The Rakehell of Roth
Page 28
“Is this an auction?” she asked when she was settled, the sight of her bare, pink toes and trim ankles making his body harden to indecent proportions.
“If you wish it to be.” Winter drew a shuddering breath, holding her pale blue eyes that were hot with desire, burning like the brightest part of a flame. “The bidding will start at one thousand pounds.”
“That’s rather high, isn’t it?” she commented.
“Keep watching, my lady. I’m well aware of my worth and what this body can do.” He enjoyed the blush that spread across her chest and climbed into her already pink cheeks.
Mimicking her earlier actions, he kicked off his riding boots and then his stockings, feeling the cool grass beneath his feet. Feeling like a prized stallion on display at Tattersalls, he turned in slow motion, unfastening the first few buttons on his falls so that his breeches hung low on his hips. When he completed the oscillation, her indrawn breath was loud in the silence, her hot stare fastened on the two V-shaped strips of muscle that arrowed down to his groin.
He cleared his dry throat. “Does the lady wish to make a bid?”
“Five thousand,” she groaned. “Two more to lose the togs.”
He tutted and rolled his hips in an explicit thrust better suited to a bordello than the grounds of a duke’s country estate. “That’s not how auctions work, darling. Anticipation is half the battle.”
Winter almost grinned as he saw her fingers knot reflexively into the fabric of the coat beneath her. “Off. Now. Roth.”
The growling command in her voice made him weep his arousal into his clothes. Fuck, he’d never been harder. He was dominant by nature, but by God, the sound of his woman making her demands known in no uncertain terms made him want to kneel at her feet in supplication.
“As my lady wishes.”
With one flick of his fingers, his breeches slid to the ground, and the sound of her needy gasp was his undoing. Her lustful gaze fastened to his groin, where the evidence of what she did to him stood thick, erect, and proud. Never had Winter ever had a woman look at him with such need, such blazing desire. It fueled him. Empowered him.
“Sold!” he croaked. “To the lady in the front row.”
“You were right,” Isobel whispered, patting a spot in front of her and widening her thighs in invitation. Oh, hell. Winter’s mouth went dry. “Worth every penny. Now come here.”
He knelt on his coat, between her spread legs. “You’re a little overdressed,” he murmured. “I can help with that.” When she nodded her approval, Winter made fast work of her shirt, baring her chest that was bound in linen. He pressed a line of kisses to her hot skin at the top edge of the bandage. “Now this is a travesty. These sweet beauties should not be treated in so rude a manner.”
Unwrapping the linen, Isobel let out a moan as the warm evening air caressed her breasts. Their pink tips budded, and Winter’s mouth watered with the need to taste them. He lowered his head and took one berry-tipped peak between his lips. His wife arched into him as his tongue curled around the sweetest nipple he’d ever tasted.
“Delicious,” he murmured, adoring the other breast with equal attention, lest it should feel left out. He kissed his way down her torso, rubbing his cheek against the soft curve of her hip and feeling her shiver.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, her fingers slipping through his hair. “I’m fine. Just nerves.”
“You have nothing to be nervous about.” Isobel writhed against his continued downward path until he kissed a line across her breeches. “These have to go.”
She offered no protest as he tugged them down her thighs, all the way to her feet and deliberately not staring at her nudity, until he could take her in fully.
Crouched at her feet, awe and love filled him. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
A pink blush distilled its way through her skin as he stared in mute appreciation, taking in the lush landscape of her perfect breasts, her tiny waist, those flaring hips, and long, lean legs, topped by a tuft of gold at the juncture of her thighs. Once more, his mouth watered.
He gave in, nibbling and biting his way up each leg, taking care to learn the places that made her tremble, and moan, and sigh—like the arch of her foot or the bend of her knee. Her pants increased as he kissed a leisurely path up her inner thighs, closer to his destination.
“Winter…”
“Hush, love,” he whispered, settling himself in place, his wide shoulder urging her limbs to part. She was so boldly passionate and yet so innocent. The combination drove him crazy. He wanted to be the one to pleasure her as she deserved, to make love to her as she deserved, and she would accept every second of it. He would make her body sing.
“I don’t…what are you doing?”
“Loving you,” he said before setting his mouth to her center.
His eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the first flick of his tongue. Fuck, she tasted like summer and sin, heaven and decadence. Her hips nearly arched off the ground, a moan breaking from the depths of her that had his own answering groan replying to hers. He loved how responsive and open she was, not hiding, not faking what she felt.
This was a far cry from the explosive coupling in the alley, but he wanted to take his time. He wanted to worship her beautiful body, to show her with actions what he hadn’t been able to say before. She owned every single part of him, for better or for worse.
Winter nibbled and sucked, licked and thrust, devouring every delectable inch of her until she was a writhing mass of need…until she cried out, went still, and then tumbled over the edge.
He crawled his way up her body, meeting her heavy-lidded, delirious gaze as he settled his large body over hers, his elbows bracketing her on either side. Those beautiful pale eyes of hers glimmered. “You’re full of surprises, Lord Roth,” she said in a sultry voice steeped in sex.
