“Rose,” he said softly.
Her eyes came open, soft and dewy with desire. “Yes?”
“You aren’t untouched.” Those same eyes went wide as she staggered away, and he let her. “Who took you?”
Rose pivoted and stared at the man who had just stripped away her deepest secret and summed it up in one casual question. Like the answer wasn’t everything.
“How do you know that?” she squeaked out, unable to deny what he seemed to know so easily.
He shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t move like someone who’s a virgin.”
She shook her head. “What does that mean? How does a virgin move, my lord?”
He winced at her use of title, done purposefully to put a wall between them. A useless wall, at that, but she still did it in her shock.
“Tentative,” he suggested. “Dance is just a substitute for sex, in any world. A good dancer is a good lover, but there’s good dancers who move like they’ve never been touched. Never been taken. You don’t.”
“I could simply be practiced after years of repetition and teaching,” she snapped.
“But you aren’t,” he said, a statement of fact that would not be denied. “What happened?”
Her shoulders sagged. If he could see so clearly, what was the point in lying? There was something about this place, this situation, this man that drove her to open herself up. At some point the truth would come out, especially if she gave herself over to him like she so wanted to do despite the dangers.
“I said I couldn’t marry because of my father’s actions,” she said softly. “But it’s also because of my own. He was…he worked for my father, you see. The man you want to know about. And he knew of the collapse about to become public. He convinced me that he cared.” She choked on those words, sullied with the knowledge of what would come after. “He told me that if I were already married, I could be saved from any consequences. He suggested it would be easier to convince my parents to consent if I was already compromised.”
“Did you love him?” David asked softly, not closing the distance between them, but his words and the warmth of his tone were still comforting somehow.
She bit back a sob. “I wanted to love him. More than that, I wanted him to love me, little fool that I was. So I did it. But he was a cad who only wanted my innocence. He never intended to marry me. I moved on with my life as best I could.”
His jaw set, and for a moment he seemed truly angry on her behalf. That was a new experience. After all, her father had been less than supportive after the truth came out. He had railed, purple with rage. Her mother had been a little better—she’d tried to offer comfort in private—but had never spoken up for Rose. How could she when her husband was so bitterly enraged? Rose wasn’t sure either of them had ever seen her as a victim of the circumstances.
“No wonder,” he muttered.
She cocked her head. “No wonder, what?”
“That you’re drawn to the idea of what you feel, but also repulsed by it.” He took a long step toward her. “I’m not him.”
She nodded. “I know that. I couldn’t not know it. He was a…a child compared to you. And so was I, truly. I had romantic notions. Now I’m older, wiser, I’ve seen a bit of the world.”
“Jaded?” he asked.
“A little. How can one not be?” She dropped her chin.
He slid his finger beneath it and tilted her face up. He was lost immediately in blue eyes like the sea. Dangerous and beautiful.
“Dance with me,” he whispered as his free hand cupped her hip and drew her against his once more.
She let out her breath in a ragged sigh. This was not the waltz as he eased her around the room. This was something else. Something wicked. As he ground against her gently, there was promise in that. Heat.
And even though she shouldn’t, she had no ability to deny that bubbling cauldron of desire that was finally about to boil over. She lifted her mouth, offering herself to him as shamelessly as she had ever warned a lady not to do. He ducked his head, and then he was kissing her as they moved together.
His mouth was like fire as he devoured her. She clung to his arms, lifting into him as he guided her back across the room. She was tilting, spinning, out of control, and she wanted it. Needed it. Needed him desperately.
Her legs hit something solid and she gasped as she looked back. He’d moved her to a settee in the back corner of the room. It was hidden behind a screen, probably meant as a respite for a guest who had been overwhelmed by the heat. In that moment overwhelmed was the best description of her feelings. She was dizzy and needy and unable to think of anything but feeling this man’s body against her own.
He stared down at her, his gaze locked with hers. “Do you want this? Because I already told you I don’t take if I’m not certain what I want is given freely.”
Her lips parted. This was her out. Her escape. If she refused him now, she could see he would make no more offers or attempts. They would ignore this as if it had never happened and her life would go back to the one she had built for years.
But she didn’t want that. She wanted this. She wanted him. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and have something, a moment of selfish indulgence. A moment she could savor later in her memories as she touched herself alone in her bed.
“Please don’t stop,” she whispered, heat suffusing her cheeks at the words.
His eyes widened a fraction, and then he cupped her cheeks and his mouth crushed hers once more. They fell back on the settee together. His body covered hers as he arched into her and let her feel the hard length of his body, of the cock that ground against her hip. She lifted against him out of instinct, sighing out pleasure as his mouth began to slide away from hers to her neck.
He wasn’t gentle. That wasn’t the word she would use. This was not seduction, where she was a lady he had to convince. No, this was something far more than that. This was a claiming. Taking something he knew was his. And so did she.
