One time, in fact, he’d been so impatient for her that he’d lifted her into his arms and taken her right there against the front door, the two of them setting the door knocker a-tapping as he brought them both to an extraordinarily satisfying climax.
Of all the things she admired about Rafe—and there were many—it was his ability to constantly captivate and surprise her that she enjoyed the most. Generous and ever inventive, he never failed to delight her with his creativity, both in bed and out.
For example, today’s impromptu nuncheon. What other man of her acquaintance would think to pleasure a woman with such simple, yet thoughtful, arrangements?
She smiled and strolled toward the blanket, intending to take a seat. Before she could, he stopped her with a touch.
“Don’t sit down. Not yet. First, take off your clothes,” he commanded on a velvety rumble.
There it was again—surprise. “But I thought we were going to eat.”
“Oh, we are.”
Unbuttoning his coat and shirt, he tossed the garments onto the nearby sofa. “I thought we’d dine alfresco. Not out-of-doors, but out-of-our-clothes.”
Her mouth fell open. “A naked picnic?”
He laughed wickedly and arched a single eyebrow. “What better?”
“But it’s chilly out. We’ll take our death,” she protested weakly.
“Don’t worry, the fire will keep us warm. And if it doesn’t, I shall find a way to heat things up.”
Faintly scandalized, yet aroused all the same, Julianna unpinned the lace fichu covering her bosom. As she laid the delicate garment across a chair, Rafe shucked off his shoes and stockings, then reached to remove his pantaloons and drawers.
Saliva pooled in her mouth as he drew off the clothing, the sight of his sculpted, hair-roughened thighs and muscular calves sending her pulse speeding. Half naked, with his shirt and starched cravat still in place, she found him somehow more provocative than if he were completely nude.
What might he look like, she wondered, if he moved to the bedroom doorway and stretched his long, powerful arms overhead to grip the frame? A hard quiver traveled through her at the idea.
Staring with undisguised hunger, she licked her lips.
He padded toward her. “And what are you thinking? You look like a vixen who’s found a tasty morsel.” Gently, he turned her so he could help her out of her dress.
“Oh, I was only noticing that you haven’t taken off your neckcloth yet.”
“Hmm.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth over her nape in a spot she particularly liked. “I’ll get around to removing it eventually. One never knows when a nice length of cloth will come in handy.”
Sense-memory tingled through her, recalling last week and the way he’d bound her wrists together above her head as they’d made love, Rafe bringing her to a peak so stunning she recalled the power of it even now.
Catching a small, escaped tendril of her hair between his fingertips, he gave the lock a teasing tug. “Springs back like a little cork,” he murmured. “It’ll go well with our wine.”
An answering smile moved over her mouth as he unfastened her dress. Laying the garment neatly aside, he set to work on her stays. With the dexterity of a skilled dresser, he soon had her stripped bare.
Quickly, competently, he plucked the pins from her hair, then finger-combed her tresses so they fell in a dark wave down her back. Rafe crossed to place the pins in a little pile on a side table. Turning, he raked his gaze over her exposed body with a sweeping perusal that turned his cool, green eyes dark with heat.
Unhurried, he unwound his cravat and flung it atop his pile of clothes, then, with a devilish grin that emphasized the dimpled grooves in his cheeks, he unfastened his shirt one slow button at a time. Only breaking eye contact for a moment, he drew his shirt over his head, then stood motionless to let her look her fill.
And look her fill, she did.
Over his broad shoulders and across his firm chest with its growth of curling dark hair that begged to be explored. Onward to the flat plain of his stomach and narrow all-male hips—lean musculature that dipped and flowed downward into sleek, sturdy thighs, firm calves, and long, beautifully shaped feet. And finally between his legs, where the well-defined proof of his virility had grown unashamedly stiff and impressively long beneath her inquiring gaze.
She suppressed an appreciative sigh, aware how brazen she had become since he’d drawn her into his spell. If all men looked like him, she mused lasciviously, wearing clothes would surely have been declared a crime.
