A Lady’s First Scandal

by Farmer, Merry

  She managed to return the serve with a mighty thwack and a scowl, as though she knew he hadn’t given it his all. The volley that followed was far more competitive than he would have expected. He won the point in the end, but she played so fiercely that cheers and applause sounded from the sidelines when the point was won.

  “Bravo, Lady Cecelia,” Fergus called out, earning him a broad smile from Lady Tavistock.

  The rest of the match proceeded in much the same way. Rupert knew that he and Cece were well-matched and that if she had been wearing something more sensible the playing field would have been much more level. He tried to let her win points throughout the match to make up for her disadvantage, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She must have seen what he was doing, though, because every time he purposefully missed a shot or hit the birdie directly to her instead of making her work to return it, she glared at him.

  Unsurprisingly, the match came down to one, last volley.

  “Twenty-nine all,” Rupert announced before dropping the shuttlecock and serving it.

  Cece grunted as she scrambled to return it. Something about the sound fired Rupert’s blood. He loved the way she wouldn’t allow herself to lose, and even if she did, she wouldn’t take it lying down. He smacked the birdie back to her. If she took anything lying down, it would be him, fast and hard and to the hilt. She scrambled back, managing not to trod on the hem of her skirt and fall, and clobbered the shuttlecock to return his hit. Dark circles of sweat had formed under the arms of her dress. He would make her sweat just as hard as he teased her and stroked her and drove her right up to the edge of orgasm so that she begged for it.

  The image was so potent that he almost missed the shuttlecock as it dropped just on the other side of the net. He only barely managed to knock it back over to her side. Cece was already rushing the net, though, and just in the nick of time, she smashed the birdie straight over the net, only barely managing not to crash into it herself with the force of her momentum. Rupert reached for the birdie but missed it entirely. It whizzed past him, landing well within bounds.

  A cry of victory went up from the women watching, and from most of the men as well. Cece had won, and she’d done it fair and square.

  “Well done,” Rupert said, panting, blood pulsing, desire rushing through him as he approached the last few steps to the net.

  Cece walked to meet him, until they were mere inches apart, with just a flimsy stretch of net separating them. Her breath came in deep gasps that pushed her breasts tantalizingly against the thin fabric of her gown. Sweat dripped down her face, but her eyes shone with excitement and triumph.

  “Who bent who over a seat and took them so vigorously they cried out for release this time?” she asked, eyes alive with lust.

  She’d mangled the words of his threat from the train, but he didn’t care. He understood her meaning, and his cock strained against his trousers so suddenly that he was certain he was embarrassing himself. He didn’t much care about that either. All he knew was that if he didn’t get between her legs again, and soon, he’d go mad.

  “Victory to women,” Lady Tavistock called from the sidelines.

  “Victory to the May Flowers,” one of the other ladies echoed.

  “Hear, hear.” Reese joined in with the cheers.

  Rupert didn’t bother considering whether it was part of the plot to tweak his nose. He continued to stare at Cece through the net, oblivious to anything but the way she was mastering him with a look.

  “You’ll pay for this,” he said in a low rumble.

  “Pay?” she asked, still panting. “For winning? I hardly think—”

  “Tonight,” he cut her off leaning closer still to the net. “I’ll have you crying out my name in such a frenzy that you’ll want to bite on a pillow to keep from waking every other guest in the house.”

  Her already flushed face burned redder, and her panting increased instead of easing up. She backed away from the net, her eyes still locked on his, neither denying his wicked words nor shying away from them. The only thing that turned her away from him in the end was the mob of her friends rushing to congratulate her, just as his were flooding the court to console him. He didn’t need consolation, though. He’d won a far bigger game than badminton, and that night, he would claim his prize.

  Chapter 15

  A deep sense of satisfaction at having beaten Rupert at badminton stayed with Cece for the rest of the day. She thoroughly enjoyed the attention it brought her as well, even though she was completely exhausted from the effort it took to win the match. After being carried around on the shoulders of her faux admirers and crowned with a wreath of hastily-picked flowers from the garden, she excused herself to return to her room to bathe and change out of her sweat-soaked morning dress. And, though she would never admit it to Rupert, or anyone else, she collapsed into a nap while the maid drew the bath in order to recover.

  The afternoon was far more subdued as clouds rolled in and rain threatened to douse any outdoor activity. That didn’t stop Reese and Rupert’s other friends from showering her with pretend affection as they treated her like the queen of the house party for her victory, decorating a chair in the main drawing room for her and amusing themselves by jaunting off on every ridiculous errand she sent them on. Fergus even insisted on feeding her grapes, like the ancient Greeks supposedly did.

  She was seated at the head of the table at supper as well, an honor that had Rupert scowling all through the meal. Although, the more Cece studied him while pretending to hold court like Henry VIII, the more she wondered if his scowl wasn’t more of a smolder. The intensity in the way he stared back at her every time their eyes met sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t shake the deliciousness of the words he’d whispered to her across the badminton net at the end of their game. He wasn’t bluffing. Rupert never bluffed.

