by Darcy Burke
He moaned and his hand clasped the back of her head. “Sabrina. This is not—”
She wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but she didn’t care. She’d touched her lips to the tip and found him to be velvety soft. There was also a bit of liquid. She licked at it with her tongue and was surprised to find it was rather salty.
“Dear God, Sabrina, you shouldn’t do this.”
“I should, and I will.” She was emboldened by his reaction. Opening her mouth, she took him inside her, pressing her tongue on the underside of his shaft.
Stuttering words spilled from his mouth along with desperate moans. He thrust his fingers into her hair. She moved her hand along with her mouth, swallowing his length and releasing him with increasing speed. His hips thrust forward, driving him toward the back of her throat. He pulled back with a muttered curse and an apology.
Grasping his hip, she held him fast and cupped the sac beneath his sex. He let out a guttural cry as she sucked.
Then he pulled at her shoulders. “Stop, please. If you wanted me on the edge, I am there. I am going to bloody fall off if you don’t stop.”
She rose, her knees shaking, and he picked her up. Squealing softly in surprise, she wrapped her hands around his neck as he carried her to the bed.
He laid her down on the coverlet. “How does this unfasten?” His voice was gruff, his features drawn tight.
Sabrina released the clasps beneath her breasts and spread the garment, revealing herself to him. He stared down at her, the candle on the table beside the bed casting its light over her. Apparently, that wasn’t enough because he picked it up and held it over her, moving slowly from her neck to her feet.
“Roll over.” The command came rough and unyielding, his face a mask of barely held control.
She did as he bade, removing her arms from the sleeves of the gown as she did so. He pulled the garment away, the silk fluttering across her back and tickling her thighs.
He set the candle down on the table, closer to the bed so there would be more light. “I want to see every part of you. Too much time has passed, and we won’t suffer another night in the darkness.”
Her body yearned for him, her limbs quivering and her sex pulsing. Pressed against the mattress, her breasts ached for his touch, for relief.
He caressed her back, his fingertips and palm skimming over her sensitive flesh. When he reached her backside, his hand cupped her briefly before continuing down her leg. Then he ascended the other leg, his touch teasing and light as he moved to the inside of her thigh.
“Part your legs.”
She spread her thighs, closing her eyes, as his hand swept up to her sex. Sensation sent sparks of light behind her lids as she gripped the coverlet with both hands. He massaged her clitoris, sending her right back to the coach when she’d been on the verge of her release.
Whimpering into the bed, she lifted her hips to give him more access. “Please, Constantine.”
“Yes, that’s perfect. Lift your hips and get on your knees.”
She scrambled to do what he said, which was difficult given the way her body was quivering. But then his fingers drove into her and there was no difficulty. Nothing but bliss and pleasure building inside her.
His mouth was against her ear, pulling on her lobe and licking the outer rim. “Next time I’m going to put my mouth here.” He thrust into her. “And you’re going to come like never before. And the next time, I’m going to take you like this—from behind with you on your knees.” His words enflamed her, sending a rush of wet heat to her sex. “Will you come for me now, Sabrina?”
“But I want you.”
“You will have me. But now I want you to come. Do as I say.” He withdrew his fingers and moved over her clitoris, driving her over the edge into the dark rapture she craved. Her orgasm exploded as he stroked his fingers into her once more. She moved with him, her desperate cries muffled by the mattress beneath her.
Her body was still shuddering with release when he flipped her back over. She cracked her eyes open, her breath coming hard and fast, and saw that he’d removed his banyan.
He climbed onto the bed and situated himself between her thighs. He pulled up her legs, bending them at the knees, then brushed his thumb over the sensitive folds of her sex.
Sabrina arched up, satisfied and yet not. He pitched forward and kissed her, his tongue driving deep into her mouth as he cupped her breast. She wrapped her legs around him and pressed her sex against his. The contact made her dig her fingernails into his shoulders.
He kissed down her throat and latched onto one of her breasts, licking and sucking as he gripped her flesh. Eyes closed, she cast her head back in wild abandon. Yes, wild. This was wild. This was everything she never knew she wanted.
“I need you now, Sabrina.” His muddled voice broke through her rapturous haze as he stroked her sex and put his cock at her sheath. This was so different than every other time. There was no awkwardness, no shame, just breathtaking desire and overwhelming need.
“Yes, Constantine. I need you too.” Her hand met his and, together, they joined their bodies in exultation. Finally.
He speared into her, hard and fast, filling and stretching her so that she was already on the brink of another orgasm. She tightened her legs around him, drawing a moan from his lips. He began to move, slowly at first, but she wanted more. Needed more.
“Faster,” she urged, digging her feet into his backside as if she were a shameless wanton. Perhaps she was. He didn’t seem to mind. But would he? Later?
Doubt crept in. Then he put his mouth on her breast once more, and the doubt fled beneath the weight of her passion. She threaded her fingers in his hair, holding him against her as she moved her hips with his. He kissed her, mouth and tongue dancing over her feverish flesh until he claimed her mouth, swallowing her whimpers as she climbed toward the pinnacle of pleasure.