His mouth moved to the neckline of her plain gown and he drew back so he could unbutton the front of the dress. It parted and she gasped as he tugged it away, revealing the cotton chemise beneath. He tugged her so that she was sitting up, their noses touching as he glided his fingers up her sides and cupped her breasts through the flimsy fabric.
Her head dipped back as his thumbs stroked her nipples. He took that opportunity and pressed his lips to her throat, sucking hard. Sensation rushed through her, setting her entire body on fire, forcing sounds from her throat that she had never made in her life. Moans and cries that only seemed to urge him on.
He looped his fingers beneath the chemise straps and pushed, baring her from the waist up in one smooth, skillful motion. She hadn’t a moment to be shocked by the fact that she was now half naked with him before he dropped his mouth and sucked one nipple beneath his lips.
No one had ever touched her like this. Before, the first time, her lover had been cursory, quick. She’d been left lacking and lonely.
Now she felt alive, free as pleasure pulsed from his mouth through her entire body. Her legs shook and that heated desire she sometimes felt and slaked with her own fingers came roaring up so powerfully that she couldn’t form coherent thoughts, let alone words.
She clenched her fingers into his hair, holding him against her as he sucked and licked and plucked first one nipple, then the other. His mouth glided back up her throat and claimed her mouth again, hungry and hard and without hesitation.
His certainty fed her own, erased her worries, and she didn’t resist as he lowered her back on the cushions and pushed at the gown and chemise that were tangled around her hips. With a few deft movements, he tossed both away, leaving her only in stockings and slippers. It was only then that he pushed off the settee and went to work on his own clothing.
She watched through a hooded gaze as he devested himself of all the trappings of a gentleman that had been wrapped around him since he took his father’s title. As he tugged his shirt over his
head, she gasped. He was beautiful. Muscled, and even a little tanned. He had scars across his chest, small, but marks that spoke of the feral nature of his life until recent weeks.
She wanted to trace each one with her tongue. She wanted to feel them rub against her as this man claimed her hard and fast, erasing all memory of that earlier, uncomfortable joining.
He smiled at her, wicked, as he unfastened his trousers and kicked them away, revealing a lower body that was just as defined as the upper. And then there was his cock.
Rose didn’t have a great deal of experience with such things, of course. That one time didn’t make her an expert. But this man was impressive. The thick curve of his desire pressed against his stomach, fully erect and looking every bit as intimidating as a sword.
“They—they say the second time it doesn’t hurt,” she whispered, forcing herself to break her stare from his cock and move it to his face. “Is that…is that true?”
His expression softened a fraction and he leaned in, caging her with his arms. His mouth was close to hers as he said, “It’s been a while, so it might be a little uncomfortable as you stretch to my size. But it won’t hurt. I’ll make sure of it.”
She was about to ask him what he meant, but before she could he grasped her hips, dragged her to the edge of the settee and dropped to his knees between her thighs. She gasped, turning her head as heat filled her cheeks. She was exposed. Utterly exposed, and he licked his lips like he would devour her.
Then he did just that. He bent his head, spread her lower lips open with his fingers and his tongue crested over her in one long stroke. She dug her fingers into the settee cushions with a moan as she stared at him in surprise and shock.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, perhaps too loudly in the quiet room.
He smiled against her sex. “Just wait.”
Then he began to work her in earnest, his tongue relentless against her tender folds. She shut her eyes, reveling in the intense pleasure that action created, lifting her hips to meet it, grinding against his tongue like a shameless wanton as he built her to a fever pitch of desire and sensation. She wanted it to never end, and yet she needed release like her next breath.
He sucked her, drawing the place where she found pleasure with her fingers into his mouth. She bucked and then the pleasure was there, rolling over her in waves, forcing her to cry out and writhe beneath him as he tortured her through the length of her release.
Only when she flopped back, utterly lost, did he rise up and notch his cock at the slick entrance of her body. She met his gaze and he held it as he slowly entered her, inch by thick inch. She shivered, for the pleasure he’d just created eased the way and left her not in pain, not in discomfort, but with a marvelous sense of fullness. Completion.
When he was fully seated, he leaned over her, pressing his mouth to hers. She tasted her release on his tongue and flexed her sex in response. He grunted into her mouth.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he said, laughter thick in his voice. “But what a way to go.”
She smiled, though she was shocked by his teasing in this moment. It stripped away some of her fear, her worry, her uncertainty. It made what they were doing seem less fraught and more…fun. That hadn’t been an option she’d considered, that this activity, which was so maligned and worried over, could be fun.
He thrust gently, and her mind emptied of thoughts as she gripped his arms with her nails and let out a tiny cry.
“Hurt?” he asked, wrinkling his brow with concern.
“No,” she gasped as she lifted into him. “Just surprised.”
His grin returned slowly and he circled his hips a second time, slowly, seductively. “Surprised. By what?”
She groaned as she tried to recall any words she’d ever known. “You,” she grunted at last. “This. All of it.”
