Noble Scoundrel (Peril & Persuasion Book 1)

by Amy Sandas

  You could destroy me so easily.

  When she didn’t reply, he chuckled throatily and stepped forward. She rolled onto her back as he stretched his great, heavy body atop her. The heat and hair-roughened texture of his skin were stimulating, as were the kiss he pressed to her mouth and the way he slipped one arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her hips to hold her against him in a solid, encompassing embrace.

  “It’ll work. Trust me.”

  She did trust him. Somewhere between their first meeting and this moment, she’d come to trust him implicitly. She looped her arms around his neck and lifted her head to flick her tongue over his lips. “Show me.”

  “Demanding wench, aren’t you?”

  She slid one of her legs out from underneath him and hooked it over his hip. Tilting her hips, she tried to align herself to his hard heat. “Do you intend to refuse?”

  “Hell no,” he denied vehemently. “I’ve wanted to fuck you from the second I saw you pointing that bloody pistol at me.”

  His crude words stirred the fierce need clawing inside her. The rawness of him. The blatant hunger in his eyes. The pure, unfiltered evidence of his desire.

  There was no need for tender words or unkeepable promises. Right now, in this moment, their insatiable need for each other was enough.

  It was everything.

  The heat between them. The hollowness inside her. The lustful craving for more of the pleasure he wanted to give her. The desire to pleasure him in return.

  It was lust. Simple. Real. Honest.

  Looking into his eyes, she saw a perfect reflection of the deep, bold desire she felt inside. But she saw something else as well. A question. An uncertainty. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked thickly.

  The thought that he might be doubting the depths of her need for him—even for a moment—inspired a sharp ache in her chest. She was suddenly desperate to ensure he knew exactly how badly she wanted to experience every intimacy with him. But what could she say at a moment like this...?

  The only thing that came to mind was to speak to him in words he’d easily understand. Words she was shocked to even consider uttering.

  After the vulnerability and generosity he’d shared with her, surely she could find it in herself to be bold. To be as exposed and brazen as he was himself.

  With her heart thundering, she gave another urging motion of her hips, making his jaw muscles tense, before she brought her mouth to his and whispered breathlessly, helplessly against his lips, “Please. Fuck me.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Mason’s heart stopped.

  Had she really just uttered those filthy, beautiful words? Spoken in her husky, lust-filled voice with perfectly refined intonation?

  He had to believe it because everything in him was suddenly clamoring to do exactly what she’d demanded. His cock throbbed so hard it felt like he’d burst. His whole body shook with the need to thrust into her soft, wet heat.

  He kissed her. Hard. With all of the violently wound passion inside him. And when she kissed him back, just as fiercely, he wondered if he’d lost his mind.

  How could he be here otherwise?

  He was a hulking brute who’d been born and raised in a hovel to a prostitute mother and gin-loving father who demanded obedience in his children with his fists. He was a bare-knuckle boxer turned moneyman who wasn’t a stranger to using intimidation and fear to gain what he desired. A man who’d nearly lost his daughter forever due to his own selfish neglect.

  What twist of fate had allowed an arsehole like him into the bed of this fascinating woman?

  After her breathy whispered words, she’d stilled, awaiting his response.

  Another time. Another him. Another woman, perhaps he wouldn’t have hesitated.

  He brought his hands up to frame her face. Holding himself on his elbows braced beside her shoulders, he took in the sight of her.

  A soft, silken cloud of dark auburn hair pillowed her head in a stark contrast to the white bedcovering. Her strong eyebrows were slightly furrowed as she allowed his perusal. He could see she was starting to worry about his delay but was doing her best not to show it. She was so brave. Still, he took his time admiring her perfectly straight nose. Her strong but elegant jawline. The modestly curved arches of her upper lip and the full cushion of her bottom lip that begged for his teeth.

  After lingering for a moment on her mouth, he finally met her gaze. Dark, guarded eyes met his from within a thick fringe of lashes.

