Except for one. “Would you rather we wait to be together again until I have secured the house…?” Although if he had his way—and he would—the property would be in his possession by this evening, and certainly no later than tomorrow.
He wished to be alone with Thea as soon as was possible, in a place where the two of them might be comfortable enough to indulge every sexual fantasy together. He looked forward to fulfilling every single one of Thea’s. And to having her fulfill his own too.
“No, I do not wish to wait,” she assured him breathlessly as she turned her back towards him. “If you could help me with removing my gown…?”
Julian was more than happy to oblige and unfasten the row of tiny buttons which ran the length of her spine, at the same time as he could not resist tasting the softness of the skin at her nape, her shoulders, and the slender length of her spine once he was able to push the material of her gown aside and allow it to fall to the floor. He slipped the straps of her chemise down her arms and allowed that to fall on top of her gown at her ankles.
Her shoulders were soft and creamy, her back a perfect arch, her bottom—oh Lord, the things he would like to do to that deliciously plump bottom!
His breath again caught in his throat as he looked at Thea wearing only white stockings secured at her thighs with pink-rosebud-adorned white garters.
She gave him a shy glance over her shoulder. “I seem to have forgotten to wear my drawers again.”
In the hope, perhaps, that Julian might visit her again today and finish what they had started yesterday evening?
He did not intend to disappoint her.
He dropped to his knees behind her as he indulged his own desire to kiss and lick the soft globes of her bottom, knowing it pleased her too as the scent of her increasing arousal became an aphrodisiac to his already aroused senses.
He slipped one of his hands between her thighs, dampening his fingers in the juices slicking those plump lips before seeking out the hard little nubbin above. “Part your legs and bend slightly forward,” he instructed, placing his hands on her hips to steady her as she did as he asked, baring the red and swollen lips between her thighs to his avid gaze.
“Oh!” Thea almost stumbled and fell as she felt the rasp of Blackmoor’s tongue against her most private parts. “Oh,” she gasped again as that tongue continued to lap and rasp the entrance to her now copiously weeping channel.
She felt so exposed. So wickedly, thrillingly exposed. To Julian’s gaze. To his hands. To that wicked, wicked tongue.
“You taste as delicious as I knew you would,” he assured gruffly as his fingers moved to once again stroke her nubbin and he continued to tongue her swollen entrance before thrusting inside—
“Remy?” Her cry was a cross between a protest and curiosity as to what he could possibly be doing— Oh dear God…!
This could not be right. It was too intimate, too much, too everything as her body began to quake and melt at the intensity of the orgasm now surging through her body.
“Remy!” she cried out again as her knees buckled beneath her and she began to fall.
Blackmoor caught her before that happened, and then swung her up into his arms to carry her over to the chaise, laying her down on the red silk gown and then sitting down beside her to begin removing the pins from her hair.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered as those red tresses tumbled down onto her shoulders and over her breasts almost to her waist. “Good God, it is sacrilege to ever hide such beauty.”
No one but Thea’s maid had ever seen her like this, completely naked after her bath, with her hair loose and wild. She knew she ought to be self-conscious but instead could only feel warmed by the admiration she could see in the heat of Julian’s gaze.
“You look as delectable lying on this red silk as I imagined you would. And these.” His hands cupped her breasts. “These are perfection, Thea.”
“They really are not too small…?”
“Perfect,” he insisted gruffly as his head lowered and he nuzzled and licked one erect nipple, gently sucking it into the heat of his mouth before lavishing that same attention on its twin.
Thea’s back arched as she gave herself up to the pleasure of that rhythmic suckling. Soft and then hard, and once again creating that aching pleasure between her thighs.
Her hands moved up to become entangled in the dark thickness of the hair at his nape as she held him to her. His hair was so soft and silky to touch, making her wonder if the hair on his chest felt equally so.
She moistened her lips before speaking. “I… Would you remove your shirt so that I might look at you too?”
He lifted his head, eyes dark. “If that would make you happy.” He nodded. “Today is about what pleases you.”
She swallowed. “Then it would please me very much to be able to see and touch you too.”
Blackmoor did not hesitate as he sat up to pull the shirt bottom from his pantaloons, before tugging the garment up and over his head and then discarding it completely.
Thea’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at him bared to the waist. His skin was so much darker than her own. His shoulders were very wide, as evidence that he enjoyed physical exercise? His chest and abdomen were hard and rippling with muscle, and that dusting of dark hair did indeed cover his chest before veeing down to disappear beneath the waistband of his pantaloons. His nipples nestled amongst those dark curls, a deep bronze in color and as round as pennies.
She licked her lips at the sight of them, wondering…wondering…
“Yes, I believe they might be just as sensitive as your own.” Julian’s voice was gruff as he confirmed the question Thea had wished to ask but felt too shy to do so.
Which was ridiculous when she was lying here naked, apart from her stockings and the light covering of her loosened hair.
Her gaze darted up to Blackmoor’s and then quickly back to his nipples. “You believe…?”
“I find that I like the idea,” he acknowledged softly. “And no one else has ever before thought to touch me there.”
