Surrender to Sin (Fallen)

by Nicola Davidson

  “My apologies, señora. His lordship is waiting for you in his private parlor, if you’ll follow me.”

  For the third day in a row, they moved along beautifully decorated hallways too fast to admire the gold-framed landscapes on the wall, or the thick Aubusson rugs devouring the heels of her slippers. Abruptly the butler stopped and knocked on the door to Sin’s room, then opened it and gestured for her to go in.

  Nodding her thanks, Grace took a deep breath and entered the parlor. Sin wasn’t playing the pianoforte this time, but standing at a window that overlooked an enclosed garden. His fawn trousers and white linen shirt fitted his huge body to perfection, revealing to anyone who cared to comment that he had no need whatsoever for padding or corsets.

  “Good morning,” she said unsteadily, nerves and anticipation almost robbing her of voice.

  He turned immediately, his brow furrowed. “You’ve changed your mind.”

  “No! No. But I wondered if…that is, if the mild scandal doesn’t work, then I’ll be married to Baxter until he dies. I have just under a fortnight now to call my own, and there are things I should like to know. Things I won’t experience if I am married to that man. Do you think when we practice…it could be far more than mild?”

  Sin was silent for the longest time. Then he tilted his head. “I’m disappointed, Grace.”

  Her heart plummeted at his cool, remote tone, the absence of any laughter on his face. “Wh-why? What is the matter?”

  “It is five minutes past eleven. I told you, did I not, what would happen if you were late to our appointments?”

  His words from their first meeting echoed in her ears.

  Tardiness results in penalties.

  Grace swallowed hard at her own foolishness. She’d thought he desired her, but obviously not. “You did. Are…are you going to send me home?”

  Ignoring the question, Sin strolled forward, hands behind his back, coming to a halt two feet in front of her. “Have you been thinking of me, Grace? Is that why you want so much more than kisses?”

  “Yes.”

  “In what way?”

  She studied his handsome face, searching for a hint of kindness, any faint chance he might forgive her stupid lapse. But there was nothing, his entire expression could have been hewn from stone.

  Dismay made her want to weep, and she bowed her head.

  Only to see the bulge of his fully aroused manhood straining against his trousers.

  Oh God. Sin was teasing her again! Upping the stakes in a deliciously bold game that promised rewards better than anything she’d dreamed of. Longing filled her, and before she could question the rightness or folly of her actions, she sank to her knees. “I’ve thought about how you pressed between my legs—”

  “Me? You mean my cock? Say it.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, clenching her thighs against a wave of shameless lust. “Your cock was so big and hard under the fabric. I wondered what it might feel like naked in my hands. To kiss and stroke it until you came for me and I could taste your seed in my mouth.”

  Sin made a low growling sound, and one hand delved into her chignon. He roughly pulled the ribbon and pins free, then wound her loose blond curls around his fingers. “Grace…”

  “Sin?” she said, gasping in stunned pleasure as he tugged on her hair, just hard enough to invoke a light prickle across her scalp. Sweet heaven. He hadn’t even kissed her, and she was quivering.

  A scorching amber gaze met hers. “Show me.”

  …

  The sight of Grace on her knees, the desire and excitement in her eyes, was a true combination of heaven and hell. When eleven o’clock had come and gone he’d paced his parlor, wondering if something had happened to her, or if that bastard Baxter had shown up and played the fiancé card to steal her away. Then she’d arrived, all sweet smiles and lust-darkened eyes, and he’d been torn between bear hugging her and blistering her ears with a lecture to rival anything she experienced in finishing school. Damnation. How could someone he’d only known a few days call forth such a range of strong emotions?

  And then she’d asked for a real affair.

  His hand in her hair had been a method to regain control, to remind her who was in charge. Yet he wasn’t. Not by any stretch of the imagination. In the next twenty seconds, begging her to free his painfully engorged cock from the constriction of his trousers and take him into her mouth, was as likely as the sun setting in the west.

  Straightening his shoulders, Sin tugged again on her silky, rose-scented hair. “I said show me. This is your chance for atonement, Grace.”