  That meant that from the moment she retired to her room after a night of amateur musical performances in which she was once again made to reign as mistress of ceremonies, she was on alert. She was aware of every slip of fabric against her heated body as the maid helped her undress and take her hair down for the night. She considered having another bath, but that seemed like a ridiculous extravagance.

  In the end, all she could do was don her nightgown, thank the maid and send her on her way, then climb into the well-appointed bed in the luxurious guest room to wait. The rain that had spit down throughout the afternoon had turned into a steady downpour that drummed against the windows, but that only irritated Cece’s already restless soul. She sat up, staring at the door, straining her ears to catch any sign of Rupert’s approach. She picked at the coverlet, feeling that if she didn’t do something with her hands she’d go mad. She reached for the book on her bedside table, then changed her mind and sat upright again. There was no chance she’d have the patience to read when she knew what was coming. Just thinking about doing all the erotic things she and Rupert had done the night of the ball at Campbell House again sent her blood racing through her veins, priming her body for what would happen.

  She almost wept in relief when the handle of her door turned. Without so much as a knock, Rupert whisked into the room, turned, and locked the door behind him. Cece had just enough time to rest back against the pillows and put on a superior look before he turned to face her.

  “You’re late,” she said, trying her best to sound as though she would punish him for his sins.

  “So you’ve been anticipating my arrival then?” he asked, undiluted wickedness in his eyes.

  Cece broke out in gooseflesh, especially when Rupert tugged at the sash of the dark red robe he wore as he stalked toward the bed. The robe loosened and he shrugged out of it, tossing it commandingly aside. He wore nothing at all underneath. His naked body was like that of a god in the warm, flickering light of the fire in her grate and the single lamp on her bedside table. The broad muscles of his shoulders and chest stood out in firm relief. His trim waist drew her eyes straight to his hips and his growing erection.
His cock was already rising to the occasion, and when he saw how hungrily she devoured the sight, he grasped it and stroked himself boldly.

  “I should allow the Queen of the House Party to stroke me to fullness herself,” he said, stopping by the side of the bed and caressing himself with such slow eroticism that Cece was writhing with need in no time. She could have watched him toy with himself all day, but he moved his hand away, holding his arms wide at his sides and shifting his hips to present his now substantially stiffer cock to her. “Behold, your prize.”

  Cece wanted to laugh, but only because the whirlwind of emotions inside of her was too overwhelming to contain. Rupert hadn’t been in her bedroom for a full minute, and already he was a picture of carnality. Her body throbbed for him, her core squeezing at the idea of having him inside of her. She wanted to wrap her limbs around him and mate with him until they were both as loud and desperate as he had threatened they would be.

  A surprise rumble of thunder brought her back to the moment at hand. She sat straighter, tilting her chin up, and tossed the bedcovers aside invitingly. “You may undress me now,” she said, imitating Queen Victoria’s regal manner.

  “Yes, my queen,” Rupert replied, as much in character as she was.

  He climbed onto the bed, pushing the covers farther to the side. The way the mattress dipped with his weight sent a thrill through her, but that was nothing to the way he grabbed her ankles and thrust them apart, kneeling between them. She gasped, gripping the mountain of pillows on either side of her, then held her breath as he took hold of the hem of her nightgown and drew it up toward her hips with painful slowness.

  “Are you trying to torture me?” she asked breathlessly as he paused just short of exposing her curls to tease her inner thighs with feather-light strokes.

  “Yes,” he answered frankly. “I intend to torture you the way you tempt me on a daily basis.” He gripped her knees and parted them as far as they would go, still not moving her nightgown to expose her center.

  “I never teased you like this,” she panted, willing herself not to tremble at the way he brushed his fingertips up to her inner thighs.

  “You drive me to distraction on an hourly basis,” he insisted, meeting and holding her eyes with fiery intensity. “Every smile sends blood throbbing through me. Every look makes my heart race. Every word you speak makes my cock hard.” His hands reached so close to her sex that she couldn’t think, and then he tightened his hold on her thighs to much she gasped. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “How does it make you feel to know that I stroke myself until I come every night while imagining you doing the same?”

  She let out a breath that was half moan, trembling with the intensity of her need for him. It was madness for him to admit such thing to her. “You are a wicked man,” she managed to say, leaving out how desperately she loved it.

  “I know,” he said, then shifted to close his mouth over hers in a punishing kiss.

  Her body blossomed with pleasure as his lips molded to hers and his tongue invaded her mouth. He was aggressive in his ardor, groaning in triumph as she succumbed to whatever he wanted to take from her. She kissed him back, letting go of her pillows to rake her fingers through his hair.

  Without her arms to steady her, she slipped down, utterly at his mercy. Her shift meant that the fabric bunched just below her hips moved as well, exposing her throbbing sex to him. He seemed to know it without looking and let go of her thighs to bring one hand up to possessively stroke her cunny.

  “I knew you’d be wet,” he murmured against her lips as his hand went to work, teasing and caressing her primed flesh.

