by Reid, Stacy
His lips curved into an excitedly challenging smile. “I can protect your sensibilities or ruin them,” he murmured, moving his diabolical fingers even deeper.
“Honesty,” she gasped, holding his gaze. “I want your honest passion, everything you feel for me, and nothing less, James.”
He pulled her forward, so she collapsed on his chest, dragged her up against his body, and kissed like a man who had been out in the cold for far too long and had finally found shelter. James twisted with her, and her back met the soft cushions of the sofa. Releasing her mouth from the bruising passion of his mouth, he placed a kiss in the hollow of her neck, then drifted over. The touch of his lips on her nipple sent a shock of desire through her body. But he did not linger, kissing over her quivering stomach to the top of her mound.
He knelt before her and lifted her splayed thighs on each side of his shoulders. Her entire body blushed red at the lascivious sprawl and the look of lustful greed on his face. Her fingers clenched in the cushions above her head as he dipped and stroked his tongue along the quivering softness of her abdomen. His lips disappeared, then the stroke of his tongue against her inner thigh, the rasp of his teeth as he nipped her flesh. Fire raced through her body.
The touch of his tongue as it glided over her nub was a caress of pure, nerve-wracking pleasure. His tongue caressed her sex, sensually teasing and passionately ravishing. Verity fought to keep from screaming with the intensity of sensations. Her body tensed, drawn tight as the pleasure built inside her. Verity felt as if she would shatter any moment from the overwhelming sensation of vulnerability and arousal washing through her.
She pushed up on her elbows and stared in dazed arousal at the dark head between her thighs doing wicked, filthy things with his lips and tongue that should have mortified her sensibilities. Instead, she felt free and wanton.
He alternately sucked on her nub of pleasure until she thought she would simply expire from the exquisite torment. “Oh, James, please!
She had no notion of what she wanted, never imagined there could be such wickedness between a man and a woman. He flicked his tongue lower, devastating her with tortuous gentle licks. She wanted to scream, but she had the breath barely to whimper pleadingly. Verity knew later she would blush from the memory of how desperately she began to lift her hips to his devious mouth. She moaned helplessly with pleasure, her body sensitized, shivering, and trembling under the breath-taking assault of his erotic kiss against her core.
He stood and shrugged off his clothes and boots with alarming swiftness.
“Oh, James you are so bloody beautiful!”
She gasped as he lowered his body over hers, lifted her legs to wrap them high around his back, almost up to his shoulder blades. Then he kissed her softly. “Nowhere near as beautiful as you, Verity.”
He reached between their bodies, and a hard pressure nudged her entrance, then came a push. James stretched her, inexorably filling her. Verity whimpered at the painful feeling. He paused, sweat beading his brow and brushed a soothing kiss over her lips. Then he dipped even lower until he used his mouth to capture an achingly sensitive nipple. His tongue curled around her nipple, drawing a desperate moan from her throat as her hands gripped at his shoulders.
His hips flexed, and he buried himself deep in one powerful stroke. Verity cried out at the pain. Somehow his fingers found her nub of pleasure, and he rubbed, sending a striking pleasure through her body. Her wetness grew, her thighs trembled, and he pinched, pressed, and worked her nub until she screamed into the crook of his neck, waves of ecstasy tearing through her body.
“Oh God, James!” Her wetness was almost mortifying now.
But it seemed that was what he’d waited for. He leaned into her, holding her against his body as he began to pump inside her. James’s groan was harsh, broken as he rocked her onto his hard length, riding her with a deep, driving rhythm. There was such pleasure, alarming pressure, and erotic pain at the tight fit despite her wetness, but she could not bear the notion of him stopping.
She clasped his sweat-slicked shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. Her cries filled the room as his thrusts increased. Ripples of pleasure peaked once more, and another release burst over Verity’s senses, drowning her in unrelenting pleasure. He devastated her with his lovemaking and sensuality. For though she had peaked twice, James did not seem sated.