  Her hands lifted, clumsily unfastening his trousers in a way that dragged her knuckles back and forth against his erection. Christ. If he came from this most innocent form of sexual torture, he might as well retire from the pleasure business immediately.

  “May…may I kiss your cock, Sin?”

  A short nod was all he could manage, and finally, thankfully, she took him in her hands and leaned forward so her pink, plump lips brushed the swollen tip. Again and again she kissed him, moving her mouth so she hit a different spot each time. Now the side, then the base, an exquisite, prolonged trail of her lips along a prominent vein while she cupped his heavy balls.

  “Stop,” he said through gritted teeth, as he removed his hand from her hair and squeezed the base of his cock.

  “Why? Am I doing it wrong? I’m sorry. I haven’t much exp—”

  “No. If you want a real affair, I want you undressed. Fully, so you can show me every inch of your beautiful body. How hard are your nipples, Grace? As hard as yesterday? Stand up so I can see.”

  “My clothing,” she whispered, lifting her arms so he could remove her lavender-striped gown, turning so he could loosen her stays. “Is always too tight when I’m here.”

  He smiled. “Then by all means, take off your chemise.”

  In one inelegant movement the garment lay on the floor. Instinctively, one arm crossed her breasts and another covered her pussy, then she took an audible breath, lifted her chin, and dropped her arms to her sides.

  Hell.

  She was even more perfect than he imagined. Full breasts with large, pale pink nipples. Narrow waist, flaring hips, and a thatch of visibly damp blond curls between her shapely legs. His cock surged and pulsed at the thought of being buried deep in that sweet, tight heat, and a drop of pre-come appeared on the head. Catching it with his thumb, Sin was about to flick the moisture away, when Grace touched his wrist.

  “Please.”

  Wordlessly, he offered it to her, and she licked her lips before darting out her pointed little tongue and lapping his thumb clean.

  Fuck.

  Taking her hand, he near-dragged her over to a chaise, sitting her down so her mouth was at the exact same height as his cock.

  “Suck me,” he ordered in a voice so hoarse and strained it was a wonder she could even understand him. But she did, and soon she held his cock in her hand while she wrapped her lips around the swollen tip. Unable to stop himself, his fingers again tangled in her hair, guiding her head while his cock glided an inch farther into her avid mouth.

  Grace made a humming sound of pleasure and he groaned at the added sensation, murmuring words of praise, of instruction, to use her tongue on the underside, to hollow her cheeks for stronger suction. Now utterly incapable of restraint, he began fucking her mouth with rough, unsteady strokes, and she was taking it, oh Christ, she was reveling in it. Inexpertly but greedily sucking him deeper while one hand cupped and stroked his balls.

  “Yes, sweetheart. You’re sucking me so good. I’m going to…fuck,” Sin snarled, a guttural cry torn from his very depths as every muscle tightened then released in waves of pure ecstasy, and his come gushed down her throat in several long, violent streams.

  Panting, his legs about to fold beneath him, he reluctantly withdrew his cock from Grace’s eager mouth and collapsed on the chaise beside her.

  It made no sense whatsoever that the most inexperienced
woman he’d ever been with had given him the most intense orgasm, but here she sat, this bishop’s daughter, this picture-perfect widow from the back end of bloody Gloucester. Already he could feel himself hardening again at the thought of having her under him, over him, hell, any way she wanted.

  “Sin,” she purred, her eyes sparkling as she ran her fingernails along his abdomen and stroked his trail of dark hair, “could you—”

  “No,” he replied, trapping her hands in one of his, a gentle grip, but one she wouldn’t be able to free herself from.

  “No?”

  Sin’s lips twitched as acute dismay replaced the fevered lust on her face. He’d never met a ton woman so refreshingly lacking in guile, and knowing all her responses were genuine only added to her charm. “That’s right, no. If I let you come, it is not much of a penalty for your lateness, is it?”

  “It was only five minutes!”

  He tsked, using his free hand to rub the lightest of circles along her upper thigh. “Wouldn’t matter if it was one minute, angel. When I give you an instruction, I expect it to be followed.”

