The Devil and the Heiress

by Harper St. George

  He rose up only to have her grasp his shoulders as if she thought he was leaving. “Shh, I’m not going anywhere.”

  She settled, her palms moving to his front, roving over his chest and down to his stomach. He shifted away when she would have roamed lower. He wouldn’t last if she touched him, and he had determined that this would be about her. He would give her pleasure while taking none for himself. It would be his penance for daring to touch her, a right he did not have because he had tried to steal her for himself.

  Dipping his fingertip in her honeyed heat, he drew it up to her clitoris, using her own lubricant to glide the pad of his finger around the swollen flesh in a teasing circle. She gasped, her eyes closed tight as she arched into his touch. God she was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips parted on breathless sighs as he touched her. He massaged his finger over the sensitive nub, savoring her cry as he found the pressure she liked best. Her fists clenched in the bedding, as she gave herself over to him.

  Unable to wait any longer, he moved the finger downward to press inside her. She was so tight and white-hot that he stifled a groan, his erection demanding that he take her. Slowly thrusting in a move that urged her body to give way to him, he widened her until he could slip a second finger inside. It was as much as she could comfortably take, so he gently moved them in and out, curling them upward, fucking her with a tenderness he hadn’t known he was capable of, afraid that anything harder would rob her of her innocence.

  Swallowing thickly, he watched as her head thrashed back and forth, eyes still closed tight against the pleasure. Placing a kiss to her breast, he scraped his teeth over her nipple, before moving down her body. If this was his one chance to touch her, he would do it properly. He would leave her knowing her taste. The nightdress had worked its way up around her hips. He used his free hand to help it further along, baring her to his gaze. She was exquisite, pink and swollen, her lips parting around his fingers. A wave of raw tenderness rose up inside him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice thick and unrecognizable. He didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until she gasped and stiffened. Her eyes were wide in shock that he was gazing upon her, but her pupils were so dilated with passion that her irises appeared black. Grinning at her, he held her gaze as he lowered his head. Despite his reputation, it seemed she hadn’t fathomed such wickedness. Dear God, the things he could show her if given the chance. His thumb ceased its easy rhythm around her clitoris to be replaced with his tongue. He groaned at her sea salt taste, lapping at her to get more of it as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. She threw her head back, her cry reaching his ears as her pussy clenched around his fingers, rippling and tightening with her orgasm. He groaned again as he drank of her pleasure, grinding his cock against the mattress to help ease the ache.

  This one night would not be enough. A lifetime of nights wouldn’t be enough of her. He eased his fingers from her and lapped at her until she fell against the mattress, languid and sated. His own need, however, coursed through his body, urging him to take her and fill her with his seed. Tearing himself away, he sat on the edge of the bed, fisting his hands at his sides as he tried to keep himself from reaching for her.

  “Christian.” She fumbled for him, her hand grasping for his thigh but touching his erection instead. They both gasped.

  Chapter 17

  The plot had worked so well that Lord Lucifer should have felt triumph, for Miss Hamilton was his; but for all the joy, the bitter taste of his own betrayal lingered.

  V. Lennox, An American and the London Season

  Violet stared at the length of him barely hidden beneath the white linen of his drawers. The actual flesh of him was obscured but clearly defined in outline. He was both larger and harder than she had imagined possible for that part of him. Testing her newfound knowledge, she squeezed him gently. A groan sounded from deep in his chest.

  “You do not play fair.” His eyes were hooded and dark with animal intensity. She shivered at the hot weight of them.

  “I don’t mean to play a game. I simply want to give you pleasure as you gave to me.”

  “Violet.” The way he said her name, breathless and with a husk that promised wickedness, sent a frisson of longing pulsing through her. Her intimate flesh began to ache again. “You know this is not right.”

  “Why is it wrong?” For the life of her she couldn’t remember why it was supposed to be. “Would it be right had I stayed and wed Lord Ware? Would it be right to be sharing this night with him?”

  He growled. Growled! The rough sound vibrated through her in a way that was as pleasurable as his touch. “Never say his name to me.”

  Moving up fully onto her knees, she closed the distance between them until she was at his side, so close his body heat warmed her. The movement pulled at the nightgown, which already revealed one breast, to reveal her other. His gaze caught on the newly exposed peak. She knew that she should feel embarrassed. Once, Teddy had become over amorous and pulled at the lacing of a medieval gown she had worn to a costume ball, nearly revealing her. She had almost died of embarrassment and hadn’t met his gaze for the rest of the evening. But things were different with Christian. She felt a little shy, but never uncomfortable or ashamed.

  “You didn’t answer the question.” Empowered by his desire, she released him only to run her thumb over his bottom lip, which still glistened from how he had licked at her. She had never known such a thing was possible.

  He hissed out a breath, baring his teeth before licking at her thumb. Desire slammed into her full force as he suckled her, the hot heat of his mouth closing around her. How was it possible to want this so much when he had only recently left her sated?

  “It would always be wrong for him to have you. For anyone to have you.”

