Any Rogue Will Do

by Bethany Bennett

  And wasn’t that just the damnedest thing.

  Or he’d be left with just his hand and memories. The worry about her father tried to rise in his mind, but he ruthlessly squashed it to focus on the present moment, when once again, Lottie pressed him to the railing.

  Holding his head in place with her glorious body, she set the pace against his mouth. The sound of her low, shuddery moan sang a song meant for only him. A rush of earthy sweetness flooded his tongue, and he swallowed her release, softening the pressure against her until his tongue grazed only the petals and curves of her flesh, avoiding the central bundle of nerves.

  He gave her quim one last gentle, closemouthed kiss. Ethan traced his fingers from her ankles up to that ribbon garter, then back down again. The shakes of her body were quieting.

  Under his fingers, her legs were smooth and strong. At last the quivering in her thighs settled, and the silence beyond this dark haven let him know it was safe to emerge. Ethan shimmied out from under the cover of a wide pannier and stood as if he’d been leaning beside her against the railing all along. Dragging a hand down his waistcoat, he tried to set himself to rights and hoped the erection tenting his breeches would abate soon.

  Beside him, Lottie’s fingers held the balustrade in a death grip. A flush covered her chest, visible in the light from the single flickering lantern nearby. Ethan covered one of her hands with his.

  She cocked her head, then froze when the wig slipped at an awkward angle. “That was…marvelous. But what about your satisfaction?”

  “I’m not worried about me. I wanted tae make it good for you. I promise I always will.”

  Lottie squeezed his hand, then straightened the costume ears he wore. “The Big Bad Wolf, indeed. If they only knew what a kind man you are.”

  Ethan grinned, letting her see his teeth. “I promised tae eat you up, didn’ I?” Lottie’s husky laugh loosened the lingering knots of worry in his chest.

  She stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Darling will let you in the side entrance after the guests are gone. Find your way to my room tonight and do it again.” Her hand slid up the line of his hard thigh to close over the length of his erection.

  He glanced at her sharply. “Are you suggesting what I think you are, lass?”

  “We’re going to be married. What’s the harm?”

  It tempted the fates to say as much out loud. So many things could go wrong tomorrow, but tonight…she offered everything. And standing on that balcony, with her skin glowing from the pleasure he’d just given her, he couldn’t say no.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The gaslights outside Lottie’s window dotted the lane to the mews, which finally showed signs of settling after a busy night. Their last guest had departed over an hour before, but her body hummed after the assignation on the balcony. That orgasm had left her with weak knees and shivers under her skin whenever she’d spied Ethan’s knowing smile throughout the rest of the evening.

  Darling entered the room, singing to herself. “First things first, milady. You’re probably ready for that wig to come off.”

  “I hope to never wear another wig for as long as I live.” Finding the small bench at her vanity table with her skirts obstructing the view turned out to be a chore in itself. Behind her, Darling giggled, lined her up with the padded seat, then pressed gently on Lottie’s shoulders.

  “Thank you, Darling. What would I do without you?” Lottie removed her earrings while her maid withdrew one hairpin after another from the wig. When Darling lifted the heavy thing off her head, Lottie sighed. “I feel as if my head is floating somewhere high above my shoulders.” Lottie fiddled with the clasp of the necklace, removed it, and ran her fingers over the bejeweled pendant. Darling motioned for Lottie to stand, then set about unpinning the bodice and removing the layers of the gown.

  “I have a rather personal request. Do you have those French letters we discussed purchasing in Kent?”

  Darling’s smirk spoke volumes. “Aye, milady. I’ll just set one out in a bowl by the bed, shall I? How’s he getting inside the house?”

  Lottie would bet her mother’s pearl earbobs that her cheeks were twin flags of flaming pink. “I told him you’d let him in the side entrance.”

  “I’d be happy to deliver him right to your door. But after that it’s your responsibility. I’ll leave you to tie the bow on him.” Darling’s eyes were alight with humor as she folded away the night’s costume for storage.

