Lord Dangerous

by Gayle Eden

  Rotherham slid her back on his thighs, ignoring her moan, and widened his legs enough to widen hers, and then sank his finger into her. The more she moved to enhance the pleasure, the harder he thrust, until their mouths parted to release the excited breathes. She went forward, panted with her cheek against his and managed, “You touch me so well, so good, it makes me want to fall apart in some delicious way.”

  He made a sort of rumble in his throat. With her gown still slid to the waist, Trevon sat her in the opposite seat, spreading her legs wide before he husked, “Scoot your hips down a bit.”

  She did, seeing him fit her stocking clad legs over his arms—before he bent to put his mouth on her.

  Hand pressed to her mouth, she hissed inward, and then moaned, watching him lick, lave, and suckle her. When he began to thrust his tongue in her sex, Alina went a bit wild, pushing back into it, whispering rather feverishly that it felt too good.

  He raised his head once, leaning up to kiss her, to share the musk of her flavor, before he let two fingers thrust in and teased her nipples.

  “Trevon…Trevon.” She trembled.

  Aflame inside, and nearly out of her head, Alana watched him spread her wider, sucked harder. at the right moment, he had his fingers inside her, his lips and teeth raking her pleasure spot, until she climaxed with a series of trembles and moans, a frame racking shudder of intense pleasure, which he prolonged by thrusting his fingers in and out. .

  Sometime afterwards, Alina lay against his side, still only half-aware that he had directed the driver homeward. She was dazed and still in an erotic haze when they arrived. She went above to bathe and had just finished applying her lotions, when Trevon came through the door.

  The only light was a lamp’s glow in the corner, casting deep amber over the ivory satin comforter.

  Smoothing a hand over her damp hair, she stood still, nude to his gaze. Her own on eyes were on his bare feet and the open shirt, noting his hair too was wet.

  “What is that?” She asked curiously spying a box in his hand.

  “Come to the bed. I’ll show you.”

  She followed him; sitting opposite as he, half sat on the edge and unlatched the case. He folded the lid back to reveal a blue velvet lining.

  “Where does one get this?” She leaned over, fingering the ivory, glass, and more pliable phalluses. There was plugged oil with tassel tops and various other items.”

  “Here and there,” Rotherham sounded amused.

  She peeked at him, almost disappointed his smile was not full blown.

  Alina let her glance glide down him. “I like your body. I want to feel you.” She peeked back up.

  When he made no immediate protest, she stood then went round the bed to stand before him, her fingers reaching, brushing down his hard flexing cheek lightly.

  Watching his face, Alina touched his lips with the pad of her fingers before dragging them down his chin. His hand lifted to cup her bare breast. She sensed the coiled tension in him.

  Tracing a full vein in his neck, she then cupped it at the side, feeling his pulse racing before she slid her palm to his nape, flexed, and then back to the side. Slowly, not wanting him to stop her caressing, Alina brought her other hand up, not attempting to remove his shirt, but feeling those muscle-rounded shoulders under it.

  She nudged him back, until he leaned slightly against the headboard, his knee on the bed. His cinched abdomen dark in contrast to the white silk shirt falling away from it. Moving to his hip, poised on her knees, she dipped her head and began to kiss his throat, licking the taste of him while moving her head slightly, and missing nothing, even biting at his earlobe. Her mouth skimmed to his collarbone, hands gliding over his nipples, and down that incredible torso.

  He felt wonderful. Smelled—wonderful. The sleek feel of his dusky skin aroused her. More so, when she tasted his nipples, and suckled them.

  “Alina…” His hands touched her head.

  She ignored him, and ignored his tensing while raking her teeth there, and then dragging her lips and tongue down over his ribs and stomach.

  “Alina—bloody—” He jerked when her mouth reached his navel, her breath fanning over the place she’d wet.

  “Touch me,” she whispered against his skin and raked her teeth along the waistband of his trousers. “Touch me.” Alina felt him nudge her hips. She turned as he wanted, moaning, feeling his finger glide into her aching heat.