  She cupped his cheek, loving the scrape of stubble against her palm, but not as much as she had adored it rasping over her body as he had kissed her. “I see. Then I am to remain untouched and unhad for the rest of my life?”

  He groaned and rose to his feet, pacing away from her and adjusting the front of his drawers. His broad shoulders shone pale gold in the low light of the lamp, his muscles flexing under the silk of his skin. She longed to turn up the light to see him better but feared that would send him running, so she didn’t move.

  “That is not what I meant,” he said. He turned to face her, running his fingers through his hair and sending the waves rioting.

  She could only admire the breadth of his chest, each pectoral muscle clearly defined. Her palms itched to explore them, and she wanted to curl her fingers in the sprinkling of dark hair that narrowed over the flat plains of his belly. There was an indentation bisecting them that she ached to trace. The hair grew denser just below his navel, arrowing toward his low-slung drawers, half-opened now. She gasped when she saw it. The tip of him rose up, thick and pink, protruding over the top of the linen. The ache between her thighs increased, as if knowing he was meant to be inside her to assuage it.

  He saw her take notice and kept his arms up, fingers laced behind his head, as if basking in her study of him. After a moment, he said, “I won’t ruin you.”

  Blinking herself free of the mesmerizing sight of him, she forced her gaze back to his face. “Ruin me? But surely you know that I am already ruined if anyone finds out about our time together. What we do tonight won’t change that.”

  “You are correct, but I will know. I might have touched you, but I didn’t take your innocence. I didn’t dirty you with my touch.”

  Her body recoiled before her brain had time to understand what he meant. She flinched as if stricken, gathering up the voluminous folds of her borrowed nightgown to cover herself. “You think me dirty?”

  “God, no.” He hurried toward her but stopped short of touching her.

  “But you would think so if we lie together?”

  “No, not at all. I am sorry. I misspok
e.”

  Only he hadn’t misspoke at all. He had said the words. “So then if I told you that I had lain with another man before you, you would think me dirty in that case only?” Hurt bloomed in her chest.

  “I would never think that of you. There are others who might.”

  “I thought you were . . . different. I thought you understood that a woman’s worth doesn’t depend on the state of her chastity or the number of men she’s had. You have had women before. Countless ones, if the gossips can be believed. I never once thought you dirty or unworthy.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You are better than them. But there are others who would never deign to be in the same room with you if they knew you let me touch you. You might even feel yourself dirty if you knew all.”

  “There are those who would not deign to be in the same room with me even now, because my last name is Crenshaw. I don’t care about those people. I only care about you, but I can see I was—”

  “Bloody hell!” He turned away from her, frustration holding his body taut. “This is why I am rarely honorable. It never goes well.”

  She needed to be away from him. Still smarting from the pain of his senseless words, she gathered her nightgown once more and got to her feet. She would sleep downstairs, in the kitchen if it meant she could be alone. She brushed past him, her feet bare on the cold wood floor, but he seized her, his fingers tightening on the back of her neck as he dragged her back to him.

  “Forgive me?” he whispered into her hair as his arms went around her, cradling her against his chest, all the while conscious of her wounded side. His fingers massaged the back of her scalp as he placed kisses to her unmarred temple. “Please. You are precious to me, and my words were thoughtless.”

  Precious to him? She hid her face against his chest, uncertain what to make of that. Joy lightened her pain, but the ache still lingered. “Then why would you say it?”

  “Because I am a fool who can be careless with his words.” He touched her chin, inviting her to look up at him. After a moment, she relented. She desperately wanted him to be the man she thought he was. His eyes were warm and solemn, filling her with hope. “Please know that there could be a hundred men in your past and I would still admire you and hold you in high regard. I would still want you.”

  He did still want her. She could feel that his desire had not waned. It throbbed thick and solid against her belly. Her own body responded by clenching in anticipation. “And yet you hesitate to accept what I give you freely?”

  He took in a breath, pain crossing his features. “It is because I lied to you. I’ve been lying to you.” His fingertips traced over her face, skating around her stitches and near the edge of the bruise that still lingered at her right temple. “I have no right to accept what you offer.”

  Reaching up to cup his cheek, she touched his lips with her thumb. He kissed it, and her heart swelled with love for him, even as her belly swirled with anxiety at what he would reveal. You might even feel yourself dirty if you knew all. “What was your lie?”

  “The truth is that I offered to accompany you north because I hoped to gain your agreement to marry me. I hoped that if we spent time alone together that you would come to see me as a better choice. You would see that I would offer you a certain amount of freedom, freedom you would not find with Ware and men of his ilk.”

  She shook her head, stunned that the entire time she had been falling in love with him and wondering of his feelings, he had been hoping she would marry him. Falling in love. She had never put such a fine phrase to it, but she understood now that that was what was happening. She loved him. “Why did you never ask me?”

  “Because the more time I spent with you, the more I came to admire you. The more I saw you as a woman with your own hopes and dreams. I felt guilt that I had presumed to attempt to force your affection.” His voice became self-deprecating and bitter. “I cannot claim that I allowed feelings of conscience to sway me, however. I had planned to ask for your hand on the night of the accident after we stopped for the evening.”