  In the short time he’d known Lady Katherine Blackwell, he’d come to expect certain indisputable things about her.

  She was fiercely loyal, courageous, and clever. She didn’t trust easily. Her stubbornness could be frustrating, but he knew it came from a need to control the uncertainties in her life to best protect and guide her brother. He also knew that when she made a decision about something it was due to careful consideration and thorough assessment.

  But none of that explained how he’d ended up here in her bed.

  “Why me?” The gruffness of his question broke the quiet hovering around them.

  Her scowl deepened.

  With a sigh, she ran her hands lightly up and down his back, causing a fine tingling across his skin. “Is it so difficult to believe I desire you?”

  He lifted the corner of his mouth but couldn’t summon a full grin. “A lady like you? Damned near impossible,” he countered.

  She arched an imperious brow. “A lady like me? What does that mean?”

  He chuckled at her swift rise of temper. “No offense, luv. But you probably should’ve run screaming the second you met me.”

  Her gaze was fierce and intent. “You don’t frighten me, Mason.”

  The sound of his name on her lips for the first time triggered an odd tremble in his belly. He frowned at the sensation and his next words came out harsher than he’d intended. “I should. I’m not a good man.”

  “But you want to be,” she whispered.

  He did. It was true. But it didn’t mean he had a chance at being good enough for her. A growl rolled from his chest.

  As though sensing his agitation, she reached up to cover his hands—still framing her face—with hers. Her eyes darkened as a soft breath slid from her lips. “I’m here because I want to be. I need you, Mason. Don’t deny me.”

  Warmth spread through him, followed by a fierce spear of longing. She was right. She was always right. A slow smile spread his lips as he gave a short, subtle roll of his hips, allowing the crown of his penis to just barely kiss her soft entrance.

  Her lashes fluttered as she drew a swift inhale and her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

  Shudders of pleasure ran through his body. Lowering his mouth to her ear, he murmured huskily, “You need me, luv? I’m here for you.”

  She turned her head to nip at his neck with sharp little teeth. “Kiss me.”

  He took her mouth, thrusting his tongue into her wet heat as he wished to thrust his cock.

  Lowering one hand between them, he slid his fingers along her sex. She was still hot and wet and ready for him. After circling her clitoris with urgent strokes that had her arching beneath him and gasping into his mouth, he plunged two fingers deep into her body.

  The sound she made was a sultry moan.

  Withdrawing his fingers, he grasped himself in hand and guided his tip to her entrance. As he began to push forward, she stiffened. Her eyes were tightly closed and her lower lip was caught between her teeth.

  “Relax, luv. I’ll make it feel so fucking good. I swear.”

  She opened her eyes and they glittered up at him. “I know you will. I need you. Please, Mason. Please...”

  Shit. There was no help for it.

  He tightened his buttocks and thrust forward in a steady claiming. And though her spine arched and her breath caught on sharp little gasps, she held his gaze. And when he might have stopped, thinking she’d reached the limit of what she could take from him, she reached down to grasp h
is hard buttocks in her hands and urged him deeper.

  Within a moment, nearly his full length was clasped tight inside her. She was so hot. So soft and tight and wonderful he could barely stand it. His head spun and his lungs burned and his vision hazed over with the lust running rampant in his blood.

  They both remained still for a moment. Their breaths harsh and heavy. Their gazes locked.

  And then, she shifted. Just a subtle tip of her hips and a gentle squeezing of her inner muscles around his throbbing shaft.

  His balls tightened and his cock pulsed with the rise of his seed as a telltale ache began in his belly. Mason clenched his teeth against the most intense need to come he’d ever experienced.

  Not yet.

  He’d never been so close to the edge from one maddeningly slow thrust. But he’d promised her pleasure. And he was going to deliver.

  With agonizing patience and more self-control than he’d ever had to employ, he pulled out until just the crown remained within. Then he pushed forward again. Entering her in a slow glide. Grinding his back teeth, he repeated the long stroke of his cock. Again and again.