He slipped his hand between them and stroked her clitoris. That was enough—more than enough—to pitch her into a soul-deep ecstasy that felt as if she’d been transported away from time and place.
She let out a low, deep cry that sounded as if it had come from a wild animal. Horrified, she clamped her mouth shut.
“No.” He tugged on her hair and gently bit her ear. “Let go, Sabrina. Let completely go. I want to hear you. Now. Give me everything.” He thrust deep inside her, pushing her even farther into bliss. She cried out over and over again as her body seized with sensation.
A moment later, he met her on the other side, his body tensing as he came. Harsh, fevered sounds cloaked her as he unleashed his body. Eventually, he collapsed against her, his body slick and his chest heaving upon hers.
She floated in a dark euphoria, her body a mass of joy and fulfillment. She stroked her hand along his thigh, the curve of his backside, the dip at the base of his spine.
He kissed her cheek, her neck, before flipping to his back. She turned to her side and watched him. His eyes were closed, and he’d cast his arm up above his head on the pillow, his fingers pointing toward her. The rapid rise and fall of his chest slowed, and his slackened sex lay against his thigh. He called her beautiful, but so was he.
She wanted to trace her fingertips along the muscles of his chest, the deep planes of his belly, and the slope that ran from his abdomen past his groin to his hip. It was an alluring piece of the male anatomy, and in the end, she couldn’t keep from touching him there.
“Sabrina?”
She looked up to see his eyes were now open, slitted, as he regarded her over the length of his torso. “Mmm?”
“Unless you want to arouse another, ah, interlude, you should perhaps go to sleep.”
She thought a second “interlude” sounded rather wonderful. But she was too distracted by what he’d said about sleep. “You’ll allow me to stay?”
His eyes opened more. “If you want to.”
That he’d invited her into his chamber had been surprising enough, but to extend that invitation to spending the
entire night was more than she’d expected. Then again, all of this was more than she’d ever expected.
Emotion bloomed and filled her heart. She pressed herself against him, her hand on his chest. Rising slightly, she kissed him gently, her lips sliding briefly over his. “I want to.”
“Stay or have another go?” The look in his eyes was so hopeful and the smile teasing his lips so alluring that she had to swallow against the lump gathering in her throat. This was all too perfect.
She slid her hand up to his neck and gave him her sauciest grin. “Both.”
“Minx.” He pushed her to her back and kissed her, his hand skimming along her side.
Sleep, as it happened, was fleeting.
It was past midnight when Constantine arrived home the following evening, exhausted and frustrated, from Westminster. He instantly brightened as he saw his wife walking into the house.
Bounding from the coach with more energy than he’d possessed a moment before, he strode inside just as she was about to leave the foyer.
“Sabrina,” he called, halting her progress.
She turned, her eyes alight as her lips curved into a warm, welcoming smile that stirred his cock. “You’re just getting home?”
He nodded. “It was a very long day. Would you care to take madeira with me in my study?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
They walked together, their arms brushing, and Constantine could scarcely believe this was his marriage, his wife. “How was your evening?” he asked, looking askance at her aquamarine gown and thinking it made her eyes shimmer like the sea on a summer day.
“Quite pleasant, thank you, though I was rather tired.” She sent him a provocative glance, and any plan he had of leaving her alone tonight to let her rest evaporated.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go upstairs?”
She laughed softly as they reached his study. “You can’t mean in order to sleep.”
“Actually, I did.”
“Then you shouldn’t be removing my clothing with your gaze.”
Smiling, he shook his head as he crossed to the sideboard to pour the madeira. “How did you become so skilled at flirtation? I never would have imagined it when I met you.”
“I don’t know that I’m all that skilled. I look for ways to lighten the mood or to make you smile. I suppose that comes across as flirting.”
He turned and found that she’d taken a seat in one of the chairs near the hearth. Delivering her wineglass, he tapped his against it before sitting opposite her.
“You try to make me smile?”
“I resolved to do so when I came to town. But don’t give me credit for wanting to. My goal was to ease my nerves. If you smiled more, I hoped I could relax.”
He grimaced, thinking he was a terrible, self-centered beast. “That you were in a position of discomfort because of me fills me with a remorse I can’t adequately express.” He clutched the wineglass and took a sip, hoping to calm the sudden roiling inside him.
“You mustn’t take all the blame. Even if you’d been a cheerful sort, I likely would still have been afraid. It’s taken me this much time to even want to try to emerge from the shadows.” She looked down at her wine. “I don’t think I was ready before.”
“Then we must be grateful for this moment in time when we have met and joined together as we were meant to.”
Her head lifted, her gaze meeting his. “That’s a lovely sentiment.” She lifted her glass. “To this moment in time.”
He raised his madeira, then took another drink while she did the same. “I forget what you were doing tonight. My apologies.”
She set her glass down on the hearth while she removed her gloves. “Another ball. And I am happy to report that your sister seemed to have a successful dance with Lord Glastonbury. She’s been encouraging gentlemen to call—with great subtlety, of course—in the hope that if someone, or preferably a few someones, pays a call, your father will stop being such a nuisance. He nags her almost daily about securing a husband.”