Feeling a bit like Eve to his Adam, she let him take her hand and lead her to the blanket. They stretched out opposite one another, bare hip to bare hip.
The fire burned contentedly in the grate, radiating enough heat to keep her comfortably warm. Realizing she was actually hungry for more than Rafe, she watched with interest as he opened the basket.
Out of the hamper he produced a whole roasted chicken, a small wedge of soft buttery cheese, biscuits, and a little jar of honey. One last container he left inside the hamper.
“For later,” he told her, as he popped the cork on a bottle of champagne. With the wine frothing, he poured out two glasses, the liquid sparkling and golden. Handing one across to her, their gazes locked as they drank, the alcohol cool and sharp on her tongue.
“Hmm, delicious.” Reaching out, he traced the edge of a finger along her cheek. “But do you know what’s even better?”
Her skin tingled where he’d stroked it, and she shook her head. “No.”
“Drinking it with you.”
A warm glow spread through her, together with an irrepressible smile. Lowering her lashes, she took another drink of champagne. Her nose twitched seconds later and she gave a small, delicate sneeze.
“Bless you,” he said.
“The bubbles are tickling my nose.”
“Lucky bubbles.” He grinned.
Feeling silly as a schoolgirl, she giggled.
No, lucky me, she mused, being here with Rafe.
Utterly relaxed, he set his wine aside to feed her small bites of succulent chicken and tender pieces of biscuit smeared with the tangy cheese that melted like heaven in her mouth. Without much urging, he coaxed her to do the same for him, careful to lick her fingers clean in between bites, nibbling playfully at her palms before nuzzling the delicate skin along the inside of her wrists.
She laughed and pulled his head down, his lips brushing hers with the finesse of a gentle summer breeze. Opening her mouth, she circled her tongue around his to sample his unique flavor, adding and comparing it to all the other flavors lingering sumptuously on her palate.
Time passed in a leisurely haze, her wineglass emptied and filled and emptied again. Her head buzzed, her senses reeling. Yet she knew she could not truly blame the alcohol for her level of intoxication. She had Rafe to reproach for that—the man like an addictive drug that had seeped into her bloodstream, leaving her needy and never entirely satisfied. The more of him she had, she discovered, the more of him she wanted.
When she had agreed to their bargain, the parameters had appeared simple. An exchange of flesh for money and nothing more. But from the first moment he’d touched her, their union had been incendiary, like lamp oil tossed onto a roaring fire.
Never in a thousand years would she have thought she’d be taking a lover when she had granted him access to her body. But that is precisely what Rafe Pendragon had become.
And it wasn’t only the sex. How much easier everything would be if her reaction to him were purely physical, if her emotions were not entwined the way dye bonded to cloth—once combined, the color impossible to leach free.
She did her best not to dwell upon her feelings, shying away from truly exploring such dangerous and forbidden territory. Perhaps it was wrong of her to desire a man who held such power over her. Yet the price he asked of her seemed small now in proportion to the myriad pleasures he lavished upon her in return.
Who, she wondered,
is really using whom?
Her nerve endings hummed as she saw him open the jar of honey and dip in his index finger. Her breath caught on a ragged gasp when he reached out and began stroking it over and around her lips. They throbbed, sticky and warm from his touch.
Then he kissed her.
And licked her, literally eating from her mouth.
With a boldness she hadn’t known she possessed, she repeated his gesture, dipping her finger into the honey pot to paint his mouth and cheeks with a pair of long, sticky stripes. On a moan, he closed his eyes as she bathed him with her tongue, savoring the sweet taste of the honey and the even sweeter taste of his skin.
Harsh yearning beat in her blood, in her body, urging her closer as she enfolded him in her arms. Suddenly he was touching her everywhere, slanting his mouth over hers in a series of a raw, penetrating kisses.
Breathless, he broke away. “I nearly forgot.”