  Lottie wasn’t sure what Darling meant about the bow, but she really didn’t want to ask questions right now. She stepped out of the pile of fabric, letting the petticoats and shift settle on the floor, then she shrugged into a pink satin dressing gown. Out the corner of her eye she saw Darling fill a small bowl with water and open a packet, preparing to soak the French letter so it would be soft for use later.

  Lottie folded the remaining pieces of the costume, then began her nighttime routine.

  “Shall I draw you a bath, milady?”

  The clock on the mantel struck the hour. “Do I have time for a bath?” It did sound lovely.

  With a shrug, Darling gathered the lemon bath oil that had become a favorite. “If milord finds you naked in the tub, I doubt he’ll mind. Might help you relax a bit. You’re fluttering about like a nervous bird.”

  Leave it to Darling to find the perfect relaxation aid and seduction setting. After pinning her hair up, she sank into the tub in front of the fire. Lottie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, filling her senses with citrus-scented air. Hot water soothed her muscles. Dragging that heavy dress around all night had been a far more physical experience than the average evening entertainment, and her neck ached from the weight of the wig.

  The soft swish of wooden door against carpet, then the snick of her key in the lock alerted her to Ethan’s presence. She kept her eyes closed, waiting to see what he would do next. Having him near, knowing where the night would lead, sent a ripple of excitement through her.

  A kiss as soft as a butterfly landed at the corner of her eye, above her cheekbone. “Good evening, my lord. Would you like to wash my back?” She smiled at his low chuckle, and she finally lifted her lids. The gold starbursts in his eyes reflected the firelight, and for a moment she could only stare. He was beautiful. With a wet hand, she smoothed a curl off his forehead, then cradled his jaw as he leaned down to kiss her.

  Pulling back, he shrugged out of his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, tossing them onto a chair to land on the book she’d abandoned earlier. If she’d thought him beautiful before, the play of light on his bare skin made a mockery of the word. Beautiful? No, breathtaking. “Someone should sculpt you. Michelangelo’s David is a puny weakling in comparison.”

  The flash of his grin had a roguish quality, sending a shiver of arousal through her. He knelt beside her and picked up a washcloth and the bottle of bath oil, then poured a liberal amount onto the cloth. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted tae slick this oil over your skin, lass? This is the stuff of fantasies for me.”

  “You are easy to please, then,” she said. With gentle but thorough strokes, Ethan covered her skin in warm scented oil and water, rubbing away tension in her shoulders and neck with his long fingers. The massage elicited a happy moan from her. “That feels so good. Your hands are magic.” He took the encouragement as it was intended and continued his exploration, dipping beneath the surface of the water to cradle her breasts.

  “No, these are magic. I’ve not seen you naked all at once before. I take back what I said before. This is the stuff of fantasies,” he said, tugging gently on her nipples.

  There’d always been the threat of discovery, so clothing had been shifted or lifted aside, not removed entirely. For the first time, they had all night, and she’d have all of him. Feeling like a seductress, she gave him a saucy glance over her shoulder and rose from the water, then stepped from the tub.

  At his poleaxed expression, confidence coursed through her veins. The lush mounds of her bre
asts bounced as she pulled pins from her hair one by one, setting them aside in a bowl beside the tub.

  Ethan swore in the guttural tone of a man nearing his edge. “Sweet bloody Jesus on a cross…”

  “Do breasts usually trigger blasphemy?” she asked, dabbing at her skin with a towel. When she leaned down to nip the corner of his mouth, her breasts swayed forward. He caught a nipple, sucking it deep with a delicious drag of sensation. Snaking an arm around her waist, he palmed one of her buttocks.

  “I’m having a wee bit of a religious experience. Your figure is the kind Scots immortalize in drinking songs. You’re all curves. Everywhere. Dips and valleys…perfect.” He set his mouth against her breast, working his way up as he stood, tasting her with a needy combination of tongue and teeth that sent her pulse pounding.

  They stared at each other for a heartbeat. If only he could always look at her as he did now. Unrealistic, but a fine goal. At last, he reached her mouth and she welcomed him, tunneling one hand into his hair, as if to anchor him to her.

