Beauty Tempts the Beast

by Lorraine Heath

  Jewel nodded, no doubt because she had also learned the advantage to having choices available. “If it’s an occupation you’re looking for, you could help me manage the boardinghouse. Your presence would add a bit of polish to it and perhaps we’d have fancier occupants.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t need your charity.”

  “It’s far from charity. Beast”—she released a quick burst of air—“I suppose I should call him the earl now. Anyway, he’s taught me a good bit about business. I know an asset when I see one.”

  Who would have thought one of her dearest friends would be a former doxy? “I appreciate the opportunity to prove my worth.”

  “Posh.” Jewel slapped her hand at the air as though an irritating fly had suddenly made an appearance. “You’ve nothing to prove to me.”

  “Caw,” Hester said, “look at the time. We all lose track of it when Beast isn’t around to remind us.”

  Althea glanced at the clock. A mere five minutes past ten, and yet those minutes seemed significant. She could fairly hear them shouting, “He’s not coming home.”

  But if he did, she wanted, needed, a night they would both long remember.

  Christ, he was tired. Who knew being a lord could be so bloody exhausting? Meeting with solicitors, the registrar at the College of Arms, answering questions, completing paperwork—

  It had all seemed to go on and on and on.

  Then dinner with his parents. More questions, more inquiries. A request. “Call us Mother and Father or Ma and Da.” Only he couldn’t, not yet. It still didn’t seem real. He was going through the motions as though it was, but he kept expecting to discover he was in a dream. One not much to his liking because it was keeping him away from Thea for long stretches of time.

  As he stepped into the residence, he looked at his watch. A little past eleven.

  Near the stairs, he hung his hat and coat on the waiting empty coat stand. He was still unaccustomed to not finding men in the parlor at this hour, to not hearing Jewel’s throaty laugh, or inhaling the fragrance of her cheroots. But the changes were good. Another couple of weeks and they would open to boarders. Not they. Jewel would open the establishment to boarders. He wouldn’t be here.

  A lightness came over him as he ascended the stairs. Thea was near. Hopefully awake, waiting for him.

  He should have made his excuses, left earlier, but following dinner his father had begun taking him on a journey through the history of his ancestors and he’d been enthralled. Each had been captured in oils, portraits hanging throughout the manor, and he’d seen something of himself in each of them. He’d wished more than ever that Thea had been with him to hear of the tales of bravery, love, challenges, sorrows, victories . . . and, yes, even outlaws, criminals, and family members hanged. It seemed a long lineage included all sorts. Rebels, heroes, heroines, and sacrifices. An older brother who had willingly walked to the gallows so a younger one wouldn’t have to. Women who married men they didn’t love in order to save the family. The storyteller in him had lapped up every word. It seemed his father had come from a long line of bards and could weave a tale that entranced.

  After they were married, he’d have the duke tell Thea all the stories just so Beast could watch the delight wash over her features.

  Tonight, however, he wanted to watch a different sort of delight make its way over her entire body. He shouldn’t have taken her so roughly and quickly the night before. He would make it up to her tonight. If she was still awake. If not, he’d slip into her bed and just hold her.

  When he reached the top floor, he glanced into the library. The room was dark, no fire upon the hearth to warm it. He missed the hours when they simply sat there and talked. Missed her.

  At her door, he knocked softly. Waited. Heard no sounds from within, not even the creak of the bed as she rolled over. Another gentle rapping, the light touch he’d learned in his youth that woke no one other than the person who needed to wake. But still all was quiet on the other side, and her door remained closed. He flattened his palm against the mahogany as he considered going inside but didn’t want to disturb her unnecessarily, especially if she was sleeping soundly.

  Turning for his bedchamber, he decided to prepare for bed, stripping down to his trousers and shirt, ridding himself of his boots, so he would barely make a sound as he joined her beneath the covers.

  After opening his door, he stepped through and froze at the sight of her lounging on his bed like a contented cat, her hair loose and cascading down her back. She wore naught but a red corset that shoved up her breasts where black lace teased. Its length was such that the laced hem dipped down in the front to cover the blond curls that brought him such delight, but the way she’d positioned herself revealed the back of the corset riding high on her right cheek—no doubt on her left as well, although he couldn’t see it. The black piping running down the front accentuated her curves.

  “Christ.” Was that rough rasp his voice?

  “You might want to shut the door,” she said calmly as though he’d retained the ability to move at all.

  Still, he somehow managed to do as she suggested without slamming it, without disturbing the rest of the household. “Is that the outfit for seduction I asked Beth to make for you?”

  “I believe you ordered she make it.” In a sinewy move, she rolled off the bed, giving him a good view of all that it didn’t cover, and his body reacted as though his hands were already skimming over that bare flesh. “I told you she could have used a bit more fabric.”

  “It’s only a corset.”

  Stopping in front of him, she glanced up into his eyes. “It does come with a skirt, but I thought why make you go to all the bother of removing it when I could simply not put it on.” Reaching up, she curled her fingers along his jaw. “I wasn’t certain you were coming back tonight.”

