothed body with his naked one. Her almost fully-clothed body. With a few quick tugs, he freed her breasts, kneading one deliciously while balancing on his other hand. His mouth found her neck and he made his way down to her shoulder, but it was the teasing way he pinched her nipple that had her gasping and arching into him.

  “I want you,” she panted. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

  “I will always give you what you want,” he promised in a low rumble.

  She wasn’t certain what she expected, but it wasn’t for him to roll to the side, landing on his back. For a moment, he looked like a sensual treat laid out for her enjoyment, his cock straining up against his belly, his skin dusky with a sheen of perspiration. She only had a brief glimpse of him, though, before he pulled her over top of him.

  He knew what he was doing, even though she didn’t. He tugged at her skirt until it was bunched around her waist and spread her legs farther as she straddled him. His hands brushed her inner thighs, making her lose her breath. She stopped breathing entirely when he found the peak of her clitoris and began to rub it.

  There was something delicious and mad about the whole thing. She was on top and mostly clothed while he was pinned down, naked and aroused. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she was in control of their love-making. It was even more erotic to feel so much on fire as he brought her right to the edge of orgasm without being able to see his hands or herself or anything that was going on. All she could see were his eyes as they burned with desire for her.

  “Follow my lead,” he murmured, shifting his hands to stroke her wetness just as she felt she was about to come.

  She almost protested the way he left her aching so desperately until his movements brought his cock pressing into her. She gasped as he flexed his hips, delving gently into her. It felt so good to feel him that way, just beginning to stretch her wide. He hesitated though, only entering her by an inch, and driving her wild with frustration.

  Only then did she realize that she needed to move as well. She met his eyes, and when he nodded slightly, she bore down on him. It felt so amazing to be filled by him—and of her own volition—that she let out an impassioned moan. He answered the sound with one of his own, moving with her as if to show her how it was done. She rocked on him, causing friction that made her blood boil and taking charge of her pleasure and his.

  It was strange, new, and she was certain she wasn’t getting it right, but that didn’t matter as she fell into a rhythm, impaling herself on him over and over. In their current position, she could take him in so deeply that it felt as though he reached into her womb, into her heart and soul. Her breasts hung down between them, nipples hard and sensitive. As her movements became more confident, he moved his hands from her hips to cradle them, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

  In no time, she felt herself nearing the edge. It was glorious and powerful. She worked for it, determination and desire causing her to sweat and to cry out with lust. And when at last she burst into an orgasm so powerful it reverberated through every part of her, he too tensed and shouted as he spilled himself in her. It was beyond beautiful, beyond divine, and she moved as long as she could, milking him and drawing her orgasm out to impossible lengths. She couldn’t have asked for a mating more perfect.

  “Beautiful,” he said as she sagged into his arms, echoing her thoughts. “Perfect.”

  She was beyond the ability to reply with words, so she nestled her head close to his and closed her arms around him. The sadness of the Marlowe sisters’ fate remained, but it was eclipsed by the joy she felt in Saif’s arms. She closed her eyes and let out a breath, praying that there was some way for her to never have to leave his side.

  Chapter 9

  He’d passed the point of no return. That much was evident to Saif when he awoke the next m
orning in Ophelia’s bed, in her arms. The feeble rays of a watery sun were just beginning to pour through the gap in the curtains. The grate was cold, considering the door was locked, preventing a maid from coming in to set a fire. But that hardly mattered when there were layers of blankets tucked around him and Ophelia. It hardly mattered because she was nestled against him, her naked body its own little furnace to keep his body and his heart warm.

  He wanted to wake up in that manner every morning for the rest of his life. He didn’t care how impossible it was for a son of Sandhustan to marry a British woman. His family made the laws in his kingdom, and they would make one that paved the way for the marriage, though Ophelia may well be asked to convert religions to make it happen. Saif had the sense that she wouldn’t mind. At least, he hoped she wouldn’t. Whatever it took, he would make it happen.

