by Suzi Love
A couple of smaller, less urgent thrusts wrung him out and drained the last drops. She swallowed deeply, gulping at the volume he’d inflicted upon her. His body shook and he dropped to his knees before her, head bowed on her neck, and waited for the trembles to cease. She lifted her arms and engulfed his quaking form, hugged him, and held him until he came back to himself. Until he came back to her.
Nuzzling her neck, he licked at the taste of her soap-washed neck, the delicious scent of lemon tickling his senses. Every time he inhaled the scent of citrus, he’d remember this. And he’d think of her. Fresh and enticing. Too sweet and wholesome to be sullied by a man like him. Sucking in a deep breath, he drew back a little, keeping his hands on her shoulders.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I tried to stop. I swear I tried.”
He picked up the wet cloth and carefully wiped her mouth and face, removing all trace of himself and his clinging climax.
“I wanted it, Justin. I did it.”
He shook his head. “I mean I should never have let myself empty into your mouth in that way. It’s unseemly for a lady of good breeding to know of such things, let alone be forced to endure it.”
She looked at him in surprise, and then she laughed, dropping her head to his shoulder in her mirth.
“Why is that so amusing?” He felt irritated his attempt at consideration and conservatism was met with such hilarity.
“Because … “ she gasped, still laughing, “because last night we watched a row of a dozen women swallow the results from sucking on the organs of a dozen men. And it was your idea to show us. You who took us there to shock us. Now, today, you’re worried about my good breeding. Doesn’t your concern seem a little misplaced?”
He gave a halfhearted grin and shrugged. “It does make me something of a hypocrite.”
“Justin, you didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want. You’ve made me hungry to try things I didn’t know about in my marriage.
The excitement Geoffrey denied me. Now I’ve realized how much I missed, I want it. All of it.”
With a gentle hand, he brushed the damp hair back from her face. Her skin glowed. She looked flushed, excited, and triumphant. He drew her to her feet and moved to position her as he wanted her to repay her by giving her the same sort of pleasure she’d freely given to him.
“Put your leg up on the stool, here.” He raised her leg and placed it on the stool next to the soap dish. Her eyes went wide with realization and she dropped her hands to her exposed groin, attempting to cover herself with widespread fingers.
“No,” he said, dropping a light kiss on her full lips. “Let me look. I want to see all of you.” He nudged her hands aside and with one finger rubbed through her silky curls. He kept his eyes fixed on hers. “Do you play with yourself here?”
Her mouth dropped open as a denial sprang to her lips, but he shook his head.
“Tell me the truth because I’ll know if you lie to me.”
“How?”
“Because already you’re wet and soft to my touch. So I know that you’ve done this before. Your body is readying itself for what’s about to happen. And I very much doubt that your dearest Geoffrey spent any time preparing your body, making you so slick and hot your passage screamed out for a man to fill it. To slide inside with his swollen cock and rub against every place you need the ache to be soothed.”
“How … “ She gasped again, as his finger continued to stroke through her wet folds in a slow and steady motion. “How do you know what my body wants?”
“Because all women’s bodies are made to take a man inside them. To procreate, and to create the ultimate in pleasure. Am I giving you pleasure now, Chrissie?”
Her head jerked in several shaky nod while her legs trembled as he continued his relentless stroking, probing deeper and deeper between her puffy folds.
“Do you want even more? Do you want me to give you an orgasm— the same way you did to me?” This time her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and her mouth formed a small pouting oval as she tried to imagine the action required. Her brows furrowed into a frown, and he knew he’d confused her.
She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound issued. Her pink tongue darted out to sweep over her lips, dampened them, and made them pulse blood red.
Justin groaned. He’d just exploded into the welcoming cavern of this beautiful lady’s mouth, yet when she licked her lips his knees shook with the force of his renewed desire. With his free hand, he ran his fingers over her plump lips and dipped inside her mouth. Her teeth parted as he entered.
“Can you feel me inside you here?”
