Noble Scoundrel (Peril & Persuasion Book 1)

by Amy Sandas

  He also possessed a foundational nobility that ran strong and deep beneath all the rest. A gentleness he’d denied existed though she’d experienced it herself. And a dark vulnerability.

  He would never acknowledge it, but she could see he’d been hurt in his life. He’d been neglected, used, and battered. Valued only for his strength and ferocity, the other parts of him had been denied and ignored. But they were still there, buried beneath an irreverent attitude and careless manner.

  She’d seen it. Felt it.

  And she’d come to recognize when he felt the need to push those things back into hiding. Like last night in the carriage. Now that she’d had time to think on it without her own feelings clouding her perception, she felt certain he’d responded in the way he had because he was afraid.

  She was here now, outside his door, because she’d decided only one of them could be afraid at a time.

  With a rush of purpose, she reached for the doorknob and opened the door. Though she acknowledged too late that she probably should have knocked, she was infinitely glad she didn’t or she might have missed witnessing the scene before her.

  Mason sat on the floor, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his back resting against the solid mahogany corner post of his bed. He wore only his breeches and his hair was loose about his shoulders. The uncertain firelight flickering in the grate across the room made the broad planes and dark shadows of his muscled form appear almost mythical in their proportions. His body looked to be made of stone, as did the line of his jaw and the carved lines of his lips.

  When he looked up at her, his gaze was undeniably hard. And quietly ravenous. Yet buried beneath the simmering ferocity was a silent, carefully concealed fear.

  After closing the door behind her, she started forward with her chin lifted in confidence. But as she drew closer to his immoveable form, the flutter of uncertainty in her core grew stronger until it brought her to a stop. She’d thought she knew exactly what to do. But facing him now, in the silence of his bedroom, with the intention of forcing him to admit there was something more between them—she felt at a sudden loss.

  She shifted her attention to the papers strewn about on the carpet beside him. Several rested in his lap while he held one in his large hand. Angling her head, she tried to see what they were. And when she did, her breath caught.

  They were sketches. Beautiful sketches.

  Rendered in sweeping charcoal lines, careful details, and soft shading. Every image she could see held an emotion all its own. In Claire’s sweet round face, she saw hope and sadness and the deepest love. Frederick’s dark gaze echoed with a quiet, intelligent purpose that captured him perfectly.

  Avoiding a glance at Mason—difficult when his presence exuded such tension—she continued forward and lowered herself to her knees. Leaning forward, she picked up the nearest sketch.

  It was of a woman. She was turned away from the artist so her face wasn’t shown, but a great deal of care had gone into the elegant arching lines of her slim back, naked but for the long, tousled braid. Another drawing showed the same woman turned to the side, her face in partial profile, her hair pinned to her crown in a loose chignon, soft tendril brushing her nape and jaw.

  Katherine’s stomach tightened. They were images of her. Several, in fact. In various poses, but in almost all of them, she was turned at least partially away.

  While she examined the drawings, Mason remained still, his body taut. Finally lifting her gaze to his, she found his focus trained intently on her, but the look in his eyes was unreadable.

  Katherine eased closer to him until her hip rested against the side of his knee. She could see his pulse beating wildly in the side of his throat. When she reached for the sketch in his hand, his brows lowered, but he released it to her with a low sound.

  In this one, she was facing forward. Her hair framed her face and shoulders in lush waves, her lips were parted in a sultry smile, and her eyes were heavy lidded. She looked like she’d just been kissed. Deeply.

  Heat and longing rushed through her body.

  Several things came to mind that she wanted to say. Things she should say. Questions and declarations and so much more.

  Instead, she said nothing.

  Gathering all the sketches, she set them aside in a neat pile. Then she rose up on her knees. Gathering the material of her robe and nightdress in her hands, she held his hard, green gaze with hers and boldly positioned herself astride his lap.

  The breath left his chest in a harsh puff—as though he’d been holding it in and couldn’t anymore—and his head fell back against the bedpost as he closed his eyes.

