A Wicked Reputation (Once Wicked)

by Liana Lefey

  He loves him. Deeply. Lucas had known this, but until now he hadn’t witnessed its expression firsthand. Afraid to be caught observing such an intimate moment, he looked to Diana, only to find she, too, was watching Harrow. But there was nothing whatsoever of jealousy in her regard. Instead, he saw only love. Not the sort Harrow so obviously felt for the pianist, but another kind. As strong, yet utterly devoid of carnality.

  Again, it struck Lucas what a strange relationship these three had. When Diana’s gaze shifted to him, it coincided with the music’s exhilarating peak, and he saw its passion reflected in her jewel-like eyes.

  Directed at him.

  Her sea-green irises had darkened to a shade resembling the ocean just after dawn, and her pupils were blown wide.

  Suddenly Lucas knew the musician was no threat. Even if she desired the man now, she would no longer do so after tonight. He would make certain of it.

  The music slowed and softened, and in the relative calm that ensued as it wound to a close, he realized his heart was pounding. Blood rushed throughout his body as a result, gathering in certain places. Never had he felt as aroused as he did in that moment.

  Harrow broke the silence that had fallen. “Thank you, Monsieur Laurent, for gracing us with your talent.” His eyes glowed with praise and something more. The result was the other man’s deep flush of pleasure as he excused himself.

  Turning, Harrow now addressed Lucas. “Before I bid you goodnight, allow me to again express my pleasure in our friendship. I wish you great joy tonight.” His glance flicked to Diana, and a soft smile curved his mouth. “Both of you.”

  Lucas found his tongue suddenly thick and unwieldy, but he was saved from having to respond.

  Diana held up a hand, halting the other man’s departure. “Before you leave, there is one small matter I would like to discuss with you present. Lord Blackthorn, are you familiar with the concept of a stop word?”

  A frown furrowed his brow at the random-seeming question. “It seems intuitive,” he began lightly, but broke off on seeing an indulgent smile form on Harrow’s face.

  “In terms of love play, I mean,” Diana clarified.

  “I’ve heard of it in passing,” he answered carefully. “If indeed we are referring to the same thing.”

  Harrow spoke now, his manner gentle yet firm. “It’s simply a word agreed upon by both participants that when spoken by either brings about an immediate halt to all activity.”

  Lucas looked to Diana, noting that although her gaze was still heated, there was wariness in her eyes. “I assume you wish to establish such a word for tonight?”

  “I do,” she husked. “And we must both vow to, without hesitation, honor that word’s intent should it be spoken.”

  For some reason, rather than dampening his excitement, this idea sent a thrill through him, a pang of carnal hunger so sharp it was almost painful. “Very well. What word would you like?”

  “I would prefer you choose the word.”

  His excitement rose another increment. Did she think he’d be the one to use it? He decided to play along. “Eden.”

  A slow smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Mm. The garden in which sin was born,” she said, proving she’d not missed the reference. “Eden it is. I vow to stop whatever I’m doing should you say this word.”

  His vision seemed to narrow, until all he saw was her face. “As do I.”

  Again, he heard Harrow’s voice, but it was as if he spoke from far away. “Then it is settled. Until morning, dear friends.”

  By the time Lucas managed to tear his gaze away from her, his host was long gone.

  Diana stepped close and held out her hand.

  Taking her outstretched fingers, he let her lead him from the room. He barely felt his legs moving as he followed her out and up the staircase. His pulse thumped in his ears when they finally halted before a door at the hallway’s end. Within, he expected to see the pastel pinks of her suite. Instead, what lay beyond the door was a boudoir meant solely for passion. A large mirror reflected the bed in its entirety, ubiquitous candlelight left no shadows to hide their coming together, and a most interesting assortment of items had been laid out on the bedside table.

  This would indeed be a night to remember.

  Her hands trembled as she reached back to remove her necklace.

  Nerves or excitement? “Here, allow me.” Carefully, he helped divest her of her jewelry and then assisted her in disrobing.

  Each ribbon pulled loose brought him a step closer to finally seeing her perfection up close. Each layer of clothing that fell to the floor served to further enflame his arousal. Every time the backs of his fingers made contact with her bare skin, a spark caught in his own flesh and sent desire rocketing through his veins.

  He’d been vacillating between various degrees of stiffness since before dinner, but his erection had been constant since the concert in the drawing room. Now, his cock twitched and strained in protest against confinement as blood rushed to fill it even further. He’d never been so hard in all his life and wanted nothing more than to free himself of his trousers, but it could wait. They had all night, and he wanted to savor his prize.

  At last, he lifted her chemise over her head. Only her stockings, lacy garters, and dainty slippers remained. He feasted his eyes for a moment on creamy skin and a body to make a man weep with want. “You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, meaning every word.

  The blush that stole over her cheeks as she lowered her lashes was simply enchanting. And puzzling. Does not that Laurent fellow ever pay her such compliments?

  Looking up, she met his stare. Seemingly emboldened by what she saw there, she reached out and fingered the end of his cravat. “May I return the favor?”