  “I’ll always come back.” If she wasn’t standing there looking so delectable, he would have shared with her all that had delayed him, but it now seemed insignificant. He most certainly wouldn’t be tardy again. He started to shrug out of his jacket. She flattened a hand against his chest.

  “I want to do it. I want to remove everything from your person.”

  “You’ll be the death of me.”

  “But won’t it be a lovely way to go?”

  With a growl he took possession of the mouth with the power to utter words that had the capability of dropping him to his knees. He would never get enough of the taste of her, the feel of her, the fragrance of her. The boldness of her. Ah, yes, especially the boldness of her.

  Without separating her lips from his, she shoved his jacket off his shoulders, down his arms. It landed with a soft thud on the floor.

  Cradling her head between his hands, he adjusted the angle of her mouth slightly and took the kiss deeper, their tongues twisting and twining as her fingers skimmed over his waistcoat buttons, setting them all free. He admired her patience. He’d have been content to hear the buttons pinging across the room as they were sent flying with the force of the fabric being torn.

  The satin garment landed against his jacket with merely a whisper. His neck cloth quickly followed. When she began unfastening the buttons on his shirt, he went to work on the cuffs, even though he hated that he had to take his hands from her to do it. Ah, but what he was going to do to her with his hands once he was free of all the blasted clothing.

  He had to separate himself from her completely in order to pull the shirt over his head.

  “Let me see to my boots.” He dropped into the nearby chair, grabbed a boot, stopped as his gaze fell on that little bit of pointed cloth that so effectively covered the sight of heaven. But if he was to dip his head just a little bit more . . .

  “You’re only wearing the corset, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  He lifted his gaze to hers. “How can a bit of frippery drive me mad?”

  “Does it?” Her innocent tone only served to increase the madness.

&nb
sp; “You know it does.”

  She pressed her lips together, smacked them, ran her tongue around them. Lord help him, he was going to spill his seed before he ever got out of his trousers. He jerked off his boots, his stockings. Stood. Reached for the buttons on his trousers—

  Her hands landed on his. “I want to do it.”

  “Do it quickly.”

  She peered up at him with a saucy smile. “I’ll do it as I want.”

  “Why are you torturing me?”

  “Am I?”

  “You know you are, you little witch.”

  One button freed. Thank God.

  “You always lead, and I follow,” she said quietly, studying the fall of his trousers. Surely, she could see that his swollen cock was about to cause the remaining secured buttons to pop off. “I want to lead tonight.”

  He hadn’t realized he always led. Often, to him, it felt as though they were taking direction from each other. Except for last night, when he’d needed her so desperately and had set the pace, the frenzy. Not that she’d objected. Still, perhaps tonight was his punishment. As far as punishments went, it was one of the more pleasant ones.

  Another button. Another, another until they were all freed.

  With her nails, she lightly scored his buttocks as she drew down his trousers. The tremor that fissured deliciously through him with the scrape of her nails was nearly his undoing, and he almost didn’t notice that she’d gone to her knees in order to lower his trousers all the way. After stepping out of them and kicking them aside, he reached down to help her to her feet, but when his hands curled around her shoulders—

  “No.”

  He froze, waited.

  She trailed her fingers up and down his thighs. “You have such firm legs.”

  She pressed a kiss to his knee. His knee, for God’s sake. It very nearly buckled. Then an inch above his knee. The inside of his thigh.

  “You often do very wicked things between my thighs with your mouth,” she said solemnly. She bent back her head, met his gaze. “Why did you never teach me that I could do something very similar to you?”

  Was she insinuating what he thought she was? “Because I didn’t think you’d enjoy it.”

  “Do you taste like Brussels sprouts, then?”

  He furrowed his brow. “I very much doubt it.”

  Her lids half-lowered; her mouth pouted prettily. “That’s the only taste I abhor.”

  His groan came up from the soles of his feet. “Thea—”

  “I want to taste you.” Her hands were clasping the backs of his legs, her mouth once again pressed to the inside of his thigh. “Would you like me to?”

  How could she sound so innocent and yet so worldly at the same time?

  “Yes.” It came out as more a croak than a word.

  She nipped at the sensitive skin where her mouth rested. His stomach tightened. His hands fisted. He couldn’t take his gaze off the sight of her fair head so near to his cock. The unruly thing strained toward her. He had no luck whatsoever making it behave, no doubt because he had no desire for it to.

  Her hands came around, and she closed her fingers around the base of his shaft, and now it had no choice except to do as she commanded. She licked her lips, then kissed the head, and the pleasure that shot through him caused every muscle to tighten. He threaded his fingers through her soft hair because he couldn’t not touch her when she was touching him so intimately.

  “No Brussels sprout flavor,” she said, and took her tongue on a tour that left no part of that throbbing member overlooked. With a low groan, he dropped his head back with the exquisiteness of the sensations riffling through him.

  A little death. That was what the French called it. He was going to die, here and now.

  Then he felt her mouth—heat, dampness, softness—closing around him and every inch of him tensed. Glancing down, he watched as her head bobbed while she worked those plump lips and her velvety tongue over his sensitive flesh. “Thea . . . God . . . uh . . . do you know how beautiful you are?”

