This was no sweet melding of lips as described by poets and schoolgirls. No, he devoured her, his mouth immediately opening to give her his tongue. She took it eagerly, widening to allow him in, reveling in the slick heat as his tongue twined with hers. This kiss was a battle, a test. He was showing her all the passion, all the lust inside him, and she had to prove that she could accept it. Prove that she wanted it.
Violet never could resist a challenge.
She kissed him back just as eagerly, with just as much fervor, their lips and teeth crashing into one another as their mouths worked. It was messy, almost angry, and she loved every minute of it. Ravensthorpe kissed as if he could bend the world to his will through this alone, and she wasn’t entirely sure he couldn’t.
Tearing his mouth away, he slid his lips down the column of her throat. “I might not ever recover from the sight of my cock between your lips, sweet girl.”
Her back arched as he bit her skin, his teeth digging deep to mark her, and wetness pooled between her legs. She dug her nails into his back.
Without warning, he sat up. For a moment she worried they were done, but he let his gaze travel the length of her. “I want you naked,” he growled. “Here in my study.”
“Yes,” she breathed, ready to give him almost anything if he’d just continue kissing her.
Relief flashed over his expression, as if he’d feared she would deny him. He made a motion with his hand. “Roll over.”
Max helped Violet turn onto her stomach. He wouldn’t take things far tonight, but whatever happened, he would damn well ensure that Violet enjoyed it. Nothing else mattered at the moment.
Quickly, he unfastened her bodice and unlaced her corset. Untied her bustle and skirts. He was no stranger to women’s clothing, well familiar with the tapes and hooks, and the process took hardly any time at all. Violet remained on her stomach, lifting when he ordered, allowing him to disrobe her.
With the outer layers removed, she was down to a chemise, drawers, and stockings, all white with pink satin ribbons. Perfect skin glowed underneath, the shape of her tempting him, an outline of the curves he’d imagined for months. The tip of his cock leaked, his bollocks aching with the desire to pump inside her. To defile and pleasure her. To ruin her.
You cannot fuck her. You cannot marry her.
But he could do everything else.
“On your back.”
She turned over, giving him the perfect view of her ample tits. Full and ripe, the creamy mounds spilled out over her chemise, the berry-tipped nipples jutting against the thin fabric. Her chest heaved with her excitement, thrusting her breasts higher, and Max’s mouth went dry.
He clenched his fists and contemplated rending the flimsy fabric in half. “Take off your chemise.”
She did as he asked, wriggling her hips and shoulders, revealing her bare torso to his greedy gaze. Fuck, she was perfect, with curves exactly where he liked them. His hands shook as he reached for her, his sanity slipping. “If I do something you don’t like, tell me and I’ll stop. All right?”
She nodded, but that wasn’t enough. “The words, Violet. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand, Your Grace.”
She peeked at him through her lashes, shy but emphasizing his honorific, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He fell on her like a man possessed, kissing her hard and deep, needing her like he’d never needed anyone before in his life.
Before the weight of that thought could bring him down, he moved to take the tip of her breast into his mouth, drawing deep. His hand cupped the supple flesh as he licked and sucked, loving the little whimpers she gave before he moved to the other breast to give it the same attention. Her nipples were thick, each surrounded by a large areola, and he adored the way they felt on his tongue. When she was writhing under him, moaning loudly, he pulled back to admire her. The suction from his mouth had caused her nipples to puff even more.
Jesus, everything about this girl was so damn arousing.
“You are absolutely gorgeous,” he muttered as his hands went to her drawers. “But you still have on far too much clothing.”
In a flash, he divested her of her drawers and stockings, marveling that she hadn’t yet shied from his touch or tried to cover herself. She seemed to want him every bit as much as he wanted her. Surely that wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.
It never did. His former duchess had proven that, hadn’t she?
So he would enjoy this with Violet while he could.
When she was naked, he sat on his haunches, marveling at the picture before him. Lush breasts, smooth skin, generous hips that would cushion his own perfectly . . . and her mons with its delicate triangle of hair. No man had explored there, and while Max knew he didn’t deserve to be the first, he was bastard enough not to refuse it.
“Spread your legs. Show me.”
Those pale thighs parted, revealing her pussy, and he couldn’t breathe. Goddamn beautiful. Arousal glistened on the petals, with more gathered around the entrance. He traced the soft flesh with a fingertip, relishing the slick her body produced for him. “Is all this for me?” She watched him with wide eyes as he brought the finger to his mouth and sucked the sweetness onto his tongue. “Oh, my darling girl. I fear I’ll never get enough of your taste.”
Dropping onto his stomach, he let his breath tease her until she started to squirm. Then he began licking her, gently at first, getting her used to the feel of a tongue between her legs. The taste was exquisite, tart and musky, and he felt like a fifteenth-century explorer on a voyage of discovery and delight into unchartered lands while she gasped and mewled beneath him. His cock leaked onto the carpet, the skin pulled so tight it hurt, and yet he somehow resisted the urge to hump the floor.
