“We’re not in your shop now, you know. I’m not at your mercy. I can walk right out of here and…and ask his lordship all my questions.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes. “You’re welcome to try. He won’t answer—I promise you that. But I will.” He bent to press a shameless, open-mouthed kiss to the exposed curve of the breast he’d just touched. Then he lifted his head and cast her a wolfish smile. “If you give me what I want.”
For some reason, her mouth had grown inordinately dry. “You want to ruin me.”
“It needn’t go as far as all that. You can stop me whenever you like. Whenever you’re ready to stop asking questions.”
She hesitated. This “offer” of his sounded risky and downright dangerous, like throwing rocks at a wolf from across a chasm. You never knew when the wolf might surprise you and leap the chasm, pouncing before you could even escape.
Then again, it wasn’t as if they were entirely alone. A mass of society’s most lofty personages swarmed only a few feet away. Aunt Verity would probably come looking for her soon. And Clara could scream for help if things went too far. Someone was bound to hear.
Besides, how else could she make him admit what was going on? Something odd was definitely going on. Morgan dressing as a gentleman and on easy terms with a very powerful viscount? Perhaps this matter of his shop wasn’t quite what she’d thought. She had to have answers.
That was the only reason she’d do this. It had nothing to do with the pounding anticipation in her chest, the hot need pooling in her belly. Nothing to do with all the nights she’d spent wondering about him and wishing she weren’t alone in her bed.
Steadying herself before she could change her mind, she said, “All right.” The triumph that flared in his gaze made her wonder if she’d been outmaneuvered. She added hastily, “But you have to tell the truth. Because I’ll know if you’re lying.”
He gave a wry chuckle. “I’ve no doubt of that.” Then taking her by surprise, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the nearby chaise longue.
She felt a moment’s panic. “Morgan, what are you doing?”
“I’d prefer to be comfortable for this interrogation, wouldn’t you?”
“I-I suppose.”
But instead of setting her on the chaise longue, he sat down and settled her on his lap. She started to scramble off, but he stayed her by throwing his arm around her waist. “Oh no, my pretty angel, you’re not going anywhere. I want you near enough so I can make sure my part of the bargain is satisfied.”
She cast him an outraged look. “Do you think I’d cheat?”
“Absolutely. Now give me your first question.” He pulled her so close she could see the fine line of his lip, smell his wine-scented breath. And feel the hard bulge swelling beneath her bottom. “As you can tell, I’m more than ready to make my first demand, cherie.”
His clear arousal made her heart stammer and her blood run feverishly hot. He truly hadn’t lied about desiring her. This wasn’t only his way of distracting her.
Perversely, while that pleased her, it also furthered her agitation. Now all she could think of was how he might touch her next. So she asked the first, most obvious question that came into her mind. “What were you and Ravenswood talking about?”
“You.” He reached for the edge of her bodice.
“Wait a minute!” she protested, grabbing his hand. “What kind of answer is that?”
His eyes gleamed down at her. “It’s a truthful answer, so it meets all your requirements. And now I get my turn.”
“But…but…”
He didn’t wait for her to finish protesting that such a short, uninformative response raised more questions than it answered. He simply pulled her bodice and chemise down to expose one breast.
She blushed violently, her heart hammering so hard she thought she’d faint. Especially once he touched her. It was much more intense than when he’d fondled her through her gown or even when he’d stroked her bare skin. Just being this exposed to him lent a thrill to his caresses that made her breathless and trembly.
A greedy smile curved his lips as he watched her face, embarrassing her with his eagerness to see her reaction. And when she swallowed her gasps, not wanting him to know how he affected her, he took his time about plumping her flesh, then thumbing her nipple with ardent, silken caresses.
When finally she sighed and gave in to her enjoyment of the sweet sensations, he whispered, “You like that, do you?”
“I don’t recall that your game required me to answer questions,” she grumbled.