  She stretched beside him, coming awake with a deep inhale and a stretch that fired every amorous impulse in his body. Any hint of hesitation or shyness was gone. She moved as though it were perfectly natural to awake, naked, to an equally naked man in her bed. And, of course, it was natural, provided the man was him.

  “Good morning,” he murmured, shifting so that they lay on their sides, facing. He brushed the back of his hand across her flushed cheek, then drew it down her back to cup her backside. He wasn’t quite certain if he maneuvered her thigh over his so that their hips nestled together with delicious intimacy or if she had initiated the movement herself. All he cared about was how incredible it felt to have the moist heat of her sex so close to his stiffening cock.

  “Good morning,” she said in return, still hazy from sleep. Her fingers played across his face, tracing his cheekbone and jaw, then dancing across his lips. It was such a simple gesture, but he felt it as keenly as if she had grasped his cock and worked it like an expert.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, feeling silly to ask such a plain question, but loving it all the same.

  “I did, strangely enough,” she said, her smile widening. “I had such lovely dreams.”

  Her smile was contagious. He cradled her body against his, tempted to thrust into her and pass the entire morning in carnal bliss. Instead, he asked, “Did they involve white marble palaces set amidst desert hills? Crystal, spring-fed pools attended by servants in colorful dress, surrounded by peacocks? Were you treated like the rani you are?”

  Ophelia’s eyes widened. “Is that what Sandhustan is like?”

  “It will be when you are there, by my side,” he said, leaning in for a kiss that he couldn’t resist stealing.

  She circled her arms around him, sighing into his kiss and pressing her fingertips into his back. His mind conjured up a thousand images of all the ways he could take her and make her his, but his soul settled for holding her and caressing her as though she were the most valuable treasure in his kingdom. She would be, as soon as he could make it happen.

  As if the true impact of what he had said just hit her, she sucked in a breath and jerked back from their kiss to stare at him. “Are you saying that you want to marry me?” she asked, blinking rapidly in disbelief.

  “I am.” He nodded, stealing another, quick kiss. “And before you raise any objections about the impossibility of us marrying and the silly laws in England that prevent a savage colonial from marrying an Englishwoman, I fully intend to whisk you away from this cold and dreary island and to take you home to India.”

  Instead of being reassured, she looked even more alarmed. “Will the laws there allow our marriage?”

  He grinned. “Sweetheart, I am a prince of Sandhustan. My father is king and my uncle is ruling in his place at the moment. Whatever we want, we can make happen.”

  Her eyes filled with hope and light. “You can do that?”

  “I can do anything,” he said.

  She surged into him, digging her fingertips into his back and kissing him with wild force. Saif was more than ready to take their lazy ardor to a deeper level, but instead of opening herself to him, Ophelia scrambled back, rolling out of the bed and rushing to her washstand.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up and watching her, baffled by how swiftly she’d moved.

  “Do you not see?” she asked, splashing water from the pitcher into the washstand. “I thought I was powerless. I thought that I would forever be subject to the whims and will of the men in my world and the laws they have created.”

  “You’re not,” he said, throwing the bedcovers aside and rising himself.

  “You’ve made me see that,” she said, scrubbing herself with a sponge. “I can do so much more than I ever dreamed I could. I already have done more than I ever thought I would. And now,” she smiled at him as brilliantly as a sunburst, “now you have taught me that I can take matters into my own hands. I will not stand for the injustices that have been thrust upon me and others of my sex.”

  “Of course not,” he said, carried away by her enthusiasm.

  “There is still time. To save the Marlowe sisters and to take back everything that has been stolen from me,” she went on, focusing on her ablutions instead of him as she spoke. “I refuse to give up hope until every avenue has been walked and every possibility to make a difference has been tried.”

  “Spoken like a true rani,” Saif said, his heart lifting with his words. He darted about the room, fetching his clothes from the floor and arranging them on the bed so that he could dress as soon as she let him have a turn at the washbasin. “I will do whatever you need to help you with all of it.”