His cock jumped between them, and her eyes widened.
Winter’s lips formed a gratified smirk. “Told you, I know my worth.”
…
That he did. Molten waves of pleasure still undulated through Isobel’s satisfied body. He was very, very good at that. Extraordinarily good.
Ice sluiced through her and she bit her lip, stilling beneath him. She had to ask, even though this was not the best time to do so, she had to know. “Winter, did you ever…” She trailed off, embarrassed. “With the auctions at The Silver Scythe, was this part of it?”
He had to understand what she was asking: whether sexual pleasure was part of the prize.
“No,” he said, those silver eyes of his capturing hers. “Not for me. One time it was to attend a ball with a wallflower. Needless to say, she was engaged within a fortnight after being seen on the Rakehell of Roth’s arm.”
Isobel smiled. “Cocky.”
His hips rolled slightly, his hardness pressing against her sensitive softness, making her gasp. “Indeed,” he went on with a wicked grin. “Another time was to make a prospective suitor jealous enough to propose to a lady. Also, no surprise when he did. And the last time, last year, you saw what Lady Hammerton had me do.”
Isobel did—that gorgeous portrait of masculine beauty was etched into her mind.
“Why do you do it?” she asked. “The auctions?”
“At first, when I wanted to raise money for Prue’s shelter, we started offering items that patrons wanted to donate or get rid of—paintings, jewelry, and whatnot. And then one evening when I was modeling a particularly fetching timepiece, the notorious hellions, Lady Verne, Beswick’s aunt, and of course, her partner in crime, Lady Hammerton, called out a ridiculous sum for both me and the watch. And thus, the idea was born.” He smiled. “It was fun, made money, and people loved it. The men take it in good sport, some women feel vindicated in having a man at their beck and call, and everyone’s happy.
”
Isobel squirmed beneath him, pleasure starting to build at the lean, hard sensation of him pressing her into the ground. She looped her arms around his neck and drew him down for a kiss. His mouth was warm and soft, and tasted shockingly of her own arousal and a deeper flavor that was uniquely him. She couldn’t get enough.
“I like having you at my beck and call,” she whispered when they broke apart, panting for breath. “And right now, I command you to lie on your back. It’s my turn to play the adventurer.”
“Is it?” His eyes darkened, but he complied when she gave a firm nod. “As you wish.”
He rolled them over in a swift motion that made her breath stick in her lungs, and then she was straddling him in the most lewd, pleasurable position possible. Isobel gorged her fill of him, eyes tracing those golden stacks of muscle, his broad shoulders and that chiseled face fit for a Greek God. Handsome was too tame a word to describe him.
Her fingers stroked his chest, making the coiled muscle beneath leap. She circled the small coins of his nipples, watching them tighten, and then bent her head to sample them with her tongue. Winter groaned her name and she smiled. She wanted him to be moaning it, shouting it. Shimmying down the length of him, she dragged her mouth over each tight ridge of his abdomen, licked into his navel—which made his hips jerk—and then went lower.
“Isobel.” The whisper was a warning. A plea. A benediction.
She stared curiously at the appendage that interested her the most. Winter’s cock. Lady Darcy had done an expose on names to describe coitus and its various parts, including the filthier ones. Thank goodness for Lady Darcy, Isobel thought now, or she might not be able to continue. The thought that this part of him had fit into her body made her core muscles warm and clench.
Unable to stop her exploration, her fingers slid over him, not even completing the circumference. His cock was hot and silky-smooth, the lightly furred globes at its base round and tight. She caressed them, too, taking pleasure in watching his every reaction to her touch.
“Do you like this?” she couldn’t help asking, stroking from base to tip.
He groaned. “Yes.”
She wanted to put her mouth on him. Though she and Clarissa had discussed this shocking act at great, clandestine length, she was still unsure. But if it felt half as good as it’d been for her when he’d kissed her there, she suspected it would please him.
A bead of liquid gathered at the top as her fingers slid down his shaft again. Gentle hands fell into her hair, winding into the tendrils that had escaped her braid and tightened when she took the broad crown into her mouth. His essence was spicy with a hint of brine, not unpleasant, but like nothing she’d ever tasted. Inexplicably, she wanted more.
Keeping her hands firmly around his base, she worked her mouth over him, reveling in the indecent grunts coming from him. His grip tightened in her hair and she felt her own arousal heighten at the slight pain.
“Fuck, Isobel,” he groaned. “Enough or I’ll spend.”
Her mouth slid off of him as she met his eyes down the glorious landscape of his sweat-sheened body. “Isn’t that the point?”
“How do you even know such a thing?” he bit out when she gave a leisurely lick.
She warmed at the praise, but had to give credit where it was due, though it was kind of self-praise in a way. “Lady Darcy.”
“Why am I not surprised?” he said with a guttural laugh. “That harridan lives to corrupt innocent ladies.”
Isobel gave a pretend nip, making him yelp. “I think the word you’re looking for, Lord Rakehell, is enlighten. Or elucidate. Or educate. Our sex does not appreciate being kept in the dark like forgotten mushrooms.”
