“Perhaps he knows I could be a good and dutiful wife to him.”
Even as she said the words, they rang hollow. Was that what she wished to be—a good and dutiful wife?
He shook his head, frowning as if his thoughts were the same as hers.
“He doesn’t know you. Or rather, he does not know the real you. He sees a pristine debutante, a paragon of virtue and grace. Would you like to know what I see?”
He stood, circling the table toward her, his booted footsteps dull thuds upon the carpet.
Her pulse began to race in response to his nearness, her chest heaving as her lungs contracted.
“Yes,” she whispered as he rounded the back of her chair, one hand coming up to her shoulder.
His fingertips traced one collarbone, trailing a leisurely path down toward her cleavage.
“I see a vixen,” he murmured, one hand cupping her breast as the other found her opposite shoulder. “A fiery siren with the power to torment a man to madness.”
Her laugh came out on a rush and melted into a moan as his fingers tweaked her nipple, causing it to go hard, rasped and teased by the material of her bodice.
“I am hardly so magnificent as to be compared to a siren.”
His fingers found her hair, deftly removing the pins securing the strands into a simple chignon at the nape of her neck. The locks fell loose, brushing her shoulders and back when the last of the pins fell. He set the pins on the table beside her before raking his fingers through the long tresses.
“Shall I coax you to arousal and prove you wrong?” he challenged. “I seem to remember making love to a rather passionate, confident woman not a fortnight past. Are you not that woman?”
She sighed, turning her face into his open palm and reveling in his touch. He lifted her chin, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw and forcing her to meet his gaze.
“I am,” she whispered. “I meant what I said to you in the carriage that night. I am just a young lady who wants to be free from the bonds of expectation. It’s true, you have seen in me the one thing no one else ever has.” She tilted her head back and studied him, turning in her chair and resting her hands against his rippled abdomen. “Won’t you tell me something about you that no one else knows? It’s just, you’ve so easily guessed at my deepest secrets. I hope it is not too much to ask that you share at least one with me.”
His jaw clenched as he stared down at her, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath and then released it.
“You want to know me,” he said.
She nodded. “More than anything.”
“I was never supposed to be the duke, you know,” he murmured, one hand coming over hers where it rested against his stomach. “My brother, Garret, was duke before he died in an accident. Thrown from his horse, while riding on the grounds of his country estate.” He paused and laughed, a short bark dripping with scorn. “My country estate now, I should say.”
Everyone knew of the freak accident that had caused Camden’s ascent to the dukedom. Yet, Margaret allowed him to continue without interrupting. Whatever revelation he planned to share, she felt privileged just to know he wanted her to be aware of it.
“I cannot pretend becoming a duke did not bring its share of perks,” he continued, absently stroking her hair. “Yet, there are times when the guilt of it becomes crippling. What sort of man enjoys stepping into the shoes of a dead man? When I find myself enjoying the power and the respect, the influence … there is a voice in the back of my mind reminding me it was never meant to be mine in the first place. Then I wonder if I am not the most black-hearted bastard to ever walk the Earth.”
She wrapped her arms around him and held him, resting her cheek against his middle and squeezing him tight.
“That’s not true,” she whispered. “I do not believe you are a bastard. Lord Garret died in a tragic accident. Just because you are well-suited for the role of duke does not mean you cannot also mourn his death. The Duke of Avonleah is a title, a figure to be respected and admired by society. Garret Rycroft was a person, a man. A son, and a brother. Just as Camden Rycroft is a separate entity.”
He smiled down at her. “You are the only person to ever admit to understanding that there is a distinction. Or, to preferring the man over the duke.”
“Yes, that is true,” she murmured, turning her face inward to press a kiss just below his navel. He shuddered, prompting her to repeat the motion, moving lower toward the waistband of his breeches. “Just now, I wouldn’t care if you were a bloody chimney sweep. I want you, Camden.”