  “This arouses me.” She confessed and planted supple kisses over his skin.

  “I can see that,” he husked tightly, having his fingers bathed with her juices.

  Her hand smoothed over the area between his parted legs, feeling the amazing hardness and heat.

  Trevon uttered something gritty.

  She raised to regard him, seeing his head slightly back, eyes glittering between those sooty lashes.

  “Show me, Trevon. Show me you want this.” She laid her hand over his sex. “I need to know you do.”

  “Christ.” He covered her hand and drew in an opened-mouthed breath, hesitating seconds before withdrawing his finger from her, and at working the latches covering his cock.

  “Move back.”

  She did so while he slid more against the headboard and peeled down those snug trousers. Alina felt her blood heat. Her body flushed at the primitive beauty of his cock. His skin was only just lighter between his hipbones and around his groin, thick black curls nestled around his cock. It thrust thick and full, deeply flushed and peach of the crown looked smooth and tender.

  Trevon, after dropping the trousers, nudged her to sit between his muscled legs. He bent them slightly, watching her. His stomach cinched when he brought her soft hand to his sex.

  “It’s beautiful.” She looked up at him. “So potent and sexual. I had not—”

  “—You are bloody going to kill me.” He shook his head and looked upwards, his hands rising to grasp the headboard when she began touching on her own.

  Her fingertips traced, and her palm gliding up and down the length.

  “Christ. Christ...” came his tightly grit utterance.

  Alina stroked him, fisted him, and explored him sensually. She was as aroused by that as she was by his tight breathing, and the occasional jerk of his legs and taut stomach.

  When she leaned down and kissed the head. The wood under his hands popped from the drawing in of his muscles. His breathing became deeper, faster, and darker.

  Caught up in at last getting to pleasure him intimately, she leaned and flickered her tongue over his sex, then dragged the flat of it the crown. Aware of his legs flexing inward, of his mutters and tension, she wet her lips and parted her them. Alina took inches of his cock into her mouth, experimenting, while he whispered that she should stop.

  Her hands skimmed up his indented hips. Her tongue and lips pleasured him. Her body started to tremble simply from the energy, power, and erotic tension building in him. Muscles shifted, scents were musky, stronger, and sexual.

  When Alina made a sound of pleasure, loving the tender feel of it brushing the inside her lips, Trevon’s hands lowered to her head.

  “Ah—Christ—yes.” He seemed to give in—or rather—suddenly lose his control, breathing rapidly, body rigid and hot.

  Alina felt the subtle thrusts of his hips. Instinct led her to hold him in her mouth tighter until he lifted her head upwards, arched so that his sex was against her stomach. Pulling her up, holding her against him, he thrust and pumped his warm seed onto her skin.

  After his release, Trevon’s arms slid from around her, his breathing sounding, as if he had ran miles.

  She arose and washed herself from a bowl, often looking at the disheveled male on her white silk bed. Amazed—not only by his harsh beauty, but also by the sexual intensity that had built in him. She watched him set up and find her with a sleepy gaze before he motioned for the cloth.

  Alina brought it to him, sitting on the edge of the bed while he refreshed.

  Rotherham looked more relaxed
than she had ever seen him.

  “I enjoyed that,” she husked.

  Trevon closed his eyes and brushed a hand down his face. Finally, he looked at her, scanning her face, as if still absorbing what just happened. He husked, “Douse the lamp.”

  She arose and did so, watching him set the box on the side table, and in then in shadowy darkness skim off his shirt. He laid it on the floor. Her eyes adjusted so that she could see him well enough to feel excited when he leaned over and pushed her to her back, laying partly over her, braced on his elbow. He looked intense and rakish with his hair mussed and sliding forward.

  Alina skimmed her hand up his arm, reminding herself not to touch his back just yet. His powerful limb slid over and between hers. She bent her leg. His knee butted against her wet sex.

  Rotherham kissed her then, softly, but sensual, long, kisses that stayed supple and erotic, teasing enough to be doubly arousing. Occasionally, he kissed her ear, her throat, her cheekbone, his free hand moving over her breast, or down her hip. Stroking up and down lazily, but stirring.