  His hands traveled a deliberate path down her back, over her hips, and grasped her firmly where her thighs creased under her bottom. A gasp escaped when he lifted her off her feet, wrapping her thighs around his hips to carry her toward the bed. Everywhere he touched, a trail of pebbled gooseflesh followed. Sensation and desire tangled with a ribbon of joy, coursing through her. The way he looked at her quieted any lingering nerves.

  Ethan didn’t try to be proper or restrained. Thank God, because neither did she. She wanted the man who’d licked her into a passionate climax while under her skirt on the balcony and cornered her for heated kisses in the servant hallway.

  The focused expression he wore was by far the sexiest thing she’d ever beheld. As if he didn’t know where to touch first but was eager for every inch. She couldn’t stop touching him—any part of him she could reach, which wasn’t much when his clothes covered everything below his waist. The abrasion of fabric against her nakedness was its own kind of arousal. “You have too many clothes on. How is that fair? I want to touch you. To make you feel good.”

  “You had a head start. If I take my clothes off, I’ll no’ be able tae stop myself from finally being in you.” Ethan knelt on the bed, between her feet, trailing fingertips over her. From her shoulders, down her ribs, circling feathered brushes around her puckered nipples, then marking a path to her waist and hips.

  She blew a curl out of her face and shot him a look. “I fail to see the problem.”

  That dimple by his mouth flashed. “Ach, lass. You’re perfect.” He grasped her thighs and held her open to him. With a soft, openmouthed kiss above her belly button, he skimmed his lips down toward her mons. Lottie desperately wanted to close her eyes and feel, but watching his obvious bliss at every touch and taste was an aphrodisiac of its own.

  “Hello again,” he whispered with a smile in his voice, then parted her folds with his tongue. With steady pressure and gentle pulls, he focused on the point of pleasure near the top of her slit. Surrender had never been easier, as pleasure washed over her.

  When he entered her with a thick finger, then curled it to find a spot inside her she hadn’t known existed, Lottie moaned a curse under her breath. “Don’t you dare stop doing that.”

  “Bossy,” he teased, gently nipping the cluster of nerves, then sucking the sting away while that finger worked in and out, readying her body for his. Ripples of sensation pulled into a tight ball that seemed to wrest her body from her control. Her back arched, her hips rose and fell against his mouth, and her voice cried out over and over. Lottie wasn’t sure what she said. His name and God’s mixed with threats if he stopped, because fire flickered through her in the most delicious way.

  Ethan rode out the climax with his mouth on her, gentling his pressure as she came down from the peak. He made one last pass with his tongue before crawling up her body, looking far too proud of himself. With twinkling eyes, he said, “My future wife swears when she comes.”

  “Did I? Should I apologize?” Her body clenched with aftershocks as she lounged under him, happily limp and wrung out.

  He kissed her, hard and swift, in answer. “Like a sailor. Never stop. Don’ doubt your instincts or responses in bed with me. No’ ever.”

  She smiled, then purred when his teeth explored the slopes of her left breast. “My instincts demand you get naked. It’s been too long since I’ve tasted you.”

  “That night in the library was forever ago. I’ve dreamed of you since. Wanted you every day.” Kneeling over her, he paused to let Lottie unbutton his breeches.

  It was like unwrapping the best present in the world, with layers of clothing coming off his large frame. The edge of the bed dipped as he removed his boots and breeches.

  The shifting lines of heavy muscles on his back and arms enthralled her. His body differed from hers in so many ways, and she ached to explore every glorious inch. With one hand, she pushed him to his back across the bed, then crawled atop him. Skin to skin, she spread her fingers over the ridges and planes, finding the spots that made his breath catch.

  With sure hands, he settled her legs on either side of his hips. Pushing his hardness against her, he paused against her center. “You’re sure you wouldn’ rather wait till after the wedding?”

  She reached for the bowl by the bed and handed him the French letter. “You’re Scottish. Who needs official ceremonies, anyway? Didn’t your country use to handfast? Now show me how this works.”

