“I will stop your mouth,” he muttered tightly, and kissed her.
Oh, God. He’d been teasing her at the theater, and the other times he’d kissed her. Pure arousal slammed down her backbone, potent and not at all subtle. His lips, his tongue, pushed and teased at her until she opened her mouth to him.
Abruptly he broke away. Breathing hard, his gray eyes glittering, he looked from her to the drawer before he pulled the pistol free. “Is this what you were after? Do you want to shoot me, Josefina?”
“No,” she blurted, knocking the pistol aside and grabbing his hair to yank his face down to her mouth again.
She heard the weapon hit the floor, but she no longer cared. She wanted to crawl inside him, inside his mind, his body, his heart. Moaning as his hands swept down to her hips, pulling her still closer, Josefina fumbled with the knot of his cravat.
Melbourne pushed, throwing her onto the bed with him on top of her, kissing everywhere he bared her skin. She felt electric, as though bolts of lightning were running through her veins. “Sebastian,” she moaned, giving up on the cravat and tearing at his waistcoat buttons. “I want to touch you.”
Without answering he yanked down the front of her dress, sinking lower to take her left breast in his mouth, his tongue rasping across her nipple. Pure fire seared through her. He was not going to stop this seduction here, as he had done before. Her hands shaking, she pushed his jacket and waistcoat off his shoulders. He shrugged them off one arm at a time, the other hand still running crazily along her skin.
Sebastian lifted away from her just enough to pull the white linen shirt off over his head, the cravat following it to the floor. Finally. Josefina skimmed her fingers along the warm skin of his chest, through the light dusting of dark hair there, down to where his trousers banded his hips. His skin was soft, but she could feel the hard muscles beneath; muscles that jumped at her touch.
He gathered her skirts in his hands, kneeling as he lifted them above her ankles, drawing them past her knees, her thighs, and baring her finally to the waist. For a moment he gazed in hard-breathing silence.
“Sit up,” he finally ordered.
As soon as she complied, he moved into her again, one knee on either side of her bare left thigh. As they kissed, he reached around to undo the fastenings at the back of her gown. She felt it loosen, and the soft material puddled around her waist.
“Lift your arms.”
“Stop ordering me about,” she returned, though she did as he said. “I’m not a thing, you know.”
He raised up to pull the dress off over her head, slowing and being more careful as it came over her hair. He’d been married, though; he would know that a female did not want her hair mussed when she had to go back out in public.
“I know you’re not a thing,” he murmured as her arms came free. “You are Josefina Embry, Princess of Costa Habichuela, which may or may not have a climate like that of Jamaica.”
“I told you that the—”
“Unfasten my trousers,” he interrupted.
She lowered her eyes to them, to the bulge at the apex of his thighs. “You want me,” she muttered, swallowing as another wave of pure, shivering lust ran through her.
“I’ve wanted you from the moment I set eyes on you.” Sebastian reached for her hands and drew them to his waist. “Unbutton me,” he repeated, releasing her hands to run his fingers across her nipples.
Josefina gasped, feeling them tighten and harden. She would allow him to guide her in this. Otherwise he would probably leave again, and then her body would combust from heated frustration, and she would die. And he knew that, blast him.
“One day I’ll give you an order, and you will follow it,” she managed, though with her shaking voice and gasps of pleasure she likely didn’t sound terribly forceful or convincing.
“Doubtful,” he said, twisting his torso to replace his fingers with his mouth, sucking and licking.
If she didn’t do as he said, he could probably torture her to death with just this. Hands unsteady, she tugged at the first button until it came open. As she lowered her fingers to the next button, he groaned.
So he liked her hands there, did he? Moving deliberately, very aware that she was completely naked while he was not, Josefina drew her hands downward, running them over the tented material at his crotch.
His entire body jerked. She did it again. Ah, so now who was in control?
“Bloody minx,” he muttered, shifting to kiss the base of her throat.