  He didn’t reach for her as she wanted. Didn’t use those large, strong hands to grasp her hips or cover her aching breasts. Instead, he fisted them at his sides, pressing his knuckles down into the plush carpet.

  For a moment, she feared he was rejecting her.

  But then she glanced at her image on top of the stack of drawings—the soft smile of welcome he’d drawn on her lips—and she knew his resistance was about something else.

  Settling her weight atop his thighs, she squeezed her knees against his hips. As her gaze roamed over the handsome angles of his face, she released the tie of her robe and allowed it to fall down her arms to pool around her hips and over his legs. Then she slowly slid her hands up the surface of his chest, then his thick neck to cradle his jaw. She could feel the muscles bunch and release beneath her fingers as she leaned forward, pressing her belly then her breasts to his hard body. When her lips were a breath away from his, she whispered, “Look at me, Mason.”

  A narrowed gaze met hers. It was filled with glittering fire and intricate need.

  With deliberate care and gentleness, she placed her mouth to his. A soft press. Then a caressing brush back and forth. It was tender and light and sweet. As she pulled back, she lightly swept her thumbs over his stubble-roughened cheeks. “If you want me to leave, I will.”

  A ragged, growling groan slid from his throat as he finally gripped her waist hard in his hands. “Don’t you dare.”

  The power in his hold—the physical command and pure possession in his tone—made her melt in a flood of liquid heat. A moan escaped her lips and her thighs tensed as she resisted the urge to roll her hips. It took a moment to catch her breath, but as soon as she did, she looked fiercely into his eyes. “Do you know why I came to you?”

  For a long moment, he just looked into her eyes. Then his hands tightened on her body. He lifted her from his legs to draw her more firmly over his groin as he answered gruffly, “Because you’re brave and beautiful and far more than a man like me deserves.”

  Fighting the urge to sigh at the feel of his body hardening beneath her, she slid her fingers into the silky hair at his nape and shook her head. “It’s because I’m stubborn and proud and I couldn’t allow you to believe for even a minute more what you said in the carriage last night might be true.”

  His remained shadowed while the corner of his mouth curled with wicked amusement and he rocked her along the ridge of his cock. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?”

  Katherine grasped his shoulders at the explosion of sensation through her body. She understood his response for what it was—a deflection from the emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge.

  Nearly breathless already, she forced her gaze to his. “I want you to admit it’s more than that,” she murmured thickly. “That what is happening between us goes deeper.”

  “Deeper?” he growled as he tilted his head to moisten her neck with his tongue before clamping his mouth hard over the bend of muscle that led to her shoulder. When she elicited a whimper, he released her flesh to soothe it with the hot sweep of his tongue. Releasing her waist, he reached beneath her nightgown. Grasping her bare arse in one hand, he somehow freed his cock from his breeches with the other. Within a few short breaths, his broad tip was poised at her slick, aching entrance. “I’m going to be so deep inside you, luv, you’ll be seeing stars.” />
  Then he grasped her hips and brought her down along his length in one hot thrust.

  Katherine moaned at the stretching, filling, consuming pressure of his thick length fully buried. Though nearly mindless from the pure beauty of having him inside her, she was aware that he held her firmly to his lap, preventing further movement. He was intentionally withholding that greater pleasure.

  In protest, she squeezed her inner muscles around him and was pleased to hear him groan against her throat.

  “Tell me you don’t need this,” he growled.

  Katherine wrapped her arms around his head, holding him to her as she gently rocked her hips, created a subtle deep friction. “I do,” she gasped. “But I want more.”

  “There is no more.”

  She grasped a fistful of his hair and forced his head back until he met her gaze. The look in his eyes was dangerous. More dangerous than she’d ever seen before. But she wasn’t the least bit daunted.

  She was empowered.

  “You’re a shameless scoundrel and a brute. But you’re not a liar.” She touched his lips with her fingertips. “What are you afraid of?”