When his attentions focused directly on her clitoris, her entire body twitched. “Your Grace!”
He swirled his tongue over that swollen bud, loving it with his teeth and mouth, sucking and laving until she trembled. One of her hands found its way onto the back of his head, where she held him in place, fingers clutching his hair, and nothing made him prouder than his little mouse demanding her pleasure.
She was close, her body stretched like a bowstring, her chest pumping in a desperate plea for air. Max needed to feel her inexperienced walls clamp down, if not on his shaft, then on his finger. He carefully slid the tip of his smallest finger inside her cunt, and her slick walls sucked him inside as if starved. God, how he wished . . .
No. He could not even contemplate it.
Then it happened. Her thighs shook around his head, her cries ringing in his ears as she found her peak. The release went on and on, her body completely his in that moment, and the satisfaction he experienced as she climaxed on his tongue was incomparable.
When she relaxed, he removed his finger and continued to lick her, softer, relishing the additional wetness that now pooled at her entrance. So responsive, so delicious . . . he longed to do this until sunrise. But his bollocks were tight, almost painful, with the need for his own release. He feared he would spend on the carpets if he waited another moment.
Rising onto his knees, he took his cock in hand and stroked, admiring her luscious form the entire time. Christ, she was beautiful. “Play with your breasts,” he ordered, little electric shocks of lust shooting through his groin. “Pinch your nipples.”
Her hands crept to her tits, cupping them as if offering them up to him. Then she squeezed the tips, her mouth rounding in surprise, as if she’d never touched them so intimately before. Her innocence—not to mention her willingness to do as he said without question—drove him positively wild. “More,” he grunted, his hand moving faster along his shaft.
She watched his hand, seeming fascinated, as she rolled and tweaked her nipples, her tongue swiping across her lower lip. Was she thinking of sucking on him again? Swallowing his spend down her throat? God, the idea of it . . .
“Fuck,” he gasped, sensation overtaking him, heat sizzling along nerve endings, and spend eru
pted from the top of his cock to land on her stomach. He clutched her thigh to steady himself, his tight fist milking all the pleasure from his body while his limbs jerked and twitched. “So good, so damn good,” he gritted through clenched teeth. He couldn’t remember the last time he came this intensely, as if his entire body were being wrung inside out in pleasure.
Each blissful pulse washed over him, renewing and reenergizing, breathing new life into his old and tired brain. He never wanted this feeling to end.
Yet it soon did. His faculties returned slowly, and with them came the dawning horror as to how low he’d sunk.
I’ve debauched her. Touched her when I hadn’t the right.
Taken another innocent girl and horrified her with my base ways, just like Rebecca.
He hung his head, unable to look at her. What had he done?
Chapter Five
“This was a mistake.”
Ravensthorpe’s words, combined with the remorse stamped on his features, had Violet’s stomach churning. This had been the best night of her life. She could not allow him to destroy what had happened between them with recriminations.
Yes, she’d come here in the hopes of seducing him, but she hadn’t meant to trick him. Not really, anyway. While she may have tried to keep quiet at first, she hadn’t known the room would be so dark, that he wouldn’t see her face until . . . well, until it was too late. He’d made it clear at the ball he desired her. She’d planned to come tonight and give him a small nudge, to talk to him in private and convince him to give them a chance.
Of course, she hadn’t realized Ravensthorpe would begin orchestrating a seductive play the moment she walked through the door. Not that she was complaining. The man merely had to open his mouth and she was at the ready, waiting like a good little soldier to follow his instructions.
And he believed this was a mistake?
Coming up on her elbows, she said, “I don’t regret any of it. I’d do it again, in fact.”
The duke dragged a hand down his face. “Violet, you cannot possibly—”
“Stop. Do not dare tell me I cannot understand. I have much more to lose than you by being here, and I am well aware of the possible repercussions.”
“I won’t marry you.”
She flinched. The reminder was meant to put distance between them, and it worked. Pushing aside the sudden ache surrounding her heart, she reached for her stockings and pulled them on. “I haven’t asked for marriage, Your Grace.”
He mumbled something under his breath.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said to call me Max.”
He was giving her leave to use his given name? That had to mean something, didn’t it? “I haven’t asked for marriage, Max.”
Head down, he began putting his clothing back to rights. She ignored his unhappy expression and studied him instead, from his wide shoulders and strong arms, to the perfectly sculpted flat chest. Even partially dressed, he made her heart flutter.
If she ever saw him completely naked, she’d likely faint from lust.
She was tying her drawers when he moved to still her hand. His gaze was soft, but filled with resolution. “Let me help you.”
Her body melted at his sudden tenderness, and she leaned back to let him proceed. When he’d finished tying the ribbons, he ran the silk through his fingertips. “Pink and delicate. I think you wore these to drive me mad.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he righted her chemise and dropped it over her head. He smoothed the fabric down, taking extra care at her breasts. “A shame to cover these beauties.” One finger traced her right nipple slowly, almost reverently, and the flesh quickly puckered under the attention.
“My God,” he murmured. “I do love the way your body responds to me.”
