Revenge Wears Rubies

by Renee Bernard

  Nothing was hidden from him, and Galen reached out to run his fingers up into the sensitive flesh, instantly eliciting a moan from her as he dipped his finger into the hot well of her core to spread the viscous soft evidence of her arousal up over the tiny jutting button of her clit.

  “Galen, please!” She reached for him, eager for the comfort of his arms, and no doubt remembering the particulars of their embrace earlier at Bellham’s.

  “What do you want?” he whispered, wickedly hoping for a certain answer.

  “Kiss me, Galen,” she begged innocently, her hands trying to pull him up to guide him toward her pouting lips.

  Ah, just what a man wants to hear!

  “Your wish is my command.” He let his breath fan over her damp flesh, giving her the first hint of exactly where this “proper kiss” was going to land. As exotic as an orchid, but far more beautiful in Galen’s eyes, her skin tightened at the hot sweep of his exhale, and he watched the colors deepen as her body anticipated what her mind had yet to grasp. He spread one of his hands over the soft swell of her belly to hold her in place and kept the other free to augment his “kiss” when the time came. Galen gently pulled his mouth up her slit, tracing the folds with his tongue before settling his mouth against her bud to use the pressure of his tongue against her clit, darting up and down the miniature bundle of nerves beneath her skin and circling, faster and faster, until he was lost in the dance of it. The sweet, musky taste of her arousal was as intoxicating as any wine for him, and Galen savored the scent and flavor of her sex as she began to sigh and moan in mindless pleasure.

  Her hips bucked beneath him, but his hands held her in place while his mouth ensured her willing captivity. Galen increased the speed of his tongue but softened the pressure to draw out her journey to the culmination of this act.

  She sighed again, writhing to increase the contact of his mouth, wordlessly begging for him to give her more of what her body was screaming for. Galen drew his fingers up to circle the tight pucker of her nethers before sliding a single finger upward into the welcoming wet of her channel. The tight grip of her muscles encircling the slight thickness of his finger made his cock surge with new heat, at this foreshadowing of how incredibly tight and sweet her body would be for him.

  He moved his finger, withdrawing it and then driving it forward to press against her, again and again caressing her with each stroke, deeper and deeper. He curled his finger against the textured walls until the pad of his index finger found the juncture inside of her he sought. He changed the pressure of his hands, and his mouth, using them together in concert to elicit the first hint of a tremor through her body.

  Galen lifted his head to catch his breath and appreciated the view he was afforded from his vantage point between her thighs. She was a goddess spread out before him, and her scent was in his nostrils and in his mouth, and she was about to spend at his command and it was a power he’d never known. In the past, he’d seen almost obliquely to his partner’s enjoyment, but never had he unraveled a woman’s desire and focused on her climax alone with such intensity.

  You’re mine!

  He lowered his mouth with renewed vigor, enjoying his delicate feast and the lush bounty of her body. He wanted to drive her past reason and control, past words and logic, and bring forth the passionate temptress he’d recognized from the very first time he’d seen her. He mastered himself, and sought to master her with his tongue, his lips, his fingers pressing up into her saturated inner muscles, all working together in a rhythmic dance as old as time, and she was helpless against it. She cried out, a long, sweet cry that echoed through him in triumph as she bucked and trembled, flooding his mouth with the salty-sweet rush of her orgasm.

  “Galen . . .” She spoke his name, breathless and unsure. “That . . . wasn’t . . . a kiss. . . .”

  “Wasn’t it?” He lifted himself up on his elbows and crawled up to cover her body with his, his throbbing erection jutting against her soft belly. “Are you sure?”

  She blushed furiously, but her gaze never dropped from his, and Galen admired her anew for that forthright fire in her sea-colored eyes. Ever so slowly, he lowered his lips to hers, willing her to open to him and taste herself on his lips.

  Haley met his kiss, her mouth already parted, and when he hovered for a moment, drawing the satin of his lips across hers, her tongue darted out to shyly sample all that he offered.

  The gesture ignited him as no other had.