  A dark shadow passed over his gaze. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” she challenged, sliding her hand around to cup his nape.

  His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs. Every muscle in his body tensed. His pulse thrummed and his brow grew heavy.

  “Don’t love me, duchess.” His voice was raw. Stripped bare.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she said before drawing his mouth to hers.

  She thrust her tongue past his teeth, rubbing it along his with sultry promise. With an arch of her low spine, she pressed her breasts to his chest. And she held him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her thighs cradling his hips, and his cock throbbing deep inside her, she held him.

  A moan rolled thick and heavy from his body. His arms doubled around her waist, and in bringing her closer into his embrace, their bodies shifted, allowing a delicious slide of his flesh within hers. Slick, hot, and wonderful.

  “You’ll regret this,” he grunted. Grabbing fistfuls of her nightgown, he pulled it roughly up over head before covering her breasts with his heavy palms. “You’ll come to hate me. Everyone does.”

  Katherine reached back to brace herself on the hard surface of his thighs as she arched deep, throwing her head back. He immediately took one breast with his mouth, swirling his tongue over the beaded tip.

  “Never,” she gasped. “I could never hate you, Mason. I—”

  His animalistic growl and the sharp edge of his teeth on her soft flesh stopped her from uttering the phrase that rose so easily to her lips. Before she could try to repeat the sentiment, he looped his arm around her waist and lifted her from his lap, pulling himself from her sheath. Then he thrust upward again. The move stole her breath and her thoughts.

  After that, she took over the punishing rhythm, rising and falling along his hot length with relentless focus as he suckled her breasts and scored his blunt nails over her belly and hips and thighs. The pleasure and beautiful tension built inside her, but an anxious fear threatened to steal it away.

  Because she hadn’t accomplished what she’d come here for. She hadn’t convinced him—

  He hooked his hands over her shoulders from behind, pulling her closer so he could seal his open mouth to the side of her throat, pulling her sensitive skin against the edge of his teeth.

  Her body quivered from head to toe.

  But she didn’t get to tell him—

  He cupped her rear with one hand, urging her to a faster, shorter rhythm. Sliding one long finger into the crevice between her buttocks, he added a gentle pressure against that sensitive little spot of puckered flesh.

  The odd, unexpected sensation, combined with the delicious ache he nurtured within her, sent her over the edge. Her body squeezed tight in an intense pulse of pleasure. She gasped with surprise at how suddenly it came upon her. Before she lost her mind completely, she grasped his broad face in her hands, and while locking her gaze with his gut-punching stare, she claimed his lips with hers.

  Her climax was long and consuming, rolling through her in deep, undulating waves and sparks. But she refused to release that connection with him. If she couldn’t say what she felt in words, she’d tell him in any way she could.

  It only took a moment before his own climax hit him. His thighs tensed and his knees lifted, trapping her even tighter to his body as his arms shook around her and his cock pulsed with the release of his seed.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  She’d fucking killed him.

  His body. His heart. His soul. All utterly destroyed. Obliterated.

  So, instead of trying to exist on his own, he held her close and tried to soak up the life he felt vibrating from her slim form. Her warm breath fanned across his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered. Her legs trembled. And her woman’s flesh contracted with subtle pulses around his slowly softening length.

  Then she moved. Rolling her spine first in a sweet, breath-stealing stretch that made his stomach clench. With a sigh, she tipped her head back and planted a quiet little kiss to his shoulder, then the side of his neck, then that spine-tingling spot below his ear.

  He growled. He couldn’t help it. This woman brought out the beast in him.

  She laughed, a husky, throaty sound. Sneaking her slim hand up along his ribs, she paused when her fingers reached the flat disc of his nipple.

  Then—to his surprise and pleasure—she pinched. Hard.

  He sucked in a breath and smacked her naked arse.

  The exchange was swift and playful and not at all what he would have expected from the woman. When she finally raised her head, he’d already shielded his thoughts. But he feared she’d see them anyway.