He twirled his finger around the roof of her mouth and slowly withdrew. The suction of her mouth released his digit with a loud pop.
“And in here?” With his other finger, he swirled the swollen bud of her clitoris where it proudly protruded. Thank the good Lord she felt the strong pull between them as intensely as he did. Hell, he felt it as never before.
Minutes after his last climax, his body was tensed and ready. His growing erection pressed against her hip, prodded her, a demonstration of how much he wanted her. Again, already, urgently.
She looked down at him, his penis standing long and straight against her side, and she gasped. “Again? I didn’t know. I mean … Geoffrey never … “
The pink in her cheeks deepened and she dipped her head. He placed a finger under her chin to raise her to meet his gaze. He nodded.
“Generally, men require a much longer time to recuperate. Yet I only need to look at your body, so soft and pink and with so many curves, that my own body responds the only way it knows. By readying itself again.” He sucked in a breath, inhaled the heady essence of aroused female, and in an instant he was more than ready. He was hungry again, ravenous for the smell and taste of her.
“Chrissie, believe me, I’m ready to take you, to have you. To drive myself deeply inside you and ride you. I’m ready now, I’ll probably be ready again very soon. And then I’ll more than likely want you again after that. One taste of you will never be enough.”
Chrissie trembled in his arms, her breath came in loud pants, and her heart pounded against the wall of her chest. He felt an unprecedented urge to make this experience perfect for her, to show her a small part of the pleasure she’d given him. Dropping to his knees, he used both thumbs to part her folds. He swallowed, twice, needing a moment to compose himself after sighting her seductive pink coloring.
“So pretty. So pink and sweet.”
He flicked his tongue from top to bottom along her creases, once, twice, and again. She moaned, squirmed, and he held her steady with his hands on her hips. He drew back for a moment to roll his tongue around the rim of his lips, savored her taste, and groaned aloud. He looked up at her so she could watch him enjoy her taste in his mouth.
Time and again he bent to his pleasurable task, swept his tongue around and over her swollen bud, up and through every crevice. He varied the movements in a relentless assault designed to drive her as insane as he felt. Around and around, up and down. Each time her orgasm crept closer and her tension escalated, he eased back. Nuzzled her thighs, licked behind her knees, until she unclenched her knees and relaxed. Over and over, she shifted, muttered, moaned, and shuffled her feet. She didn’t move away from his marauding mouth, but showed him without words he tormented her beyond bearing.
He let her tension climb, build to the ultimate peak, bringing her closer and closer with every breath, every moist and intimate lick. As he used two fingers inside her hot passage to arouse her internally, he used his ever-moving mouth to arouse her externally.
His fingers curled inside her hot passageway at the peak of each upward thrust, touched her most sensitive spot, until she rose on her toes and writhed on his fingers. He held her in place by embedding his fingers in her womb, while she wriggled like a worm on a hook and all the while, his mouth drove her toward climax.
Her scream came so suddenly, so loudly, and with such a piercing note
of exquisite pleasure, he feared the servants would come running. She dropped her head to her shoulder to muffle her noises. Her thighs clamped hard over his forearm, and the walls of her vagina clenched like a vice on his fingers. She quivered on and on through an extended climax, as small aftershocks rippled through her body, while her knees buckled. He caught her as she slumped in a limp and lifeless heap and eased her to the floor.
He watched her face until, at last, her eyelids fluttered and her eyes opened, although unfocused at first. The look in her eyes was soft and drifting, her expression dreamy and satisfied, and she looked like a well-loved woman. He couldn’t keep the smug self-satisfaction from his face, an expression he’d been careful to not reveal with any lover for a long time. In bedding women in exchange for money or business information, he felt duty bound to ensure they enjoyed the experience, though he never lingered long enough to see the aftermath. Never lingered to observe the after-effects sexual release had on a woman’s disposition.