Because you are the only man I’ve ever wanted.
She didn’t dare say it, however. Not while he considered tonight a mistake.
She knew otherwise. This evening had proven how much he desired her, how explosive they were together. Nothing about coming here had been a mistake.
They hardly spoke as he assisted her with the corset and bustle, the petticoats and dress. The emotional distance grew as more and more layers of clothing separated their bodies. After he handed her the black cloak, he gestured to the door. “I’ll see you out.”
The sentence held a note of finality, that this was the last time, and the possibility terrified her.
She dug in her heels. “When will I see you again?”
He sighed and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “You won’t.”
Pain ripped through her chest and settled behind her ribs. “Max—”
“Do not argue with me, Violet. We’ve satisfied our curiosity and that was that. This is not an affair.”
“I am far from having my curiosity satisfied—and it could be an affair, if you’d but allow it.”
“You ask the impossible,” he said, his voice low and angry. “And one day you’ll thank me for preventing it.”
“Because you believe you’re too old for me.”
“I know I am too old for you. And your father would never—”
“My father hardly has a moral ground upon which to stand. You of all people probably know that better than most.”
Max shifted and did not bother to deny it. She’d hit her mark, then. Indeed, Max was privy to her father’s sins. “Nonetheless, he is your father and my friend. An affair between his daughter and me is impossible.”
She hated how rational and calm he sounded, as if his mind were made up. What happened to the wild lover of moments ago, the one spewing filth from his mouth and clutching her as if he never wanted to let go? “Are you saying you’ve never slept with a woman more than twenty years your junior?”
His expression darkened at the reminder of their age difference. Stalking away, he grabbed the decanter on the side table and refilled an empty glass. After taking a large swallow of what had to be brandy, he said, “I haven’t, actually. I make a habit of choosing experienced women who needn’t be shown how to pleasure a man.”
The wounded lion lashes out.
Violet was not fooled. This man had nearly fallen at her feet moments ago, dazed by her kisses and drunk on her taste. His body’s reaction to her couldn’t have been faked, so she knew her innocence hadn’t bothered him. In fact, she would guess the opposite based on his rabid ardor—that he’d enjoyed instructing her.
Confidence surged through her like a great gust of air and filled her with newfound knowledge and purpose. She lifted her chin. “Perhaps I’ll find a young buck to teach me, then. I’ll return after some tutelage and you might reconsider.”
His gaze, possessive and dark, narrowed on her. “Do not even contemplate it, Violet.”
“Or?”
“Or I’ll put a stop to it. And beat whomever you’ve convinced to help you within an inch of his miserable bloody life.”
She bit her lip to hide her smile. Oh, yes. This was far from over between them.
“Stop looking so pleased with yourself,” he snarled. “I will only destroy you and never marry you. Consequently, you should run from this house and never look back.”
“And yet I cannot.”
“I do not want you to return. Is that clear enough for you?”
The words were like spikes through her heart, tearing the tender flesh straight through, but she would remain strong. He was stubborn . . . yet so was she. “I think you’re lying.”
His lips flattened into a thin, angry line. “I’ve pummeled men for lesser insults than the one you just handed me.”
“You won’t hurt me. I’ve known you nearly all of my life.”
“You know nothing about me.”
Yes, I do. I see you. I’ve always seen you.
She had observed him carefully during her parents’ dinner parties. Well read and intelligent, Max could speak to almost any topic, no matter how obscure. He was also kind and thoughtful. He made certain to escort elderly
Aunt Harriet, who had difficulty walking unassisted, and he doted on his son, refusing to ship the heir off to boarding school when William was a young boy.
Now she’d discovered more about the allegedly wicked Duke of Ravensthorpe. His sweetness. His giving heart. His jealousy when she mentioned other men.
He believed he would destroy her, but that was impossible. Tonight she had discovered herself . . . and Max had helped her do it.
“We shall see,” she said, cryptically.
“Goddamn it. You must listen to what I am saying.”
Yes, she was listening, and one thing was perfectly clear—she could no longer chase him. She had to give Max space and let him come to her instead. Whatever was between them only worked if they were both amenable, both willing to take risks for the other. As it was, she had risked enough for him.
What if he moves on without you?
It was a gamble, certainly. No telling how many women were angling to get in his bed. And yet, everything inside her screamed this was the right choice.
“I’ll see myself out,” she said and turned to the door.
“You are not leaving until you agree never to return.”
She paused and tried to remember this was for the best. Either way, win or lose, she couldn’t pursue Max like a hound after a fox forever. “I won’t return until you invite me.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she gave him a heated look from under her lashes. “Because you will come looking for me, Your Grace. And when you do, I’ll be waiting.”
Fourteen days.
It had been fourteen days since the night in his study, the moment when Violet had turned his world upside down, and now Max worried he was losing his mind.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop remembering their night together, and somehow the girl had burrowed under his skin with her shy smiles and bawdy demands. So eager, so brave. Looking up at him as if he were a good man, one capable of solving any problem on earth.
Duke I’d Like to F… Page 47