by Anna Bradley
“Iris? I’m sorry, love.” He let his head rest in that sweet space between her neck and shoulder. He stroked her hair and kissed her throat, whispering soothing words in her ear—broken words of love and desire—until at last she sighed, and the tension began to drain from her body.
“That, ah…well, that also wasn’t the same as reading about it,” she murmured.
Finn placed a tender kiss on her lips. “No, I’m afraid not. I hate that I hurt you—”
“Hush. It’s over now.” She paused, then gave him an uncertain look. “I mean, that part is over. There’s more to it, isn’t there? There seemed to be more in my books, but—”
He let out a soft laugh, then slipped a hand down to stroke between her legs. “There’s more.”
“Oh, I thought there must be, but…oh.” She squirmed under him as he teased his fingertip over her again.
“Spread your legs wider, sweet,” he whispered, nibbling on her earlobe. “I’m going to stroke you so you’re wet and slick for me.”
She opened her legs to him, her moans growing increasingly desperate as he teased and played with her. When he felt slippery heat gather between her legs, he moved his hips in a small, experimental thrust.
She cried out, but it wasn’t a cry of pain, so he thrust again, gentle still, but even that was enough to make his eyes roll back in his head and pleasure pound through him.
“Finn.” His name was a breathless plea on her lips, and when she met him on his next thrust, he began to move inside her in slow, steady strokes, his fingers still toying with the slick bud between her legs.
A jolt of pure, masculine triumph surged through him when her fingernails dug into his back, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Does it feel good, love?” His thrusts were more frantic now, faster, and he could feel his powerful release edging closer.
“Ah, yes. So good. Please, I want…please.”
“Do you want to come?” He was working her hard now, dragging his fingertip over her clitoris again and again, his hips tight against hers as he thrust his cock into her, then drew almost all the way out before thrusting again.
Her only answer was an incoherent moan. Her head thrashed against the pillow, and then she cried out as her body clenched around him, sucking him deep inside her, and she cried out again, her fingernails biting into his shoulders as her release swept over her.
Finn groaned as the telltale tingling began low in his back, and his spine drew tight, and God, he was going to come, explode inside her—
A guttural moan tore from deep in his chest when his release hit him, his back arching and his legs shaking with the astonishing pleasure. He held her tight against him as his cock jerked inside her, his mouth open against her neck, harsh, panting breaths tearing from his throat as his orgasm went on and on, shaking him like a ragdoll until at last it released him, and he went limp against her.
He didn’t release her when he was spent, but rolled onto his side and gathered her close to his chest, his heart thundering against her back as they both caught their breath.
When they’d calmed and the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, Finn brushed her hair over her shoulder and nuzzled his face into her neck. “Iris? Are you all right?”
“Mmmm.” She drew his arm into the curve of her waist, a long sigh of sleepy contentment escaping her when he curled a possessive hand around her breast.
He stayed awake for a long time after her breathing turned deep and even, his arms wrapped protectively around her and his face buried in her hair. Just before he drifted off to sleep she murmured something, but her whisper was so quiet he wasn’t sure if he’d dreamed it or not.
I love you. I love you, Finn.
Chapter Twenty
There was nothing but darkness outside Finn’s bedchamber window when Iris untangled herself from his warm embrace, crept across the room and began to gather her clothing.
It proved to be a daunting task.
Coats, shirts, stockings, and cravats were scattered from one end to the room to the other. She stumbled about in the dark, stifling a hiss of pain when she tripped over Finn’s boots and hit her shin against the bedframe. She found her petticoat twisted in her riding skirt in a heap under the bed, and her shirt and cravat were hanging over the wash basin on the other side of the room.
Dear God. It looked as if they’d fallen on each other in a wild frenzy and torn each other’s clothes off as soon as the bedchamber door closed behind them.
Iris’s cheeks heated. In other words, it looked like precisely what it was.
She glanced at the bed and a yearning sigh escaped her. Finn was asleep on his back, his long limbs flung in every direction. The sheets rode low on his hips, and his powerful chest and taut stomach were on display, along with acres of smooth, bronzed skin.
And she’d thought his chin dimple was mesmerizing.
He looked sleepy and warm and utterly delicious, and every feminine instinct urged her to slide back under the covers and wake him by pressing kisses to every inch of that delectable skin, but she couldn’t dally here all morning.
Could she?
No, no, of course she couldn’t. There’d be no end to the uproar if anyone discovered she hadn’t slept in her bed, especially if that person should happen to be Violet, who’d worm the truth out of her before Iris managed to struggle back into her corset.
Where was her corset?
Perhaps she’d left it by the bed. She’d just have a quick look, and while she was there it wouldn’t hurt to take one last peek at Finn while he slept, and in any case, she couldn’t leave him, ah…exposed like that. He’d take a chill. She’d just pull the blanket over him, and perhaps smooth the hair away from his face, and then she’d scurry off to her bedchamber.
Iris padded back across the room in her bare feet, her clothes in a bundle under her arm. She stood by the bed gazing down at his peaceful face for long moments, her heart both full and yet aching with a strange melancholy at once. He looked younger when he was asleep, almost boyish, the stern lines of his face softer in repose, and his golden-brown hair lying in disheveled waves across his forehead.