  “Thank you, Saif,” she said, skipping away from the washbasin toward him, her skin still glistening with water in spots she’d missed while toweling herself. “You mean the world to me.”

  She threw herself into his arms, kissing him with a passion he never would have imagined from her just a week before. Her body fit perfectly against his, warm and inviting. The temptation to toss her back onto the bed, or even just to bend her forward over the nearby chair and fuck her until they were both satisfied was strong, but his fascination with her newfound determination to make the world a better place was stronger.

  She stepped back, rushing to her wardrobe to find fresh clothes for the day, which was more than he was able to do. He was forced to clean up and dress in his suit from the ball the night before, something everyone was likely to notice. But he didn’t care. The more ways he could find to announce to the house party, England, and the world that Ophelia was his and would be for the rest of their lives, the better.

  By the time they finally made it downstairs and to the breakfast room, the house was already alive with activity. He and Ophelia had slept late after the ball, but so had nearly everyone else. It was closer to luncheon time, but a light feast of morning fare was laid out, and dozens of bleary-eyed guests helped themselves to tea, coffee, and conversations.

  More than a few of the guests took notice of Saif and Ophelia arriving in the room together. It was obvious at a glance that they knew exactly what was going on, and likely what had happened the night before. Saif met their surprise and censure—though as many of the guests looked pleased by the turn of events as shocked—by standing tall at Ophelia’s side and challenging them with a look.

  All three of the Marlowe sisters were there, sitting close to each other at the table with varying degrees of gloom in their expressions. Camoni appeared to be attempting to engage Lady Alice in conversation, though she looked exhausted and uninterested. Ladies Lettuce and Imogen sat next to each other, neither speaking. Lady Lettuce was pale, and even from across the room, Saif thought he noticed her hand shaking as she raised her teacup to her lips. Lady Imogen merely looked as though she were waiting for her summons to the gallows.

  “Do you have a plan for your conquest?” he asked Ophelia in a soft voice as she paused to survey the room.

  “I do not need a plan for the first part,” she answered.

  Her face split into a triumphant grin when she spotted Lady Malvis at the far end of the table. Lady Malvis was de
ep in conversation with Lord Ainsley, which meant that Ainsley was chattering away as usual while Lady Malvis merely smiled and nodded. She looked far more pleased than she normally would have, or anyone would have while Ainsley prattled on at them. Saif took it as a good sign.

  Ophelia must have taken it as a call to battle. She threw her shoulders back, put on an imperious look, and marched the length of the table to Lady Malvis. Saif followed, ready to jump to her aid if she needed it. Dozens of sets of eyes watched her and conversations stopped to see how the confrontation would unfold.

  “Lady Malvis,” Ophelia said in a strong, clear voice when she reached Lady Malvis’s side.

  Ainsley stopped speaking, his mouth hanging open as he blinked at Ophelia. Lady Malvis twisted in her chair to stare at Ophelia with a look of question and irritation. “Yes?” she asked curtly. “What is it?”

  “I demand that you return my key to me at once,” Ophelia said in no uncertain terms. “You stole it from me, and I would like it back.”

  Lady Malvis’s eyebrows rose a fraction. She blinked once at Ophelia, then shrugged, reaching for the ribbon around her neck. “Oh, very well. It is yours.” She removed the key from her neck and handed it to Ophelia as though tossing refuse aside.

  Ophelia’s battle stance softened as she closed her hand around the key and ribbon, almost as though she couldn’t believe she had won the war so easily. She stepped away from Lady Malvis—who returned to her conversation with Ainsley as though she were a love-sick puppy—and opened her hand to stare at the key.

  “I have it back,” she said, sounding baffled. “It was that easy. I asked for it back and she returned it.”

  “Are you surprised?” Saif asked with a lopsided grin. “You are a powerful rani, after all.”

  Ophelia glanced from the key to him, her confusion sliding into a broad grin. “I cannot believe it was that easy.”

  “Do you want to go up to the room with the rose cabinet and give it a try?” he asked, suddenly burning with his own curiosity to see what the cabinet contained.