“Hmm?” she murmured, half-lost in a sensual daze.
“Dessert.”
“You want dessert? Now?”
“Yes,” he told her, dropping another kiss on her swollen lips. “And you will, too, once you see what it is.”
Curious despite her desire, she released him and let him scoot over to lift a small cloth-covered dish from the hamper. Setting down the china container, he pulled away the material to reveal a mass of plump, red, newly picked berries.
“Raspberries,” she sighed in amazement. “Where on earth did you get raspberries at this time of the year? It’s impossible.”
He gave a careless shrug. “Not impossible. One just has to know the right people. You did say they are your favorite fruit.”
Another item in the long list of favorites she had shared during their many trysts.
She nodded. “But I never dreamed. Oh, my, and don’t they look delectable.”
Her fingers itched to take one.
“Go on,” he encouraged. “That’s what I brought them for. To eat and enjoy.”
She grinned, giddy as a child at Christmas. Reaching for a berry, she popped one into her mouth and savored the exquisite combination of tart and sweet. In heaven, she plucked up two more berries, stuffed them into her mouth and chewed. Next, she took a small handful, laughing guiltily as she filled her mouth, a drop of juice sliding from one corner to trickle down her chin.
“Allow me,” he offered. Eyes deep and green as a dense forest, he leaned over and caught the drop on the end of his tongue.
She shuddered with pleasure.
“Tasty,” he murmured.
She swallowed. “What a wonderful treat! Thank you, Rafe.”
“You’re welcome.” He stroked a finger along the curve of her cheek. “I like hearing you say my name. It’s not often you call me Rafe.”
She sobered. “Do I not? I certainly think of you that way.”
He lifted a strand of her hair and toyed with it. “And do you think of me, Julianna? When we’re not here—together, that is?”
She knew she ought to say no. Ought to lie and tell him he left her thoughts the instant she left him. That when she returned home to her life, he vanished like a figment, distant and forgotten.
But she could not.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I think of you. I think of you often.”
An intense yet enigmatic look came into his eyes before he glanced away.
“Good,” he said, shifting upward to sit on his knees. “Roll over onto your back.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Never mind why, just do it.” He smiled, slow and full of wicked promise. “You know you won’t be sorry.”
No, she thought on a belly-clenching quiver, I am certain I shall feel many things, but none of them will have anything to do with regret.
Letting her hesitation float away, she stretched out exactly as he wished. While she waited and watched him, anticipation ran through her with the speed of a live current.
Picking up the honey jar again, he dipped his fingers inside, using two this time.
“More honey?” she questioned, relaxing.
“Yes. More honey.”
But it wasn’t her lips upon which he lavished the sweet, his hand moving in a direction she had not expected him to go.
Her breath caught on a sharp inhale as he spread honey over her nipples, taking his time to massage the sticky substance into her flesh. Only when he was satisfied did he stop, careful to leave a large, glistening bead shivering on each hardened tip, her flesh peaked and aching from his touch.
From there he moved lower, choosing an unused spoon as an aid. Dipping the handle into the pot, he extended the utensil and began drawing a thin, sticky circle around her belly button. Ladling out more of the honey, he dribbled the nectar into her navel, her stomach muscles contracting involuntarily as he filled the small indentation to the rim.
Her body in torment, she restlessly shifted her legs.
“Shh, don’t move,” he cautioned. “Lie utterly still and wait until I’m done.”
Swallowing, she nodded and did her best to obey, her heart threatening to hammer out of her chest as she waited to see where he would next put the golden sweet.
Her answer came quickly, and astonishingly, as he painted another circle even lower, at the base of her belly, and then again on the last bit of skin that lay just above her triangle of dark, tight curls. She quaked as he spread the honey, biting the corner of her lip against the hot, wet need burning inside her. She felt her eyes widen when he reached for the dish of fruit, speechless as he positioned a single ripe, red raspberry on top of each sticky circle.