  Suddenly, the kiss was a bruising connection and he moaned at the sweet hunger of her lips against his as she matched his need, clinging to him with an unbridled lust that affected him to his very core.

  Her thighs parted instinctively to accommodate him, but Galen knew what she did not—that her virgin passage was so small that he wasn’t going to risk hurting her unnecessarily. Better to work her back to another peak before breaching her maidenhead, although she was wet enough that he considered it briefly, especially when the little minx innocently began to trail hot kisses down his throat and then back up to nip at his ear.

  Even so, he reached down and began to tease her with the tip of his cock, reveling in the sensation of his swollen head working against the velvet soft folds, coating himself in her honey and deliberately pressing up against the tight bud of her clit. He experimented with the sweet friction until he found the melody again, and this time she was already close to the edge, her body still primed and eager to climax again.

  She clutched at his shoulders, her cries more urgent as the tremor worked through her frame, and Galen could feel another rush of honeyed wetness against his cock—and he knew that he was the one in danger of being lost.

  Chapter 11

  He shuddered in pleasure, struggling for control as her juice coated the sensitive skin of his sheath, coating him and begging him for more. But his control was tenuous at the first press of his ripe head inside of her, and Galen held his breath at the overwhelming sensation—even after coming, she was so much tighter than he’d anticipated, but it was a carnal bliss that began to outweigh chivalric considerations.

  Damn it! I don’t think a saint would leave this bed without laying this woman within an inch of her life.

  He was trapped by the unforgiving hold of her channel, but it was so tantalizing as her climax continued, and Galen simply used it to his advantage, pressing in with each spasm, using the grip of her body to hold him and draw him in even farther.

  Inch by inch, he gained entry, aware of everything at once and awed at the intensity of the experience. He could still taste her on his tongue, could feel her every movement against him, could feel the swollen head of his cock stretching her, making his way deeper inside her to claim every untouched inch of her body. He moved ever so slowly, kissing her constantly wherever he could reach, trying to rebuild the fires within her, and ensuring that each pulsing grip and pull of her channel against him from the echoes of her fading climax wasn’t wasted.

  But then he felt the unmistakable barrier of her maidenhead—and Galen held himself in place as she registered the first touch of pain, stiffening beneath him, and he watched the tiny bit of wariness enter her eyes.

  He’d known she was a virgin, or rather he’d assumed it. For John had made no hint that he’d yet trespassed with his angel, and Galen couldn’t imagine Trumble being so bold—beyond that, she’d given him a hundred subtle signs that she was unschooled when it came to the acts of love. Still, reaching her maidenhead, it gave him pause. It was hard to think, and then the world entirely fell away as her legs wrapped around his waist and she lifted her hips in supplication.

  “Galen, please . . .”

  He eased back, for just a few seconds, teasing her as he pressed in just an inch or two against the sensitive opening, feeling the tight grip of her hungry channel and ensuring her readiness. “You never keep your word, Miss Moreland.”

  “How c-can you say that?”

  “You said you’d never kiss me again.”

  “Oh!”

/>   He kissed her, a bruising, branding claim meant to push every thought from her head and ratcheting up her desire, sucking her tongue and tasting her until she was breathless and moaning, and he instinctively drove forward in one smooth maneuver that rendered her maidenhead before she could remember her fear. Galen slowly waited for the space of a breath or two for her body to realize the pleasure yet to come, and he softened his kisses before moving against the exquisite confines of her body around his.

  Slow, deep strokes meted out their rapture, and Galen quietly worked to help her find the way of it, countering his thrusts and discovering her own capacity for raw surrender and sensual delights. Long, hard, relentless strokes shadowed the beating of his heart until at last he was buried to the hilt. Galen withdrew almost completely, only to drive forward to knock on the very door of her womb, his possession of her complete and potent, freeing him with each movement to take all that he could of this fleeting ecstasy.