“Is it so awful to admit that you enjoy my touch?”
Her startled gaze shot to him. He looked uncertain of her, not what she’d expected. “No,” she whispered. “It’s just that no one’s ever touched me…like that before.”
“It’s even better like this,” he murmured, lowering his head toward her breast as if he meant to kiss it.
She should have known a rascal like him would cheat. But she was too quick for him. “Oh no, you don’t.” She stayed him with her hand. “I only promised one thing at a time, and you’ve had a caress. You don’t get a kiss until you answer another question.”
He lifted his head, his black eyes glittering with both need and frustration. “I can see we’ll be here all night at this rate.”
“You’re the one who gave me the barest minimum of an answer. If you want more than the barest minimum of a caress for it, you’ll have to be more forthcoming.”
Irritation flickered in his face. “Has anybody ever told you that you have the soul of a merchant? You bargain more fiercely than a costermonger.”
She smiled. “You were the one who set up this game, you know. I’m merely following the rules.”
“You’re right. And I clearly didn’t lay them out properly. So here’s what we’ll do—you can decide when I’ve answered your next question to your complete satisfaction. But once you have your answer, you must let me kiss or caress you for the full length of the next song the orchestra plays. Does that sound fair?”
The thought of him kissing her breast for three or four minutes struck the breath from her lungs. Yet his request seemed reasonable. They could hear the music in here easily, and at least this gave him a finite restriction on his touching and tasting. She’d simply have to steel herself for the onslaught of feelings he brought whenever he put his hands and his mouth on her. It would be worth it to get the answers she sought.
“I suppose it’s fair enough. But give me a minute to think of my question.”
“Want to get the most for your…kiss, do you?” he said smugly.
“Oh yes.” And she could be as clever in framing her questions as he was in avoiding answering. “You said that you were discussing me with Lord Ravenswood. What did he tell you about me tonight that you didn’t already know?”
He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it with a scowl.
“Not so cocky when the questions are hard, are you?” she taunted.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll make you pay for this eventually, cherie.”
“Just answer the question.”
A long moment passed. Then he sighed. “All right. Ravenswood told me that you’d reported me and my activities to the magistrate.”
“He did?” she cried. “Why would he do such an awful—”
“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast.” He held his finger to her lips. “That’s another question. And I believe you owe me something before I answer any more.”
She swallowed. She had to admit that he’d told her a very vital piece of information. To claim that it wasn’t good enough to win him his kiss would be grossly unfair. “All right.”
With a grin, he lowered his head. But apparently, it wasn’t a kiss to her breast that he sought. Not exactly. Instead, he took her breast in his mouth and sucked it. Hard. Flicking his tongue against the nipple over and over in the most shocking fashion.
Oh, good Lord. Now he was nipping it, then soothing it with tempting strok
es of his tongue that made a slow ache uncurl in her belly and spread throughout her trembling body. She closed her hands in his hair to hold him there, and he obliged her with a rampant eagerness, kissing her breast, laving it, making her feel as if she would come out of her skin if he did much more.
This could get dangerous very quickly, she realized, and she forced herself to listen for the end of the song, not sure how many songs had passed. When seconds later the orchestra grew silent, she could have wept with relief.
“That’s the end.” She pulled his head away. “You owe me another answer.”
For a second, she thought he might not obey her, for he gave her nipple one last teasing nip. Then lifting to her a gaze feverishly bright, he licked his lips like the ravenous wolf that he was. “Ask me another question quick. I’m not even close to being finished with you, ma belle ange.”
His words made a naughty excitement surge through her, swamping her senses, frightening her with its force. Perhaps she should end this. Each time he touched her, she lost more of her will to stop him. Even now she couldn’t seem to take her hands out of his glossy, thick hair. She wanted to keep smoothing it, caressing it.
But there was one more answer she needed. At least one more. Curse him, she’d get her answers if it killed her. “Why did Lord Ravenswood tell you that I’d reported you to the magistrate?”
