Sutton’s Sins: The Sinful Suttons Book 2

by Scott, Scarlett

  Her own fingers had proven poor replacements indeed in his absence.

  He sucked hard. She gave herself up to the sensations, wild and streaking through her, furious as bolts of lightning in the midst of a storm. Her hips pumped. He groaned into her flesh, the vibration sending more sparks of desire careening through her, catching flame.

  His big, callused hands were not finished with her. He ran them up and down her outer thighs, before catching the hollows of her knees and hooking them over his shoulders.

  The position was new.

  Decadent.

  It forced her to balance herself on her flattened palms on the bed, her legs draped over his back, her lower body tilted toward him as he feasted. And there was no other word to describe what Rafe was doing as he sucked and licked her. The wet sounds of her own excitement echoed in the quiet of the room, joining her pants and his groans of enjoyment. He tortured her so deliciously, swiping his tongue up and down her seam in long, lingering licks before lashing her pearl with swift, fast movements of his tongue, followed by hard sucks. The combination forced her to the edge quickly.

  “Rafe,” she crooned, mindless, lost to everything but the passion and the pleasure. “Oh, yes.” More sounds followed, strange and uncontrollable. Sounds she had never made as the pleasure rendered her mindless.

  His rough hands cupped her bottom and tipped her toward him. He rubbed his face against her, the golden whiskers she had so often admired on his strong jaw lightly abrading her sensitive skin.

  So sinful.

  So wonderful.

  He laved her pearl and then paused long enough to lavish praise upon her. “Such a perfect cunny. So pretty and wet. All for me.”

  “Always for you,” she said, feeling wetness slide from her body, trail lower. “Only for you.”

  “How does this feel?” he asked just before pressing a kiss to her throbbing bud.

  “Wondrous,” she hissed as his wicked tongue licked up and down her lips, then slid lower, parting her folds, finding the place where her wetness had gathered. He licked into her there, his tongue darting gently at first and then with greater persistence. His fingers gripped her, biting into her rump with painful pleasure. Just when she thought she could bear no more, he sucked hard on her pearl.

  Her explosion was instant.

  Crying out, she arched shamelessly into him as her inner walls contracted and spasm after spasm gripped her. As the intensity of her pleasure began to slowly subside, her pounding heart returning to a more subdued pace, she became aware of his gaze on her, intense and hot.

  His sensual lips were glistening. “God, I love the way you come on my tongue.”

  She should have been shocked, she supposed, but his sinful confession only made her want him more. “Take me, Rafe. I am yours.”

  With a guttural sound of pure need, he slid her legs from his shoulders and rose to his feet. “You are sure? If we go too far, there will be no undoing what we’ve done.”

  In answer, she caught the hem of her shift and, with a slight lift of her bottom, pulled it off, over her head. She held his stare as she tossed the fine linen to the floor. “I’m sure.”

  He did not hesitate this time, his fingers flying to the fall of his trousers and undoing them. They slid from his hips, leaving him in nothing but his stockings and his smalls. And then those final barriers were shed as well.

  It was not the first occasion she’d had to see Rafe Sutton naked. However, it was certainly the most breathtaking. He was all solid masculine strength, lean and tall, his manhood rising stiff and thick and hard.

  And large.

  Good heavens! The mechanics of the act which would follow seemed wildly impossible, given his size.

  “Don’t fret, lovely. I’ll go slowly.”

  She looked up to find him smiling at her with such raw affection that she forgot her trepidation.

  I love this man.

  How strange and new it all still felt, the realization, the emotions, and the reality of him here with her, nude. About to make love to her.

  “I trust you,” she said, unwavering.

  She knew instinctively that whatever happened between them, Rafe would be gentle and sweet.

  He joined her on the bed, taking her lips with his, and she tasted herself in his kiss. They moved together, resting on their sides, bodies flush from hip to chest. His mouth moved lingeringly over hers, lightly at first, and then with mounting hunger. In their passion, they were equals, her tongue the first to delve into his mouth, dueling with his.

  His fingers slipped into her hair while his other hand caressed her waist. Between them, his length prodded her belly. She was so caught up in the feeling of his warm skin burning into hers, the languorous seduction of his kisses, that it took her a moment to realize the panic which had previously assailed her at the press of his body against hers was…

  Absent.

  She was not fearful. The darkness and the memories were still at bay. And all she could think, feel, know, was Rafe, his lips gently moving over hers, his fingers sifting through her hair. His leg moving between hers, insinuating itself. The light friction pleased her, and she arched as he brought his thigh higher until she was riding it.

  His hand slid from her waist over her feverish skin. He cupped her breast, his thumb swirling over the stiff peak as his lips broke from hers. Rafe trailed kisses down her throat, along her bare shoulder, then lower. Over the curve of her breast until he caught her nipple in his hot mouth and sucked.

  A cry escaped her.

  “Hush, darling girl.” He flicked his tongue over her nipple, then painted a lazy swirl around it. “Not too loud.”

  You are foolish, Persephone.

  Making so much noise when anyone in the corridor could hear what she was about. And then where would she be? Utterly, thoroughly ruined.

