His Wicked Reputation

by Madeline Hunter

  “I did not come here for that.” She breathed the words more than spoke them.

  “I know.”

  He did not sound sincere, or even much interested. Perhaps he did not believe her. Maybe he assumed she really had come there for that, then lost her nerve and sat on the steps to decide what to do.

  “My house really was broken into. Truly.”

  “I do not doubt it.”

  “Then why—”

  His lips brushed hers. “I am not sure. Perhaps because you are curious, and I am badly tempted to enlighten you.” She felt a faint smile against her cheek while his breath on her skin made happy shivers dance down her spine. “Perhaps because a woman who speaks her mind without hesitation challenges me. Maybe because your spirit hints at all kinds of passions.”

  She sought refuge in society’s rules, but half-heartedly. “It would be ignoble of you to seduce me after I came here for help.”

  His head angled so he spoke in her ear. None of him actually touched her anymore. Not one spot. Yet he might have been embracing her naked body from the breathlessness that possessed her.

  “I am not going to seduce you.”

  “You aren’t?”

  He shook his head slightly. His soft hair feathered against her face because he had dipped his head so his phantom kisses warmed her neck. She fought the urge to squirm in reaction to his sensual taunts.

  “I will enjoy the sweet torture of wanting you, however. Temptation is its own pleasure.” Again his breath feathered her ear and neck. “You feel what I mean. Right now, you do.”

  She certainly did. He had her aroused worse than when they had embraced in the garden. So little space separated them that she need only exhale for her breasts to touch his shirt. The small gap begged for closure.

  “I would expect a man like you to press your advantage,” she murmured. “Not settle for sweet torture.”

  He looked down at his fingertips. They slowly drew a line at the neckline of her dress. The proximity of his hands to her breasts seemed designed to drive her mad. She waged a losing battle against her inclinations because she had been caressed by that hand before, and she had been naked, and it had been wonderful.

  “As I said, I may be called wicked, but I am not unprincipled. There are many reasons why I cannot have you, tonight of all nights. A long list. You are ignorant. You came here for safety. You have drunk strong spirits. Since you are an innocent, you would expect I do the right thing afterward. I do not seduce women who do not know their own minds and will wake up with regrets, Eva, even when I badly want them.”

  That tracing line connected with her skin briefly, in a small caress. The sensation streamed through her body.

  Surely he would step away now, after that fine speech. She could not bear this any longer. Her body ached with anticipation. She understood what he meant when he spoke of the pleasure of temptation. In the garden she had briefly tasted the fulfillment of that promise, and now the temptation swept away caution and reserve and what little remained of propriety.

  “What if—what if there would be no regrets?” she asked. “What if I am tired of being ignorant, and more than passing curious?”

  He just looked down at her upturned face.

  “What if I know my own mind very well, and there will be no expectations at all?”

  “Eva—”

  “What if being held by you sounds very safe to me tonight, and very right, in ways nothing else would?”

  His expression hardened. His lids lowered. Sensuality became a palpable energy between them. Her anticipation sang in a higher key. She did not think it possible to want a man to embrace her more than she did right now.

  Only he didn’t embrace her. Looking in his eyes, lost in them, she knew, just knew, the instant when temptation lost the war.

  She could not believe it. She had just offered herself and he was going to turn her down. He was supposed to be wicked, damn it.

  To make it worse, he smiled like she was a sweet child and kissed her on the forehead.

  Furious, she threw her arms around his neck to hold his head down and kissed him on the mouth. Her breasts pressed against his chest and her whole body cheered with relief.

  Surprise. The smallest hesitation. Then his inconvenient decency blew away on the winds of raging desire. His embrace enclosed her so tightly that her body melded against his. Strong fingers held her crown so his kisses could ravish her mouth, her neck, her chest. Her own hands and arms pressed and grasped and learned and knew. Yes, she thought, Yes, yes, as his hands moved over her and the force of his want dominated her.

  A low sound in her ear. “Not here.” Here, anywhere, she did not care. They moved, she did not know how. Still entwined, still sharing fevered holds and hard, deep kisses, like a whirlwind they spun up-stairs, slamming against walls, fumbling with garments, blind with impatience.

  Joy when her dress loosened halfway up the second flight of stairs. Euphoria when he pressed her to the stairwell wall and pulled down dress, chemise, and stays until his warm hand could touch her breasts again. Yes, as she knew that pleasure once more, so much better than in her memory. Yes, when his head lowered and his tongue flicked.

  She could no longer walk with the dress sagging low. He lifted her in his arms and carried her the rest of the way, to a bedchamber white and brown and spare.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and set her on her feet in front of him. She found herself looking down into dark eyes and a face transformed by passion. Hard. Hot. A spiral of need spun through her, down to her vulva.

  He pushed her garments down her hips and made quick work of her stays’ lacing. Her dress and chemise fell down her legs, and the stays flew through the air, leaving her naked in front of him.