His response came out on a choked gasp as she reached up to cup the erection straining the front of his breeches. She slid her fingers up and down the length of his cock, marveling at how hot to the touch he was. Leaning forward in the chair, she pressed a kiss against the tip. His hips bucked, his hands coming up to her shoulders to steady himself.
She worked to free him, anticipation singing in her blood as she revealed his cock inch by inch. The shaft sprang free and strained toward her, the head purpled from the blood pooling there.
“Yes, love,” he mumbled. “Let me feel your sweet lips around me.”
She pulled his breeches and drawers farther down and slid her hands beneath his shirt to caress the ridges and planes of his stomach. He loosened the garment before pulling it over his head, baring his chest and abdomen.
Reaching for him, she palmed his shaft and stroked him once, watching in rapture as his abdomen muscles clenched in response. Her gaze locked onto the bead of moisture glistening on the tip of his cock, and she smeared it with her thumb, coating his swollen head. He moaned again when her tongue circled him, flooding her senses with the taste of both him and his seed—a taste both foreign and exciting at once.
“You little tease,” he growled, gripping her hair and holding tight.
She licked him again with a playful laugh, causing his breath to quicken. His hips surged, thrusting toward her and brushing the seam of her lips, begging for entrance. She opened her mouth and took him in, her cheeks caving as she sucked him in with one long pull. His fingers tightened around her hair, every muscle of his arms straining as he seemed to wrestle for control. His taste filled her, wild and intriguingly masculine. She retreated before taking him in again, caressing the underside of his cock with her tongue. Glancing up at him, she watched desire transform his face, finding a fierce sort of pride at the knowledge that her touch was responsible for his pleasure.
Closing her eyes, she enveloped him over and over, suckling with a hunger she’d never experienced. The smell and taste of him excited her, and his guttural moans filled her ears, causing her nipples to tighten and her inner walls to spasm with longing. She wanted his hard, hot cock to fill her the same way it filled her mouth now. She whimpered as the thought of him, hips slamming against hers as he thrust between her spread legs, filled her thoughts.
She clenched her thighs to ease the ache, but it only grew as he gripped the back of her head, thrusting into her mouth much the way she imagined he would thrust into her. Suckling harder, she moved her head in time with his thrusts and brought one hand tentatively up toward the heavy sac bulging with unspent seed below his cock.
“Christ, Maggie!” he bellowed. “Yes, touch me there. That’s good. Goddamn it, that’s good.”
His legs trembled, his chest heaving as he gasped and groaned. His thrusts became frenzied, his grip on her hair almost painful as he plunged and withdrew. She matched his pace, her fingers caressing his balls and further heightening his ecstasy.
“I’m about to come Maggie,” he groaned, releasing her hair and gripping her shoulders to push her away.
Grasping his hips, she brought her hands around to his firm buttocks and held fast, refusing to let go. She wanted to experience him in every way possible, including the taste of him filling her and running down her throat. Continuing in her erotic ministrations, she clung to him, her fingers digging into the flesh of his backside, which flexed as he thrust into her
mouth one last time and spent.
He groaned, gritting his teeth as his completion tore through him and streamed into her mouth in hot spurts. He tasted salty and slightly sweet, a wild and heady flavor that struck her as primal and inherently male. She’d never tasted another man before, but knew he was the only one who could taste like this.
Camden sighed, resting his hand against the back of her chair as he withdrew from her mouth.
Margaret stared up at him expectantly, watching as he seemed to gather his bearings.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured, reaching for her hand and bringing her to her feet.
She giggled as he pulled her up against his body, his palms pressing against the curves of her buttocks, his fingers digging into her flesh and holding her tight against him. “Was that a good ‘bloody hell’?”
“If it had been any better, I’d be dead,” he said with a little laugh of disbelief. “In the time since we were last together, I’ve often thought about what it would be like to have those pretty little lips wrapped around me. My imagination couldn’t conjure anything half so good.”