He rode her with such lust and passionate tenderness, Verity hugged him to her, and surrendered to the raw heat building between them. His arms tightened around her, and with a hoarse shout, he released into her, pulling another climax from her aching body. Her breath came in long, surrendering moans, and Verity collapsed weakly beneath him, shudders of her release still tearing through her.
He dipped and captured her lips in a deep passionate kiss, he suckled on her tongue, pulling gentle moans from her. She felt her core pulse around his member still inside her, and as if in reply it throbbed and hardened once more. He rolled with her so she sat astride him, not once releasing her lips, he savored her mouth. Then he started to move his hips upward into her sex. It was gentle at first, but then his movements grew hungry and relentless. Unknown feelings swelled inside her, urging her to use unladylike words to encourage him wickedly. Her sex grew hot and slick, and he continued, each stroke fanning the flame growing inside her belly. It felt glorious as his strokes vibrated through her body. She never knew such pleasures existed, never dreamed it possible.
The feelings crested and she exploded with a wild, wanton cry. His entire body jerked with power and he gripped her buttocks, holding her on his member as it erupted his seed deep inside her. They both collapsed breathing raggedly.
A few moments passed and they just stared in silence at each other. He then gently pulled from her and Verity had not the energy to move. She did not look up when he pressed a cloth between her legs, a handkerchief perhaps, she was too busy blushing.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked gruffly.
“No,” she whispered. “You were incredible.” And the realization that she was ruined in every way settled on her shoulders.
He came down on the sofa and pulled her atop him. He pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead, and her heart climbed into her throat. It felt like a farewell. Panic and pain burst in her heart. It would have to be farewell on his part if he still had ambitions to marry a lady of quality. It was not only about himself now. But his aunt and cousins. Her ruined reputation would only serve to drag them in the gutter with her. And James knew it, and Verity could not avoid the knowledge. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, and they stayed like that for a very long time.
Blissful moments later, Verity's eyes fluttered open, and she realized she had fallen asleep. Panic rushed through her. Was it dawn? She shifted and smiled. James also slept. She gently disengaged from him, blushing at the ache between her legs. Dressing was a challenge, but she did it, grateful men clothes were so much easier to manipulate. Then she walked softly over to the small clock on the mantle and held it to the dying fire.
It was almost two in the morning. Her mother and brother would still be occupied with their amusements. There was time for her to slip into her room before they arrived. Verity went back over to James and stared at his sleeping form.
I’ll never forget you.
Then she turned and made her way outside to the waiting coach, befuddled as to why soft sobs were tearing from her.
Chapter 15
“Lady V’s fist of fury…or should we say kick of righteous anger? This author has not yet learned what dishonor a certain Marquess D dealt to a charming and evidently brave lady of the ton. Dressed in trousers and jacket, this avenging lady visited the notorious club in disguise and soundly defeated the marquess with a swift kick to somewhere unmentionable. It was as the marquess screamed his pain and embarrassment and fell to his knees, that his opponent was revealed to be a lady. I daresay a certain marquess will not recover from this public set down and humiliation any time soon—”
/> With trembling hands, Verity lowered the scandal sheet onto the small end table in the drawing room. Everything inside of her urged her to go to James, even if it was only ten in the morning. Had he seen the scandal sheet? It was irrefutable proof she was ruined and would not be considered by the ton as a lady of quality anymore. She had known the risk when she had first approached him, and Verity would not dissolve into crying fits over the situation.
She closed her eyes, but it was a smile that came to her lips. There had been no nightmares last night. There had been no fear as her head hit the softness of her pillows. Only a weightless sleep. Just comfort. And peace. Even knowing her reputation was shattered into so many pieces, it could never be placed back together.