  His hands and gaze moved down her body, from her shoulders to her knees. “You are beautiful, Eva.” He pulled her closer, between his thighs, one hand on her bottom and the other on her back, and kissed her so passionately that her knees almost buckled. Then his mouth moved to her breasts. Tongue and teeth began devastating arousals, while his caresses claimed her hips and thighs, her bottom and back. All of her. A sensual stupor engulfed her. The need pulsed more and more, aching and wanting. A frantic yearning entered her euphoria. It grew until it absorbed the pleasure within itself.

  His hand slid between her thighs. He touched her at the center of her desire, where all the sensations collected and pulsed. She cried out from the intensity, and almost pulled away. He held her so she could not, while he touched her again with a long stroke.

  A compelling union of pleasure and excruciating need maddened her. He lifted her and set her on his knees facing him, her legs straddling his. She looked down as his hand again stroked her, only now she was open to him. Shockingly so. Before she closed her eyes to contain the delirium, she saw he was looking down there too.

  She almost wept. She begged with a series of pleas, for mercy, for something. “Soon. Very soon,” he said.

  His hand moved again. A caress sent her reeling. “You will know this now, because I cannot be sure you will when I take you.”

  He pressed her forward, against his chest. He embraced her there while he deliberately made her madness worse and worse, until she thought she would scream.

  Then she did scream, right into his shoulder, as all the need burst apart and exquisite sensations flowed out of it. She lost all other sense in that moment, and only reclaimed herself slowly while she sagged, naked and astonished, in his arms.

  She did not know how long they sat like that, with her limp in his arms while that glory echoed in her. Finally he stood, turned, and put her on the bed.

  * * *

  Gareth stripped off his clothes and joined Eva in bed. She still lulled in a stupor, but not so much that she had not watched him undress.

  “Come here.” He reached for her. “Here, like this.” He positioned her on her back, on top of him, her head against his shoulder and her body exposed to the air, his gaze, and his hands.
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br />   She flailed a little, surprised at being propped like this. He nuzzled her head and caressed down her sides until she allowed herself to sink against him. That caused her bottom to press his erection. Up her hips went, abruptly. Down they came again, carefully testing, as shock gave way to curiosity. She shifted so she nestled him between her thighs. He moved her slightly again so the tip of his cock pressed her mound.

  She squirmed just enough to make a spike of feral craving obliterate his thoughts. “You really are wicked,” she said. She arched sensuously against him.

  He kissed her shoulder and face. Her breasts rose higher, round and firm, their dark tips tight again. He lightly skimmed them with his thumbs, and she all but levitated. He feathered caresses on the tips again. She grasped the sheet on either side of his hips and twisted the fabric in her fists.

  He continued teasing her while desire re-inflamed her. She rocked against him, her thighs caressing his cock and her mound pressing its head. He hardened and swelled even more. His hunger took on a ferocious edge.

  He found enough control to avoid ravishing her at once. Carefully. Slowly. A few threads of sanity chanted his better intentions, but erotic images entered his head, goading him.

  He rolled her off, onto the bed, on her stomach. He rose up on an arm so he could look at her while he caressed her back and bottom. He imagined her rising to her knees—

  Her head lifted, as if she saw his mind. He kissed her in reassurance and smoothed his hand over her curves. “Allow yourself to accept the pleasure, Eva. Think of nothing else.”

  She returned to hugging the mattress. Slow kisses down her spine had her breath quickening again. A small moan of delight sounded when his caress traced the cleft of her bottom, then lower and deeper between her legs. He stroked her still swollen, soft folds and she moaned again and again, descending once more into abandon.

  His own pleasure sharpened, taking power from how he controlled her now. He touched very specifically and she cried out. Her hand instantly covered her mouth. He touched again, deliberately, and that hand barely muffled her next cry.

  “No one can hear you except me, Eva. Do not try to deny what you are experiencing.”

  Eyes closed and face softened from passion’s command of her, she half shook her head. “It is so wonderful it is frightening. Shocking. Outrageous that you watch me while once more I—while I—”

  He stroked deeply and her bottom rose up to allow him better reach. “While you give yourself over to pleasure, and to me?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  She bit her lower lip and shook her head.

  “Then move your hand from your mouth and give yourself totally. I want you to accept just how shockingly wonderful it can be.”

  Her hand fell away. He caressed her slowly, watching how passion made her more beautiful and radiant. Her breathing turned staccato when he stroked her vulva. He inserted one finger, then two, into her tight velvet passage. Her lips parted for two sharp intakes of air. He stroked deeper. She grasped the sheet she hugged and moaned.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, yes.”

  She was wet and open and more than ready. He was far gone himself, pushed to the limits of his restraint. His head and body urged completion.

  He rolled her over. They shared one long, deep, unbearably erotic kiss while he sought to fight back the storm. Only the kiss did the opposite, and his mind darkened to everything except thrusting into her. He licked and sucked her breasts until her soft cries grew louder, more insistent. She grasped at his shoulders frantically, helplessly. When he added caresses to her vulva again, her cries became a long series of exclamations of both affirmation and frustration.

  It was time. Now. Except—

  He did not ask. He did not think. He moved his kisses lower, down her body, not caring if he shocked her, not considering anything except the primal drive directing him. Lower yet, until he kissed her mound. Lower yet, while he pushed her legs apart.

