He had a look in his eyes as primitive as it was playful.
And then, being careful not to rest his full weight fall upon her, he buried his face between her breasts and lazily kissed and licked his way around them. Finally locking upon one ruched nipple, he, in all fairness, brought his hand up to pinch and rub the other one.
Stephen, being Stephen, was inherently thorough.
Cecily felt utterly wanton.
The sensations of this man, fully clothed, wanting her, loving her, rubbing and tantalizing her naked skin, persuaded her to let her legs fall open so that she could cradle his hips and thighs. Oh, God, I want him everywhere.
His mouth worked its way down her breastbone, past her navel, and lower still.
“Stephen!” she gasped, quite shocked by what he seemed intent upon doing. “What on earth are you doing?”
He stopped and looked up at her, smiling lustily. “Nothing.”
And then he went about his business.
Not in a million years had she ever imagined allowing a man do… this! And with his mouth no less!
“Oh, my God! Stephen, you are wicked,” she said, feeling quite wicked herself as she reached down with her hands and grasped the sides of his head.
He was not to be deterred. His tongue stroked and sucked in much the same way he’d done with her mouth, causing a new multitude of sensations to spiral inside of her.
He paused only a moment to look up at her. “Surrender, Cecily.” Giving her a lazy, sensual smile, he added, “And prepare to die.”
Cecily could not help but laugh. But only for a few seconds. She relaxed her hold on him and reached up to cover her eyes with one arm. This truly felt glorious, but at the same time, excruciatingly mortifying.
Stephen pushed her knees up and lifted her closer to his mouth, presumably for better access. He was doing things now, which gave her no room for anything but acute excitement and arousal. Embarrassment, be damned. This was too good to be tarnished by shame.
She found herself writhing and thrusting in perfect accord with his ministrations. She reached for something, so close, so close. Whimpering and panting, she could not help but give in completely to this madness.
Oh, but there was more. Oh, God! He was stroking the inside of her with his fingers now, while his tongue flirted about other places.
She came apart completely.
FEELING HER RELEASE, Stephen clutched her hips and slowed his mouth. He could feel her pulsing beneath his lips. Hearing her uninhibited release was nearly as satisfying as if he were to find his own.
Nearly.
As the waves passed, she gradually quieted and lay still. Stephen pressed in another long slow, wet kiss before kneeling back onto his heels again. He ought to have known how much this would affect him.
He was quite painfully aroused himself.
Looking at Cecily, all flushed and soft and relaxed with her hair tousled around her, her lips swollen and a hint of pink on her neck from his beard, one thought pulled into his mind and took up residence.
She is mine.
She stared down her body at him with a very heavy-lidded gaze. “You wicked, wicked man,” she said teasingly, whereupon he caught his breath.
How had they come to this? Crawling back up the bed, he lay on his side, adjacent to her.
“Cecily,” he whispered into her perfectly delicate ear.
“Yes?” she answered sleepily.
“Just that. Just Cecily,” he said, nuzzling her. She wasn’t a tiny woman but holding her like this she felt utterly fragile, igniting in him an overwhelming urge to protect her at all costs.
Except he had not protected her today. She had been pushed into the Serpentine and then later fought off a snake that had been planted in her bed.
How was it that she was not even safe in her own home?
“Have you noticed any new servants? Anybody particularly who seems to not belong in the household?” His mind had begun churning. He needed to put an end to these dangerous and deadly pranks. Whoever was causing this mischief needed to be stopped before somebody was hurt, or worse.
Cecily sighed. “I haven’t paid much attention to the household. Since Flave told me of the nature of our marriage, I haven’t taken the time to familiarize myself with the staff. I know Sherman, Sally, Peters, Peterson, and Mrs. Taylor, and I ought to know more of them by now, but I haven’t had the heart to even attempt settling in as Flavion’s countess.”
And then she chuckled, a low sexy sound that heated his blood. “So, you no longer suspect me? Am I to be absolved of any new mischievous events that take place?”
Stephen’s hand rested on her bared midriff. He marveled at how soft and warm she felt, and yet he needed to concentrate. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, the image of the mutilated snake came to mind. “After what you did to that snake, I think that if you wanted to kill someone he would be dead and buried by now.” And then another kiss. “No, love, I do not suspect you any longer.”
“Do you think it could possibly be Flavion? I have thought that if he truly did not wish to be married to me, it would be convenient if I were to depart from this world. You know him better. You grew up with him. Do you think he is capable of such deviousness?”
Stephen grasped a blanket folded near the base of the bed and pulled it up to cover her. “You are most definitely not going to depart from this world anytime soon.” After another pause, he answered her question. “Flavion is selfish and vain and controlled by his own lust much of the time, but I do not think he is capable of murder. If backed into a corner, perhaps, but not in a premeditated way. He, by the way, thinks you are attempting to murder him.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Not that I hadn’t thought about it as you well know.” She turned her head slightly and gave him a sidelong glance with a smirk. “But I cannot even put a worm on a fishhook. I don’t think that I have the fortitude to murder my own husband.”