A moment later one of his hands slid down her stomach, tickled through her dark curls, and brushed her most sensitive place. With a surprised shriek she barely remembered to muffle, she grabbed his shoulders to keep from collapsing on the bed.
He shifted against her, darting his tongue along the rim of her ear. “I know what feels good,” he murmured, pressing his fingers deeper inside her, moving and caressing.
“Oh, heavens.” Obviously he spoke the truth. And if there was more of that yet to come, she didn’t want to miss it. As swiftly as she could, she finished unfastening his trousers and shoved them down to his thighs. “Goodness,” she breathed as he came free.
“Goodness has nothing to do with it, Princess.” In a moment he had her on her back again.
She’d had no idea what a mouth could do until he trailed his lips and agile tongue down from her throat, lingering again at her breasts, then continued on past her belly. Softly he kissed the backs of her knees, bending her legs and parting her thighs to do so. Then he turned his attention to the insides of her thighs.
Josefina writhed, tension and arousal flowing from her core all the way out to the tips of her fingers and toes. When his tongue darted against her folds, she thought she would explode. He pressed further with his mouth and his fingers, and she bucked.
“Stop! Stop. It’s too much.”
Sebastian raised his head to look at her. “Say what you mean,” he hissed, his voice shaking a little. “If you ask me to leave now, I will.” Slowly his mouth curved into that heart-stopping smile. “And then you’ll miss what comes next.”
She shut her eyes for a heartbeat, trying to regain some control over her thoughts and her spread, wanton body. “What comes next?”
“You do.” He lowered his head again.
His fingers moved deeper, in and out, and an exquisite tightness began at the base of her spine. She heard herself moaning and mewling, but all she could do was grab handfuls of the bed coverlet and hold on. Abruptly the tightness gave way, and she felt…heaven. “God,” she blurted, arching her back. “Good God.”
He continued his assault, and it took all her remaining willpower not to scream. Finally as her muscles began to relax again, he moved back over her. “In the future,” he murmured, “you and I may experience that together. But this was your first time, and I wanted to be sure you knew how good I can make you feel.”
His rock-hard manhood pressed against her thigh. “But you’re still…You know.”
“Aroused. For God knows what reason I’m giving you a last chance to escape me, Princess.”
Josefina tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him down for another rough kiss. “I am a princess,” she said unsteadily. “I may do as I please. Continue.”
“With pleasure.” He shifted, lowering his body against hers. Slowly he pushed his hips forward, entering her with a warm, indescribable slide. “It will hurt,” he said a second later, his jaw tight and clenched.
She couldn’t breathe, her heart beating madly at the sensation of him. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“I’ve noticed.” He resumed his motion and the pressure increased, followed by a sharp pain as he buried himself deep inside her. She gasped, grabbing his shoulders again. “Apologies,” he grunted. “It won’t hurt again.”
Sebastian began to move, a little at first, and then as her pain faded, he pumped his hips against her more strongly. The sensation of him inside her, the proof that he desired her, was exquisite.
His eyes closed. What was he thinking? Anything? About her? Or about the last woman he’d had? Josefina hit him on the shoulder, and his eyes flew open again.
“I won’t be a memory,” she managed, moaning in time with his deep strokes. “And I won’t be a substitute for someone else.”
“You’re not,” he rumbled, gently biting her ear as he thrust.
Ah. That tightness began inside her again. “Then you say my name, Sebastian.”
His pace increased, deeper and harder. She could barely breathe as he rocked both her and the bed. “Josefina,” he growled. “Jo…se…fi…na.”
She shattered again, clinging to him. With a deep shudder he removed himself, holding hard to her as he climaxed along with her. For a second as she realized what he’d just done, she felt…disappointed. He’d protected her from becoming pregnant, yes, but if they had made a child, he would have to marry her. One did not father a bastard on a princess. He wouldn’t.