“Fair point, but I’m forced to concede it given my precarious position at your questionable mercy.”
“You doubt me? I’m wounded, husband.” She licked her lips and took him deep.
With a strangled noise, Winter hooked his hands beneath her shoulders and dragged her up so she was splayed on top of him like a loose-limbed ragdoll. “Not this time,” he growled. “I want to be inside of you where I belong when I come.”
In a swift move, he flipped her back under him. Isobel trembled at the savage look on his face. His eyes were almost black with desire, his body coiled and tense like a predator ready to claim what was his. And she was ready to be claimed. As much as he played at letting her have control, Isobel loved this side of him when he took charge. She wanted to be possessed by him. Owned by him. Swived to within an inch of her life.
She grinned at her indelicate thoughts, her body drowning in delicious want.
“What were you thinking just then?” he asked, positioning his body between her hips.
Boldly, devotedly, she met her husband’s eyes. “That I want you to fuck me senseless.”
“Christ, Isobel,” he grated, his cock jerking wildly against her, “you cannot say such things to me!”
“Why?” she teased and tilted her own hips to receive him, feeling him notch into place where she was hot and wet. “When you clearly like it so much?”
“I do like it, but I want to be gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle. I want you as you are.”
Winter didn’t question her desire. He entered her in one powerful thrust that wrenched a low moan of approval from Isobel’s chest. God, he filled her to bursting. But like with his hand on her hair before, the pain of his entry and his girth skirted the edges of pleasure, blurring them into something indefinable. Something transcendent.
“Good so far, love?” he ground out huskily, withdrawing slightly and shoving back in.
“Yes.” It was a gasp of need. “I need you to move. Now!”
His laugher rumbled against her. “Patience, little tigress.”
When he did begin to move, his huge body owning hers with every deep pull and slide, Isobel could only hold on, wrapping her ankles around the backs of his firm, hair-roughened thighs and digging her nails into the meat of his shoulders. There would be marks left there, she was sure, but she didn’t care. She wanted to mark every inch of him as he was marking her.
The pleasure began to build as ribbons of heat cascaded from between her legs to the rest of her body, tethering her to that one spot. To him. To where they were joined.
“Harder, Winter,” she commanded.
His eyes widened, but she nodded. She wanted him unleashed. Ungoverned. Wholly him. His pace increased as he flung one of her legs over his shoulder, pressing so deeply into her body that she could feel him everywhere. The position made his pelvis drag against her sex, sparks of pleasure bursting every time his body ground into hers.
Her eyes screwed shut when it became too much to bear. “Oh God, Winter…don’t stop.”
“I’ll never stop.”
Her orgasm burst from her like an explosion, relentlessly burning everything in its path until there was nothing left but passion and ash. She felt him slow, his body thickening on the verge of his own release, and in that moment, her husband’s eyes met hers.
“Winter?” she whispered, seeing the emotion on his face.
Silvery gray eyes seized hers, the unguarded adoration in them staggering. His hands reached up to cup her jaw as he leaned down to press the sweetest, most tender kiss to her lips.
“I love you, Isobel,” he said. “And I want everything with you. Children, a future, whatever will make you happy.”
And then with a few short thrusts, Winter was there, leaping over the edge into the flames with her, incinerating them in tandem. To Isobel’s stunned surprise, her body released again, as her husband emptied himself and his love inside of her.
He gave her everything he had to give.
Chapter Twenty-Six
If you don’t feel like you are about to expire from organ failure, you’re not doing it right.
– Lady Darcy
After several weeks, a gloating Matteo, along with the rest of his London staff, delightedly followed their master’s swift departure from town. Even Ludlow wore a ridiculous smile on his face. If Winter had known getting on the cranky butler’s good side meant bringing Lady Roth home, he might have done it years ago. Certainly, if he’d known he could be this happy, he would have done it from the start.
Winter felt his sated body stir as he watched his sultry wife saunter across the room to the breakfast tray that had been delivered earlier. Breakfast being a stretch since it was already late afternoon. It had been a long, and undeniably pleasurable, night…one that he intended to repeat as often as possible.
Even in a silk robe, Isobel exuded sensuality. The golden coils of her hair were piled into a loose top knot, and she wore the look of a thoroughly satisfied woman.
He didn’t miss her slight wince as she sat in a chair near the window.
“Sore, love?” he asked.
The smile she gave him radiant, her cheeks going pink. “A bit.”
“I can rub it better.”
“If I come near you, we both know what’s going to happen,” she said wryly. “And my body needs food, Lord Insatiable.”
He threw a hand to his chest. “It’s not my fault my wife is a ruthless temptress.”
“Ruthless, am I?” she shot back. “If I recall, I wasn’t the one who was ruthless.”
Her blush intensified as she no doubt recalled being restrained while he’d pleasured her until they were both mad with lust. The coupling that had followed had been frantic, swift, and hard. Other times, they’d made love slowly, but for some reason, the passionate ferocity of the previous night stuck like thickened honey in his mind.