“So,” Stephen said, chuckling again, “if the adder had been a mere earthworm, he would not have been severed into twenty or more different pieces?”
Cecily laughed again. “No, I suppose not. And do not forget he tried to harm Chadwick.”
Cecily turned and burrowed closer into his chest. “So, if we eliminate both Flavion and myself, we must look outside of the family to identify new suspects.” She was unbuttoning his shirt and playing with the downy hair that curled along his sternum. Having her touch him thusly was more than a little distracting.
“I know that your father is a ruthless businessman, and you have admitted to being aware of this. I’m curious whether or not he perhaps has some enemy out there who might be seeking revenge by frightening you, by making attempts on Thomas Findlay’s daughter?”
Cecily stopped her playful touches and rubbed her nose thoughtfully. “It is always possible… but…”
“But? Do you have some other suspect in mind?”
“Well, Daphne Cunnington. She really — I mean really — does not like me and has said as much to my face. It is possible that she is the one attempting to get me out of the picture. That way Flavion would be free to marry her, regardless of her small dowry.”
Stephen moved his hand around to grasp Cecily’s derriere. Giving her a subtle squeeze, he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. “I like you. I mean, I really like you,” he said huskily. He did not think Daphne Cunnington capable of attempted murder. She was an empty-headed debutante. Based upon the few times he’d observed her, he was quite willing to wager she did not possess the fortitude to kill another person, even if that person was her lover’s wife.
Cecily had unfastened all of the buttons down the front of his shirt. Sitting up, Stephen struggled to free himself from his jacket and waistcoat. As he went to lie down again, Cecily reached toward him and took hold of his falls. Her fingers were surprisingly nimble as she unfastened them and then gave a downward tug. He had neither the heart nor the willpower to stop her. Instead, he assisted her and ki
cked them off the bed.
She had seen him the night before but not so boldly aroused. She let out a small gasp as she took in the full sight of him. He gave her a wry grimace and then shrugged. “I told you — I really like you…”
And then he was back under the covers, holding her again. This was madness.
When Cecily reached down to take him in her hand, Stephen agonized that he should stop her. Closing his eyes, he nearly groaned aloud when she began rubbing her hand up and down his length. It was too late for him to decide to be gentlemanly, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?
“Cecily,” he said, grasping her hand quickly and stilling her flirtatiously naughty hands. She fluttered her lashes at him and pouted prettily.
“You think we should not…?” she asked quietly, relaxing her hand and attempting to pull it away from him.
But he stopped her.
“I feel as though I am taking advantage of you — of your situation. I could not forgive myself it this was the case.” He didn’t want her to feel rejection from him. She’d had enough of that from her husband to last a lifetime.
“And I,” she began, “would wish that you could make love to me in a way that you wash away the memories of my less-than-satisfying wedding night. In fact, I would wish that you could work your own body upon mine so as to obliterate it.”
Stephen was rather shaken by this statement. It held a misery of disappointment and bitterness. “Did Flavion harm you? Did he force himself upon you?” He could not think this would be the case but felt it imperative that he ask, nonetheless.
“No,” Cecily said. “He did not. I would almost wish that he had, though. For when he… consummated our vows, he did so as though it were a nasty chore.”
Upon these words, she buried her face into his chest. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Surely, she had nothing to be ashamed of. His cousin, however, deserved to be drawn and quartered.
“Surely not, love. Perhaps you are merely remembering his words from later and attributing feelings that were not there?”
But she shook her head in denial. “Oh, no, last night I realized it when we were together. That was why I cried. I realized how very different your lovemaking was from what I had experienced that night.”
Stephen lifted her chin up and studied her eyes. “You wish me to wash it away? To obliterate it?” Feeling as though he ought to make one more protest, he asked, “Is that not what I did a few moments ago, in this very bed?”
She smiled. “That was lovely. But it was not the act of lovemaking really, was it?”
Enjoying her naiveté, Steven kissed her on the temple, and then on her closed eyes, and then around the gentle curve of her cheek. “It was a manner of lovemaking,” he finally whispered to her. “But I do take your meaning.”
Tilting back her head, her lips parted and her eyes dilated, Cecily brought him to full and complete arousal when she whispered to him boldly, “I want you to die in my lap, Stephen.”
He needed no further reassurances.
CECILY DID NOT understand how she could ever be so bold. It was as though there was nothing she would hide from him. Nothing she needed to hide from him. Thinking these words and Shakespeare’s use of them caused her to smile to herself.
“You ought not to laugh, my love, when you are about to be swived.” Stephen was both touching her and kissing her in the most surprising places. It was amazing the way he could multitask while making love to her. He was like a one-man band, everywhere at once, causing all of her bells and whistles to go off.
“Not laughing at you,” she said throatily. “Well… thinking about Shakespeare, actually.”
At this, Stephen stopped and looked at her with a startling amount of consternation on his face. “Good Lord, if you have the presence of mind to contemplate the Bard right now, then I’m obviously failing miserably at this obliteration you seek.”
She then placed her hands on both sides of his face and kissed him, closed mouth on the lips. “Not failing. I was just thinking about…” She let a smile come into her eyes. “Nothing.”