  She screamed. Not happily. He looked up her body to where she watched him, eyes wide.

  He kept his hand on her, letting pleasure make his argument for him.

  “I’ve never— I did not know that—” She could hardly speak in her frenzy. “That seems truly wicked, not in an average way.”

  He settled down between her thighs. “I will wait until you ask me. I will only caress you until you ask for more.”

  “I do not think I will— I would never— Oh.” The plaintive oh came when he carefully pressed her clitoris.

  He knew how to keep a woman on the brink. He left her on the edge until she writhed in glorious agony. He experienced more than the usual torture himself, and only kept control because he focused on her reactions.

  “I— I— Please— I—” Her words emerged as short, gasping breaths.

  “Do you want more, Eva?”

  She looked down through heavily lidded eyes. A special madness showed in them. Her nod was tentative, but that was enough.

  He kissed her thigh while he leashed his mind to what was left of his sanity and physical restraint. Then he turned his head and gave her the most intimate of kisses.

  * * *

  Oh.

  The sensations were unbearable. Shocking. Incredible.

  She tensed, as her body recoiled from such intimacy. Pleasure quickly defeated the retreat. She dwelled in a place not of this world, and her whole body and mind begged for more, for relief, for an eternity of such unworldly arousal.

  She glanced down at him, at what he was doing, at what he must be seeing. Shocking. Scandalous. Within the intense need on which her entire being focused, odd, disparate thoughts drifted. What her mother would have said if she knew. How Charles had never wanted her like this. How surprised the people of Langdon’s End would be.

  Shouting them down, dominating any other voice, was the one that had brought her to this bed. Know it all. Take it all. It may have to last you a lifetime.

  Something changed. Subtly, but undeniably, Gareth became more demanding, as if he heard those voices and sought to silence them. The pleasure became demanding, too, as it had the last time, only many times worse. It pushed all thoughts out of her head, and obliterated all control.

  She no longer owned herself. He did, with what he did to her. He pushed her deeper and deeper into an insanity of need until nothing else existed. Deeper still he sent her. Groans and cries sounded in her head. Then it all constricted and her consciousness screamed and begged and reached for another wonderful end.

  It did not come. Instead Gareth came up over her, into her arms, his body lining hers, dominating it. He pressed into her slowly. She clutched at him as a new awe and a new shock took hold. She could not resist him even if she had wanted to. She did not control her body enough to do so yet.

  He pressed deeper. She felt him distinctly against flesh still sensitive and swollen from his kisses, and inside her as her body stretched to accommodate him. She sneaked a look at him. His fiery eyes and tense expression stunned her. She realized, just knew, that this was not how it normally would be for him, and that he was forcing a restraint for her sake.

  She closed her eyes and gave no voice to the discomfort he now caused. She let herself feel it fully, as she had the rest.

  He stopped finally, filling her. He did not move. She looked again. His eyes were closed and he appeared less harsh. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down so she could kiss his shoulder, then his lips.

  “You have survived it?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded, and opened her eyes. She looked right into his. A mistake, perhaps. In that instant she understood the real dangers of what she did. The wickedness might not haunt her life, but the intimacy would. Letting him strip her of reserve left her vulnerable and exposed in other ways. She knew the power of that now.

  He moved, carefully. A renewed tension spread through him. She understood despite her ignorance. After a while she moved too, encouraging him to fi
nd his own pleasure without so much care. He responded with harder thrusts. Masculine need engulfed her. Even so, to the very end when she saw and felt his own shattering, she could tell that he held something back so he would not hurt her too much. She felt him withdraw an instant before the tension broke apart.

  He came down on her then, covering her, his face pressed to hers and his hair feathering her face. She did not mind his weight. She held him to her body, taking in his warmth. Her fingertips skimmed his skin while she branded her mind with the sensation of touching his body. She savored the intimacy that she had discovered tonight—invasive, even frightening, but wonderful too.

  * * *

  Her fingers caressed his back. Tentative. Careful, as if she feared disturbing him. He let her, and enjoyed the soft touch, while their tight embrace caused the bliss to stretch longer than normal.

  His mind slowly found itself, and saw the new colors in his contentment. Surprise, and relief. The latter that he had avoided brutalizing her. Surprise that he had come so close to doing so. Few women in the past had inspired that possessive hunger, and none of them had been the least bit like Eva Russell.

  He rose up so his weight rested on his forearms, not her, and he did not continue crushing her. He looked down into eyes that glistened with—what? Tears?

  Hell, he had hurt her more than he thought. She was a virgin, after all. A virgin. What had he been thinking? He should be horsewhipped.

  The truth was, try as he might, he could not summon any shame or regret. The only concern was whether she would. She had said she would not, but what did she know?

  He caressed her face and kissed her. Her expression lightened, then turned rueful. “Afterward, like now, what does one do?” she asked.

  “Normally I like to run through the garden naked and play satyr chasing nymph.”

  For an instant she believed him, then she laughed. “More naughty games, you mean.”