Countess So Shameless (Scandal in London)

by Liana Lefey

  Mélisande had trouble believing him, but the kisses he was trailing down her neck felt so delicious she was willing to allow him to continue. She softened, breathing deeply as he continued downward to the little beauty mark above her heart. When his tongue flicked across her nipple, she gasped.

  Gently he stroked its erect tip again. A moment later, his warm mouth closed over it, and he began to tease, alternating between flicking and gentle suction.

  The low, animal sound that followed shocked Mélisande when she realized it had come from her own throat. His every touch seemed to cause a corresponding ache at the juncture of her thighs. When she felt she could take no more, she grabbed him roughly by the hair and brought his mouth up to meet hers.

  He kissed her long and deeply, giving in to her demands for the moment. But before Mélisande could regain her wits, he slipped from her grasp and dipped again to grace the other breast with the same attentions he had given its mate.

  Mélisande drowned in the sensation, desire unfurling within her like the petals of a flower opening to the sun. Never before had she felt such desperate, consuming hunger!

  Releasing her, Alessandro eased off the bed, sinking to his knees. Reaching beneath her, he cupped her rump and scooted her to the edge. Still muzzy and dazed with pleasure, she looked down at him with bewildered curiosity. Grinning devilishly, he ran his hands down from her thighs to her knees and with gentle pressure made to part them.

  Thrown into a state of absolute shock, Mélisande resisted.

  “I want to see all of you,” Alessandro whispered harshly, his dark eyes ravenous. “Every. Last. Inch.” He leaned down and kissed her knees, then the inside of a creamy thigh. “There will be no limit to the intimacies we will share this night and for many nights to come. Are you going to let modesty or fear get in the way of your pleasure?”

  He’s right. There was no room for reticence between them, no room and no time. Besides, he was an experienced lover, she reasoned. There was probably nothing she could do that was capable of shocking or embarrassing him, so why should it embarrass her? Still, she trembled a little as his warm hands smoothed over her flesh, heating it in spite of the chill air and her damp skin.

  Desire quickly overtook modesty and she acquiesced, until at last her legs were spread wide and she lay exposed before him.

  Quickly, he shifted forward. Running his hands along the sensitive flesh of her silky inner thighs, he grazed her core with his thumb. The breath exploded from her lungs as he dipped into her dewy center and rubbed the tip of her hood with that slickness.

  “Let me show you the meaning of pleasure, my Mélisande,” Alessandro murmured, his eyes meeting hers in a scorching stare. Slowly, he began stroking the moist outer region in a gentle massage.

  “I—I’ve been told to expect pain the first time,” she whispered shakily through the haze. “I am ready.” It would have to hurt only this once, and then afterward she could concentrate on the more pleasant aspects of lovemaking.

  Smiling tenderly, Alessandro shook his head. “Not quite yet, my love. But soon. And I will make it so that it is but a momentary sting quickly forgotten,” he promised, continuing to massage and stroke her until she relaxed again.

  With the lightest of touches, he caressed the inner folds of her blossom, parting her with gentle fingers, revealing the engorged bud hidden within the recesses.

  The initial shock at feeling his hot breath on the core of her femininity translated instantly into pure pleasure as Alessandro’s mouth closed over her and drew gently upon her swollen flesh. His tongue slipped between her folds to tease, and Mélisande’s hands, which had thrust forward to push him away, now stilled and twined into his thick hair, pulling him closer.

  Alessandro flicked the bud of her womanhood much as he had her nipples, and she moaned, unable to bear it in silence. Arching back in surrender, she lay down, exposing more of her delicate flesh to this new, delightful torment.

  He took full advantage.

  Writhing and gasping with each tender stroke of his tongue, the tension built within Mélisande until she felt she would die of it. A hot, tingling sensation pulsated within, threatening to overwhelm her, and she pulled at Alessandro’s hair, wanting more. He laughed softly, and with a wild thrill, she felt the low rumbling of it resonate through her womanly flesh.