Today answered one thing—she wanted Sebastian Griffin for herself, wanted him to gaze only at her, to spend his nights and his days with her, regardless of anything or anyone else in the world.
All of that, even though under the circumstances she would have been wiser to give her virginity to the Duke of Harek. He didn’t ask questions.
For a long moment Sebastian lay with Josefina close in his arms and tried to regain his breath and his sanity. He nearly hadn’t pulled away, nearly hadn’t been able to make himself do it, and the ramifications were staggering.
Even though he had, and at the very last moment, the fact that he was there with her at all attested to his abject stupidity. For God’s sake, the moment she and her father had given that prospectus to Prinny and said it was a true representation of Costa Habichuela, they’d committed a fraud against England.
And whether that text was in fact accurate or not—and he now had serious doubts about that—he had no business entangling himself, literally and figuratively, with this woman. Insanity.
Yes, it had been four years since he’d been with a woman, and yes, at one time he’d never wanted to touch another female. What the hell had she done to him? And why, even after he’d bedded her, relieved himself of the gnawing ache to be inside her, did he already want her again?
Get hold of yourself, Melbourne. He sat up, reluctantly releasing her. “You should get back to your guests,” he muttered, sliding off the bed and retrieving a washing cloth from the dressing table.
She sat up, taking the cloth as he finished with it and handed it to her. “And that’s all you have to say? ‘Get back to your guests’?”
“I may not at the moment be able to control the…lust I feel toward you,” he returned crisply, yanking up his trousers, “but I don’t—”
“You don’t what?” she broke in, climbing off the bed and grabbing up her shift. “You don’t like me? You don’t—”
“I do like you. I’m not an animal, rutting just because it’s the season to do so.”
“Then what? Because I like you, as well.”
He pretended for the moment that he wasn’t flattered by that. No simpering or bemoaning her lost maidenhead for Josefina. She wanted to know where she stood, how circumstances had changed. “I don’t trust you.”
“Hm.” She pulled on her shift, being careful of her hair, then stepped into her dress. “That’s a rather risky thing to say, considering that all I have to do is open that door and scream, and we would be married by Sunday. And even if your almightiness could prevent that, you would still face a scandal.” She turned her back on him, glancing over her shoulder. “Fasten my dress. I can’t reach.”
Sebastian stifled an unexpected smile. “I take this to mean you won’t be screaming,” he said, stepping over to tug her dress up and fasten the buttons running along her spine. As he finished, he leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck. Obviously having sex with her hadn’t worked; his desire for her had not been purged from his system.
He heard her sigh, and responding heat tugged at his gut again. Moving around in front of her, he tilted her chin up with his fingers and kissed her. Josefina twined her fingers into his hair, leaning her slim body along his. Physically, despite the slapping and other acts of bravado, she was no match for him. Mentally and emotionally, the ground seemed much less certain. She certainly spun him about and stood up to him as no one else—including the members of his own family—did.
“No screaming,” she whispered against his mouth, “if you’ll join our party at Vauxhall the night after next.”
Sebastian set her away from him again. “No.” He picked up his shirt and pulled it on over his head.
“But I thought—”
“I want you. As I said, though, I don’t trust you. You’ve answered some of my questions about Costa Habichuela, but not all of them.” Squatting, he retrieved his waistcoat and jacket. “Until they are all answered to my satisfaction, I will not be put in the position of appearing to endorse your efforts.”
Josefina put her hands on her hips, her lips pursed as she regarded him. “You’re a very righteous gentleman, aren’t you? Except where bedding a woman just because you happen to want her is concerned. I find it all a bit hypocritical of you, Melbourne.” She walked over to the dressing mirror to check her hair.
Why had he expected that she would melt, become sweet and demure, just because he’d made love to her? In fact, he’d begun to wonder whether he hadn’t been more affected than she had. And she had a point. True, the Griffin name and how it was perceived meant everything, but being a boor in private and a saint in public didn’t sit well, either.