The hopes of marrying the man of her dreams were lost. She would have to travel abroad until the scandal died down. Even for a few years at least, though Verity was very aware society did not forgive or forget transgressions that stepped out of the bounds of decorum and civility. Perhaps she could travel to Italy or France, and once there she would meet a fair gentleman and fall in love.
A sob hitched in her throat. James occupied all the emotions in her heart and moving abroad to escape the scandal meant she would not see him for a long time. Perhaps when she returned to London after a number of years, he would have found himself a lady of quality and be married with children. The sudden pain that knocked against her chest strangled her breath. It was truly unbearable thinking of James with someone that was not her. It was agonizing thinking of living a life without him abroad, or even in England. It was James’s kisses she hungered for, it was his arms she wanted to hold her whenever she was scared, and it was his eyes she wanted to peer into whenever they delighted with life.
Her hands fluttered to her lips. When…when had she fallen in love with him? For the wild and beautiful sensations swelling in her heart could be nothing other than the forever kind of love. But last night…last night he had said goodbye. She had felt it in his touch and the kiss he had pressed against her forehead.
Panic and a piercing loss rose in her throat. Did James feel any sentiments for her, or had she been the only one to unwittingly engage her heart? Had last night meant more to him than a wicked night of passion? It felt foolish to wonder, but she had a sudden burning need to go to him.
The door to the drawing room burst open, and her brother stormed in, his appearance one of great dishevelment. His hair was mussed, his cravat askew, his boots muddied. He was evidently only just returning from his night about town.
He waved a paper in the air. “Is it true, you silly, stupid girl?” he demanded, pinning her with an angry glare.
She paused to give him a polite, enquiring look. Her brother often spoke to her with a patronizing air which she found intolerable. Verity usually responded with cutting remarks and chilling hauteur which served to drive a deeper wedge between them. They were not as close as brothers and sisters ought to be, and with the ugliness of the past lingering between them, they never would be again. She stared at him with a contemplative air, quite pleased her pulse no longer jumped whenever he displayed such anger.
Her mother bustled in behind him, closing the door for privacy. She wore a green riding habit with a matching hat. The glow in her cheeks indicated she had just returned from her morning ride. “Verity?” her mother demanded, picking up the newspaper. “Albert believes this…this Lady V mentioned in the scandal sheet, is you? I have told him that it is absurd, but he raced ahead to confront you like a madman!”
“Everyone at White’s believes it to be her. Why would they think that, mother? The very fact they think it is her is a catastrophe.”
Verity poured a cup of tea with affected calm. “Lord Newsome’s carriage ran off the road into an orange seller last week near the Smithfield market. He killed her, leaving the woman’s four children orphans. They were sent to the poorhouse. Lord Newsome himself had been inebriated, and there were no consequences for him of course. It was all in the papers, and I daresay that is more of a catastrophe than anything else.”
“Who cares about a damned orange ragtag beggar,” her brother roared. He pulled the newssheet from her mother’s hands and slapped it onto the table. “Do you know anything about this, Verity?”
She took a sip of the tea, closing her hands around the cup, needing the warmth that curled around her palms. “I cared,” she said into the silence. “Another lord did too. He fought for them and set up a trust with the prize money for their future. Those children are now living in a proper home, their bellies are filled each day, and they are warm. There is enough money from that prizefight to ensure they live a very comfortable life and be afforded an education.”
“For God’s sake, Verity! You will answer the question or so help me I shall—”
“Yes, I kicked Lord Durham in his balls.”
Her mother swooned, perhaps at the vulgarity of Verity knowing of a man’s balls or perhaps the action itself. Albert caught Mamma and gently led her over to the chaise longue by the low burning fire. When he straightened and turned to Verity, his features were filled with wrath and a promise of retribution.
“How dare you speak so casually of your behavior and without any guilt,” he lashed with raw fury.
Even though Verity did not feel as if she was obliged to offer any explanation, she said, “I am sorry my reputation has been portrayed in such an odious light for all of society to speculate on. But I cannot regret it, because I am at peace, Albert.”