With a low curse, he glanced away, but he didn’t hesitate to answer, speaking in a frenzy as if to be done with it. “Because he and I are friends. I knew him when I was in the navy. He wanted to warn me about your possible interference.”
It took her a moment to absorb that astonishing answer. “Does he know that you’re a fence?” she exclaimed in outrage.
His gaze shot back to her, fiery and seductive. “That’s a new question, angel.”
Good Lord, it was. And she couldn’t honestly say he hadn’t answered the previous one fairly.
But the devilish intent in his face sparked her alarm. How would she ever make it through the next song? With a show of rebellion, she thrust her breasts up at him. “Do your worst,” she said mutinously, hoping to rouse his conscience.
It didn’t. Instead, it seemed to rouse something else entirely, for with a reckless and unrepentant smile, he slid her skirts up her thighs.
The rustle of satin sounded a warning knell, and she grabbed his hand in a panic. “Now see here, I thought you wanted to keep tasting my…my…”
“We never specified what I could taste or touch. You said whatever I wanted.”
“I thought—”
“I know what you thought. But lovely as your breasts are, my angel, I have a more intimate spot I wish to explore.” Keeping his heated gaze locked on her face and his hand on her thigh, he listened for the next dance to begin.
Once it did, a triumphant grin crossed his lips. He shook off her hand, then slid his fingers up beneath her cambric petticoat. While she watched with a mixture of outrage and impatience, he delved inside the slit in her drawers to touch the curls between her legs.
Her most private place, mind you! How brazen of him! She didn’t know whether to be appalled or thrilled at his daring. She did know that her heart beat louder than the orchestra’s music in her ears, that his touch provoked her to dream and want and ache.
He knew it, too, judging from his dark smile. “This is what I want to caress.” He found a particularly sensitive piece of flesh and thumbed it lightly, making her jerk upright. “I don’t think you’ll have any cause for complaint when I’m done.”
Oh…good…Lord. He was as deft as a thief with a picklock, opening the clasp to her pleasure with one flick of his finger. Only he didn’t stop there…he went on and on and on, working the flesh until she writhed and moaned beneath his hand, wanting more, needing his touches, craving the excitement that he doled out too sparingly.
“Does that please you, cherie?” he rasped. “Do you want more?”
“Yes…bother it all, yes.”
Pure satisfaction filled his face as he stroked her more firmly, satisfying her cravings only to raise them higher with the next stroke. Her fingers still lay in his hair, and she flexed them with every caress, wondering if she might die if he stopped.
“Heavens,” she murmured, “that’s…oh, Morgan…yes, like that…”
“God, you’re so warm, so wet for me. My sweet, wanton angel…”
Her eyes had drifted closed, but she could hear his pleasure thrumming in his voice. And she felt it beneath her bottom, for her mews of satisfaction made the bulge in his breeches thicken, until she wondered if he might burst right out of them.
“Bon Dieu, but you feel good, inside and out,” he said hoarsely.
Inside?
That’s when she realized that his finger had dipped inside her. Her eyes sprang open. “Morgan!” she cried, grabbing for his wrist. “You can’t…that’s not…”
“Shhh, angel, I won’t hurt you, I promise. It’s just my finger. To please you. Like this.” He thrust deeply inside her, wringing a startled cry from her lips.
Then he bent to kiss her hungrily, taking her mouth with violent stabs of his tongue, like the plundering beast that he was. In some hazy, distant part of her brain, she wondered if this wasn’t against the rules—a kiss and a caress at the same time. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to protest.
Nor did she protest when he trailed his open mouth down her neck to her breasts and began sucking her again, teasing and tormenting her on every front. His hot breath made her skin hum and her heart flutter wildly. Between her legs, she felt tight and eager and needy. “More…” she whispered, arching into his hand. “Oh, Morgan…”
“Have I answered enough questions for you?” he growled against her breast.
