A Lady of Rooksgrave Manor (Tempting Monsters Book 1)

by Kathryn Moon

  In the back of my head, I was cataloging all the ways I might have enjoyed such a voice in my ear and a strong, wide chest against my own. He was being gentle but firm, and I had to remind myself that Magdalena hadn’t told me he was coming, which meant he wasn’t supposed to be in my bed. I went limp in his arms just long enough for him to relax, and then I thrashed with all my strength.

  All I got was rolled over onto my back with a big and entirely invisible man pinning me down. Now I really had to argue with my own body’s reaction. He felt wonderfully heavy on top of me.

  “Settle, puisín, settle,” he soothed, his knees spreading wide, keeping me so far stretched, I could barely move. “Now this…this don’t look good for me, I’ll allow. But just give me a tick to explain. All right?”

  I narrowed my eyes up at the ceiling of my bed and gnashed my teeth against the invisible palm covering my mouth. He chuckled at my attempts at being ferocious.

  “Name is Ezra MacKenna. I was traveling south when I heard about this manor and came to have a look for myself,” he said, his hips settling down onto mine as if he were more than happy to make himself comfortable while keeping me pinned and muted. “Saw your sweet face panting out of the window, watching that dog and his lady having themselves a time on the lawn. So I went about the proper channels to become a member here.”

  I nudged at the hand over my mouth with my chin and furrowed my brow.

  “You about to scream, puisín?”

  I shook my head, and his palm loosened enough for me to speak.

  “If you’re a member of the manor, why are you sneaking into a girl’s rooms?” I asked.

  “Ah, see that’s the thing,” Ezra said, and he weighed a little heavier on me, relaxing. The pressure was divine, and I spent too much concentration keeping myself from squirming against him. “The membership fee is…well, honestly, puisín, it’s highway robbery. And I should know. I’m a thief.”

  “It’s expensive?” I asked. Dr. Underwood had mentioned being a patron. And Auguste…he seemed a bit rich. As much as a man could when he spent most of his time between your thighs. But I hadn’t thought about who was paying for everything until now. Did that mean there wasn’t a provision for an unusual gentleman who wasn’t wealthy? That didn’t seem fair.

  “It’s exorbitant,” Ezra said, drawing the word out playfully. Damn him, I was starting to smile. “And I know I should have seen myself off but, you see, I had a problem. I’d already seen your delightful face. Worse still, I’d watched you on that little bench writhing in pleasure.” And with that, his thumb stroked over my lips, parting them. I bit down on the tip, but we both knew it was less a warning and more an excuse for me to catch a taste of his skin. Bitter and salty, like a man’s. “I wanted to make sure I saw that expression on your face as often as possible.”

  “You’re not a ghost,” I said, resisting the urge to suck on the digit still poised at my lips.

  “No ma’am, I am not,” he said, rolling his hips and pointing out his…considerable solidness. “Just the victim of an unfortunate curse. I asked a witch to make me…discreet. She made me invisible.”

  I narrowed my eyes again, wishing I knew exactly where to stare at his face. I was certain it was sporting false innocence. “You wanted a spell to make it easier for you to steal things.”

  “I’m an honest man with a dishonest profession, puisín,” he crooned. “But I use my curse for good sometimes. I got you and your fangy friend out of the woods before the wolf arrived, didn’t I?”

  "What do you keep calling me?" I asked, squirming beneath him. The word sounded like 'pusheen' and he purred it every time.

  "Pussy cat," he said with a soft growl, and then he leaned down and lapped softly at my pulse.

  I strangled my moan and tried to sort my thoughts. The flickering lights in my room had been Ezra. I bit my lip and started to relax. “Madame Mortimer says that no one can cross the threshold who isn’t meant to be here.”

  I knew where Ezra’s face must be because he was nuzzling his nose against mine. He smelled like beeswax and woodsmoke and the whiskers of his beard were tickling my lips.

  “Then it must be true,” he said, fitting our bodies together from our cheeks to our hips. My legs were starting to fold around him, happily discovering just how broad he was all over. “I was meant to be here, puisín. With you.”

