The Pleasure Seekers

by Melanie George

  Then he changed the rhythm, moving in and out of her, stretching her, a pressure building when he tried to push too far, his wet mouth sliding between her breasts, sucking her nipples until they were rigid points, whispering sexual words about how they felt in his mouth, how they responded to the caress of his tongue.

  Then he inserted two more fingers into her drenched passage. “That’s how it’ll feel when I’m inside you,” he said in a deep, passion-roughened voice. “Fuller, though. Farther in.”

  Bliss wanted to pull away as much as she wanted to push against his hand. “Caine…” She didn’t know what she was asking him for.

  “I know, love.” He slowly eased out of her, spreading the moisture on his fingers over the sensitive peak he had loved with his mouth, before kissing the tip, then giving it a teasing lick, and another, and another, working her up all over again, bringing her to the precipice and finally, blessedly, ending the torment by drawing the hot point into his mouth.

  When he gently bit down, Bliss’s world unraveled, a wave of pleasure pouring in scalding rivulets through her veins and culminating beneath his questing tongue and lips, the pulses flowing from deep inside her.

  Afterward, she lay sated, boneless, her limbs unable to move as the final ripples thrummed through her. She had never realized it could be like this between a man and a woman. Never understood exactly how much she had been missing.

  Caine moved off her, rolling to his back and locking his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky through the canopy of leaves above.

  He was so big, so solid. So very real. She wanted to hold him, to lay her head against his chest and listen to his heart beating beneath her ear.

  But his posture, solitary and defiant, warned her away. He had gotten at least part of what he had wanted. She had writhed beneath him, as he had once said she would. And yet, he hadn’t taken her.

  His gaze slid sideways, those hot blue eyes spearing her as expertly as his tongue had moments before. “So was it as good as you hoped?”

  Bliss tried not to flinch, unprepared for his abrupt reversion back to his usual scorn. She had been sure she sensed something tender in his kisses and the way he touched her, but what happened between them didn’t mean anything to him.

  Hating the hurt she felt, she struggled for composure. “Having no other man to whom I can compare your skills,” she said, praying he didn’t see her hands trembling as she adjusted her skirt and bodice, “I wouldn’t have the foggiest notion if your lovemaking was all that it should be. But if it will put your fragile male pride to rest, I promise to give you a proper rating once I have sufficient information.”

  Hard fingers suddenly gripped her upper arm to pull her around. The look in Caine’s eyes was feral. “What just happened between us was not lovemaking,” he said, fury in each clipped word. “But since you feel equivocal about my performance thus far, I guess I’ll have to give it another go.”

  “No, Caine…”

  He stopped her protest with his mouth, gripping the back of her head and holding her tightly against him as he once more deftly undid the buttons she had just done up.

  Sounds of protest rose in her throat as she tried to push him away, but her struggle was halfhearted. The moment his mouth had touched hers, anticipation had rocketed through her, the blood sluicing through her veins in growing excitement. She now knew what he could do, and her body yearned for the sensations he could evoke.

  His large, warm hand slid in to cup her breast as he pulled her on top of him, making her straddle him, to feel his hardness pressing against her heat, burning her through her clothes.

  He suckled one nipple and gently plucked the other. She whimpered, shivering as his hand skimmed up her calf and over her thigh, knowing where he was going, her body needing the fulfillment he could give her.

  The first touch of his finger against the sensitized peak between her downy curls made her throw her head back wantonly, her thighs spreading boldly across his lap.

  “Lift up your skirt,” he commanded in a husky murmur.

  Without thought, Bliss did as he asked.

  “Higher. I want to see you.”

  Her entire body trembling, she pulled her skirt all the way up, not realizing that he had divested her of her pantalets, leaving her femininity completely bare to his view. She tried to cover herself, but he pushed her hands away and continued stroking her.

  He gripped her buttocks, lifting her up, his gaze still riveted to hers as he raised his head and impaled the heart of her with his tongue, flicking just the tip, the most exquisite part.

  Her back arched, words tumbling from her lips, encouragement, pleasure, demand. She didn’t know who she was in those moments of ecstasy. She only knew that she needed what Caine was giving her.

  As a second climax spiraled from the very depths of her being, Bliss felt replete and drugged, her body sagging against Caine’s, his arms wrapping around her and holding her against his chest, something possessive and tender in his embrace.

  She allowed herself to drift in that gauzy world for a few minutes, but reality flooded her senses all too soon. She had given herself over to Caine’s complete mastery not once, but twice.

  She expected to see a gloating expression on his face, but he was staring at the leafy canvas above their heads, strain bracketing his eyes and mouth.

  She didn’t understand him. Here was a man infamous for his sexual appetites, and yet, once more, he had not taken her. In the throes of the passion he had so skillfully woven, she would have let him do what he pleased.

  Her gaze shifted to the faint scar etching his cheek. Without thought, she reached up to run her finger over it. In the next instance, her wrist was gripped in Caine’s viselike hand.

  “Don’t,” he ground out.