  The intimacy of their breaths, the sounds of lips and mouths kissing, created a shadowy ambiance that surrounded them. It carried with it a heavy, drugged, sort of eroticism. When his leg shifted and his fingers began stroking her sex, touching her inside, Alina arched and moved subtly, her hands caressing his shoulders and upper arms.

  His touch became deeper. She sensed the sexual tension coiling inside him again. It was not only the way he touched her deeper, but the way he kissed her, and the tightening of muscles on his frame.

  Trevon moved his leg and lifted himself. On his knees between her legs then, he elevated her hips and brushed his sex between the supple folds.

  She moaned, and then gasped when he slid inside. She was filled—shocked at how his sex gliding over the nerves inside felt.

  Alina whispered, “Oh—God—yes.” Her inner walls clutched at him.

  He thrust slowly at first with her breathing matching the escalation of her pleasure. Then Trevon drove in deeply, stealing her breath—before leaving her.

  “What.” She moaned and blinked, but soon found herself on her side, her leg bent, and Trevon filling her that way. It felt—exquisite.

  He did the same slow and fast until stopping again. He took her hand and stood with her, beside of the bed.

  She felt his nudge and leaned over, her legs wide and backside there to meet the hard thrusts he started with. Gasping, Alina grasped the slick satin covers. She felt him reach around, rubbing her pleasure spot, between driving himself into her.

  “Mmmm.” She arched her neck. “Trevon…yes…yes….”

  “Alina.” He ground himself inside her, deeper, leaning over while he teased between the lips and bit softly at her back. “Am I too heavy?”

  “No,” she husked, though feeling surrounded by his dark strength. “Move inside me. Touch me, like that, again.”

  He bent his knees and proceeded to thrust, cupping her hips in front, his sex stroking fast, deep, until she was moaning louder, whispering his name, in desperate pleasure.

  When he climaxed, it was on an upstroke that lifted her off her feet.

  Alina was vaguely aware that he held her that way.

  After the shudders left him, he turned and lifted her onto the bed. Trevon left long enough to wash and then bring the cloth for her. When she was done, he slid down in the bed, and rasped over that spot between her legs with his tongue until she climaxed, stronger—more intense—due to the internal stroking.

  Trevon kissed her delicately before moving from the bed and pulling on his trousers and shirt.

  “You don’t have to leave.”

  He paused at her whisper, looking over his shoulder, where she lay nude on the bed, her eyes heavy lidded and body gracefully relaxed.

  “If I stay, we’ll neither of us be able to walk in the morning.”

  She smiled softly “I like it, when you jest.”

  Her heart skipped when she imagined she actually saw his full smile. But the darkness stole it.

  “After the theater tomorrow night, we go to one of the hells. If we’re discreet enough, we’ll make use of the breaks between games.”

  “How perfectly wicked.” She laughed and rolled to her stomach, peeking to see his gaze move to her backside.

  He murmured, “You just may be a tease, Madam.”

  “No more than you.” She lifted to her elbows and tried to see better in the dark. “I could grow very addicted to having you like this.”

  “Like this….”

  “Wanting me.”

  “Madam,” he said before leaving, “There has been no time since we met, I have not—wanted you.”

  Alina watched him pull the door closed behind him.

  “My God,” she whispered softly when it closed. “I’ve never felt anything like this…or that—in my life.”

  She rolled to her side and closed her eyes, breathing his scent amid the bedding.

  “Don’t push, Alina. Please do not put him back behind that wall. This is the most intimate step forward in your relationship. Just enjoy him….

  She had never felt so out of control, so pleasured, so intoxicated sexually. Rotherham was, behind that detachment, an intensely sexual man. Once he let it happen, it was like—an unleashing.

  Chapter 6

  Alina got her week of wicked bliss—although during other hours Rotherham was much more aloof. Every day, when they were at breakfast or out, she tried to catch glimpses of the lover in him, only to be disappointed.

