Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2)

by S. M. LaViolette

  Joss leaned back in his chair, spreading his thighs to give himself a little relief. Her eyes dropped to his trouser front and her hands faltered.

  Joss curled his fingers around his straining erection and stroked himself over the cloth.

  A choked noise broke out of her and her hands stilled. He stopped his stroking and she looked up. He raised his brows and looked at her gown, which was not yet unbuttoned.

  She resumed her journey; Joss resumed his stroking.

  “Remove it,” he said when her hand reached the last button.

  She hesitated and again he raised his brows. “You know my rules—or have you forgotten?”

  She swallowed, visibly aroused by his curt words. “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “So?”

  “I—”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m older than you.”

  Joss’s hand froze. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I am not a young woman.”

  It was the last thing he expected or imagined her saying. This woman—the physical embodiment of poetry, symphonies, masterpieces—was concerned about her age?

  Joss gave a laugh of disbelief. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in my entire life. Ever.”

  Her face colored furiously, as though she’d never heard that before. Aristocratic men really were fucking idiots.

  “Remove your gown and let me look at you.”

  She lifted the garment off with shaking hands, and then let it flutter to the floor.

  “My God.”

  She ducked her head at his words.

  “Look at me,” he ordered.

  Her chest was rising and falling fast, telling him of the effort it took to stand before him naked. When she met his eyes, he saw that hers had gone dark.

  “You’re magnificent,” he said in a raspy voice, rubbing his cock painfully hard with the heel of his hand. “You want to give me pleasure?”

  “Yes.”

  The catch in her voice made him throb. He stood. “Come here and unbutton my trousers.”

  She stepped forward without hesitation.

  Joss had done this hundreds of times—perhaps even thousands. Never, except for the first few times when he’d been sixteen, had he been in danger of spending in his drawers.

  But when her shaky hands began to unbutton him, his control began to unravel. How many times had he envisioned, fantasized, dreamed about this? And now, it was happening. And it was happening too damned fast.

  His loosened trousers slid to the ground and he stepped out of them and looked from the tented fabric of his drawers to her face. She was staring with parted lips that made his cock twitch.

  “Touch me.”

  Her eyes flickered up to his and then back down, her palm flat as she lowered it over the damp circle.

  He sucked in a breath and pulled the tape, pushing the fabric away and bringing himself into view.

  She made a low gurgling sound deep in her throat and his balls clenched so tight it was a miracle he didn’t explode.

  He held himself in a loose grip, slowly stroking his aching shaft while she watched.

  Her lips parted in a way that said she knew what he wanted, and—miraculously—her flared pupils said she wanted it, too.

  “I want to hear you to say it.”

  She looked dazed. “Say it?”

  “I want to hear you say, I want to pleasure you with my mouth, Gormley.”

  Her jaw dropped and Joss didn’t think she would do it. But then . . .

  “I wa—” she had to clear her throat. “I want to p-pleasure you with my mouth … Joss.”

  “Ah, God,” he groaned, shuddering. “I love hearing you say my name. Say it again.”

  “Joss.”

  “Have you done this before?” It wasn’t a fair question, but the imp that drove him would not be cheated of such an opportunity to ask her questions.

  Her lids lifted and she looked at him, searing him with her black gaze. “Yes.”

  He paused on a downward stroke, holding himself taut and proud and rigid, the thick vein that pulsed beneath the sensitive skin throbbing so hard it was making him almost light-headed. A bead of moisture formed at the small slit.

  “Get down on your knees and taste me.”

  A shudder wracked her frame but she sank to her knees, holding his hips to steady herself and stretching out her tongue before her knees had even hit the floor.

  Her eagerness caused him to utter something unspeakably vulgar as the pink tip of her tongue flicked the glistening slit.

  His hips jerked and he hissed through clenched jaws. “Again.”

  Her next stroke was longer, harder, the pointed tip probing the sensitive opening. His hips shook.

  “Take me in your mouth.”

  One of her hands slipped over his before he’d even finished his sentence, her fingers cool, smooth, and delicate, but strong. Unspeakable softness enveloped the sensitive crown and Joss watched in greedy wonder as his mistress took him deeper, her plump lips stretched thin to accommodate his girth.

  The volume of moisture in her mouth increased as she worked him and he felt the softly ridged palate on his glans as she attempted to take him deeper.

  He was lost.

  ∞∞∞

  Alicia wrapped her hand around the thick base of him and took him as deeply as she could—which was still not enough for her.

  She saw his eyelids flutter and close, his head drop back.

  Yes, she’d done this before—too many times—but never had she wanted to do it. To bring him the pleasure he’d brought her.

  Her body’s response to kneeling and taking him in her mouth mortified her. Wetness rolled down the insides of her thighs as she sucked him, sounds that should have embarrassed her—that had embarrassed her in the past—filling the room.

  His hips gently pulsing, his big, scarred hands lightly tracing her jaw, her temple, her tightly stretched lips.

  He opened his eyes and lifted his head, as if it weighed a thousand pounds, his gaze riveted to where her lips held him captive.