  “You may do with me whatever pleases you,” he answered with a slow smile. He sobered as her gaze sharpened, and she gave the cravat a sharp tug, causing him to stumble and take a step closer. With a few more gentle tugs, the cloth fell away. As soon as it hit the floor, she stepped close and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the base of his now-bare throat, following with a little nip and lick before stepping back and pushing his coat back off his shoulders.

  The fire that had been slowly building inside him instantly flared white hot. But he maintained self-discipline and after shrugging off his jacket remained still, curious to see what she had planned. If there was anything he’d learned about pleasure, it was that delayed gratification was often the best kind.

  Mesmerized, he watched as her nimble fingers made short work of the buttons on his waistcoat. That, too, fell to the floor. When her hands slid beneath his shirt and she ran her palms up along his abdomen to skim across his nipples, however, he decided enough was enough.

  Bending, he pressed his lips against the sensitive joint of her neck and heard a trembling sigh escape her lips. He smiled against her skin as she tilted her head, granting him better access, and rewarded her by continuing upward in a trail of small kisses, mirroring her earlier action with little nips and flicks of his tongue.

  One by one, he pulled the jeweled pins from her hair, and soon his hands were buried in a wavy flow of honey-gold strands that caught the candlelight and held it prisoner. Working his fingers beneath it at the nape of her neck, he massaged her scalp and was rewarded by a soft, broken groan. Desire speared straight down through his vitals to pool in his pelvis.

  I’m just getting started.

  Not all touch had to be sexual in nature to give pleasure. This was evident as she leaned close and melted against him. Her warmth seeped through his fine linen shirt and sank into him like summer sunlight. Moving his fingertips in small circles, he worked his way over the back of her head and then forward to her temples.

  Her eyes drifted shut. Framing her face between his palms, he at last brought their mouths together. The first contact was electric, eliciting an all but unbearable ache in his groin, as though the two places were directly connected by a single, raw nerve.
Ghosting his lips across hers, he licked the seam where those rosy petals met, begging entrance. It was granted on a sigh, and he reveled in the catch and slide of their mouths as he gently angled her head so they slotted together perfectly. The sweetness of sherry and the cake they’d had for dessert erupted across his tongue, along with something he’d never tasted before, something uniquely her.

  She pressed into him, deepening the contact, and now the groan he heard was his own. A tremor wracked his whole body as multiple sensations ran riot through it at once, reverberating back and forth like ripples crossing each other on the surface of a pond until he couldn’t take any more and had to pull back to catch his breath.

  He kissed the curve of her neck to hide his face, afraid of what it might reveal. The impatient nudging of her lips at the tender flesh just below his ear urged him on.

  Closing his eyes against the sight of her, lest he lose control, he kissed her again, pouring all of himself into it. Kissing wasn’t something he’d often indulged in, feeling it was too intimate for casual encounters. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself now.

  She responded with renewed fervor, and their breaths mingled in a series of soft gasps as her frenzied fingers pulled at his shirt. Breaking away, he yanked it off over his head and tossed it, not caring where it landed, such was his eagerness to feel her velvet skin, to learn the shape of her with his palms and explore every lush curve.

  Her hands were busy again, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. He batted them away. If that barrier were removed, it would be the undoing of him, and he wanted to draw out this feast and make it last as long as possible. To ease the sting of his reprisal, he brought her hands up and pressed a kiss into each palm before continuing his way upward.

  The shudder that ran through her at the gentle touch of his lips against the inside of her wrist brought a smile to his face. He flicked his tongue across the delicious inch of skin, delighted to hear her breath catch. Slowly, he worked his way up that arm, over her shoulder, and the wings of her collarbone, not forgetting the charming dip between before treating the other arm to the same attention. She was pliant, like clay waiting to be sculpted by his hands as he drew back to contemplate his next move.

  When he looked at her face, he expected her eyes to be closed and was surprised to find them open and ablaze with naked hunger.

  Chapter Fourteen

  So this is what it’s like. Diana stared at Blackthorn as arousal melted through her, leaving her hot and aching. And he’d done nothing more than kiss her.

  Oh, but those kisses. Tender, yet ferocious. Gentle, yet full of fire. Based on those kisses, it would be easy to believe there was more to this than lust. But she knew Blackthorn was here for one thing only. He would get it, but she’d have her desire of him, as well.

  Stepping back, she looked him up and down, drinking in the sight of his broad chest, letting her gaze fall to the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waist of his trousers. Just below that, she marked the distinct bulge where his cock strained against the cloth. She cupped it with a bold palm and was gratified to hear a low, animal groan torn from his throat just before he took her lips in a bruising kiss that was far more aggressive than its predecessors.

  Lust rose to the challenge, and she met him with equal force until they were both gasping for breath. She thought she’d faint when his palms grazed the sensitive sides of her breasts, and the noise she let out when his thumbs began to circle her areolas was shockingly primitive.

  It was nothing compared to the sound she made when he dipped his head and took a nipple into his mouth—that was obscene. Her cheeks heated, but her embarrassment was short-lived in the face of the maddening sensations running riot throughout her body. Lightning seemed to strike in the agonizingly empty place between her legs every time his tongue flicked, every time he grazed it with his teeth or pinched it between his lips. It was absolute torment, yet the instant he stopped, she found her fingers diving into his hair, drawing his head back.