As understanding dawned, the look of consternation was replaced with one of agreement. “Oh, well,” he said. “If that’s the case, then perhaps I’m not such a failure after all.”
“I cannot imagine you failing at anything you’ve set your mind to,” she said and then moved her hands down to flutter over his flat, taut abdomen. She loved the feel of the soft tufts of hair on his chest tickling her own naked skin. In such proximity to him, her senses were surrounded by everything that was Stephen Nottingham. She took advantage of their closeness to explore and learn for herself.
There were no promises between the them. There never would be. Therefore, she must make the most of these moments. Her heart rejoiced and yet wept in sorrow at the same time.
She pushed the sorrow away. There would be plenty of time for that later.
He smelled of leather and sandalwood and something clean, a soap. The textures of his skin and hair were markedly different from her own. His skin was not as smooth as hers, and it was darkened from the sun. He had calluses on his hands, reminding her that he did not live the life of most gentlemen.
Feeling a need for even more closeness, she arched her body into his.
STEPHEN RESPONDED BY putting his hands under her and pulling her hips against his. Skin against skin, a part of him bemoaned the fact that he had finally gone over the edge. This situation between Cecily and himself and Flavion had warped him into a madman.
For what other reason could there be for the fact that he was on the brink of making love to his cousin’s wife? In his cousin’s home, no less?
And then she was twisting and writhing against him, her breaths coming short and fast. “Please.” She urged him on, her long luscious legs wrapped around his thighs. She opened up to him as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Relax, love,” he said in between kisses. With no further hesitation, he pushed at her opening and slid into her wet and silky warmth.
Rather than giving him reason to pause, she demanded more, rocking against him, lifting her hips and pressing her head back into the pillow. Bursting with his own need, Stephen wasn’t sure how much longer he could hang on.
And then he stopped even trying.
Her nails clawed at his back, and her inner muscles clutched at him from inside of her body. This was no longer a carefully choreographed lovemaking. It was something all its own, like riding a giant wave in the ocean. Feral instinct and unchecked desire took over, and he became a man unleashed. Stroking and rocking, he brought them both to a fevered pitch.
She clung to him as though he were her only lifeline in the middle of the sea. “Stephen,” she said in a combination of wonderment and uncertainty. “Stephen.” Their bodies slid against each other, slick from their own sweat.
As he felt her begin to shudder, Stephen gave up any last vestige of control and pounded relentlessly into her, higher, deeper, harder. She met him thrust for thrust. And finally, with a shudder of his own, he abandoned his last vestige of control before collapsing. As the final clutches of his climax faded, he realized he’d done the unthinkable.
He’d released his seed inside of her.
Cecily squirmed. “As much as I love how this feels,” she said with a gasp, “I cannot breathe.”
Stephen slid onto the bed and cuddled her next to him. “Is that better?” he asked, more than a little shaken by what they had done.
“Oh, it was perfect,” she said. “I consider myself… obliterated.” And then with a little mewling sound, she said, “Thank you.”
A couple of minutes after that, he heard her breathing evenly. Her breaths gradually deepened into some very feminine, sweet and soft, gentle snores. Stephen kissed her on the forehead and attempted to let the sounds of her beside him lull him into his own dreams.
CHAPTER TEN
LATER THAT NIGHT, Stephen still lay awake, angry that any person had found such easy access to Cecily’s
room, and with a snake no less! The more the thought taunted him the more restless he became, until finally he gave up on sleep completely and climbed out of bed.
Cecily didn’t stir as Stephen lit a candle, pulled on his breeches, and located his shirt. Having already decided he needed to make a quick check of Cecily’s room, he dressed quickly, not bothering to button his shirt nor don any shoes. He must eventually return her to her chamber, but he did not want any more surprises left there for her.
He realized the mistake he’d made the moment he pushed open the door to her suite. He’d wanted to erase the gruesome carnage that had taken place there but realized now that any evidence the intruder may have left was very likely not only disturbed, but obliterated.
The word jolted him momentarily.
Shaking it off, he checked the windows and made a note to himself that there hadn’t been any forced entry there. None of the locks on any of the doors accessing Cecily’s chambers had been disturbed either. His first instinct was most probably right. Whoever had left the snake had been given legitimate access to the house.
He walked around the bed, still astonished at what Cecily had done to the snake; his eyes sought anything out of the ordinary. As though nothing untoward had occurred a few hours earlier, the saber was once again safely displayed above the fireplace. The floor was cleaned and polished. Finally, as he knelt down and looked under the bed, something caught his attention.
A burlap sack was stuffed behind one of the chairs. Examining it thoughtfully, he was quite certain that this most likely was what had been used to transport the snake. There were a few pieces of straw… and…
Three long strands of ebony hair.
“The snake’s body has been cleared away?”
Cecily stood in the doorway, holding her own candle. She had donned her nightgown again, but her hair tumbled about her shoulders. Her toes barely peeked out from beneath the white gown.
Hell Hath No Fury (Devilish Debutantes Book 1) Page 16