  “God, I love watching you take me.” He pushed slowly in, deeper, until she began to fear she couldn’t breathe. But before she could become frantic—as she had in the past—he pulled out and she clung to him, not wanting to let go. But he removed himself entirely, took her hand, and helped her to her feet.

  When he kissed her, his tongue was rough and questing. “I can taste myself on you,” he murmured in her ear when he pulled away. “I don’t know what was more satisfying, the feel of your hot mouth around me, or watching my cock slide in and out of those plump lips.”

  She gaped up at him.

  He chuckled at her shocked expression. “Go lie on the bed,” he said, giving her a gentle push.

  Alicia hated for him to see her broad, fleshy backside, so she backed toward the bed and watched him. His erect penis jutted out, pushing against the fine cotton of his shirt, which he grasped and drew over his head.

  Good lord.

  She dropped onto the bed and stared. She’d seen his naked torso before, of course, but the circumstances had hardly been conducive to enjoying the sight.

  His body was magnificent, and not just his erect organ.

  In addition to her husbands, she’d been with three other men, all from the higher social orders.

  She’d picked them based on a combination of looks and other elements like availability and unmarried state. Byerly was very handsome, indeed. But his elegant, aristocratic body could not rival this man’s. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from that most male part of him. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen the male organ before. She had seen it too often. . . especially David’s—

  No.

  Alicia clenched her jaws tight enough to hurt.

  No. She would not allow memories of David to poison this.

  Instead, she feasted on the body before her, like a ruminant turned loose in a lush, green pasture. She wished desperately that there were more tha
n just the two smoky tallow candles.

  He was a masterpiece. Muscles upon muscles—braided, roped, ridged, slabbed, every part of him defined and chiseled and hard.

  She swallowed and looked up. He met her gaze with an impassive stare that rocked her more than the sight of his body. Did nothing discountenance this man? How could he stand before her, every part of him exposed, and still appear so confident and unashamed?

  He came toward her and she instinctively inched back.

  He stopped, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his harsh features. “Would you like to leave, my lady?”

  “No,” she hastened to assure him. “I want to stay—more than ever. But I want you to call me by my name. Say it—Alicia.”

  His mouth twisted into an oddly shy smile. “All-ee-sha.”

  She grinned like an idiot. “Yes, like that. That is the way people say it back home. Say it again.”

  He shook his head. “You first, say mine.”

  They laughed like a pair of nervous children.

  “Joss.”

  “Alicia.”

  They spoke at the same time and couldn’t seem to stop laughing. She held out a hand, “Come, it is cold.”

  To her surprise, he came to her. But instead of getting into the bed he lifted the covers. “Get beneath and I’ll start a fire.”

  “Don’t go.”

  He looked up, surprised.

  So was Alicia. Her face heated at her bold behavior, but she made herself speak her mind. “I want you, right now. Come and keep me warm.”

  A flush spread up his neck and turned him brick red. He could stand naked, do all manner of things kneeling before her, but a simple invitation to bed made him blush. She held up the covers for him and the entire bed shifted so that she rolled toward him, laughing. Well, actually, she giggled.

  He chuckled as well, scooting close to her as the weight of his body compressed the mattress. The bed was absolutely filled with hot male body. With Joss.

  His arm slid beneath her and he rolled her on top of him with the ease of a man lifting up a doll. He pulled her tight, their bodies meeting from shoulders to hips, the hard length of him pressed into her belly and telling her he might be laughing, but he was still aroused. For her.

  He stroked up and down the sides of her body, the gentle friction raising the temperature beneath the blankets. She leaned up on her elbows to look at him. The light in the room was dimmer by the bed, more romantic for a woman her age.

  The intimacy of being only an inch from his face should have been uncomfortable—it always had been in the past—but his eyes looked into hers openly and honestly.

  “Joss.”

  His lips twitched into that same shy smile, making her realize just how rarely she’d seen it.

  “Yes … All-ee-sha?”

  She closed her eyes and laughed, opening them when she felt his hands in her hair.

  “I want to see it down.”

  “Yes, please.”

  His big fingers were gentle and deft.

  “It’s so soft, like spun silk. I knew it would feel this way.”

  “You-you’ve thought about my hair?”

  He nodded, his expression unsmiling as his fingers removed pins.

  “What else have you thought about, Joss?” Her voice was hoarse, unrecognizable.

  “I’ll show you,” he promised.

  The heavy coil slid down her neck and over her shoulders.

  He reached out blindly and dropped the pins in the direction of the nightstand, but some hit the floor, pinging off the hard wood.

  “Whoops,” he whispered, thrusting his fingers into the rope of hair and closing his eyes, a beatific smile on his face.

  Alicia leaned down and kissed his parted lips, stroking into him, tasting cognac and Joss.

  His hand moved between their bodies, to the source of her pleasure. His fingers worked magic while his hips gently pulsed, rubbing his thick shaft against her as he effortlessly drove her toward a shattering climax.

  Big warm hands stroked her back and shoulders afterward, bringing her gently back to awareness.

  He whispered in her ear. “I want to be inside you.”