Constantine heard what she said, but he’d been far too fixated on the simple yet seductive act of her removing her gloves. By the time she draped them over the arm of the chair and retrieved her madeira, he was shifting in his seat to try to keep his erection at bay.
“Do you know Glastonbury?” she asked.
“Not well.” Constantine was aware that the viscount was a pugilist and quite a good one. “He boxes at a club near Covent Garden, I believe.”
“Will your father find him to be a satisfactory suitor?”
Blowing out a breath, Constantine lifted a shoulder. “That is like trying to guess tomorrow’s wind direction. I’ll do some investigating.”
“I would appreciate that, thank you.”
Constantine sipped his madeira, his gaze trapped for a moment by the fire in the grate. How domestic and satisfying this was, sitting here discussing mundane issues that were actually not mundane. “How are the preparations for the ball?”
“They’re going surprisingly well, considering the amount of time we’ve had to get everything finished.”
“Good.” Constantine wanted nothing more than his wife’s first ball to be a rousing success. He didn’t want anyone to doubt her, not his father or her family, and least of all herself.
“How are things at Westminster?” she asked. “You’ve been working awfully hard.”
“I have.” He pressed his lips together in a not-quite frown as he recalled the events of the day.
“Did something happen today? You seem…disappointed. When I mentioned Westminster,” she clarified.
He sent her a look of mild surprise. “You can tell?”
“I think I’m coming to know you.”
Yes, she was, and he was inordinately pleased by that revelation. He worked at focusing on that instead of today’s potential setback. “The Apothecaries’ Company exempted the druggists from the bill. While this prompted the druggists to withdraw their opposition, I am not certain it bodes well.”
Her brow creased. “Because they should not be exempted?”
“Not in my opinion. We must find compromise, but exemption is not the answer. I suppose I shouldn’t be disappointed—not yet anyway. However, I’ve seen how this endeavor has gone over the last many years, and it’s hard not to feel defeated.”
“Then you shall have to try to be optimistic. Sometimes believing in something is all we have.”
“You are speaking from experience now?”
“If I hadn’t believed I could come to London and face you, I wouldn’t have done it. But then, my motivation was very strong.”
To have a child. He thought of her demand as well as the fact that they hadn’t discussed it of late. Perhaps last night they’d finally found success. He wouldn’t be disappointed if they hadn’t. That just meant he could keep trying, and he was wholeheartedly committed to that endeavor.
A small but nagging voice in the back of his mind asked if that was all she wanted. Would she simply return to her solitary life at Hampton Lodge once she was pregnant? She clearly enjoyed their newfound mutual pleasure, but that was still a means to an end.
“Constantine, you didn’t tell me!” Her exclamation jolted him from his ruminations. She sprung out of her chair and flew to his desk, setting her glass down near a stack of papers as she plucked up a letter with a red wax seal.
Constantine had risen and moved toward the desk. “Is that a…phoenix in the seal?”
“Yes.” Eyes gleaming with joy, she handed it to him. “Open it.”
He turned the missive over and read the front: The Most Honorable, the Earl of Aldington. It was unmistakably for him. After setting his wine on the desk, his breath stalled in his lungs as he opened the seal. The words jumbled before him, and he had to blink before he could read them.
* * *
You are invited to join the Phoenix Club.
The Membership Committee believes your presence will be a boon and benefi
t.
Please refer to the enclosed membership agreement and respond in writing at your earliest convenience.
* * *
He looked up from the parchment to see her watching him with unabashed delight. “Why now?”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t been good enough to invite for the past year. Why am I suddenly—” He glanced back down at the invitation. “‘A boon and a benefit’?” He knew why—because he’d asked Lucien to make it happen. Still, he couldn’t quite believe his brother had actually done it.
“Does it matter why? I am just glad you are. Now we can attend the assemblies together. We can even spend Tuesday evenings at the same club. I never imagined that would be possible. Or that I’d want to.”
That begged a question. “Why did you want to? I was shocked when you were invited, but perhaps even more when you accepted.”
She averted her gaze and clasped her hands. His admission had provoked her anxiety. He was beginning to recognize the signs.
He set the letter down on his desk and took her hand. “I didn’t mean to imply that you shouldn’t have. I’m glad you did. And I was an ass about it. A jealous ass, specifically.”
She smiled, and her shoulders relaxed. “It felt good to be included in something, especially a place that specifically includes those who feel excluded or ignored.”
“Is that true?” Constantine hadn’t known that. And why not? Because he’d shown no interest in his brother’s club. He’d followed his father’s lead of disdaining the entire enterprise.
She nodded. “Lucien hasn’t told you?”
“Lucien and I don’t discuss everything.” They actually shared very little—until recently—and Constantine regretted that. “He should have told me. No, I should have asked.” He would do just that at the earliest opportunity.
“Are you going to accept?” She sounded uncertain.
“You want me to.”
“I do.” Now, her voice was firm, and he admired her confidence in the matter. Probably because he didn’t share it. He wanted to accept it. Hell, he’d made a rather delicious cake of himself to Lucien after Sabrina had received an invitation, behaving, as he’d just said, like a jealous ass.