  Even that somehow made the sexual more intense.

  In one gambling hell, Trevon left a game, hauled her to a cubby, lifted her, holding her, while he freed himself, and then sank his hard cock into her. It was quick, sizzling, and insanely risky—though exciting. Another time in the coach, he had pulled her on his lap and she had ridden him sensually, exquisitely.

  In their bedchamber, was where saw Rotherham unleash once they were skin to skin. Sometimes, he held her hands over her head. Others, he moved out from their bodies—or took he her from behind. It was always to her pleasure. He never started or stopped, or left her, before he gave her a deliciously blinding climax.

  At the end of that week though, Alina found herself tense, watchful, sitting in an elegant hell they had arrived at an hour earlier for an exclusive high stakes game.

  Gowned in jade silk, wearing her diamonds, Alina noticed several of the ton were present. Yet, what made her on edge was a man of about forty years, who kept staring at her from his table across the way. He lounged between hands, drinking. His manner and dress was that of a rakehell, and his dark eyes never hid what went through his mind.

  She tried to ignore him, or to frown and kept looking over at the table on a dais, where Rotherham played with a group of jewel draped women and velvet and satin suited men. It was obviously a high stakes though she never saw a hint of strain from Trevon who sipped his coffee whilst the others drank wine, champagne, and other spirits.

  Voices from other patrons moving about, playing, or sitting on the sofas near the gilt walls, mingled with music wafting from a draped off room. The highest class of courtesans attended, along with a dozen eccentric nobles and a few foreign aristocrats. Slowly applying her fan, she had chosen a seat on the white settee, knees together and back straight, diamond-decorated pumps showing at the edge of her fluted hem. The satin gown had a V bodice that showed the shadow of her breasts. Her diamond choker was a recent gift from Rotherham, diamonds in her ears and a few pins of that jewel, holding her wavy hair behind her ears.

  Tonight Alina wore her lashes darkened, and a touch of kohl at the edge of her eyes, and slightly darker lip rouge. Rotherham had said, entering her chamber, “If this game were not the highlight for many a wagering Midas, I would take you to a hotel for dinner, then bring you home and strip you of all but those diamonds and net stockings, pumps—and devour every inch of you.”

  Since he wore a white ruffled shirt, burgundy embroider
ed vest and silk black jacket with leather trousers—she could have devoured him, too.

  But now, the man across the way was not only depriving Alina of fantasizing or of being able to look at Rotherham at his leisure—he made her uncomfortable in the extreme.

  There was a time or two during the deal that Rotherham looked her way. At first, they were his sexually teasing glances that only she understood. Then Alina began to fear something showed on her face because his swarthy visage became tenser.

  Glancing at the man under her lashes, she saw his table was done with play and he leaned back slightly in his chair, sipping a brandy. He was tall and lean muscled, sinewy faced, and had that gambler/rake look about him. He caught her gaze then clearly dropped it to her bodice. She quickly jerked her head to regard Rotherham.

  A muscle ticked in Trevon’s hollow jaw while he leaned up to place his bid. She knew then that he had seen that raking stare—and that he had seen the man eying her for some time. Alina gripped the fan and pushed to her feet, moving more toward her husband, not wanting him to believe, in any way, that she welcomed such overt attention.

  She found a spot close enough but away from the table, as the rules dictated, leaning slightly against the arm of an angled chair, she clasped her wrist holding the fan, and tried to relax. Nevertheless, Alina had a gut-sinking feeling it was going to get worse.

  It did.

  She had her chin lifted, and was looking at the other players, when a voice too close behind her drawled, “You are ravishing, Madam.”

  “I am married, sir,” she bite out, feeling her heart thud. Her whole body tightened.

  He subtly touched her spine. “Not a determent for a bit of flirtation, surely?”

  Through her teeth, and with her eyes on Rotherham, she grit, “I’ve no interest in any such thing. Now, I beg you, my husband is that dark gentleman at the head of the table—Lord Rotherham, and if he so much as senses you are harassing me, he will blow your bloody head off.”