He increased the tempo of his hips, cupping her backside to grind harder, deeper. He was hitting that spot with his pelvis, the same one he’d found with his tongue, the same place she found with her own fingers. And the pleasure was growing at an alarming rate as she clenched against him for purchase. The tendons in his neck tightened and his fingers dug into her hips—bruising, probably, but she didn’t care. She just wanted this. This and never anything else.
At last she stiffened, her body arching beneath him, and she let out a cry that echoed in the ballroom around them. He stroked through the crisis once, twice, three times and then he let out his own deep grunt and withdrew to spend between them as he claimed her lips once more.
He collapsed over her, his fingers tracing her sides as he pressed kisses to her sweaty throat and murmured meaningless sounds of pleasure. She wrapped her arms around him, letting her fingers dance over the exquisite maze of muscle and scars that made up his back.
For a few moments, they remained that way. She was surprised that the position didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable.
In fact, it felt more right than it should. Her world had been turned upside-down, she’d done something that could have her drummed out of Good Society and her work forever. Somehow, it didn’t matter. Not in that heated, heavenly moment.
At last he lifted his head and snared her gaze with his own. “Does that mean you agree to my suggestion from a few days ago?” he asked.
She couldn’t help but return the smile, even as she shook her head. “It would be foolish to pretend otherwise after that boisterous display. Even if I ought not.”
“Ought,” he repeated. “Always hated that word. A life of shoulds seems awfully empty, Rose. What about what you want?”
She hesitated. Her life had turned in ways that had made her put aside the concept of want. Desire. Hope. Future. She’d accepted that. And here was this man, temptation in the flesh, offering her a glimpse of all she had set away.
She let out her breath on a shaky sigh. “What I want is you. What I want is this.”
His face lit up with pleasure and he leaned down to kiss her once more. Once they’d parted he said, “And what about when we return to London?”
She stared up at him. This close it felt like he could see into her soul. That she might even be able to do the same with him. Only that wasn’t the future either one of them had laid out before them.
“We both know this cannot last,” she responded softly. “We both know the boundaries that must be placed between us. I am perfectly amenable to exploring these pleasures, as well as teaching you as I was brought here to do, then saying goodbye once we have left this place.”
He nodded slowly, despite the troubled expression that briefly crossed his face. “Is that a bargain then?”
She smiled. “It seems to be.”
“Then what say we seal it with a kiss?” he purred, his voice going dark and rough.
She bit her lower lip and then reached up to cup the back of his head. Slowly, she drew him down to her, pressing her lips against his. He deepened the kiss immediately, and she felt the stir of him against her belly. Her body, so recently satisfied, immediately came back to life and she shuddered with the instant desire that rushed through her.
He pulled from her mouth and smiled. “Oh no, Rose. That wasn’t the kind of kiss I meant.”
Her eyes went wide, and for a moment all her hesitations flared. But then she shoved them aside. This was her only chance to explore deep and dark pleasures with a man like this. She was not going to say no.
“Then show me,” she whispered as she surrendered to his every whim.
Chapter 7
David stared at the plate of breakfast delights that had been set before him and reached for exactly the right fork. After another week of daily teaching, he had to admit that Rose’s lessons were beginning to stick. He was less uncertain about the expectations of the ton and he could even hear his accent softening and his language becoming more refined. Or at least less coarse.
As if she knew he was thinking about her, Rose looked up from the paper she was reading at his right and met his gaze. Of course he
was immediately drawn to her.
That was, in truth, a bit of a surprise. They’d shared a week on not just lessons in propriety, but in pleasure as well. He had taken this woman in every wicked way he could imagine, and she had surrendered herself willingly, enthusiastically. Yet he wasn’t tired of her. He didn’t feel the pull to escape her arms.
If anything, he never wanted their time together here to end.
But it would. And soon.
“My cousin will be here later this afternoon,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, not morose.
She smiled, as if this fact meant nothing to her when it wrecked him completely. “Yes,” she said.
“To view me and judge my progress,” he said, unable to stop himself from sounding as bitter as he felt.
She leaned forward and gently covered his hand with hers. Just that simple touch was electric and need for her pulsed. But there was something else, too. Comfort. She offered comfort, and for the first time in his life, he felt it beneath his skin, in his bones, part of his blood.
That was more dangerous than anything he’d ever encountered in a hell.
“You have done remarkably well, David,” she said.
He shrugged. “That speaks more of your teachings than of my abilities.”
She blushed. He loved making her blush. It was so easy and there were so many tones and shades of it. This blush of pleasure was lovely. So was her blush of shock when he said or did something that took her off guard. But his favorite was the blush of release, when she came beneath him and that fetching pink covered all her skin.
She ducked her head and said, “I admit, I am a little concerned that he will…he’ll see our…our connection.”
Connection. The word fit. He’d never meant to build that with her and yet he had. He trusted her advice, longed for her touch, regretted the moment that would soon come and part them. That was connection.
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, trying to maintain a lightness. “I admit, it may be hard for me to hide that I want you.” He pushed from the table, drawing her to her feet. “But I have a solution.”
My Fair Viscount: (The Scandal Sheet Book 4) Page 5