That knowledge thrilled her, when she knew this man must have had dozens of lovers to her one. Bold, experienced women who had never thought to pleasure him in the way she now wished to.
His nipples looked so very touchable, kissable, edible—
“You may do with me whatever pleases you,” Blackmoor invited.
Thea tentatively lifted her hands to rest them on his shoulders. His skin felt like silk against her fingertips, muscles flexing beneath that silk.
Her curiosity to touch and explore banished the last vestiges of her shyness as she began to lightly caress that hard flesh, encouraged by Julian’s low groans as her nails raked lightly over those bronzed nubbins. She became bolder still as they stiffened, hardened, beneath her touch, eagerly accepting his silent invitation as he leaned towards her at the same time as his hand curved about the back of her neck and drew her towards him.
He drew in a sharp, hissing breath as her mouth closed over that hard nubbin and she began to suckle and lave with her tongue in the same manner he had suckled her just minutes ago.
The pleasure, the unfamiliar sensation of having Thea’s mouth on him, licking and suckling his nipples, went straight to Julian’s groin. His cock swelled and hardened, becoming a painful throb as she turned her attention to his other nipple, her mouth becoming bolder, more demanding, as he groaned his pleasure aloud.
Ye gods, he was going to come in his drawers like a callow youth if he allowed her to touch him this way for too much longer.
And he was nowhere near finished tasting and pleasuring her.
“I cannot take any more, Thea,” he warned as he gently pulled back and released himself from those demanding lips.
Full and swollen lips that became a pout of disappointment as she lay back on the chaise and gazed up at him through her lashes. “I was enjoying myself.”
His smile was self-derisive. “And I was enjoying myself far too much. See?”
He took her hand and placed it over the visible swell in his pantaloons.
“Would you like me to…?”
“I would like nothing better.” His cock throbbed at the mere idea of having those lips about him once more. “But I am nowhere near finished pleasuring you as yet,” he added gently.
Her eyes widened. “There is more?”
“So much more.” His expression softened indulgently at her ignorance regarding sexual pleasure.
Not that she was so very different from most, if not all, the young women in society, even after they were married. Many men still believed that a wife was for procreation and a mistress was for pleasure. No wonder Thea had decided she would prefer to be the latter.
His thumb moved caressingly against her throat. “You never did tell me what—or should I say whom—you were thinking of when I called that first afternoon?”
Color warmed her cheeks. “I was so bored, and the company so stultifying, that I—I allowed my thoughts to drift to…other things.”
“What other things? And with whom?” Julian watched her face as his fingertips moved in a slow and leisurely caress across her bared breasts, the slender dip of her waist, the trembling of the flatness of her abdomen, and then lower still to the juncture of her thighs and the dampness of her red-gold curls. She had tasted so delicious earlier, and he wanted to taste her again. “Tell me, Thea,” he encouraged as he parted those curls and began to stroke her little swollen nubbin.
“I—ooh,” she groaned weakly even as her legs parted and her hips arched and undulated into that caress. “I was fantasizing of things such as this,” she admitted shyly.
“With whom?”
She moistened her lips with the pink tip of her tongue. “I believe I was thinking of…of you.”
“Me?” His brows rose.
Her cheeks suffused with color. “I have lately begun to…to dream. Such explicit dreams. Such pleasurable dreams.” Her blush deepened. “And I do believe those dreams began at about the time George and Amelia became betrothed, so I can only surmise… Ooh,” she moaned low in her throat as Julian began to swirl and stroke her nubbin harder and faster.
“Can only surmise…?” he prompted firmly.
Her lids fluttered closed. “I can only think that you are the cause— Ooh, please…!” She arched up into his stroking fingers. “I am so close, so very close. Please,” she all but sobbed as he continued those long slow strokes.
“Please, Remy,” he reminded.
Her eyes opened wide. “Are you going to…going to—”
“Fuck you?” he finished softly.
She swallowed, obviously still not completely comfortable with that word. “Yes.”
“Not today. At least, not with my cock,” he added as her eyes darkened with disappointment.
Julian was pleased beyond measure that Thea had so freely acknowledged it was him she had been wanting and thinking about these past few weeks. More, that she admitted to having fantasized and dreamed of the two of them being together like this.
“Part your legs for me, Thea. That’s it. Perfect,” he approved as she allowed her legs to drop to the sides and fall wide enough apart for him to be able to see all of her.
Her clitoris was red and swollen as it protruded from amongst those soft red-gold curls. The lips of her channel were slick with her juices. He could even see the little puckered rosette of her bottom.
That, he decided, could wait for another day.
He did not wish to go too far too fast in their intimacy, had time, now that Thea had agreed to the two of them continuing to meet at a house of his choosing, to be able to lead her slowly into deeper, more adventurous intimacies. Thea’s quest for carnal knowledge was such that he believed in future there would even be intimacies between the two of them that he had not explored before either.
He gave one last, lingering, and regretful glance at that virgin pink rosette before slowly bending to lower his head between her thighs, and he turned his attention to laving her clitoris with his tongue, lapping up the delicious nectar as it poured from her so profusely.