  Rising up, he again grasped her bottom, sliding her toward him to seat her snugly against himself. His turgid manhood stood between them, hot, thick, and hard against the gentle curve of her belly.

  Mélisande tasted herself as he claimed her mouth. It was inconceivably shocking, and the most erotic thing she could possibly imagine. She gave herself up to that dark kiss, her hands skimming over his hard shoulders, tracing his collarbone as his tongue teased her bottom lip. His skin was warm velvet stretched over unyielding rock, and she could not resist the overwhelming compulsion to touch him.

  He stood and leaned over her, maneuvering them both fully onto the bed, pressing her full length against his body. He began to again tease her breasts while he gently stroked her petals, sliding the tip of one finger in and out, grazing the delicate, swollen bud hidden within.

  When her breathing grew erratic and her hips began to move rhythmically of their own volition, he shifted and settled himself between her knees, again dipping to taste her. Her hips bucked as his tongue tormented her, her hands clutching at his hair.

  At last, Alessandro rose and guided himself to her moist entrance.

  As the blunt, dewed tip of his manhood pushed aside her folds, Mélisande’s eyes flew wide with fear. He hesitated only an instant before plunging into her tight passage, muffling her outcry with his mouth as he claimed her utterly.

  She felt her maiden’s barrier give way with only momentary resistance, the sharp stab of fiery pain immediately followed by a hot, throbbing fullness that seeped into her very bones as her body accommodated his length and girth. He remained motionless inside her, holding steady, his arms trembling with the effort. Soon, the discomfort faded into a new sensation.

  They were one being.

  His every movement was felt deep within her core. After a few moments, a new tension began to build there as the fire of his initial penetration was replaced by a deep, pleasurable ache that caused her to wriggle her hips to seat him more firmly. She squeezed her buttocks together to shift upward and felt the length of him harden anew. His answering groan seemed torn from somewhere deep inside.

  Alessandro began to move then, retreating a little and then coming back slowly into her slickness, again and again, until he was withdrawing nearly the full length of himself before easing back in.

  Mélisande shuddered and closed her eyes, her head thrown back, little moans escaping her throat. Her legs cradled his torso and her hips rose to meet him, welcoming, encouraging. There was only pleasure now, intense pleasure. It mounted with each long stroke until she began to again feel the sweet, tingling tension at the place where their bodies were joined. Slowly, it radiated out to the rest of her, continuing to build, until at last she dug her nails into his flesh.

  Her ragged voice cried out his name, just once, as the tension finally broke, shattering Mélisande’s world into countless fragments of ecstasy. Liquid, molten heat welled from the deeps, suffusing her from the inside out as she and Alessandro moved together to that most ancient of rhythms. With each pulse, she became more deeply immersed in the pleasurable sensations running riot through her body.

  Her mind had only one coherent thought: this is what I was made for.

  Alessandro slowly withdrew nearly all the way to hover at her entrance. She clutched him impatiently until, with a groan, he sank back into her. Her body embracing him wholly, he shouted in exultation as his own pleasure at last burst forth. Clasping her tightly, he shuddered, burying his head in the curve of her neck.

  Mélisande held him thus, listening to his breath rasp in her ear.

  In the stillness that followed, the lovers lay together heart to heart,
breaths slowing, limbs entwined, souls forever bound.

  A RAKE’S TALE

  REMEMBERING THAT SHE was but newly opened, Alessandro raised himself up from where he lay. “Are you all right?” he asked, steeling himself.

  Despite all his skill at lovemaking, he knew that for women, pain was an inevitable part of surrendering one’s virginity. He’d been a callow youth with no real knowledge of how to pleasure a female the first time he’d deflowered a virgin, and his memory of the experience was one of guilt at the pain he’d caused.

  But when he looked into Mélisande’s eyes, Alessandro saw only the tranquil, sated expression of a woman well loved.

  A shy smile curved her beautiful lips. “I’m wonderful,” she whispered. “You were right; there was hardly any pain at all.” Her eyes dropped in embarrassment and a rosy blush stained her cheeks.