  When she lifted her knees along his sides, allowing for an even deeper reach inside her, he grunted with the sheer rush of pleasure that danced up his spine. “You’re amazing.”

  He didn’t realize he’d said the words out loud until she smiled and his heart gave a violent jolt in his chest.

  What the hell was she doing to him?

  Everything he was felt like it was on the verge of breaking apart. But when she lifted her chin, seeking his mouth, he gave it to her readily. Their tongues mated as his thrusts grew less patient and more urgent, spurred by her sounds of pleasure and the bite of her nails in his buttocks and thighs.

  It was all he could do to hold his release back long enough to see her come again.

  Reaching between them, he found her clitoris with his thumb. Circling over the swollen bud in time to his thrusts, he watched as her eyes rolled beneath a flutter of thick lashes and her mouth parted on a stalled breath.

  Sweat coated his body, rolling down the hollow of his spine. His chest felt so tight from his efforts to hold himself in check that he worried he might never breathe properly again.

  Gasping fitfully, she lifted her arms above her head to clutch the bedding in tight fists. Arching her back, she thrust her breasts high and wrapped her legs around his hips.

  Then he felt it.

  The deep pulsing grip of her inner muscles. Squeezing and releasing him in quick succession before dissolving into fluttering beats all around. While her body quivered, he continued the slow thrusting of his cock and the gentle circling of his thumb, hoping to prolong her pleasure as she fed his.

  Then she opened her eyes. Dark pools of fire and wonder met his gaze. “Mason.”

  His name was whispered so softly and with such sultry reverence—it did him in.

  His climax swirled up from the root, tightening his balls, tensing his muscles. Damn, but he wanted to thrust high into her body and spurt his hot seed in the most primitive of claimings.

  But he couldn’t.

  He thrust once. Hard. Lifting her hips off the bed.

  Her hands fell back to his shoulders as she clung to him. Surrendering, sighing.

  He thrust again and felt her body tighten around him, as though to pull him deeper.

  The sound torn from his chest was a half growl, half grunt of torment. Withdrawing from her heat against every clawing instinct raging within him, he pumped his fist down his length—still slick with her pleasure—once—twice. That was all it took.

  He came with a raw groan as his release shot out in pulsing streams against her trembling belly.

  The pleasure was intense. Altering. Maybe a little bit terrifying.

  When he was finally spent, he began to shake as he held himself above her. He felt utterly weakened and wanted only to lower his body atop hers and rest his head on her breast.

  He glanced down to see his seed glistening on her smooth skin.

  Fuck. He almost hadn’t managed to pull out. The thought of unintentionally planting a child in her womb filled him with violently mixed emotions. Desire. Fear. Longing. Regret.

  He’d made that mistake with Molly. And though Claire’s mother and Katherine were nothing alike, he’d learned his lesson well.

  Any future children he fathered would be with a woman who’d want to stick around to raise and love them. Something an elegantly stubborn sister to a duke would never consider with a scoundrel the likes of Mason Hale.

  Pushing away, he lifted himself to the side and swung his legs to sit at the edge of the bed. He paused to shove his hands back through his hair. Spying the washstand in the corner, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. Wetting a cloth in the bowl of water, he returned to the bed.

  His passionate little dove had fallen into a heavy slumber.

  Her perfectly formed body was splayed in utter abandon, and her small, beautiful breasts rose and fell with her even breath.

  A sharp point of discomfort rose in his chest. He rubbed his fist over the spot to dispel the sensation.

  Using the damp cloth, he wiped his seed from her belly and the subtle smear of her virgin blood from her inner thighs. Seeing the rise of gooseflesh on her skin, he gently maneuvered her beneath the bedding, tucking it up under her chin so she wouldn’t catch a chill. Then he dressed quickly, keeping one eye on the lady in her bed. He suspected she’d have a word or two for him if she awoke to find him sneaking away, but he couldn’t believe for one second she’d want him to stay.