  “I’m not sure that’s what she meant,” I said, too breathy. When had my hands moved to rove over his back? And how did an invisible thief get exactly this many muscles up his ribs and shoulders? He felt like a mountain on top of me, and it was dizzying to see my hands floating while they felt so solidly grasping onto fabric and flesh. So I closed my eyes.

  “Give me a night to prove it to you,” Ezra said, his mouth against the corner of my jaw. He had full lips and a big nose that kept nudging against my cheek, reminding me to pay attention to him. I grinned to myself. He reminded me of a puppy.

  “Booker will be back in an hour,” I said.

  “Then give me an hour, puisín,” he said, and then his tongue swiped across my pulse, right over the spot where Auguste had left his mark as I’d asked. I moaned and arched beneath Ezra. “What do you say?” he rasped.

  My head was spinning. Would Magdalena throw me out of the manor? Was I too much of a wanton, even for a house like this one?

  “It will have to be a very strong argument,” I said.

  Ezra laughed, covering my lips with a kiss and swallowing my groan of relief. His kiss was rough and devouring, stubble scratching and teeth dragging over the sore mark Auguste had left on the inside of my lip. His tongue stroked against mine as I gasped for breath, rocking my hips up against his hard length. He didn't tease me, but he didn't rock with me, just remained pressing me deep into the mattress with his weight.

  I sucked roughly on the invading tongue, and Ezra growled, the sound vibrating through me. My hands rucked up beneath a coarse shirt, and he lifted himself just long enough for me to tear the fabric up over his head. It wasn't until his arms had pulled free that what I'd felt suddenly became visible, dark fabric flying through the air to land in a heap on the floor where I'd tossed it.

  "Oh! How does that work then?" I asked, trying to crane my neck to look, only for my eyes to fall shut again as Ezra took the opportunity to suck and bite my throat.

  "Magic, puisín, now pay attention," Ezra said, licking at my collarbone and nosing at me again with that need for affection.

  I returned my hands to his skin, hot and ridged with muscle, and closed my eyes against the disconcerting sight of them seeming to float in the air.

  "You don't know how long I've been imagining your taste," Ezra groaned, taking another long lick off my skin, air rushing over the wet marks and sending shivers through me.

  "You'll waste your hour if all you want is a taste," I groaned, my skirt riding up to muffle the weight of him cradled between my thighs.

  "Aye, I suppose I would. But you sound so pretty as you beg, puisín. I heard you at night with your bloodsucker," Ezra rumbled.

  I pinched the skin of his back roughly and gasped as he bucked against me. "Don't call him that. He's a gentleman."

  Ezra's breath huffed hotly against my neck as he laughed. "Trust me, no man is a gentleman when something as sweet as you is on offer."

  I'd lost track of one of his hands, but it reappeared suddenly, yanking down my collar and tearing a button away. Thick fingers dug into the top of my corset, and I arched, crying out as Ezra took me in his mouth, working my breast with a heady kiss. One of my hands traveled shyly up into thick, shaggy hair, tightening my fingers in his locks and holding him to me, as his other hand pushed the fabric of my skirts up high to wad around my waist.

  His touch vanished, but the sound of fabric rustling was mingling with my panting, whimpering breaths and his steady groan around my breast. His kiss released, and suddenly there were fingers over my lips. My eyes flashed open, but there was nothing to see, only the brief hot, tap o
f flesh against my center before the immediate, deep thrust. I screamed behind Ezra's hand as he filled me. It wasn't painful—not after so many nights with Auguste—but it was shocking all the same. And exquisite.

  Ezra laughed, but the sound was labored and he kept canting his hips closer, as if he was testing to see if there was anywhere deeper to sink. Considering our hips were already pressed roughly together, all he really did was grind against my clit in a way that made my eyes flutter shut again. I whined against his hand, and he pulled it away, twin grips taking my hips and lifting them from the bed until he was kneeling with my ass on his lap and his cock rubbing deliciously inside me.

  "Oh, Ezra," I breathed out, peeking again to see myself stretched and poised, the wet lips of my sex shining and stretching absurdly. Was it odd that I wished there was a mirror in front of me?

  I yanked at the dress I was wearing, and Ezra grunted as I squirmed, seated and wiggling on his length.