  Bliss wet her suddenly dry lips, trying to breathe past the constriction in her chest at the warning in his eyes. But she wanted answers, needed to know more about him.

  “Where did you get it?” With trepidation, she raised her free hand, waiting for him to stop her again, his gaze following her arm’s ascent until her fingers hovered only a scant inch away. Then, taking a breath, she touched him. His eyes clamped shut and his jaw worked, but he did not wrench her away this time. “Talk to me, Caine,” she said softly.

  He did not speak. His body lay rigid and unmoving beneath the questing probe of her fingertips.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  A moment of silence, then: “No.”

  “Did you get it in a fight?”

  He expelled a sound, a muttered curse. She couldn’t quite tell. “Yes.”

  “Was it terrible?”

  “Jesus.” He made a short, brittle sound. “What is it you want from me? Can’t you ever just let it go?”

  His rebuke brought a cold sense of reality back to Bliss. She pushed away from the warmth of his body and sat up. “It’s been a most edifying day, my lord. I thank you for your services. If you’ll excuse me, I find I’m in need of different company.”

  She made to rise, but he grabbed a length of her hair. She let out a sharp cry of surprise as once more she found herself staring into his piercing eyes.

  “Don’t, God damn you.”

  “Don’t what?” she returned in a brittle tone, equally angry.

  “Don’t you bloody thank me. Not now. Not ever. I won’t take that shit from you. Not from you.” His grip eased, but he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Then talk to me. Tell me what troubles you.”

  An expression that was half anguish and half fury washed over his face, and Bliss wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him. But she knew he wouldn’t let her.

  “Does your pain have to do with your father? I know—”

  “You know nothing,” he cut her off, pushing to his feet and moving to the edge of the woods, his hands sunk into the pocket of his trousers. He was silent for so long, she thought he had forgotten she was there. Then he said in an emotionless tone, “The villagers think m
y father haunts these cliffs. They claim they’ve seen him down on the shore below the Point.”

  Bliss came to stand at his shoulder, staring down a sharp descent of ferns and heath, the ground falling away so abruptly that she could only see space. Caine looked as though he was leagues away from this place, his mind focused on memories.

  “Others say they’ve seen him driving his carriage or riding over Challacombe Downs, followed by a pack of his hounds.” He shook his head. “Christ, what people will actually believe.”

  “And what do you believe?” she quietly asked.

  His gaze slid to her. “Death is death. And nothing can change it.”

  “No. Nothing can change it. But we can hold onto the memories we have. No one can take those away.” She paused, debating the wisdom of what she was about to say. “What happened to your father wasn’t your fault.”

  His jaw worked and he turned away from her. “Do you want to take a swim?”

  Bliss shook her head as he moved past her. She heard him remove his clothes, each piece tumbling to the ground with the barest sound.

  She kept her gaze averted until she knew he had entered the water, and then she turned. Only the slightest ripple in the glasslike surface marked his way.

  The water looked cool and inviting, and Caine’s beautiful body rose from it like some Dionysian god, his black hair wet and skimming his shoulders, his chest a bronze sheen, little rivulets sliding over the defined planes and dancing over the hard ridges of his stomach before disappearing beneath the unbroken surface that shielded the rest of his body from her view.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” he asked.

  Bliss shook her head, unable to stop looking at him, feeling an undeniable pull that was so much more than physical.

  His fierce curse brought her gaze up.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “You.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Don’t you know not to look at a man like that? You’re asking to be deflowered.” He swore again and plunged beneath the water.

  She blushed and felt ridiculous. She was a mature, world-wise woman, and yet Caine managed to expose feminine weaknesses she hadn’t realized she possessed.

  When he surfaced, she was determined to reclaim control. “Why didn’t you make love to me?”

  “Because you weren’t ready,” he said without missing a beat, the water swishing as he moved toward the bank, exposing more flesh with each step, a challenging light in his eyes as he drew closer, daring her to look away. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t have.

  And then he was standing on solid ground, naked and glorious, beads of water caressing his muscular body as he stood in a patch of sun, the rays backlighting him.

  She followed the path of a drop of water as it skirted his collarbone, then raced over one satiny brown nipple and curved along a beautifully sculpted stomach, before disappearing in the thatch of dark hair at his groin.

  “Stop it, Bliss.” The words were a growled warning, and as she watched, his shaft, thick even without an erection, began to swell and lengthen.

  Her gaze lifted and met his. His eyes were so dark, so fierce, and yet she glimpsed the desire. All for her. The knowledge burned inside her.

  “You could have made love to me,” she heard herself confess, remembering how mindless he had made her the moment his hands and mouth began working their magic on her body. “Why didn’t you? I thought you took what you wanted.”

  “I do.”

  “You didn’t want me then?”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “You know I did.”

  She started toward him, watching each subtle inflection on that harsh countenance, the way his hands slowly curled into fists at his side. He wasn’t so tough, so dangerous. Not at that moment. Not with the way he was looking at her.

  “You wish I wasn’t so bold, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

  “It’ll get you in trouble.”

  “Will it?” She wasn’t sure what devil prompted her to reach out and stroke her finger down the silky jut of his erection, but she felt satisfaction in his sharp intake of breath.