  As he reached for the door, he felt an intense compulsion to return to the bed and press his mouth to hers.

  Don’t be an arse. Let the woman sleep.

  Forcing himself to continue to his own room, he envisioned her small female form curled up against him in the lush cloud of blankets and pillows. Her head on his shoulder, her hand curled around his ribs, and one of her slim legs thrown across his hips.

  Shite. He didn’t belong in her bed. It was good he’d left.

  Once in his room, he undressed to his breeches then sat on the floor with his back resting against the bedpost. With a charcoal in hand and fresh sheets of paper stacked on the wooden board resting atop his knees, he closed his eyes and pictured flashing eyes, an imperious scowl softening with pleasure, and a lush bottom lip caught between two rows of perfect teeth.

  The charcoal began to fly over the paper with sensual ease.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Katherine awoke slowly. She first acknowledged the warmth and comfort of her bed, then the subtle soreness of her body, then the soul-deep contentment that welled in her heart.

  Mason.

  Before even fully conscious, she reached for him.

  And found her bed empty.

  She sat up and looked around her bedroom, which was just barely lightening with the dawn. She already knew he wasn’t there, but the loneliness that claimed her at having the fact confirmed was a surprise. Drawing her knees toward her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and tried to grasp hold of the last thing she remembered.

  Pleasure.

  Wonder.

  Connection.

  She fell back again against the pillows and covered her heated face with her hands.

  How could she have fallen asleep immediately after such an amazing experience? If she hadn’t, would Hale have stayed? Would she have wanted him to?

  Her belly swirled with longing. She absolutely would have.

  For a man who was undeniably brash and coarse and frustratingly domineering, his sensual command of her body and her pleasure had been full of tenderness and generosity.

  There was so much more to the man than he allowed most people to see.

  Last night, she’d touched the part of him that he kept concealed behind a harsh, smirking exterior. She wanted more. She wanted to know him. His past, his fears, his desires and dreams. She wanted to be someone he trusted with all of himself. She
wanted to understand what had formed him into the man he was.

  And most of all...she wanted to be a woman he stayed with through the night.

  With a sharp pang through her chest, she realized that was the main source of her distress. After the shuddering kisses, the tantalizing caresses, the soul-altering pleasure, he’d simply dressed and walked away.

  It shouldn’t matter.

  When she’d decided to take him into her bed, she’d had no expectations beyond the need to express the desire roaring through her. No illusions of forever. It had been for the pure carnal experience, an inevitable culmination of the attraction that had been building between them.

  But there had been moments she’d looked into his eyes and had felt so much more. A connection. A completion. A sense of rightness and wonder. Had it been a trick of the candlelight or a lustful illusion that had her thinking she’d glimpsed the same emotion in his eyes?

  And why did the thought that she’d fooled herself into believing something magical had occurred between them last night make her feel so sad with loss?

  TILTING HER HEAD, KATHERINE frowned at her reflection in the mirror above her vanity. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for or why she felt like she wasn’t finding it, but something in her expression gave her a brusque twinge of dissatisfaction.

  She had dressed for Lord Shelbourne’s soiree in a gown of pale lavender with soft grey lace trimming the sleeves, bodice, and hem. Her hair had been coiled and twisted and curled and pinned atop her head. Three strands of pearls clasped together with a sparkling amethyst broach encircled her neck, and small pearls dangled from her ears.

  Her appearance wasn’t the height of London fashion, but it would have to do.

  She did not relish the idea of going out tonight, but she’d accepted Lord Shelbourne’s invitation to the small soirée days ago when she’d felt a need to establish some social ties for Frederick’s sake.

  She just wished it didn’t have to be tonight, when she was still reeling from the experience with Hale. Her mind was cluttered with serious thoughts and words still unspoken, feelings that seemed bigger than she’d expected, and such a loss of control it made her heart race to think of it.