  Grace slumped back on the chaise, the velvet cushions arching her so those lush, creamy breasts thrust forward. Tempted beyond measure, he lifted his hand and traced both taut pink nipples, circling and chafing the tender flesh with thumb and forefinger.

  “Oh,” she whimpered, beginning to writhe when he alternately stroked and pinched the hard peaks until they darkened to decadent raspberry. To continue the torment, he pushed her wrists above her head, arching her back farther so her right nipple was close enough to suck.

  But he didn’t, merely flicked his tongue over it and scraped it with his teeth. His free hand dropped back down to caress her inner thighs, up and down and around, brushing her golden pussy hair but never touching her soaked, swollen labia and clit.

  Grace cried out, her hips thrusting upward in an attempt to grind against his fingers, her rock hard nipple nudging his lips, two wordless pleas for mercy.

  “You want me to suck those pretty pink nipples, sweetheart? A rough, fast finger-fuck? Or perhaps you just need my tongue buried very, very deep in your sweet, wet cunt. If that is the case,” he finished, slowly licking his lips, “then beg me.”

  …

  She’d never known desire could be so painful. So all-consuming.

  Aroused to the point of madness, her skin coated in light perspiration and pearly moisture actually trickling from her center onto her inner thighs, nothing else mattered. Lord Baxter, an impending marriage, her father and stepmother’s betrayal, all faded to the background against the driving need to come at once. One stroke of her throbbing clit could hurl her from the knife-edge into a brutal and prolonged climax, but Sin continued to deny her that relief, or even the ability to rebel against the teachings of a lifetime and touch herself.

  “I’ll do anything. Please,” Grace murmured, so enslaved to the demands of her own body that tears gathered in her eyes.

  “Please what, sweetheart?” he said idly, grazing light kisses against her cheeks and chin.

  Her tongue flicked out to taste his jaw, and brushed Sin’s mouth. He swore and suddenly her lips were taken by his in the harshest, most erotic kiss of her life. His hard lips demanded, his tongue plundered, and she struggled against the firm grip on her wrists, desperate to hold him, to run her fingers through his hair, to rip his shirt away so she could rub her aching breasts against his hot, hair-dusted chest.

  Tearing her mouth away from his, she gasped, “Sin, oh God, please…”

  He smiled, stroking her cheek, then her collarbone with a fingertip. “You have such beautiful breasts, Grace. So full and soft, and those nipples…look how engorged they are now, and how dark. Almost wine colored. I’m going to suck them. Suck and bite and lick them until they are so tender even the slightest touch makes you scream.”

  It took nary a minute and her broken cries were echoing through the parlor. His relentless mouth on her nipples was an exquisitely pleasurable torment, every teasing lap, every masterful scrape and tug a pulsing ecstasy between her legs.

  But she needed so much more.

  “Put your tongue in me,” Grace pleaded, almost mindless with want. Later she could be shocked at asking for something so intimate, but not right now. “Down there, like you said.”

  “Down there? Oh, angel, I have no idea what you are talking about. But if you happened to specify pussy or cunt, or say, asked me to suck the swollen little nub of your clit, there’d be no confusion and I’d be happy to oblige.”

  Even though she’d never spoken those words in her life, her core thrummed in response. She moaned, her world reduced to one excruciating craving that would send her tumbling toward something cataclysmic. Proper behavior, society, mild scandals…they could all be damned. “Please,” she begged. “Put your tongue in my pussy. Suck my clit. Make me come, darling, please.”

  Sin stilled, and a kind of panic engulfed her that he might stop, that he might inflict the ultimate punishment for her tardiness and abandon her on the verge of climax. But then he released her hands and slid down until he knelt in front of the chaise. Roughly, he gripped her waist and pulled her to the edge, forcing her thighs wide with his massive shoulders so one leg rested on the padded velvet arm of the chaise, the other dangled down his back. The position left her utterly open and defenseless, yet somehow she didn’t feel vulnerable or ashamed. Just wildly excited.