“Peace!” He threw her a fulminating glance. “How could you be so reckless, improper and indifferent to the disagreeable consequences of your willful ways! You have brought shame upon this family and have jeopardized our standing within society.”
"No," she said with remarkable calm. "You did that by remaining friends with a blackguard who had attacked and hurt my mind, my body, my trust, and my pride. And I can only surmise now that you feel great shame that I, as a lady, had to defend my own honor."
He looked confounded by this forthright speech. “Defend your honor, Verity? Are you so foolish you have not seen that you have ruined your reputation? Who will have you now? I am just from Lord Aldridge's townhouse, and it took considerable convincing for him to agree that he will still have you despite the scandal. And that was after I persuaded him Lady V may refer to any other foolish hoyden! I am agog that you would sit here, proud of your actions, Verity. That incident with the marquess was almost five years ago, and you have held onto it with reproachable bitterness. You look at Mamma and me with unjust disappointment. What purpose would it have served for me to become enemies with the marquess over farfetched and unfounded accusations? He denied it most vehemently.”
“I am your sister,” she said, standing. “One whom loved you once, and I daresay you held affections for me as well. It was on that connection, Albert you should have protected me. Instead, you acted in a similarly dastardly and cowardly fashion. It is I who am ashamed to call you, brother.”
He stomped over to her, his hand raised in a threatening position to strike her. Verity shocked them both by smiling. Inside her heart pounded, her palms sweated, but she maintained an outward air of cultivated indifference. And Albert hesitated, apparently daunted by her lack of fear. "If you strike me, dear brother, I will not hesitate to retaliate in a similar fashion.”
“My God, you’ve gone mad,” he breathed.
She began to walk away, but he halted her, stretching to grasp her wrist. She wrenched herself free from his hold and went around him, anger rising in her chest.
“Albert!”
That sharp admonition came from their mother. She stood and stared at her children, and Verity was shocked to see the tears coursing down her mother’s cheeks. They turned into harsh sobs, and Verity glanced away, her own throat burning with emotions.
“Mamma, I know this seems bad now, but I shall fix it,” Albert murmured, going over to wrap his arms around her shoulders. “Her marriage to Lord Aldridge will render her respectable
once more in society's eyes. It will take some time, but eventually, they will start inviting her to their drawing rooms and balls again.”
"Oh, my dear boy," her mother said tearily. "We failed Verity in the most odious fashion. And it was our actions which forced her to act in such a wretched manner."
Her brother flinched, and she stared helplessly at her mother. Verity hadn't dreamed the countess would ever admit how they had wronged her.
“I am terribly sorry, Verity,” her mother gasped. “I do hope you will forgive me.”
“Mamma, your nerves are overwrought by this mess, you have nothing to apologize over,” Albert retorted with a fierce frown.
“One day I will, Mamma, but it is not today,” she said stiffly, and walked away, leaving them alone.
She ran up the stairs to her room, went over to her dressing table, and took up the sole pieces of jewelry she possessed—a sapphire necklace and earbobs. Gifts from her Papa on her fourteenth birthday, only a few months before he passed. She slipped them into the deep pockets of her day dress, shrugged on her pelisse and hat, and hurried back downstairs. Verity walked so fast it was almost a run. She did not want another confrontation with Albert before she could escape the confines of the townhouse. The butler opened the door for her, and she skidded to a halt.
James stood, his fist lifted to knock. He was dressed quite finely, and he had a bouquet of flowers—yellow and white roses—in his hands. He tugged off his top hat and slapped it against his thigh, the gesture an uncommonly nervous one.
“James!” she cried, startled. Then she said in a softer voice, “I was just coming to see you.”
He was evidently discomposed by that admission. “Were you?”
“Yes.”
He lifted an arrogant brow. “Am I to be invited in?”
She stepped closer to the threshold. “I would not recommend it. The atmosphere is poisonous.”