  He smiled back at her, feeling a surge of tenderness as he traced the outer edge of a delicate ear. “We need to separate, and you should probably bathe again. The warm water will help ease the pain,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth. Her effect on him was truly incredible. Already he could feel a renewing of desire. Lest he risk hurting her, he needed to withdraw before he became fully hard again.

  He began to move, but stopped in terror when she gasped. To his astonishment, instead of crying out or pushing him away, her legs wrapped around his waist and drew him back in.

  His manhood rallied to the challenge as her motions compelled him to move with her. In amazement, he watched as she came to crisis again. The pleasure of seeing her beautiful face in the throes of ecstasy was well worth the effort. When it was over, he kissed her deeply, withdrawing at last to lie at her side.

  He wanted to laugh aloud but had no air left in his lungs with which to do so. They had done nothing unconventional, yet he felt more fulfilled than ever before. He’d bedded many women, some of them famed courtesans, but none of them compared to this woman.

  After resting a moment, he propped himself up on one elbow. He could not stop staring at her. “Mélisande,” he murmured, his heart aching as he stroked her cheek and followed the touch with a feathery kiss.

  Turning, she met his lips in a lingering kiss that spoke of longings fulfilled. Then, before he could react, she broke away, stood, and walked to the tub. Without so much as a backward glance, she climbed in and began to wash in the now-tepid water.

  Confused, Alessandro stared after her for a moment and then scrambled off the bed to follow. She did not look up at his approach, nor even acknowledge him as he stood waiting.

  “Mélisande, look at me.” He reached out and tipped her chin up with a gentle hand. A riot of turbulent emotions warred in her forest eyes, fear and confusion among the most prominent. “You have nothing to fear from me,” he reassured.

  She chuckled, and the broken sound cut at his heart like a thousand shards of glass.

  Having completed her ministrations, she stood. “I don’t fear you.”

  Grabbing a drying sheet, he offered it to her. “Then what is it, amora?” He struggled to maintain composure. The distance between them was growing with every second that passed. He could see it in her eyes as the walls of her fortress went up, stone by stone, layer upon layer, shutting him out.

  She bowed her head. “I was very afraid,” she admitted. “Afraid you would not want me once you saw me, afraid of disappointing you as a lover, and afraid of the pain.”

  “And how do you feel now?”

  “I never imagined it would be like that,” she said, her surprise evident. “I expected pain and hoped for at least some small amount of pleasure, but I certainly didn’t expect what just happened. That was...”

  No fool, Alessandro realized he’d been subtly redirected. The beginnings of her tender emotions for him had been snuffed out like the flame of a candle as she chose to focus on the physical aspect of what they’d done, rather than the heart. There was nothing to do now but play at her pace and try to rekindle it. It would take time to cultivate a fire that could not be extinguished, but time was a luxury he possessed.

  “I am glad I was able to give you pleasure.” He stroked her soft skin with a reverent hand. “I hope to bring you joy many, many times over. It truly only improves with practice. I shall enjoy showing you just how delightful it can be.”

  She peered at him sidelong. “You are not at all what I expected. You place a great deal of importance on giving pleasure as opposed to receiving it. Most men are not so minded. They know only how to take.”

  “If I was interested only in my own release, I would simply amuse myself and have done,” he replied, “but I have learned that pleasure experienced alone is a mere shadow of that which is shared.” Leaning over, he caressed a still-damp shoulder. “And pleasure should never be taken, but always given in equal measure.”

  “Is it always like this?” she asked, moving back to the bed. “Because if it is, I can’t help wondering why anyone would ever want to leave the bedchamber,” she said with a sinful smile, climbing in.

  Joining her, Alessandro kissed that smile. “I share your opinion, amora, and I certainly hope to bring you such pleasure each and every time. But we should not make love again tonight,” he warned. “Already I fear you will be indisposed tomorrow. We should wait a few days.”

  Mélisande nodded, but he could tell she didn’t like it. The feeling was mutual, for he would gladly make love to her all night, were it possible.