  “Yes.” She nodded jerkily.

  He lifted and moved her to the side before sliding out of bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  He opened the drawer, pulled out a slim leather envelope and removed a sheath.

  Alicia stared in wonder. A man who voluntarily sheathed his organ?

  He wet the tube in the basin on his dresser before returning to the bed. When he touched it to his shaft, he winced.

  “Cold?” she asked, although she knew the answer.

  He nodded.

  She reached out and took him in both hands. “Let me.”

  His eyes widened, but his hands fell away.

  She smoothed the thin membrane over him in slow, upward strokes.

  His big body shuddered and his eyelids drooped, his hips pushing toward her. “You make me want to purr.”

  She smiled, needing to tug firmly to make the snug tube fit his length and girth.

  Once it was tied, he looked down at her. “Lie back.”

  She did, and he knelt between her thighs, his hand going to her sex, his nimble clever fingers working their magic. Just how did he know such things?

  Their eyes locked as he drank in her pleasure. “I need you . . . Alicia.”

  She opened wide for him.

  He entered her in a slow, endless glide.

  Alicia bit her lip to keep from crying out; he was thick and long, the largest man she’d ever had inside her.

  “Is that good?” he asked as he pulled almost all the way out, hesitating an agonizing moment before thrusting back in.

  “Yes.” The word was more of a groan.

  “You like this?” he hissed in her ear. “Me filling you, stretching you, fucking you?”

  Her entire body contracted at his filthy words.

  “You don’t like it,” he said, pulling out. “You love it.” He thrust into her so hard her head bumped the headboard.

  Alicia didn’t care.

  “You’re so bloody tight.” He grunted and thrust deep. “I can’t get far enough inside.”

  She tilted her pelvis and took him deeper, wrapping her legs around his taut buttocks.

  He made a sound that was half laugh, half groan, doubling his thrusts, deepening them, pounding into her until both their bodies were shaking.

  “I’m sorry,” he grated, his hips snapping faster and harder, his body slick even in the coolness of the room. “I can’t hold back much longer, love—”

  A flurry of savage thrusts were followed by a guttural yell and then he froze, all except the hard pulsing part that was buried deep within her.

  He shuddered violently and then his body went limp.

  Alicia felt as though a wagon had collapsed on top of her. A hot, sweaty, glorious wagon. She should have felt trapped, but instead she felt sheltered.

  Unfortunately, it was over all too soon.

  He shook his head like a big dog waking from a deep slumber and pushed up on one elbow, his hand going to where they were joined, holding the sheath when he pulled out.

  He stared at her, intent and unsmiling, swooping down to give her a hard kiss. “That was selfish; you did not come with me, but I could not wait.”

  Alicia laughed weakly. Oh, this man.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Joss was half expecting—dreading—that she would be gone when he came out of the small box room where he kept the necessary.

  ​But she was still there, in his bed, real—no mirage. He crouched down and lit the fire, vowing to himself that from now on he would burn one every evening just in case she came to him.

  He had wet a cloth in the basin of icy water and held it in front of the fire as the initial flames grudgingly flickered to life. When he stood, it was to find her watching him, her head propped up on her hand.

  He gestured to the cl
oth. “I’ve warmed it, but it’s not hot.”

  She cocked her head, her expression uncomprehending, and Joss mentally cursed, bloody toffs.

  “Lift the covers,” he ordered, and then hesitated. What was he doing, still speaking to her that way?

  But she lifted the covers without hesitating. He lowered himself onto the mattress carefully, so as not to jostle her. “Spread your legs for me,” he said, loving the flush that crept up her long elegant neck as she complied.

  He cleaned her, reveling in the intimacy of this simple action; thrilling at the way her eyes consumed him. He threw the used cloth into the basin and then slid in beside her and pulled the blankets to their chins. They lay like boards, staring at the ceiling.

  “I’m so sorry you were injured helping me that night.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Yes, it was.” She hesitated. “It was irresponsible and foolish of me; I should have guessed how he would be.”

  Joss turned to her. “You should have guessed he would strike you? Attack you?”

  “He was drunk, and angry, and hurt.”

  “Not all men strike women when they are drunk, angry, or hurt. It’s not a natural or acceptable reaction.”

  She smiled and he noticed, for the first time, the lines around her stunning blue eyes. Eyes he’d always thought looked like hard blue diamonds. But right now, they held all the possibilities of an endless summer sky.

  “You are a conundrum, Joss.”

  God, his name on her lips made his cock as hard as iron. “How so?”

  “You’re a big—huge,” she amended with a smile, “powerful man and yet you’re so very gentle.”

  He never gave much thought to his size, other than how it led others to misjudge him. A big dumb oaf, that was what he was accustomed to seeing in other people’s eyes.

  He reached up and skimmed the curve of her jaw with one finger, knowing he would kick himself later for not touching her more. Her eyelids fluttered, the dark brown thickets brushing her skin.

  The words slipped out before he could stop them: “How could anyone ever be anything but gentle with you?”

  Her lids squeezed shut and he was horrified when tears leaked out.