When he was finished, he gazed at her in obvious satisfaction, like a chef admiring a culinary masterpiece.
“And now, my dear,” he said on a dark rumble, “it’s my turn to enjoy dessert.”
Cupping one of her trembling breasts in his hand, he opened his mouth and began to feast, using teeth and lips and tongue to utmost effect. Helpless, she let him suckle, every pull and lap and nip driving her mad. Palming her other breast, he held her and feasted again, his fingers and mouth sensitizing her flesh to a virtual flashpoint.
She whimpered when he finally abandoned her breasts and started kissing his way toward her belly. Moments later, she cried out in delight, moaning as he dipped his tongue into her belly button. Working the spot with gentle concentration, he teased and licked, drinking from her the way a hummingbird might sip nectar from a flower.
Her mind spun, faint red pinpricks of light dancing beneath her closed lids as he bathed her in a kind of erotic magic. Twisting beneath him, she reached out blindly, needing to touch him as he dappled her flesh with kisses and caresses, tiny bites and soothing, loving strokes.
Sliding lower, he trailed his hand across her quivering thighs, pausing to pluck away the final raspberry with his tongue. Grinning, he raised his head and swallowed the fruit with an appreciative growl. Then he dove back, leisurely bathing away the last of the honey.
Wet heat pooled between her legs, her pulse thumping at a frantic pace. She expected him to conclude his delicious torture, rise, and take her lips in a fiery kiss before taking her body as she yearned for him to do.
Instead, he knelt between her legs, spread her open, and buried his face where she’d never imagined she would ever be kissed.
Dizzy with shock and mortification, she reached down to push him away. But even as she touched his head to make him stop, her will weakened, her shaking fingers threading into his hair to instinctively pull him closer. She moaned, the pleasure all but overwhelming.
Licking her the way he would some delectably irresistible confection, he pressed on, ardent and relentless. A wail rose into her throat, singing uncontrollably from her lips.
More, she thought, her eyes rolling back in her head. Oh yes, please, more.
Divine. Exquisite.
Those were the only words to describe what he was doing to her, her body held in the grip of a rapture so intense its power melted away every inhib
ition she’d ever had. Writhing beneath his embrace, she gave herself free rein.
Her peak hit in a great, dark wave that slammed through her with stunning violence. Drifting, she rode the storm to shore. But she had no time to recover as Rafe began to drive her upward again, firing her passion to a ragged, feverish, frenzied pitch. Helpless, she could do nothing but give herself to him, letting him take her wherever he willed.
Slipping his hands beneath her bottom, he spread her legs wider and continued his sensual onslaught. She came twice more, the last time with a scream as he gave her a small bite that hurtled her brutally over the edge.
Panting, she fought to recover her breath, and her faculties, bliss still riding her hard.
With her inner muscles still pinging and twitching, Rafe sat up on his haunches, draped her legs over his thighs, and thrust himself into her as far as he would go.
His facial muscles tightened as he pumped inside her, his jaw drawn, teeth clenched, his hunger for her naked and exposed. And though she wouldn’t have thought herself capable of climaxing again, his movements soon had her craving another. She matched him stroke for stroke, claiming her release only moments before he shuddered out his own.
Visibly exhausted, he crawled up next to her and collapsed, pulling her close inside his arms to share a kiss. Entwined and satiated, they drifted together into sleep.
A long while later, Rafe leaned up on an elbow and reached for the pocket watch he’d left on the nightstand. Opening the gold cover, he checked the time.
Behind him in the bed, Julianna roused, stretching catlike against the sheets. “Do I need to get up?”
He snapped the watch closed and set it aside. “No, we have time yet. Go back to sleep if you’re tired.”
He knew he’d worn her out with their vigorous lovemaking. He’d worn himself out as well, as wild to have her this afternoon as he’d been their very first time. Yet with Julianna he could never seem to get enough—of her or their coupling, every encounter with her better than the last.
My Fair Mistress Page 11