  Using his thumbs, he gently parted her slick, petal-soft folds, and Grace shuddered, arching her hips in wordless entreaty.

  Leaning forward, Sin blew softly on her throbbing, aching flesh, then holding her gaze, he licked her pussy in one slow lap.

  She screamed.

  He licked her again and again, long, decadent curls of his tongue that reached as far up as her clit, and returned to plunge deeply into her pussy, making her moan and pant as relief and blissful pressure twisted together and hurtled toward breaking point.

  “Yes, sweetheart,” growled Sin between licks, “that’s right. I want to hear how it feels when my tongue is buried in your cunt. Fuck, you’re so wet and hot and taste so damned good…”

  “Sin,” said Grace hoarsely, her fingers threading through his hair and gripping his head as she writhed against his mouth. “I’m so close, oh please, oh God, let me come…”

  He rammed his tongue inside her, pinched her engorged clit, and suddenly she was there. Waves and waves of unending pleasure that made her whole body jerk, and tore a prolonged cry of complete abandonment from her throat. Minutes later, or perhaps hours, it was hard to know, Grace stared at Sin with heavy-lidded eyes that could barely focus. He remained between her thighs, the knuckles of his index and middle finger rubbing soft, slow, achingly good circles between her pussy entrance and clit.

  “Welcome back,” he said with a grin. “Don’t suppose you’d let me up now, these polished wood floors are hell on the knees after a while.”

  Fiery heat burned along her cheeks as she realized her leg was still draped over his shoulder, with her heel practically having gouged a moat in his back. Not to mention her hands’ unwillingness to surrender their grip on either side of his head.

  Oh sweet heaven.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” she mumbled, freeing him and stumbling across the parlor to slip on her chemise so she wasn’t so blasted naked.

  “No need for apologies. In fact, based on our undeniable chemistry, I am quite convinced the time has come to go public and create that scandal…but perhaps not so mild? What do you think?”

  Grace stared at him, torn. June first was only ten days away, so the sooner they damaged her reputation, the better. But oh, the temptation to ignore the harsh reality of arranged marriages and filial duty, and instead stay cocooned and happy within the sanctuary that was Fallen. “Are you sure I’m ready?”

  “Absolutely. Any more ready and we both might combust. I was mulling over the best time and location, and believe tomorrow night at Vauxhall Gardens would suit ou
r purposes admirably. We could have supper, listen to the orchestras, watch the fireworks…and create some of our own,” he finished with a wicked grin.

  “There will no doubt be a lot of people.”

  He nodded. “Thousands. From all levels of society. If we are shockingly indiscreet in front of some ton stalwarts then plead with them to keep our affair secret, the news will cross London in an hour at most.”

  “That slow?” said Grace with a reluctant laugh. “I’m disappointed.”

  Sin’s amber gaze kindled, almost a caress in itself. “Perhaps I could offer a sweetener then. Would you care for a tour of Fallen before we venture out together?”

  Oh.

  “I would like that very much,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone rather than intensely curious and debutante-giddy. “Although my maid Nell is going to be heartbroken when I tell her the pirate fantasy room is just a rumor made up by feeble-brained gossips.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Indeed. Just a rumor.”

  Grace’s jaw dropped. “Wait a minute. Are you saying—”

  “I’m saying you need to return tomorrow night, eight o’clock sharp. Diaz will fetch you a numbered mask to wear before you leave. And sweetheart…”

  “Yes?”

  “Do not be late. Next time I won’t be so…forgiving.”

  She nodded. “As you wish.”

  Chapter Four

  Tossing the latest batch of threatening notes into the flames dancing in his parlor fireplace, Sin watched them burn with a grim smile. A saner, more intelligent man might have taken the hint and stopped his activities long ago, but adding to the harem was too satisfying. Just a few weeks ago, he’d reunited sisters after three years forced separation. The copious tears, the incredulous joy as elder cradled younger and crooned guarantees of warmth and food and safety, ensured no bawd, pimp, or rabid clergyman would stop him. Not while he had guineas to spend, and God knew he had mountains of those.