  But oh, what a way to achieve her fall from grace.

  “Forgive me,” she murmured in a hushed tone. “I was not…oh.”

  He had nipped her, taking her stiff nipple in his teeth and tugging. Her nails sank into the satiny skin of his back. Holding her gaze, he soothed the nip with his tongue, before closing his lips around the peak once more and sucking hard while his thigh pressed against her already throbbing flesh.

  “Your cunny is dripping,” he said, kissing the side of her breast. “Do you want me?”

  She rocked on his thigh, needing more, fingers threading through his blond curls. The sensations buffeting her were exquisite. The first spend he had given her had rendered her almost painfully sensitive there, the abrasion of the coarse hair stippling his muscled thighs stimulating her in a new way.

  “Yes,” she said, seeking more, her hips moving with a will of their own, tilting to an angle that allowed her pearl to receive the attention she craved.

  As if sensing her desperation, he slid his hand between their bodies, his fingers unerringly finding her swollen flesh. The first stroke of his thumb over her, in conjunction with another suck on her nipple, was too much. The second was incendiary.

  “There’s a love,” he crooned, kissing the place where her breasts pushed together. “Come again for me. I want you to spend so many times, you think you cannot possibly spend again.”

  “Oh, God,” she cried, seizing up as his thumb applied more direct pressure, finding the precise location that made her lose control. His wicked words, combined with his knowing touch, were too much.

  She stiffened against him, clutching him frantically, as the bliss rolled through her. He held her tightly to him, understanding her need for closeness, kissing her cheek, her ear, her lips, whispering tender words in her ear. To her shame, she realized tears were on her lashes, rolling down her cheeks, as she returned to lucidity, her inner muscles still rhythmically contracting after the force of her pleasure.

  He noticed immediately, wiping them away with the backs of his fingers. “Tears, sweeting? Is something wrong? Have I frightened you?”

  “No,” she hastened to reas
sure him, amazed she was capable of forming coherent speech. “Nothing is wrong, Rafe. Everything is right.”

  Too right. And it was both that awareness and the ferocity of her body’s physical reaction to him that had led to the overwhelming swell of emotion. Worse, it would never be this right again. She knew it. Had always known it. Rafe was not meant to be hers and nor was she meant to be his.

  But they had tonight, and it was not over yet.

  “You are sure?” He was frowning, his gaze searching hers, concern etched on his handsome face.

  “Oh yes.”

  She punctuated her reassurance with a kiss and drew him once more flat against her. The length of him prodded her belly, thick and demanding. Her curiosity had a will of its own, and while their tongues tangled, her fingers sought him, circling around the engorged shaft.

  He was hot.

  That was her first thought.

  And sleek and silken in a way that was surprising. Larger, even, than she had supposed. Long and thick. Once more, she wondered how this would work. She possessed a rudimentary knowledge of the marriage bed thanks to life at Silwood Manor and her father’s extensive stable. But this was not a marriage bed, and neither of them were horses.

  As she gave him a tentative stroke, Rafe moaned and tore his mouth from hers, hips thrusting, pushing him deeper into her hand. The tip of him was wet, and her thumb found this curiosity, sweeping the slickness in circles the way he had done to her.

  “Christ.” His voice was low and thick, the muscles of his back tense beneath her other fingers. “You will have me spending in your hand if you don’t take care.”

  “Would that be wrong?” she asked, giving him another stroke, this one less tentative, for his body was telling her more than his words ever could.

  A strangled sound fled him, his hips moving again. “Ah, lovely. What am I to do with you?”

  He kissed the bridge of her nose in what had become a familiar gesture. Perhaps he truly did adore her freckles as he had claimed. She was feeling bold and restless, so she continued what she was doing, moving up and down his shaft. How different and unique a man’s body was.

  “Do you like this?” she asked breathlessly, watching his gaze as it seemed to change color, the gray flecks becoming more pronounced.

  He nuzzled her ear. “I love it. Need you ask?”

  She supposed she did not, but words eluded her just then. He seemed to grow even larger in her hand. An answering ache began deep inside her, one she knew would not be satisfied unless he made love to her.

  She kissed his shoulder, his neck, worked her lips over his Adam’s apple, the prickle of his whiskers a delight to her already heightened senses. The scent of his soap, lingering on his skin, mingling with musky man, filled her head with fire. Their bodies were entwined, his hardness pulsing in her palm, and she had never felt more alive. It was as if she had been born for this moment, for this man.

  As if she had been preordained to love him.

  “Please,” she said against his skin, inhaling swiftly that she might trap the scent of him in her memory forever. “Make me yours, Rafe. I need you.”

  “How are you feeling, sweet?” He nibbled on her earlobe, making her shiver. “I do not want to go too fast for you or to frighten you.”

  It seemed he could not proceed fast enough to Persephone’s frenzied mind. But she did not say that. He was being gentle and sweet, so concerned for her welfare. Her heart swelled.

  “I want to replace the memories,” she told him. “I want there to only be you. Never what happened before.”

  She was not certain she would be able to banish thoughts of that terrible night or Lord Gregson from her mind forever. But she would try. And memories of Rafe—well, they would take her through her days.