  A soft huff of laughter followed her silent command, and he gave one last flick before moving to the other breast.

  If the first had been a trial, this one ought to have killed her. The sounds she made as he treated it to the same torment as the other were those of an absolute savage. It was a shock to hear herself reduced to such an uncivilized level.

  He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurred his efforts and seemed to be wringing similarly wordless utterances from him, as well. With every tug of his hair, every moan ripped from her throat, his efforts increased. After a little while, he would leave one breast for its twin, but the relief the abandoned one felt was short-lived. This pleasurable agony continued until she felt her knees begin to weaken and the muscles in her legs begin to shake.

  At which point he drew sharply on her nipple, sending an electric bolt of pure need straight down into the core of her. He released it with a soft, wet pop just as her knees buckled.

  A squeak of protest escaped her as he picked her up, hauled her over to the bed, and deposited her on it sitting upright with her legs dangling over the side. Before she could even begin to imagine what he might do next, he spread her knees apart and knelt between them, putting him at eye level with her most intimate place. Mortification sent heat flooding into her face, but he gave her no time to protest before his hot mouth was on her, his tongue laving the sensitive flesh, stroking it, teasing at the folds before its searing hot tip darted between to dip into her as a butterfly sips at a flower.

  She nearly shot off the bed, releasing a keening cry into the air as sensation rolled through her in a great wave of heat followed by gooseflesh that spread across the entire expanse of her skin, robbing her of breath. Where her hands had at first flown to his shoulders to push him away, they now gripped him tight, holding him to her as he subjected her to a torment ten times as acute as before.

  White spots swam before her eyes. Just when she felt herself on the verge of flying apart, he slowed to languorous swirls and comforting laps against her outer folds with the flat of his tongue until she was able to slow her breathing to something that didn’t threaten to make her pass out. Soft kisses were pressed against her inner thighs, which shook as though she’d run a footrace.

  When he rose, there was a look on his face unlike anything she’d ever seen. Tender, yet possessive, and oh, so dangerous, if the thundering of her heart inside its cage was any warning.

  Control. You must gain the upper hand.

  She refused to close her eyes, forcing herself to hold his stare as he stood, his intent clearly visible in his smoky gray eyes. His hands moved to his trousers, and he began slowly unbuttoning them. The long, thick rod of his manhood pressed against the material in front, tenting it. He’d have it out in a moment, and then she would have to make her move or simply surrender to whatever he had in mind.

  Again, the stubborn part of her rose up inside. Scooting back, she made room for him on the bed and let a tiny smile curl one corner of her mouth in invitation.

  His gray gaze sharpened further with pure lust, and he all but shoved his trousers down to kick them off.

  Want warred with trepidation, but she wouldn’t let fear get the better of her. Focusing on his face, she avoided looking directly at the part of him that would well and truly ruin her tonight. She could see it jutting out from his body, flush and dark with blood and desire.

  Her every muscle trembled, her every breath was ragged as he crawled up after her, angling his long body over her legs. She inched back a little more, a frisson of apprehension working its way up her spine at the unholy look in his eyes, a look that said he would as soon devour her in an instant as take his sweet time the way he’d been doing.

  Curious, she put out her hands and braced them against his shoulders. He could easily have pressed on, but he didn’t. Lowering her lashes, she dragged one hand down a few inches, caressing his chest and collarbone. Her voice, when it came out, was deep and husky with thirst, but not for wate
r. “Your turn.”

  Surprise flitted across his features but was soon replaced by a faint smirk as he retreated to sit facing her. “How do you want me?”

  Fire kissed her cheeks anew at the blunt request for direction. She ignored it in favor of glancing at the bedside table. “Lie face down on the bed.”

  A raven brow quirked up, but he did as he was told—an act which sent a rush of foreign excitement through her. She’d never put her knowledge to practical use. The thought of doing so now was…provocative. Crawling to the edge of the bed, she took up a pot of oil, several feathers, and three of the silk scarves.

  Blackthorn’s eyes were twin pools of heat as he watched her over his shoulder while she laid these items out on the bed. “What do you intend to do to me?” he murmured, a smile in his gravelly voice.

  Thankful for having calmed down a little, she tossed him a mischievous look. It wasn’t fear that had stopped her letting him go ahead and have what he so clearly wanted, but the desire to draw this out as long as possible, to gain as much pleasure as she could now, before the inevitable pain to come. “Surprise you,” she whispered, taking up one of the scarves.

  When he saw she meant to blindfold him, his eyes narrowed, but he made no protest as she bound his eyes and tied the scarf securely around his head, checking to make certain he couldn’t see.

  As she straightened, movement caught her eye, and she looked up to see…herself. The mirror she’d puzzled about earlier today reflected almost the entire bed, including her kneeling on it beside the prone man she’d chosen to become her first lover. A furious blush heated her face, and she looked down to help reclaim her composure.

  She picked up the pot of oil she’d selected and, pouring out a little, warmed it between her palms as she shifted to straddle the backs of his thighs. It was lightly scented with sandalwood and smelled like heaven.