  “You wanted to marry me?” She could not get over the fact that his thoughts had so aligned with her own.

  He nodded, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone. “I am hardly any better than Ware.”

  “And yet you are.”

  “No. I caused this.” His gaze touched her bruise. “I am worse.”

  She finally allowed herself to touch him. Her hands drifted over his shoulders and down his chest. She would have sworn his skin rippled in pleasure at the contact. His heart beat a fast rhythm beneath her palm. Biting her bottom lip to shore up her courage, she allowed her other hand to drift downward over the muscles of his belly and to the manhood jutting up against her. A drop of pearly liquid leaked from the tip. She touched it with her thumb, marveling at how silky it felt as she spread it over the head. On impulse, she brought her thumb to her lips and licked the salty taste of him.

  “Jesus, Violet.” His hands moved down to her hips as he pressed himself against her belly. His entire body trembled with restraint.

  “What would you say if I said that I still want to lie with you, even after this confession?” she teased him.

  “I would say that it was still unwise. There could be consequences, and I would not have you forced to marry me, despite my initial intentions.”

  She grinned and swung out of his grasp, privately thrilled with how his hands hesitated in letting her go. Walking slowly but with purpose, she reached beneath her pillow and removed the tin. “What if I said there could be no consequences?”

  His brow furrowed as he stared at the tin. As realization dawned, he came around the bed and took it from her. Pushing the lid open, he asked, “How did you get this?” A good bit of awe tinged his voice.

  “Mrs. Mitchell.” If she had said the Devil himself, he could not have looked more surprised.

  “On the bed. Now.”

  His voice was growly again, sending sparks of anticipation skittering over her. Laughing, she climbed into bed, half watching as he pushed his drawers down his powerful thighs and put the sheath on himself. So that’s how it worked. There was no time to consider further because he reached for the neckline of the nightgown and pulled it down past her hips. When she raised them, he pulled it completely off her, dropping it on the end of the bed. Before she could say anything, he rose over her, blocking out the light as he took her mouth in a desperate kiss. She kissed him back, vaguely aware of how his hips moved into the space between her thighs. She gasped into his mouth when she felt his erection nudging at her belly.

  “I shall try to go slow.” He ate at her neck, his teeth scraping only to soothe with his tongue. “But I have wanted you for so long.” Indeed, his whole body trembled with his need. Then his mouth found her nipples, moving from one to the other to lavish them both with equal attention. As he worked, his fingers found her core, ready and aching. Her body, already fond of his fingers, opened for him readily as he pushed two inside. She closed her eyes, pleasure cascading through her as he moved them in a gentle but firm rhythm that matched his tugs on her nipple. All too soon it wasn’t enough. Her body twisted and burned with a need more powerful.

  “Christian?” She didn’t quite know what she asked, only that the ache he teased demanded more. She needed to be filled.

  “Violet.” His voice was above her. She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her, a fine edge of pain on his face. “I need to fuck you.”

  The crude words should have been shocking. She had only ever heard that word in jokes the workmen would shout at one another at Crenshaw Iron. But when Christian said them, they transferred his desperate need to her, so that she shared his fervor. “Yes. Please.”

  He grinned, revealing the dimple that she so loved. The head of his erection pressed against her womanhood, sliding inside her the smallest bit until he met resistance. But it was only a tease. “I don
’t want to hurt you. You cannot bear my weight in this position.”

  No! Had he only meant to torment her?

  “Here.” He moved off her to stand beside the bed, and she instinctively grasped at him. Gently taking hold of her hips, he guided her to stand before him. Turning her away from him, he ran his hands down her back in a soothing stroke and bent her over the bed. “Let me know if this is uncomfortable.”

  She didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but then she didn’t know what to expect. His hands moved down her body again, slipping between her breasts and the blanket to pluck at her nipples. Darts of pure need shot directly to her core, making her body clench around emptiness. “Christian.”

  His soft breath of laughter touched her a second before he kissed the shell of her ear. One of his strong hands moved to grasp her hip, while the other pressed into the bed beside her to hold his weight. “Spread your legs,” he whispered.

  She obeyed, feeling his hard thighs move between hers. She should feel bare and vulnerable to him, spread as she was and his for the taking, but she loved the feeling of being under his power. He held her hip as he notched himself and gently pushed inside, not stopping when he met resistance. The pressure was incredible. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the blanket as he pulled out only to push in another inch. It was a slow back-and-forth, until finally her passage gave way and his groan filled the room as he sank to the hilt inside her.

  She felt full of him. Fuller than she had ever thought possible. A burning discomfort accompanied the feeling, but he didn’t move, simply stayed still, allowing her to absorb the foreignness of his body within hers. After a moment, his hand reached between her legs, and his fingers played with her clitoris, sliding over it and teasing it as he had done earlier. Little by little, the discomfort gave way to the aching pleasure from before. She canted her hips, caught as she was between the steel of his manhood and the skill of his fingers. The pulsing ache had returned, greedy and demanding more. Except this time he was there, filling her completely, creating a new wave of intoxicating pleasure with her every movement as he nudged against a sensitive place deep inside her.