  They had to, for she could not have him forever. Only for now.

  “It is easier for me to be atop you, at least the first time,” he said. “Will you be comfortable on your back?”

  It was the position that had given her such troubles previously. The truth was, she had no way of knowing what her reaction would be. The last time had taken her by surprise. Her body had a memory of its own.

  “I will try.” She kissed his chest, just above his pounding heart. The thump thump thump was a steady reassurance. “I know you will never hurt me.”

  “Never, lovely. Not if I can ’elp it.”

  His speech had lost its polish. But she liked it that way. She loved the true Rafe, rough and imperfect, hiding beneath all the handsome charm. How fortunate she was to have found this situation; she had to believe it was fated, that she had been meant to meet him. To love him.

  She longed to say those words, to tell him how she felt, and yet all she dared was another fervent kiss to his chest. “Thank you for making me feel safe with you.”

  He tipped up her chin, bringing her gaze to his. “Because you are, sweet. I’ll see to it for as long as I’m about.”

  For as long as I’m about.

  There it was, the implication he would leave. And of course he would, as would she. One day soon, they would part ways. It was as inevitable as their paths crossing had been.

  Best make this count, Persephone.

  She closed the distance between their lips and kissed him, their mouths fusing and melding with a newer, deeper understanding. Slowly, he rolled them until she was on her back and he was settled between her parted legs. But although he continued to kiss her, he did not pin her with his weight. Instead, he leveraged himself on his forearms, careful to keep from covering her as he had done that first night.

  He lifted his head and gazed down at her. “How does this feel?”

  It felt like Rafe, vibrant and warm and everything she wanted. She never wanted to let go.

  “Good,” she said through a throat gone suddenly thick, instead of giving voice to the thoughts flitting through her mind.

  He kissed her throat, rubbing his whiskers on her skin. “And this?”

  “Also good.”

  His tongue flicked over her before he kissed to the place where her neck and shoulder met. Softly, he set his teeth there, then kissed away the sting. “What of this?”

  “Quite good.”

  She could feel his lips stretching into a smile against her bare flesh. “I’m improving then, aye?”

  He kissed down the valley of her breasts, before taking a nipple into his mouth.

  “Yes,” she gasped when he shifted his weight to his left arm and used the other to reach between them, petting her lightly.

  The swollen bud hidden within her folds throbbed, wanting more.

  “What do you think of this, lovely?” He kissed the curve of her other breast, taking his time as he played with her.

  She was about to answer when he took her pearl between his thumb and forefinger and lightly pinched. Her hips bucked, white-hot desire shooting through her and leaving her electrified. All she could manage this time was a moan.

  “Quiet, sweet,” he reminded her, rubbing some more before releasing her and finding her hand. “We’ll do the rest together, love. Are you ready?”

  She nodded, more ready than she could say. All she wanted was this man.

  “Take my cock,” he instructed softly.

  Cock.

  There was the wicked word. How she liked it.

  She wrapped her fingers around his length just as she had before, but when she would have stroked him, he stayed her, grasping himself atop her touch. On a slow exhalation that sent his warm breath cascading over her lips, he showed her how to align him with her entrance.

  The tip of him pressed against her, in the place where she felt empty without him.

  “Will you fit?” she asked as he probed a bit deeper, her worry getting the best of her.

  “Ah, heaven and hell and all the saints,” he growled. “If I don’t, I shall die from wanting you.”

  She felt the same way.

  Another slight movement, their fingers laced together over his cock. Thi
s small invasion exhilarated her. Made her angle her hips toward him. And that was when the burning sensation began as she stretched to accommodate more of him. For a moment, she feared he would tear her in two.

  He stilled, glancing up at her, his breathing ragged, countenance strained. “More?”

  He was asking her if he should stop or proceed. Either prospect seemed equally agonizing at the moment.

  “More,” she said.

  This time, his hips lurched forward, sinking him deeper. He took her fingers from his shaft and raised them to his lips for a reverent kiss. “My brave darling.”

  Another thrust, and the burning lessened, though the tingling pain lingered, mingling with the new sensation of being filled and claimed.

  She clung tight to him, holding the broad planes of his shoulders. He took her lips in another kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. One flex of his hips, and he was fully seated, his hip bones pressing into hers, their bodies completely joined.

  The sensation was indescribable. Quite unlike what she had anticipated. Her body was so highly aware of every sensation after the painstaking pleasure he had shown her. He was inside her, his cock hot and hard and demanding.

  He gazed down at her, his concentration and strain showing. “Shall I continue, sweet?”

  Continue?

  This was not all there was to lovemaking? She had supposed that, while the precursors had been vastly different from the equestrian form of courting and copulating, the end result would be the same.

  She bit her lip. “Horses seem to go about the process a bit differently.”

  He chuckled, the sound like velvet, warm and soft falling around her. “I ain’t a bleeding horse, lovely. And thank Christ for that.”

  “Oh,” was all she could think of to say.

  “Shall I?” he asked, kissing one of her distended nipples.

  “Yes, please,” she said demurely, sinking her fingers into his beloved ringlets.