  He was relentless, circling her entrance before thrusting two fingers inside of her. There was nothing soft or hesitant about the way he claimed her, stroking her in just the right way. She gasped aloud as he pleasured her, trying not to fulfill his earlier prophecy by crying out loud enough to wake whoever was in the room next to hers. Another clap of thunder and the rain beating furiously against her windows helped conceal her moans of passion, but when he brushed his thumb over her clitoris as his fingers continued to invade her, she was lost.

  “Dear God,” she cried out as an orgasm as powerful as the thunder outside enveloped her. Pleasure so intense it made her want to weep radiated through her as her inner muscles squeezed his fingers. He groaned in triumph as she convulsed and then went limp as her orgasm subsided. She was left feeling loose and blissfully happy, in spite of the madness of the whole thing.

  “You’re a devil,” she panted as he moved his hand away from her and drew her nightgown up over her head.

  “Me?” he asked indignantly, tossing the garment aside. “You’re the one who can’t keep your hands off me.”

  In fact, he was right. As soon as her arms were free, she reached for him, sculpting the lines of his chest and abdomen with her palms as he leaned toward her. With a throaty laugh, she reached for his cock and balls, fondling them and watching as his face tensed with pleasure. She loved the way he felt, hard and soft together, and the way he so obviously enjoyed her touch. Not many men would take such enjoyment in their woman behaving so sensually. At least, so she’d been told. With her new experience, she wasn’t so sure that the unspoken rules of feminine behavior were actually true behind closed doors.

  Rupert made an urgent sound, then pulled his hips away from her, pushing her hands aside. “Too soon,” he hissed, then dipped down to kiss her. As his lips caressed hers, more sensual than demanding this time, Cece felt as though someone had lit a match of understanding in her mind. He could bring her to climax as many times as he wanted, or as she wanted, and they could continue with their games. But if he came too soon, the game would be over. At least for a while. She smiled as the realization hit her. Perhaps women had been given an advantage in the game of love after all.

  She pushed against his chest, and when he rocked back, he wore a look of surprise. “I want to look at you,” she said in sultry tones. “Lie back.”

  Curiosity and delight lit Rupert’s expression, and he sprawled back to give her what she wanted. He rested on his back with his legs spread as wide as hers currently were, propping himself up on his arms. His thick, hard cock stood straight up against his abdomen, its tip flared and slick, looking as though it were a cannon that could fire at any moment.

  “Only a minx enjoys looking at a naked man in full arousal,” he said, teasing her with a look that dared her to drink in the sight.

  “I believe we’ve already established that I’m a minx,” she said, pushing away from her pillows and shifting to kneel between his legs.

  “If I had known just how minxish you were, I never would have joined the army.”

  Cece arched a brow, a spike of anger adding spice to the desire that still pulsed through her. “So if I had spread my legs for you four years ago you would have actually consulted me before leaving?”

  Guilt pinched through his aroused expression. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Perhaps not.” She leaned forward, planting her hands on the bed on either side of his waist. “But I should punish you for it.”

  The feeling of power that surged through her as she trapped him beneath her was heady. She could see as clear as day that he was caught between pleasure and guilt, and she would have been lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it.

  “How on earth do you propose to punish me?” he asked, as though anything she did to him would only give them both heaps of pleasure.

  She arched one eyebrow and lowered herself over him, bringing her mouth dangerously close to his straining cock. “Too soon, you said?” she asked. With her heart pounding at how daring she could be, she licked the tip of her tongue along the length of his staff, from balls to tip.

  Rupert sucked in a breath and jerked at the sensations her bold move produced. “If you do, it will be your loss as much as mine.”

  “Is that so?” she asked, planting the lightest possible kiss on the underside of his cock’s flared t
ip. He made a sound of pleasure and frustration. “I’ve already had one orgasm, and I could easily demand you give me another. And you would.”

  He might have tried to laugh, but the sound came out as desperate panting as she kissed the head of his penis again, taking it partially into her mouth, though she would need to use her hands to position it correctly for deeper play.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he gasped, flopping back to lay fully on the bed, his hands behind his head. “You want my cock inside of you too badly to suck me off.”

  Shivers of wickedness rippled through her at the new words and actions he was inadvertently teaching her. “You think so?”

  She lifted herself above him and brushed her fingertips along his length, watching him with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous grin. For a moment, he looked uncertain. That uncertainty intensified when she took hold of his staff and held it up and away from his body. He tensed, alarm in his eyes, as she bent forward, bringing her mouth tauntingly close to his cock as she held it upright.

  In the end, he was right. She didn’t want to pleasure him with her mouth half so much as she wanted to feel him stretching and filling her. At the last moment, she shifted to straddle him, holding him in just the right position so that she could sink onto him, sheathing him deep inside of her. She gasped as he jerked up, lodging hard within her, and bit her lip as the urge to move on him turned irresistible.

  Except that she had no idea what she was doing. She froze where she was, wanting so much more but not knowing how to get it. The movements she was able to make were frustratingly inadequate.

  “Like this,” Rupert said, his voice rough, gripping her hips.