  “We have been known tae play fast and loose with the formalities, but I had tae ask.” He made a noise deep in his throat when she stroked him. The silky-smooth hardness of his body was fascinating.

  Her giggles began when he tied the ribbon around the base of his erection. Darling’s earlier teasing came to mind, and Lottie finally understood. Another short laugh escaped as a snort, and Lottie clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

  Raising a brow, Ethan said sardonically, “It’s heartening that you aren’ intimidated by what we’re about tae do, lass.”

  “How—” she gasped. “How could I be scared when your member is tied up like a little girl’s pigtails?” She leaned forward, burying her face in his chest, trying desperately to contain her giggles. An answering chuckle rumbled under her cheek.

  “If you’re going tae laugh, at least humor me by calling it a cock and not my ‘member.’ We aren’ meeting for teatime, lass. ’Tis a cock.”

  The body part under discussion remained hard and ready between them. Recovering from the absurdity of seeing a satin ribbon around it, she stroked him again and felt the arousal within her flare when she repeated the word. “I love your cock. It’s a beautiful cock.” Especially with its pretty blue ribbon, but she would not say that, for fear of collapsing with mirth again.

  He’d liked it when she spoke during their previous encounters, and each time she said cock, his erection twitched against her. How novel. He wanted her to speak—apparently the less ladylike, the better.

  With her hair over one shoulder, creating a dark curtain to separate them from the world, she slid her folds up his shaft. Her voice came out in rapid, breathy pants. “God, that feels good.” The silky slickness wasn’t a total mystery, but her body’s response to this man made her marvel. “I loved seeing you come apart when I had my mouth on you in the library.” Beneath her, Ethan drew one stiff peaked nipple into his mouth, moaning his encouragement. “Your thighs tense and shake right before you climax. Next time you come I want you inside me.”

  He groaned like a man on the cusp of something epic. Yes, he liked it when she said whatever was on the tip of her tongue. Ethan’s fingers clenched her hips. There might be ten small marks on the curve of her hips tomorrow, and she’d be glad for the reminders of his strong hands. Those points of contact seared, guiding her against him in a rhythm her body desperately wanted to learn. Lottie whimpered, tugging his head closer, urging him to keep going. Forever, preferably.

  “Lottie. Love, I need t
ae be in you,” he said. The plump head of him notched her opening. They both held their breath for a heartbeat.

  Willing her body to relax around him, she sighed, “Yes. Please. Fill me.”

  As she sank onto him, he choked out, “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

  This was a new dance—a push and pulling slide of coming together over and over until the ropes of the bed creaked in time with their groans. Heat came off his body in waves, and Ethan’s hands moved over her once she caught the cadence of lovemaking. Finally, he anchored one fist in her hair, repeating her name like a prayer.

  Drawing the mass of her hair aside, Ethan placed open, wet kisses along her neck and rolled them over. Lost to sensation, Lottie stopped thinking and simply felt. With their fingers intertwined, he pinned her hands overhead and trapped her in his gaze just as effectively. Sparks built, tingling up her inner thighs to the point where their bodies joined, then spiraling up her abdomen like embers caught in the wind.

  There was no other way to explain it. Fireworks comparable to the show at Vauxhall exploded within her, stealing her breath.

  “Stay with me, lass. Watch me while you come.”

  Staring into his eyes was a new vulnerability, but she surrendered to the feeling. He’d brought her to the brink, and she had to trust Ethan to bring her through this pleasure. Ahead of them lay a lifetime of this feeling—this discovery of one another’s bodies—and the thought set loose a flood of fierce happiness as she cried out.

  She took him with her as they stared into each other’s eyes with mutual awe. Lowering himself on unsteady arms, Ethan settled beside her. A place on his chest near the cradle of his shoulder seemed made for her head.

  Stroking her back, he said, “I’ll have tae leave this bed eventually. I hope my legs work by then.”

  She giggled. “I can’t feel my toes. Or my knees. I had no idea my knees could go numb.”