  "What are you doing, puisín?"

  "If you're not going to play with my breasts, I will," I said, grinning as I threw my dress down over the edge of the bed, riding his lap a little and sighing at the friction and stretch, the slightest burn. He was thick, this invisible cocky new friend of mine. Thicker than Auguste but not quite as long.

  Ezra's breath was noisy, his fingers leaving deeper indentations in my flesh as he watched me wrestle the fasteners of my corset open enough for me to reach inside, drawing my nipples to the edge and pinching them between my fingertips to twist and tug gently.

  "Well aren't you the prettiest picture?" Ezra hummed, low and nearly a growl, and I held my breath as he drew slowly out of me, already anticipating the—

  Slap!

  "Oh!"

  "Quiet, puisín," Ezra said with a laugh, my cunt throbbing with the sudden slam of him inside of me, suckling at his length as he pulled slowly out again. I was better prepared the next time, as Ezra drove forcefully in, our skin smacking together wetly from my arousal, my body jumping and trembling at the impact. "You'll hurt your sweet little cherry tips if you're not careful.”

  I had my breasts in a vise grip, the pinch and burn of my hands on them distracting me from the breathless anticipation of Ezra drawing out again. When he bucked in, I abandoned one breast to muffle my cry of pleasure, biting on my own fingers, the other twisting roughly on my own skin, amplifying the heady ache of his thrusts as if there were a cord from my breast to my cunt and it was being yanked from both ends.

  "More, faster," I pleaded from behind my fingers, I tugged another clasp free to my corset, pushing it down so I could take a full breath.

  Ezra huffed, but his fingers clenched on my hips, and there was less patience to his retreat this time. He groaned as he slammed in again, one hand reaching up and swatting at an exposed breast. My hands clenched in the sheets as I watched my body jiggle with his thrusts. He picked up his pace, hitching me a little higher on his hips so that the head of his cock dragged beautifully inside of me, stroking over and over again at my front walls.

  My legs trembled, even as I tightened them around his hips, giggling at the sight of them curling in the air, the feel of his ass under my heels as I drove him on.

  Harder, faster, more. I wasn't sure if I was crying the words out or only thinking them, urging Ezra on with the twist and kick of my own hips.

  "What a pretty pussy," Ezra hissed, his fucking almost brutal. But it was what I wanted, and there was an eerie beauty to the sight of myself. If he were silent, I would've been able to pretend I was alone, which I found strangely thrilling.

  "I want a mirror next time. I want to see," I gasped out.

  Ezra groaned, his hips stuttering, grinding roughly against my clit before finding his rapid rhythm again.

  "I want you to sneak up on me and have me without saying a word," I said, my eyes growing wide at my own thoughts.

  "Christ!" Ezra landed heavily on top of me, careful to keep my legs high so they weren't crushed. He knocked the breath from me and then stole it again as his tongue swarmed my mouth. I clasped my hands around his broad face and kissed him back with the same urgency, using our closeness to rub myself against him and chase my own pleasure.

  "What a naughty little thing you are. Better than I imagined," Ezra gasped out. "I'll wake you from a sleep like this, shall I?"

  "Yes!"

  "With my mouth on your pretty little pussy and your hands bound to the bed so there's nothing you can do to stop me, mm?"

  I moaned at the thought and nodded, my forehead bumping against Ezra's. "Please."

  "I'll catch you alone in the bath and finger you beneath all your bubbles," Ezra said, chuckling, but his voice was strained and his fucking was growing frantic.

  I couldn't answer, couldn't catch a breath, but my nails scored up his back and I keened as a whirlwind of heat and starlight rushed through my veins.

  "Take another walk alone, and I'll bend you over that bench and fuck you with your ass in the air for anyone to see," Ezra gritted out in my ear. I started to shake as the whirlwind grew spiky and oppressive, swallowing me up in the dizzy ache. "Maybe I'll even fuck that ass."

  "Esther?"

  I squealed, biting down on Ezra's shoulder as I came, the beat of my blood in time with the gentle knocks on my door. I was too far gone to push Ezra away, and apparently, he was too because he thrust deep into me, his body going tense and hard on top of mine, a strangled groan vibrating against my ear.