  Her sultry eyes were so fucking gorgeous, and her sigh was heavy as her attention drifted softly to his mouth.

  “Draw me,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “I’d like for you to draw me.”

  A wicked thrill rolled through him. “Now?”

  The smile she flashed was confident and maybe just a little bit naughty. Which he adored. “Yes. Right now.” She looked around the room. “Where would you like me?”

  He chuckled and wrapped his hands around her arms. She looked down at him. Thick, heavy waves of her auburn hair fell over her shoulder to one side, creating a peek-a-boo curtain over one nipple. He sucked in a swift breath as his cock stirred with new life. “Why?”

  Her answer was a quick kiss to his lips. “I want to see myself as you see me.”

  A few minutes later, Mason had her stretched out on her side across the foot of his bed. Her head rested on one slim arm that extended toward the edge of the bed while the other arm draped gracefully across her middle. Her top leg was bent and drawn up, accentuating the deep curve of waist and hip. Once she was in position, he arranged her dark tresses to fall in tousled waves over her pale form.

  Then he sat against the bed’s headboard. Without speaking, he began to draw. His gaze traveled over every line and shadow as the charcoal swept across the paper in long strokes. The act of recreating her curves and softness—her strength and sensuality—felt like an act of lovemaking. His charcoal caressed the length of her legs and the arches of her graceful feet. It worshiped the modest little mounds of her breasts, the dip of her navel, and the bend of her arm.

  When he started on the details of her face, his chest tightened.

  With a furrowed brow, he formed the shape of her eyes, the stern lines of her eyebrows, and the straight slope of her nose. When he drew the lush curve of her bottom lip before shifting to the elegant upper arches, he couldn’t keep from thinking of how soft and sweet those lips were. How generous and demanding the swirl of her tongue. How insane it would feel to have that hot mouth on his cock.

  He throbbed—hard and heavy—as blood rushed to his loins.

  “What are you thinking?”

  He
r voice was quiet and sultry. Mason blinked, realizing he’d stopped drawing. His gaze remained locked on her lips. He couldn’t look away. “I’m thinking of your gorgeous mouth.”

  She smiled and his cock grew even more, extending past the edge of his open breeches. He set his sketch and charcoal aside and pushed his breeches down to run his hand along the length of his erection.

  Her gaze followed the movement. Hot. Hungry. She pushed up onto her elbow and slid her bent leg higher along the bed, giving him a shadowed glimpse of her sex.

  Taking himself in hand, he gripped hard at the base. Moisture beaded from the slit at the top. He ached. In his balls. Deep in his gut. In the center of his chest.

  Watching her as she watched him, he slid his hand up then down again in a hard stroke. The drop of pre-cum began to roll down the head of his penis.

  She saw it and gasped softly as she rose to her knees. Mason noted her parted lips, her swift breath, and her heavy-lidded gaze.

  His voice was raw with lust and everything else he was feeling. “Come here.”

  She did not hesitate. Crawling toward him, she came between his spread legs. Only then did her eyes flicker up to meet his with a quiet question and fierce desire.

  “It’s yours, luv. Take it.”

  Her eyes widened briefly before she looked down to where he throbbed near to bursting. Another bead formed and a soft whimper sounded in her throat. Resting her hands on the hard surfaces of his thighs, she leaned forward and lapped up the drop with the velvety flat of her tongue.

  Mason moaned heavy and deep. He knew it’d be perfect.

  When she twirled her tongue delicately around his broad tip, he sucked in a breath and held it. His fist tightened around the base of his shaft while his other hand came up to delve into the thickness of her hair and cup the back of her head. Though he exerted no pressure, his hold seemed to inspire her as she parted her lips and took him fully into her mouth.

  Mason’s head fell back and a growl of pleasure rolled up from his chest.

  She drew her mouth back up then down again. Long, luscious, sucking strokes accented by a teasing swirl of her tongue around the broad head. She consumed him. She enslaved him. And when her hand joined her mouth on his cock, he surrendered completely.