She couldn’t help her wide grin as pride filled her. All her dreams of him had consisted of her being overcome and overwhelmed by his prowess as he mastered her. Yet, she had been the master for this encounter. Knowing that perhaps she held as much power as he, if not more, filled her with a feeling she could not put a name to. Euphoria. Pride. Exhilaration. Perhaps a bit of all three.
Camden’s fingers began working at the back of her dress, slipping the tiny buttons free and exposing her back bit by bit. He kissed his way from her lips to her neck, where his tongue began to explore in slow circles, tracing a path toward the sagging neckline of her bodice.
“Christ above, woman,” he grunted as he nuzzled her breasts. “Are you naked beneath this gown?”
She laughed, feeling delightfully wicked and wanton as he parted her dress to discover bare skin beneath it.
“You told me that I could be myself with you, Camden,” she purred. “I felt a bit naughty while dressing to come meet you. I hardly thought I’d need a corset and drawers for our little tête-à-tête.”
He grasped the gown’s sleeves and pulled them from her shoulders, baring her breasts and belly, then hips and legs as the garment pooled around her feet.
“You have not failed to amaze me since the night I met you, Maggie.”
“Neither have you,” she said, her voice melting into a breathless sigh as his lips closed around one of her nipples.
“I do not intend to start now,” he murmured, lifting her and carrying her toward the bed. “Reach into the drawer and grasp a sheath for me, darling,” he added as he deposited her on the bed.
She rolled onto her stomach, crawling across the massive bed toward the bedside table where he stored his condoms. She’d only just found one when his strong hands grasped her hips from behind. His tongue between her thighs caught her by surprise, causing her to fall against the pillows resting on the headboard as he gripped her cheeks and spread them. He lapped at her, his tongue teasing her distended clitoris, slick inner folds, and the opening of her channel. His lips claimed her pearl, suckling gently while his tongue circled it, drawing a sharp cry from deep within her chest.
She swayed against him, her hips moving in an instinctive rhythm to match the strokes of his tongue. Planting her hands against the headboard, she spread her legs wider, arching her back to allow him better access. He moaned, his tongue never ceasing its exquisite torture. The pressure building between her legs and low in her belly swelled and grew, becoming unbearable. She reached down, her fingers encountering her wet folds as she stroked herself in a way that sent shivers down her spine.
Camden, who had turned his attention to tonguing her slick entrance, took her hand and moved it away.
“Such a naughty girl,” he purred, his breath warm and teasing against her wet mons.
She gasped as his palm connected with her left buttock, the impact echoing through the room with a resounding slap. He soothed it with a few gentle caresses, his touch cooling against her flaming skin. She bit her lower lip and whimpered as her arousal made itself evident by dripping from her core and trickling down her thigh. He bent his head to lick it away, tracing its path back up to her cunt, where he suckled her throbbing bud once more, sending a jolt of electrifying pleasure through her entire body. She cried out, her fingernails scraping the wooden headboard as she teetered on the edge of release.
“You’ve been so bad, Maggie,” he whispered, placing a kiss where he’d spanked her. “Haven’t you?”
She shuddered, wiggling her hips against the searching fingers delving between her cheeks and sliding toward her waiting opening.
“Have I?” she teased.
Another slap, this time to the right cheek, caused her to clutch the bed even harder as stars danced behind her eyes. His palm soothed the sting away as before, his fingers kneading her pliant flesh.
“You know very well how bad you’ve been. Sneaking away in the dead of night with a known rake. Dressing in such a thin gown without undergarments. Sucking my cock like a tavern doxy.”
“Yes,” she cried, satisfaction filling her as two of his fingers slid into her aching core. He stroked her slowly, pulling another low moan from her. “I am a doxy. Your doxy.”
“Are you mine?” he murmured, leaning over to place a kiss at the base of her spine. His lips trailed upward, skimming between her shoulder blades and to the nape of her neck. “Mine alone?”