On the other hand, there was more to consider than how he felt. For God’s sake, there had been a Grifanus standing for England since before the time of Christ. “No. Somewhere less well attended, perhaps. I won’t be your trained monkey, Josefina.”
“Say what you like, Sebastian,” she returned. “I always get my way. Did you consider whether you’re here because you wanted me, or because I wanted you?”
“We’ll have to pursue that in depth later.” If there was a later. Because he had the feeling that once he did have all of the answers he required and decided what action he needed to take, Princess Josefina would have reason not to wish to be with him any longer.
Chapter 11
“I assume you’ll be sneaking out the window or something,” Josefina said flippantly, making a last check of her attire and then walking past Sebastian to unlock the bedchamber door. “Don’t fall on the roses. My father said Colonel Branbury’s always been very particular about his roses.”
“Thanks for your concern.”
She wished he were easier to decipher, though she supposed that if he was, she wouldn’t find him nearly so fascinating. “Send over a note inviting us to a box in Vauxhall. I imagine you will have a better location than Harek.”
“No, and I won’t say it again.”
Josefina stuck her tongue out at him. Without giving him a chance to reply to that, she strolled out of the room and closed the door behind her. Thankfully the hallway was empty.
“Oh, heavens,” she whispered, collapsing back against the door and fanning herself with both hands.
She’d done it. Irretrievably her virginity was lost. And it had been deliriously exciting and arousing. To think, she’d waited until her twenty-fifth year for the experience, when she’d had an abundance of invitations starting before she’d turned sixteen. Glorious.
However much trouble he was, she was still glad that Sebastian Griffin had been the one to introduce her to sex. He’d wanted her, after what was apparently several years of not wanting anyone. There was power in that realization, and she reveled in it. He’d wanted her.
Harek seemed to, as well, but she had a difficult time imagining that he would bring as much…intensity to the experience as Sebastian had. Certainly he would focus more on his enjoyment than on hers. She ran a hand down her body, sighing. That had been an experience worth repeating. If he had agreed
to blasted Vauxhall, at least she would have an indication that he felt the same.
Well, she still had two days to convince him. With a smile that probably looked as satisfied as it felt, Josefina descended the stairs to the drawing room again.
“There you are, Your Highness,” Lord Ausbey said, blocking her way. “I must read my poem to you now.”
Drat. At least it would give her an additional moment to compose herself. “If you want to recite it to me, I’m afraid you’ll have to do so in front of an audience.” She gestured at the chatty crowd. “I can’t desert my guests.”
The viscount cleared his throat. “Very well. Then everyone may see my devotion to you.”
That had probably been his intention all along. “Proceed, my lord,” she said, resisting the urge to sigh.
“I call it The Tropical Flower,” he said, unfolding the paper.
“Fair winds, calm seas, you shelter her,
The enchanted maiden from far away.
Bright sun, you cannot darken
The fair skin of the glorious, heaven-sent angel.
We of the cold, fog-ridden land worship you from afar.
I, cursed with an earth-bound body and star-gazing eyes,
Look upon you in wonder, and weep that you are not mine.”
He bowed to a scattering of applause, some admiring female-toned acclamation, and a few lower-voiced mutterings of ridicule. Josefina smiled, adding her applause to the general cacophony. “Very nice, my lord. Thank you.”
“It is all sincere, Your Highness,” he said, his hand covering his heart. “And if you would but…” His gaze focused behind her, and he trailed off. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing and backing away simultaneously.
Had Harek pointed a pistol at the poor fellow? The poem hadn’t been that awful. Josefina turned around, ready to scold the high-handed duke, but the words stopped in her throat.
Melbourne stood a few feet from her, his steely gaze on the boy. It was a wonder Ausbey hadn’t swallowed his own tongue. Jealousy? The duke’s gaze moved to her, and her skin heated. “Your Grace,” she said belatedly, giving a curtsy as she remembered that as far as anyone else knew, he’d only just arrived.
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