  "I have a surprise for you," Madame Mortimer's voice called from the other side of the door.

  Ezra had barely finished inside of me as he yanked himself away, a little slip of his cum streaking across my thigh as he tossed himself off the bed with a thud, his shirt vanishing from the floor.

  "Wait!" I sat up, my face flushed and hair tangled, my cunt still trembling with aftershocks, and yanked a sheet up, but the door was already half-open.

  "Oh dear," Magdalena said, blinking at me. Over her shoulder stood an impassive Booker and—my stomach dropped.

  Amon, eyebrows raised as he took me in, from my dark mussed curls to the wadded bedsheet poorly covering what had obviously occurred.

  I was dizzy from the sex with Ezra, aching at his sudden absence, but I was sure my brain had never worked faster in that moment. Ezra was invisible and I was, well…

  I'd made no secret of my sexual appetite. Surely I could pretend I'd wreaked havoc upon myself without any assistance. As long as no one looked too closely… I raised the sheet to try and cover the marks Ezra's beard had left on my throat. He could escape after I'd managed to excuse myself long enough to tidy up.

  It was a clumsy plan, but it might just work.

  "Who is that man?" Amon growled out, pushing forward, moving both himself and Magdalena into the room as his eyes glared past my shoulder, down at the floor where I knew Ezra must've been crouched.

  Chapter Eight

  A Disappointing Introduction

  “It's my fault, not Ezra's, Madame—"

  "I am aware of that, Esther," Magdalena said cooly, arching an eyebrow at me. I resisted the urge to sink lower into the heat of my bath under the woman's warning stare. "It is also Mr. MacKenna’s blame. And apparently myself, since I didn't take your concern over an intruder as seriously as I clearly should have."

  "You said no one could come in who wasn't meant—"

  "He is not a member," Magdalena said quickly, stomping on my tiny hint of hope.

  Ezra had tried to make a quick escape out of the window, but Amon had been faster, and apparently, very capable of seeing the invisible man. I'd made weak protests, but Magdalena had taken the situation firmly in hand, sending Booker and the two men down to her office and pointing me directly toward the bath.

  "He said he was rejected because of the price," I said, a little sullenly. I ducked my head, but I caught the flat purse of Magdalena's lips in the reflection of the milky water.

  "That may be."

  "You're going to throw me out," I whispered, closi
ng my eyes.

  Magdalena huffed. "I most certainly am not. Esther, look at me."

  I did, eyes wide at her instant refusal, but I didn't find forgiveness in her gaze. She was as stern as ever, even frowning a little deeper than before.

  "Mr. MacKenna was not allowed on our premises, it's as simple as that. Now he and I are to blame for his presence here. You are to blame for…encouraging him, I suppose. And Amon is to blame for arriving early and putting us in this rather precarious position."

  I winced at the reminder of Amon's thunderous expression. Gone was the seductive and tender man I'd dreamt of. He had been shocked, offended, insulted…angry.

  "I don't strictly object to you having sex with this man, but I do object to you not taking your clients into consideration," Magdalena said firmly.

  I opened my mouth to point out that I hadn't known Amon was coming, but I shut it again quickly. I had told Auguste I wanted Booker, and I'd obviously done it before acting on that interest. Ezra had seduced me, but I'd let him. Was I really so helpless to my own whims and desires?

  "I'll apologize," I whispered.

  Magdalena snorted and rolled her eyes. "Oh, you absolutely will. And not just to Amon."

  I swallowed hard, my chest suddenly pinched and uncomfortable as I wondered if Auguste or Dr. Underwood would be as disappointed with me as Amon obviously was. Auguste had been comfortable with the idea of Booker—interested in watching, I remembered with a thrill—but I had an inkling that Ezra might be the sort of man who stirred up friction with the others.

  And why did that make me want to smile?

  Ezra reminded me a little of myself. Except with a wonderful cock and a wicked tongue.

  "Try not to wear that self-satisfied expression when you apologize," Magdalena said drily.

  I swallowed down my giggles and made myself sober, sinking beneath the warm water once more and then scrubbing myself clean quickly.