  She’d always endeavored to overcome whatever intimidated her, and never had a man intimidated her more than this one. Caine threatened the very balance of her life.

  Without warning, his hand wrapped painfully around her wrist. “Don’t, for God’s sake. I’m not some animal; I’m a man. Christ…” His voice was ragged. “I’m a man.”

  He pushed her hand away and turned from her. As he dragged his clothes from the ground, Bliss wondered what she had just done, and how she had unintentionally hurt him.

  When he turned back to her, dressed, his stone-cold expression had returned. The look he sent her froze the apology on her lips. “Let’s go,” he bit out.

  She followed him up the path. They were halfway to the village when the young woman from the cottage ran up to them, her face pale.

  “What’s the matter, Sara?” Caine demanded, concern in his voice.

  “Oh, m’lord,” she cried, twisting her hands in the folds of her skirt. “’Tis the mistress.”

  “Lady Buxton?”

  She nodded. “She’s thrown us out.” Tears spilled over her cheeks.

  “Thrown you out?”

  “Aye, she says we’ve got two days to be gone. We gave her man the money y’ gave us, but he said because Da is sick and can’t work, we’ve got to get out.” Her eyes, glassy with unshed tears, implored him. “What will we do? We have nowhere to go.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “But the mistress—”

  “The mistress can go hang. Don’t pack a thing. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Oh, but y’ve already done too much. I can’t let y’ put y’rself out anymore on account of us.”

  “I said I’d help, and I will.”

  Heart-wrenching tears trickled down Sara’s young face, and Bliss saw the hero worship there. The girl launched herself against Caine’s chest, wrapping her thin arms around his neck. He didn’t seem to know what to do. He accepted her gratitude, but his body remained unyielding, his arms stiff at his sides.

  “Thank y’, m’lord. Y’ are the most wonderful man in the world.”

  He gently dislodged himself from her embrace. “Go back and tell your mother something will be done.”

  “Yes, y’r lordship. And thank you.” She hesitated, then kissed his cheek. Picking up her skirt, she fled back toward the village.

  Bliss came up beside him, both of them watching Sara until she disappeared from view. “She loves you, you know.”

  “I know,” he replied somberly and without satisfaction. “She doesn’t realize her mistake.” He started back toward the house.

  Twelve

  His madness was not of the head, but heart…

  Lord Byron

  The hall was quiet when Bliss entered with Caine. They had walked in silence, as if their time together in the woods had never happened. Once more Bliss had been shut out.

  Thinking of Caine’s role in the welfare of Sara’s family, Bliss remembered the stud fee he had demanded from her for Khan. She had believed his reasons to be purely malicious; now she realized there might have been more to his request.

  She had never considered how he might be forced to live, or how a man of such unflinching pride dealt with his lowered means. Relying on someone else would never sit well with him. Perhaps the drastic alteration in his life was part of the reason for his bitterness, what made him keep people at a distance. Living as a guest in a home that should have rightfully been his could not be easy.

  Bliss didn’t know what power kept Caine here, what invisible bond tethered him to this land, but she felt it. Perhaps it was simply that his father had died here. She believed his father’s death was truly at the root of his disillusionment and anger, though she couldn’t tell if his rage was directed at himself or his father.

  A burst of laughter
at the far end of the hall brought them to a momentary stop, and Bliss recognized Olivia’s voice. The other voice was familiar as well: Lord St. Giles. She’d know that guffaw anywhere. The man had hung over her shoulder all through dinner the night before, his nearness bordering on suffocating.

  Entering the morning salon with Caine, Bliss found Olivia and the earl deep in conversation, their heads bent close to one another. Bliss wondered how Caine felt about what he saw. Was he jealous? Could he have feelings for Olivia? Perhaps it was not simply the lure of his house that kept him here. Perhaps the true lure was the woman who glanced up at them, a sultry smile curving her lips upon spotting Caine, those catlike green eyes growing cooler when her gaze lit on Bliss.

  “Where have you been, darling?” she asked in a sleepy, come-hither voice. “I was looking all over for you. St. Giles and I were just about to have a late breakfast. Won’t you join us?”

  The earl’s gaze raked over Bliss, something mocking in those gray depths as he inclined his head. Bliss wondered if he could tell what had transpired between her and Caine. Did a woman’s face take on a different light when recently pleasured? More so if the pleasure had been great?

  Bliss noted the large knot on the earl’s jaw, the bruise dark and quite nasty. Her brow furrowed as a faintly puzzling image came to mind: her bleary eyes flickering open in the dead of night to see two figures silhouetted in the shadows of her bedroom, scuffling. But it had just been a dream, she told herself. Like the one she’d had of Caine taking her tenderly in his arms and gently laying her down on her bed.

  “I have to talk to you,” Caine told Olivia in a clipped tone, adding with emphasis, “alone.”

  Olivia remained seated, her posture almost challenging. “You can speak in front of St. Giles. He’s not a gossip-monger.” Turning to the earl, she said, “Are you, my lord?”