Thea was totally lost in the pleasure of having Remy’s mouth on her. Of gazing down at his magnificent bare shoulders between her parted thighs, that dark lock of hair having once again fallen across his brow.
He did not look in the least boyish now as he plundered and claimed her with his lips, teeth, and tongue, at the same time as his hands cupped and caressed her breasts, stroking and pulling on her nipples, sometimes to the edge of pain. A pain that only seemed to increase the sharpness of her release.
She lost count of the number of times the pleasure claimed and took her soaring into the heavens, Remy taking her there time after time, until she became so sensitized, the slightest touch of his tongue sent her into another climax.
“Please, no more!” she finally gasped.
His answer was to pull sharply on her nipples, his tongue thrusting inside her once more, hard and piercing as it imitated a small cock to stroke along those now raw and sensitive nerve endings inside her.
“Please, Remy!” She sat up slightly, nails digging into his flesh as she grasped his shoulders. “Remy, please…” she gasped as his fingers entered her and the pleasure claimed her once again.
His lips were slick with her juices as he looked up at her with dark gray eyes. “You will meet with me tomorrow?” His fingers inside her continued their torturous stroking.
“Yes.” She would promise him anything, if he would only allow her time to catch her breath.
“I have your word?” His fingers pressed harder against that tight knot of nerve endings.
“Yes. Yes!” she confirmed again desperately as the soft pad of his thumb swirled and pressed her nubbin.
“Remy.”
“Remy,” she repeated obediently.
“One last time, Thea,” he demanded, face flushed, eyes glittering as he looked down at the clitoris he had now bared with the fingers of his other hand. “Come for me now, Thea,” he commanded, demanded, even as he lowered his head and flicked his tongue against that exposed and reddened nubbin.
Thea came, more intensely than any of the times she had come before.
And knew she belonged to this man now. That he owned her, body and soul.
Chapter 8
Jennifer stood outside the shop watching as Lady Dorothea Fitzroy talked inside with the shopkeeper, apparently about the merits of one pair of lace gloves over another.
Trivial fashion preferences that had once filled her own head and time too.
Blackmoor’s interest in Dorothea Fitzroy was now the only thing she thought of.
Except she could not imagine what he saw in such a woman. Lady Dorothea had no figure to speak of, and to describe her as pretty would be doing her a kindness.
Perhaps this woman had other…attributes which had attracted Blackmoor to her?
He had certainly spent several hours at Latham House the previous afternoon, and there had been a look about him when he finally left and lithely ascended the steps to his waiting carriage. A satisfied glitter in his eyes and a fullness to those chiseled and slightly curving lips, as if they had been put to good use during those hours.
The why of his preference had no meaning to Jennifer. Only that it existed. The weakness she had long been looking for.
She pretended an interest in the contents displayed in the window as Lady Dorothea finally departed the shop, her maid following behind, laden down with all the parcels the other woman had purchased during the afternoon.
“I intend going to my dressmaker now, Mary, so you may return to Latham House with my parcels,” she instructed her maid.
“Oh, but—”
“I shall be perfectly happy to walk home on such a glorious afternoon.” Lady Dorothea briskly cut off the young maid’s protest as she signaled for the Latham coach to approach. “Perhaps you could unpack all my parcels upon your return? My purple gown will need to be pressed for this evening too.” She all b
ut pushed the young maid into the carriage and then stood on the pavement, watching until it had disappeared out of sight.
Alerting Jennifer with the strangeness of her actions.
A lady did not travel unescorted in London.
She certainly did not walk through these busy streets alone.
And Lady Dorothea obviously did not intend doing either of those things either, her eyes bright, a flush to her cheeks as she moved to the edge of the pavement in search of a cab for hire.
Because she was going to meet her lover, not visit her dressmaker?
How delicious. How utterly, utterly delicious it was to think of what Blackmoor’s thoughts might be as he waited for the mistress who did not arrive.
Jennifer felt no hesitation, no remorse as she stepped up behind Lady Dorothea Fitzroy and pushed her in front of the approaching cab.
Chapter 9
Julian paced the confines of the sitting room of the small furnished town house he had purchased just this morning, a scowl on his brow as he realized it was now an hour over the time he and Thea had agreed they would meet here.
He had sent his valet to deliver a note to her discreetly at Latham House earlier today, cautiously writing only the address and time, and no signature. Just on the off chance the note fell into the hands of her brother or nephew. Thea would be able to claim the note came from one of her friends if that were to happen.
His valet had returned a short time later with that same note, a simple “yes” written beneath his own writings.
Julian had arrived early for their liaison in restless anticipation of continuing where the two of them had left off their lovemaking yesterday.
Thea had not arrived at the appointed time.
Or since.
Because, after careful consideration, she had changed her mind about continuing with their affair?
She claimed it was a lady’s prerogative to change her mind, and perhaps, despite Julian’s efforts at restraint yesterday, he had after all frightened her with the intensity of his lovemaking?
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