“Yes. No. I-I don’t know…” Her mind was completely blank. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what the questions had been all about.
“Either ask them while I touch you or don’t ask at all. Just don’t make me stop.”
“I…can’t…think…”
“Good. Neither can I. Oh, cherie, you feel like heaven.” With one swift tug, he bared her other breast, but any feeble protest vanished in the hot, swirling pleasure of his mouth and his hands on her. God forgive her, but she couldn’t stop him, didn’t want to stop him. Only Morgan seemed to rouse that Doggett blood of hers, and now that it was kicking up again, she’d lost any will to fight it.
Especially while his finger…no, two fingers now…drove urgently inside her, exciting her, making her yearn for…oh, she didn’t know what. But all the restless energy he’d provoked in her since she’d met him seemed to bunch into one pulsing need centered beneath his thrusting fingers. It built and built until suddenly it arced inside her, making her cry out and clutch him tightly to her breast.
For a moment, she glimpsed a heaven that only he seemed able to give her. Then as the vivid pleasure subsided to a dull throbbing, his fingers stilled inside her.
She fell limply against his shoulder, still gasping. “Oh…good Lord…Morgan, what did you do to me?”
He tore his mouth from her breast to press tender kisses up the arch of her throat. “Gave you pleasure, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to. You were wrong before, you know.”
“A-About what?”
“I wasn’t touching you only to distract you. It might have started out that way, but—” He dusted soft kisses to her cheek, her ear, her jaw. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this, ma belle ange? How often I’ve imagined stripping you down to nothing, laying you down on my bed, and then tasting and fondling every sweet inch of you until you were rapt and eager for me?”
He’d thought of her? Dreamed of her? The way she’d dreamed of him?
Despite all her cautions, a little thrill coursed through her. “I’ve imagined touching you, too,” she admitted as she lifted her hand to stroke his smoothly shaven cheek.
He drew back to stare at her, but there was no s
mugness in his look, no cockiness now. “Have you really?”
Something about the disbelief in his face, the sheer yearning made her ache to reassure him. “Yes. Especially that day in the street when you—” Her eyes trailed shyly down to his chest. “When you weren’t exactly…um…dressed properly.” She ran her hands over his waistcoat. “And I could see your chest showing through your shirt.”
Swiftly he unbuttoned his waistcoat, then took her hands and pressed them to his chest. She could feel his heart race beneath the fine lawn.
He dragged in a breath. “I’d take every stitch of my clothing off just for the pleasure of having your hands on me, but I don’t know if I’d ever get my cravat tied right again.” He smiled faintly. “Not with you watching me, making me insane.”
She wished he’d stop saying such delicious things. They roused her Doggett blood to even keener heights, tempting her to be naughty. Like now, when she splayed her fingers over his chest, eager for any chance to stroke his muscles, even if it was through a shirt. “Do I really make you insane?”
“Sacrebleu, yes.” He shifted her forward on his lap until she was balanced on his knees, then grabbed her hand, flattening it against the bulge in his breeches. “Don’t ever accuse me again of not desiring you. I can’t sleep for desiring you, and when I finally do nod off it’s to dreams of you touching me like this.”
He rubbed her hand over him, and a hot, predatory look etched his features. “Oh, God, if only you’d be willing to—” He paused. “Tell me, angel, do you know how a man and woman make love?”
Her cheeks flamed. “Yes, of course.”
How could she work in Spitalfields and not know? She’d heard the act described in the coarsest detail, seen it painted on the walls of the brothels where some of her children’s mothers lived, and even happened upon people engaged in it.
But she’d never imagined she might actually want to do it.
“Then you know that as long as this”—he pressed the bulge into her palm—“is beneath your hand, I can’t be putting it inside you, can I?”
She nodded slowly, wondering what he was leading up to.
“As long as it stays in your hand, you remain chaste.”
Dance of Seduction Page 17