  She didn’t answer, simply took him deeper, and he honestly didn’t know if he was going to survive her enthusiastic ministrations.

  Chapter 27

  Althea wondered if he could feel her smile. His groans and moans and occasional curses only incited her to torment him further. His fingers kept jerking, his thighs quaked, his stomach quavered.

  It made her happy to realize how much he was enjoying this. Not in a giddy, laughing, twirling-in-the-snow sort of way. But in a darkly, delicious, sweet-agony sort of way. She was incredibly familiar with the madness all those contradicting sensations could create. He’d put her through them often enough. It pleased her greatly to be returning the favor.

  “Thea . . . sweetheart . . . I can’t take much more.” Gently, he cradled her jaw and eased away from her. “Let me take you to bed now.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Did you like it?”

  “I loved it.” Bringing her to her feet, he swept her up into his arms. “Kiss me, so I know what I taste like.”

  Plastering her mouth onto his with an enthusiasm indicating she’d die if she didn’t, she swept her tongue over his, sighed as he sucked on her tongue as she’d sucked him. Their fall onto the bed broke the kiss but did little else to separate them as he took his mouth on a journey over the swells of her breasts.

  “I’m torn between keeping this damn thing on you and taking it off,” he declared with vehemence.

  “Leave it on.”

  “It drives me mad. But now it’s my turn.” He scooted down until he was nestled between her thighs. The first stroke along her cleft was with his forefinger. “My God, but you’re wet. You liked what you were doing.”

  “I did. Do you like what you’re about to do down there?”

  His lids were half-lowered, his gaze sultry. “I wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t.”

  Then his tongue replaced his finger, the caress slow and long, and she very nearly saw stars. She was so ready for him. Her little nubbin swollen and throbbing and so very sensitive to his touch. When he tugged on it, she jerked up, almost sitting, cradling his head between her hands. “I think I’m a wanton.”

  “I love wantons.”

  A suckle, a swirl of his tongue, and her entire body tensed, crying out for release. “I can’t hold on.”

  “Then fly.”

  “Not without you. Not tonight. I want you inside me.”

  With a growl, he moved swiftly, rolling away from her, landing on his back. “Straddle me so I can appreciate this maddening corset.”

  Placing her knees on either side of his hips, she rose up. He positioned himself, and she began slowly pushing down until he was completely seated inside her. He filled her entirely, felt so wonderful. She blinked back the tears that threatened. She waited, simply absorbing all the wonderful sensations she experienced when they were joined.

  “Can you breathe with this thing on?” he asked.

  “Not well.”

  “We can’t have that. Besides, I think it’s done its job. It and your mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my entire life.”

  She released a small laugh, partly because he sounded so disgruntled, partly because he sounded so satisfied and pleased.

  He flicked the hooks free of their mooring, and breath rushed into her lungs. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed it.

  After pulling the corset away from her, he dropped it over the side of the bed. He filled his hands with her breasts, began kneading.

  She moaned. “That feels so damned good.”

  “Did you just use profanity?”

  With a smile, she lowered herself, kissed him. “I think my breasts were going to sleep. You’ve woken them up. It feels marvelous.”

  Placing his hands at her back, he held her in place as he rolled his shoulders off the bed and closed his mouth around her nipple, suckling and soothing. That felt even better.

  He gave the same attention to her other breast
, before dropping back down. “You have the reins, sweetheart. Ride me. Fast, slow, gentle, hard. I’ll follow your lead.”

  At that moment she didn’t know if it was possible to love him any more than she did. She rose up the length of him, slid back down. It was a different angle from what she’d ever experienced. She liked it. She liked it a lot. Then she began rocking, creating pressure where she needed it.

  “Oh, you’re enjoying that,” he said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you look like you’ve found heaven.”

  She had. With him. But she didn’t want to think about that now. Those thoughts were for later.

  As his hands returned to her breasts, she rode him, increasing the tempo, sliding, rocking. They began panting in earnest; the pleasure began building. But the peak eluded her.

  “I can’t . . .” She shook her head. How could she explain it? “I don’t . . .”

  He cradled her hips between his hands. She slid up, and he guided her down with more force. The pleasure intensified. She gasped.

  “Is that what you need?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes.”

  Because his hands were occupied, she used her own to knead her breasts, to tease her nipples, her joy increasing as his eyes darkened, his jaw clenched. All her nerve endings began tingling. The most exquisite sensations rushed through her.

  When they exploded, she had to bite her fist to keep her scream contained. The vibrations were still erupting through her when he dug his fingers into her hips, groaned, and thrust deeply into her one last time.

  She collapsed on top of him, not certain she’d ever again move.

  Beast didn’t know why he’d never thought to bring her to his chamber. His bed was larger than hers. They had plenty of room to sprawl over it. Not that they needed it. As always, afterward, she snuggled against his side, one of her legs draped over his hip, while he held her close.

  “I like when you lead,” he said. “I like it very much. I think you should lead every time.”