  “That does not mean we cannot see each other, of course,” he amended rather hastily. “As you said, we should become friends.” Good friends...

  “Of course,” she answered, toying with a corner of the sheet. “I should like that very much, truly. I’ve been curious about you since the day I first saw you,” she admitted. “I know next to nothing of you, really, other than what I observed in Versailles and what I know of you now.”

  His heart sank, for he could well imagine the impression he must have made. “Our attraction to one another has rather taken precedence, hasn’t it? What would you know? You may ask me anything,” he bade her, relaxing against the pillows and preparing to be interrogated.

  Mélisande grinned and settled into the crook of his arm. “What made you become such a shameless roué? Or were you simply born with an obsession for the opposite sex?”

  He laughed at her directness. “Indeed not; I was raised in an exceedingly prudish household,” he said with disdain. “My father served as Prince Assistant to the Papal Throne, and as such, we—my brother and I—were bound by the strictest code of conduct. Any form of enjoyment was practically synonymous with committing a mortal sin.” He rolled his eyes, making her giggle. “Naturally, I rebelled.”

  “How you must have frustrated him!”

  “Indeed, such was my chief pursuit,” he agreed, laughing with her. “By the time I was eighteen, I was such an embarrassment to the family that to get me out of sight, my father had me made an emissary of the Roman Curia—a servant of the Holy Church, if you can imagine—and sent out of the country to trouble foreign courts. It was a benevolent form of banishment. One I was happy to suffer.”

  “Mmm, the prodigal son,” she murmured, running her hand across his chest. The sprinkling of hair over the muscle there seemed to fascinate her. He understood, for her rounded smoothness held the same attraction for him.

  “Indeed. I returned every few years to visit my mother—and endure my father’s criticism, of course,” he added. “I tried to keep tales of my exploits from reaching his ears, but he always seemed to know everything. I found out later that he had his spies reporting back to him on my activities. When he died last year, he said I was his greatest disappointment.”

  “What an awful thing to say to one’s child!”

  Alessandro smiled and patted her hand, loving her for springing to his defense, even though her sympathy was misplaced. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time in many years that a woman had asked to hear his story. Many, many years. Usually, it
was he who listened while they talked.

  “He was laughing as he said it,” he reassured her. “I’ll never be the pious stick he was, nor was I anything like my brother. Pietro was the ducal heir until three years ago. Unfortunately for me, he died without an heir.” He sighed, feeling the sadness return for the first time in a long while. “Father was never the same. All his joy, what little he ever had, died with his firstborn. I now bear the burden of his titles: Duke of Gravina, Emissary of the Curia, Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, et cetera, et cetera,” he said. “A lot of titular nonsense, but it sounds awfully impressive when one is formally introduced.”

  Mélisande lifted a brow and traced his jawline with a fingertip. “And how is it that such an important personage is here in England engaging in, shall we say, ‘pleasurable recreation’ rather than back home tending to the business associated with all those burdensome titles?”

  “My father rather frequently complained to his peers regarding my shameful proclivities. Thus, when I inherited his titles, the Curia found a way to prevent my contaminating their holiness with my wicked ways.” He grinned. “Knowing my love of vagrancy, and yet respecting my not inconsiderable diplomatic skills, they sent me here to advance their political position with the English king.”

  “And your mother? What is she like?”

  Alessandro’s gaze softened. “You would like her a great deal, I think,” he told her, fully believing it. “She has courage and spirit. She was a trial to my father at times, but they loved each other.”

  “And does she share your father’s opinion of your lifestyle?”

  “She tolerates my wayward behavior with much grumbling and a great deal of unsolicited advice.” He chuckled. “She wishes me to settle down and take my place as the head of our family. And I shall, one day,” he added, forcing himself not to look at her. God forbid that she look him in the eyes and see the hope burning in his heart. “One day, I will continue our esteemed line and make her happy again.”

  “I, too, was a disappointment to my parents,” she told him. “Now they are both gone, and I am certainly not living up to their high expectations of me.”