Usually, he was too busy making a discreet departure, or, in his early days, climbing out a window to escape irate husbands. Lingering was not part of the ritual he’d established and clung to as a form of self-protection. If it was a ritual, it became a piece of theatre like the performances he orchestrated at his estate. And a piece of theatre was merely acting, not something real. Not something that involved real people in a true lovemaking situation.
Now, however, he wanted to stay, to linger, to shed his actor ‘s cloak. Wanted to scoop up this intriguing woman and carry her naked body to the bed and join her there for the next week. To make love to her every way he knew, and every way she’d read about in those infernal books she’d bought. He wanted to be the one to teach her all the ways a man and woman could enjoy each other ‘s bodies, something her husband had neglected to do, and show her all the ways he wanted to be touched by her, the ways she could reduce him to a puddle of lust as she had before when she took him into her mouth.
Lazily, she reached up and ran her hand down his face, caressed his cheek, hovered near his mouth. He turned his head to suck a finger into his mouth in a searing caress, causing a spasm to ripple across her thighs. She clenched them, tightly. He followed her movement with his eyes and watched, intrigued, as her entire body flooded with a brilliant flush. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” He ran one finger through her nest of hair, watched the next spasm ripple. “Christ, you’re so sensitive. Your body is made for loving.”
He slipped his finger past the silky protective hairs and she clenched even harder against the intrusion. “Shush, let me take care of you. Or else you’ll be hot and aching the whole night at the theatre.”
“Oh, no.” Her face reddened even more. “The theatre. I’m supposed to be preparing.” She shook her head. “I’ll have to bathe again. My maid will wonder what is wrong with me.”
“You could go without bathing. I’d be able to smell the scent of your arousal all evening.”
By the little frown between her brows, Justin understood that she was considering that intriguing thought. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
He laughed. “Considering what you just did to me, and what you let me do to you, I don’t think you need worry about what is proper. Although, on the other hand, Bart can sniff out an aroused woman a mile away.”
She gave a little jump and her brows knitted again. He smoothed away the worry line with a finger and then, unable to resist, leaned forward and kissed the spot.
“He can deduce, simply by smell, when a woman is aroused.”
Her head tilted to the side as she considered the idea. The small smile on her face irritated him. He didn’t want her thinking about Bart in the same context as her own newly aroused sensualities. Now that he’d introduced her to desire, to experimentation, he felt entitled to a slight possessiveness where she was concerned. It wouldn’t last. It never did. But for now, her body and all its unfolding secrets belonged to him.
“If you keep smiling when you think of Bart sniffing around your skirts,” he announced rudely, “I’ll imagine you want to indulge in an afternoon’s delight with him tomorrow.” Ignoring her shock, he continued, “Is that it? Do you want me to invite him to join us?
Perhaps, that will become to your newly acquired taste. To have two men attend to your body.”
“No. No, I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort.”
He raised a brow. “Chrissie, I told you, you cannot lie to me. I saw your eyes light up when Magdalene had Bart in her mouth. He looked up at you and you were practically drooling down the glass. You wanted to leap down there and knock Magdalene aside and take over.”
Thwack!
Once again, his face tingled where she had slapped his cheek. He groaned and spun away. What a stupid rude brute he was. There was no way a woman like her deserved his crude mouth sounding off at her. First, he invaded her bedroom, her bath, and then he invaded her body.
Now, not happy with that much intrusion in her life, he was insulting her into a fury. Without facing her, he spoke in a hushed voice that held a quiver of horror at his own disgraceful behavior. “I sincerely apologize. That was totally uncalled for.”
He turned back to her and took her hands in his, willing her to accept his heartfelt apology.
“Please, let me take care of you and then I will leave.”
“No, just go. I need to prepare for this evening.” She glared at him and he winced at the anger in her look. “I will bathe very carefully before I greet Bart or any of your other guests. I would not want to embarrass any of the gentlemen with my overpowering feminine smells.” “Damn, Chrissie! I’ve begged your forgiveness. I was being ridiculously possessive of your body. I hated the thought of Bart, or any other man, being close enough to touch you or smell you. It will not happen again.” He gave a snort of laughter. “Believe me, that sort of possessive behavior is not normal with me. For some reason, sweetheart, you seem to have a strange effect on me.”