She reached out to trace his firm lips with one gentle finger. Just the lightest touch, so as not to wake him—
His hand snaked out and grabbed hold of her wrist. “Sneaking away in the dark, are you?”
A sound that was embarrassingly like a squeak left Iris’s lips, and she dropped her clothes to the floor. “No! I never sneak. But I need to get back to my bedchamber before someone discovers I’m missing.”
He raised himself up on one elbow and gazed at her with sleepy hazel eyes, his full lips curving in a lazy smile as he slowly shook his head. “Oh, no. I don’t think so, sweet.”
“If Violet finds us out, I’ll be…Finn!”
Finn caught her in his arms, tossed her onto the bed, and came down on top of her in a tangle of warm limbs. “Now, what were you were saying?”
His lips hovered over hers, so close, a mere breath away. “I, ah…” What had she been saying? “Oh, that Violet will catch me out, and then you’ll have to explain to Captain West a debaucher lurks under your gentlemanly exterior.”
“Yes, but I only let him loose when I want something.” He touched his thumb to her mouth, his eyes darkening when her lips parted for him. “And I want you, Iris.”
“I see. Do you always get what you want, Lord Huntington?” She bit down gently on the tip of his thumb, making him moan.
“Always.” He slid one long, muscular leg between hers and stroked a large hand over her belly, inching closer to the curls between her legs with each caress.
Iris caught her breath as wet warmth flooded her core. She was tempted to spread her legs and let him pleasure her as he had last night, but as delicious as that would be, there was one small matter she hadn’t work
ed through.
How did he use the silk scarves?
“Tell me about these dark desires of yours.”
Finn went still, and his body tensed. He was silent for a long moment, then he blew out a breath and flopped over onto his back, covering his eyes with one arm. “There’s nothing so dark about them.”
Iris propped herself on her side beside him and balanced her head in her hand. “I’m not asking you to explain yourself to me, Finn. I’m simply curious. My books described all manner of scandalous things, but Philander never blindfolded Octavia with a cravat.”
She was only teasing him, but he didn’t smile. “I would never hurt you, Iris. You know that, don’t you?”
Iris’s smiled faded. Did he truly believe she was afraid of him? She pulled his arm away from his eyes and turned his face toward her. “Of course you wouldn’t hurt me. I never for a moment thought you would. That’s not why I asked. It’s just… I want to know you, and…” Her face heated. “Give you what you need in the bedchamber.”
“I don’t need it,” he said, too quickly. “Not from you.”
“If not from me, then who?” Iris winced at the jealousy in her voice, but blast the man, if he was going to bind anyone, it was going to be her.
“No, I didn’t mean that. I meant I’ll do without, sweet.”
Iris might be a novice in the bedchamber, but it didn’t take unusual perception to see there was a part of Finn who needed to take command, to dominate. “You like the control of it.”
His jaw ticked. “It’s complicated.”
She ran her fingers over his raspy chin, then leaned forward to kiss away the tension in his jaw. “Explain it to me.”
He ran a rough hand through his hair. “It’s not just about control. That is, it does excite me to be in control of your pleasure, but it’s also about taking care of you, and protecting you, even. It’s difficult to explain.”
Iris thought about that for a moment, then she got out of bed and sifted through the piles of clothes on the floor. When she found what she wanted, she crawled back into bed beside him and held up two cravats. “Show me.”
He stared at her, horrified. “No, Iris.”
“Finn—”
“No. You’re an innocent—for God’s sake, last night you were a virgin, and you’ve only recently decided I’m not a liar. Even if I were to agree to it at some point, it wouldn’t be now. Not when trust is still so fragile between us.”
Iris ran the long length of his cravat between her fingers. He was right. She wasn’t quite ready for that kind of adventure, but perhaps there was another way.
“Do you trust me?”
“It doesn’t work like that, Iris. I do trust you, but I don’t permit my lovers to bind me.”
“Have you ever had a lover you trusted, or have they all been like Lady Beaumont? Mistresses, or courtesans?”
He didn’t reply, but his silence was her answer.
Iris placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “Have you ever taken someone you love to your bed, Finn? Someone who…who loved you in return?”
He’d been staring at the ceiling, his lips tight, but now he turned to her, his eyes soft. “No.” His voice was choked. “I haven’t.”
She leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “Until now.”
But Iris tossed the cravats aside. She didn’t want to push him on this. He knew he could come to her if he changed his mind, and for now, that was enough.
She lay down beside him with her head on his chest, and Finn wrapped his arm around her. After a while his breathing became slow and even, and Iris thought he’d fallen asleep, but then he stirred against her, and his low voice rumbled against her ear. “Lay the cravat over my eyes, but don’t tie it.”
She rose up next to him, startled. “We don’t have to, Finn—”
“I want to.”
The first fingers of dawn had crept through the window now, and she studied his expression in the dim light. His jaw was still tense, but there wasn’t a trace of doubt in his eyes.