His fingers quickened inside of her, teasing her toward a higher plane of pleasure. She gasped, moving her hips against him and straining toward an ending just beyond her reach.
“Yes, Camden!” she cried as he found a particularly sensitive spot just within her inner walls. “I am yours!”
Grunting in satisfaction, he withdrew his fingers. She gasped in protest, swaying back toward him. He pressed one hand to the small of her back, commanding her without words to remain on her hands and knees. She obeyed, her lips parted as breathless anticipation filled her. Her arms and legs trembled, but she remained in the position he’d placed her in, legs parted and all her secret places bared to his view.
She trembled when he took her hips in his hands and pressed the head of his cock to her entrance. He’d grown rock hard again, solid and hot against her. She wiggled a bit, taking in the first few inches of him, moaning in pleasure at the friction of him against her insides.
He gave her the rest, his fingers digging into her hips as he slammed into her, seating himself as deep inside her as possible. She rocked against him and he thrust into her, his hips pounding against her backside as they found a rapid and frenzied rhythm. His strokes vibrated through her, their impact seeming to touch the far reaches of her body until she could feel him in every crevice.
“Ah, Maggie you feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice gone raspy and breathless.
His touch grazed her ribs, reaching around toward her front and finding her breasts. His fingers teased her nipples into stiff peaks, and his touch sent more lightning strikes deep into her belly in a resounding crash that caused a storm of pleasure within her.
“That’s it, love,” he urged. “You’re so close. I want to hear you scream.”
His finger pressed against the opening of her back entrance, causing a new sensation that nearly sent her over the edge.
“Camden!” she cried, all other words stolen away as he teased the tight little hole, pressing against it with gentle but insistent pressure, as if requesting entrance.
“Do you like that, love?” he whispered. “Does my naughty little girl like it when I finger her tight little arse?”
She responded with a high-pitched moan that echoed from the high ceilings of the bedchamber as he slid his finger in an inch, probing with gentle curiosity while his cock continued in and out of her channel.
He chuckled, the sound seeming to fill her as much as his body did.
“I’ll take that as
a yes,” he murmured.
Her orgasm came over her so swiftly, she barely knew what was happening before she became swept away on waves of pleasure so strong she thought she might die from them. Camden never ceased his erotic assault, his hips thrusting against hers and his finger gaining further entry into her back passage.
She spiraled and crashed, screaming her release as her channel contracted in violent spasms, gripping his cock in a fist-tight hold. He groaned, pumping into her a few more times before going still. He shuddered, his own climax spilling from him along with a few muttered oaths. He came to rest against her, his hands still maintaining their tight hold upon her hips, his sex still filling her.
She went limp, her upper body collapsing against the pillows as he slowly withdrew. She collapsed onto her stomach, closing her eyes and waiting for her heart to slow. Camden left the bed to dispose of the sheath, then returned and lay down beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
She nestled against his chest, her fingers toying with the soft, springy dark hair sprinkled across his chest.
He sighed and rested one hand over hers, turning to face her.
“Maggie,” he said, his voice low in the dark room. “Why did you do it?”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to face him, staring into eyes brimming with inquisitiveness. “Do what?”
“Leave me after our night together without saying good-bye,” he said. “As a man, I can understand it if you wanted a clean break. Avoiding complications of the heart are my specialty when it comes to the fairer sex. Is that why? I won’t be angry if you say is it.”
She reached up to stroke a lock of damp hair tumbled over his glistening forehead.
“Yes,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t your attachment I wanted to avoid, but my own. I’ve watched you from afar for so long, wondering what it would be like to be utterly yours. After our first night together, I feared I would lose my heart to you, only to have it broken.”
He frowned. “I would never hurt you on purpose,” he declared.
She smiled. “I know. That is why I thought it best if I were the one to break away. You’ve never promised me anything beyond what we just shared. It wouldn’t be fair for me to expect more from you.”
Masquerade (Scandalous Ballroom Encounters Book 1) Page 8