She narrowed her eyes in a manner that could only be called menacing and he decided it would be best to stop trying to excuse his disgusting behavior, and depart while he had a shred of dignity left. She walked to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open a crack and stepping back so he could leave. Feeling like a cad, he checked that the corridor was empty he slipped outside. His body was barely clear of the opening when she slammed it shut, the noise reverberating against the wall beside him where he stood.
Retracing his steps through the servants’ back staircase, he left the house in the same way he’d come. Well, physically at least. Emotionally, he was in a totally different place. His insides were twisted in a tight knot of some feeling he could not name, unused as he was to speaking of such female things as emotions.
All he knew was that he hated the feeling and what he’d said to get himself into this situation. Loathed it. Reviled himself.
Chapter Eight
Chrissie walked down the staircase in her evening gown to join the others. She waited for the viscount’s carriage with trepidation in her heart and a knot in her stomach. After Justin departed her room that afternoon, she’d remained unsettled, disconcerted. The pleasures to be found under his experienced hands were exquisite and so enticing that to now do without them would be excruciating agony.
Nevertheless, she could not forgive his crude words, nor could she forgive him for diminishing what they had shared this afternoon with his disgusting remarks and jealous references to Bart and the previous evening. Watching the women service the men that way had been arousing, she would admit that in truth, but it was not Bart that aroused her. It was Justin. The thought of putting her mouth over his proud flesh and sucking him to completion, seeing the erotic pleasure echoed on his face was what she’d wanted. She looked up to realize her friends were all gathered at the foot of the stairs and staring up at her.
Anna stepped forward looking concerned. “Chrissie, dearest, are you speaking to someone?”
“Oh, no, just myself.”
She ga
ve them a watery smile to reassure them, disconcerted to realize she’d spoken aloud her worries about the viscount. Bedlam would welcome her with open arms before too much longer. Perhaps she would be ready to admit herself there.
“I think I hear the carriage now. The evening should be delightful.”
As she sat in the carriage, she allowed the talk to drift over her as she braced herself for the coming evening. Delightful, she’d declared it. Secretly, she labeled it horrifying. The viscount was a man about town with a reputation for knowledge of women far surpassing most men’s, and after her performance, he was, in all honesty, probably appalled. It would be a wonder if he didn’t invent an excuse to avoid attending tonight.
That comforting illusion was shattered when the viscount’s well-upholstered carriage rocked to a stop in front of the theatre and the viscount himself opened the door.
His hand came up to meet Anna’s as she was the first to alight, but his eyes met Chrissie’s. She felt a shiver of sensual awareness ripple through her entire body at his heated and hungry look. She’d been fooling herself. Nothing had changed between them and pretending the intense connection between them would dissipate because she willed it that way, because it frightened her, was stupid. And she’d never been a silly person.
In the village, people spoke of her sensibility, her knowing right from wrong and her strength of will to carry out the right course of action. Lady Wellsby was known to all and sundry as a person of great intelligence and fortitude, a person unflappable in emergencies.
But one glance from the notorious viscount, one sizzling perusal of her person, and her heart stuttered in her chest. Her breath caught, and she yearned for things she’d no right to want, and she’d no need of in her life. Yet, still, she wanted them. Wanted him. She sucked in a deep breath, and then did it a second time. No. Nothing helped.
Anna walked toward the theatre with Gillian and Edward and Justin’s hand reached inside the carriage to take the last hand in the line, hers. She hesitated, certain that when she touched him again she would feel the jolt of it but unsure whether it would affect him in the same way. His hand stretched toward hers, his fingers long and strong like his body. Unthinkingly, she accepted his strength and took what he was proffering. He gripped her gloved hands firmly and helped her step to the pavement.