Iris reached behind her and picked up a cravat. “Like this?” She laid the long strip of cloth over his eyes but left it loose, as he’d asked her to do.
“Yes. Now the other.” He raised his arms over his head and crossed them at the wrists. “Bind my wrists, but loosely, so I can pull free if I need to.”
Iris bit her lip as a wave of doubt assailed her. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Bind my hands.”
Iris grabbed the remaining cravat and looped it around his wrists. “I’ve left the ends untied, so if you need to get loose, you can easily slide it off.”
“Well, then. I’m at your mercy.”
That was when the reality of the situation hit Iris. He was at her mercy, laid out in front of her with every beautiful inch of him on display. His lips, that bronze skin, his hard chest, and that distracting line of hair low on his belly that led straight down to his—
“What are you waiting for, sweet? I thought you wanted to touch me.”
“Oh, I do. I’m just, ah…well, I’m not sure where to begin.”
Finn let out a soft laugh, and moved his hips. “I have a suggestion, if you like.”
Iris glanced down the length of his body. The sheet still covered him from his waist down, but the thin white cloth was already rising over his hard length.
And all at once, Iris knew just what she wanted to do.
She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the center of his chest. “That day, in Lady Fairchild’s garden.” She slid her hand from his chest over his stomach and felt his muscles tense under the caress. “I was peeking through the rose arbor at you and Lady Beaumont, and I saw something I didn’t quite understand at the time, but now…”
I still don’t quite understand.
But she did have a much clearer idea of the ultimate goal, and the rest of it, well…she’d work it out as she went along.
She stroked a finger over his nipple, surprised when he tensed, and the tiny nub hardened under her touch. “You like it when I touch you there, just as I do.” She stroked him again, then leaned over his chest to trace it with her tongue.
The muscles in his stomach jumped at the caress. “I do like it. Do it again.”
Iris smiled. He was terribly bossy for someone whose wrists were bound, but she had no intention of denying him. She nibbled at him and dragged her teeth over his nipple, then soothed the abrasion with gentle licks of her tongue.
He let out a strangled moan and threw his head back against the pillow. “Jesus, your tongue is so hot.”
Heat built between Iris’s legs at his panting breaths and the way he writhed under her hands. He didn’t seem to even know what he was saying, and the idea she could make him lose control was so arousing, she wanted more of it.
“I saw Lady Beaumont sink to her knees in front of you that day.” She inched the sheet down his body, a whimper of pure lust tearing from her throat when he thrust his hips against the cloth as it dragged over his length. “I couldn’t see clearly, but I think she lowered your falls. Did she?”
“Yes,” Finn moaned. “Touch me, sweet.”
Iris squirmed closer to him so she could rub her hard nipples against his chest. “Oh, I will. In a moment. But first, tell me what she did to you after she lowered your falls.”
“She took…” He tried to catch his breath. “Took out my cock.”
“Like this?” She slid her palm down his stomach and wrapped her fingers around him, amazed at the way he pulsed in her hand. He was fully erect, his tip slippery from the bead of fluid welling there, and flushed a deep red.
“Yes.” His hips lifted off the bed so he could thrust into her hand. “Harder.”
“Not yet.” Iris kept on with her slow, gentle strokes, biting her lips at his tortured moan. “After she released y
ou from your falls, you pushed her away.”
“Yes.” He thrust against her hand again, then growled in frustration when she drew back to keep him from getting the friction he needed.
Iris shimmied down his body so she was close enough he could feel her breath on his straining shaft. “What would she have done if you hadn’t?”
“Ah, God. She…” He trailed off with a groan.
The ache between Iris’s legs had grown unbearable. She was desperate for him to take her, to fill her with his hard length until she shattered around him, but she wanted this first, and she wanted him to ask her for it.
She tightened her fingers around his shaft and stroked faster to encourage him. “I saw her lower her head toward your lap. What was she going to do?”
“Suck,” Finn gasped. “She was going to take me in her mouth and suck me.”
“Do you want that now?” Her mouth hovered over his swollen tip. “Do you want me to take you into my mouth?”
He struggled with himself as she continued to stroke him, but he was moaning and thrusting his hips toward her mouth, and Iris knew his battle was over before it even began. The honorable marquess who was never far from the surface was no match for such wild, fierce arousal. “God, yes, sweet. Please. Suck me.”
Iris wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft and slid her lips hesitantly over his swollen head. She hadn’t any clear idea what to do, but he didn’t seem to notice. He arched off the bed with a harsh groan. “Don’t stop. So good. Your mouth is—”
She never found out what her mouth was, because whatever he was going to say was lost in another moan as she licked and teased, drunk on his clean, musky scent and the taste of him— soap, with a faint hint of salt. She sucked harder, amazed at the way his soft, thin skin slid so smoothly over the hard shaft underneath.
A guttural moan tore from his chest and his cock surged against her lips, as if it were begging for more of her mouth. So she took him deeper, and his hips jerked hard, as if to push deeper still, but despite his body’s desperation, he was pleading for something, his words nearly incoherent between his breathless gasps. “I don’t want to…ah, God, not yet, Iris. Don’t make me come.”