  Rocking into her, holding her hips, he drove himself harder and harder, and then he forgot himself—forgot about conquest and vengeance, about anything that might have defined him or anchored him to his civil self. He slipped into a primal world that held only this need, this fire, this hard cock, this wet slit, these eager hands, this woman’s cries as she spent again and again and he could feel himself drowning in the seraphic hold of her body and his. Galen groaned as the crescendo hit him at last, a wall of bliss that tore the crème from his body, and he could feel it jetting in white-hot streams inside of her, the pleasure of it so sharp it brought tears to his eyes.

  Finally, he could only rest his weight on his elbows, sagging against her to catch his breath in great ragged gulps, while he waited for his heart to return to him.

  Oh my God . . . Well, I’d say I just officially ruined this girl, in more ways than one . . . Hell, I feel a little ruined myself, if that will make Bradley feel better.

  He gingerly pulled away, tenderly trying not to cause her any more discomfort. He pushed her hair back from her damp brow, warily studying her for any early signs of hysterics or regret. He offered her a smile. “How was that for a distraction?”

  She laughed softly and shook her head, pulling the sheet over herself in a show of modesty. “I can’t see how anyone ever . . . leaves their bed.” She blushed at the admission, and Galen relaxed at this strong indication that she wasn’t going to bolt for the door.

  “How do you feel?”

  She squirmed at the intimate inquiry, even knowing that there was now nothing of her body that he hadn’t seen. She took a moment to assess, surprised at how little there was to report in all honesty. “I feel . . . a little stretched and perhaps bruised, but then, I cannot say it is an uncomfortable sensation. Instead I feel . . .” She blushed at the confession she’d been about to make, that she was wishing she could do it all over again and at this very moment.

  “Yes?”

  A clock on the mantel of the fireplace across the room began to chime three times, and Haley realized that the realities of time weren’t going to allow for any more distractions. “I feel as if I should get dressed before you tempt me again,” she said evasively, sitting up and taking one of the sheets with her. She slid from the bed and began a quick search for her chemise. “I don’t want anyone at the house to realize I’ve . . . been away.”

  He brought her a small pitcher of water and a soft cloth, and showed her to the dressing room and bath, pointing out the water closet and then leaving her briefly to her private ministrations to clean and restore herself before dressing. He pulled on his own trousers and his shirt, leaving it open, and then began to gather up the various layers of her dress that he’d so carelessly discarded, brushing them off with quick efficiency before he returned to her side.

  “May I assist you, my lady?”

  “I . . .” She hesitated, weighing out the practicalities and risks of having such a handsome ladies’ maid. “If you would, Galen, thank you.”

  “How is it these things are easier to remove?” he mumbled as he reattached the tabs on her crinoline.

  “I have never considered it.” She smiled, enjoying the process while he surreptitiously slid his hands over her skin, grumbling softly over each tie and lace as they made a game of setting her to rights.

  “I cannot seem to find your shoes,” he confessed, then kissed the top of her shoulder left bare by the evening gown’s corsage.

  “They are downstairs, in the library.” She felt her face grow hotter remembering that he had literally swept her off her feet and out of her satin slippers. “Where we . . . began our conversation.”

  His emerald eyes lit with mischief. “Ah! Yes, our conversation! I do love conversing with you, Miss Moreland.” He shifted easily to pick her up, again holding her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all. “I’ll just have to return you as I found you, then.”

  “I am capable of managing the stairs!” she laughed.

  “Nonsense.” He nuzzled her neck and headed out of the bedroom, retracing the path they’d taken earlier. “Hush and don’t spoil a man’s pleasures, Miss Moreland.”

  “I would hardly think it’s pleasurable to haul me around like a great lump.”

  “You are not a great lump, and considering your delectable derriere is resting in my arms and I have a considerable view of your breasts from this angle . . . I’d say there are pleasures enough to compensate me for my efforts.”

  “Galen!” She wriggled in protest, but not too vigorously, far too aware of her own bliss at being carried in his strong arms against the firm wall of his warm chest, her fingers sliding over his skin and threatening to reignite her own desires.

  He carried her back into the library and set her down in almost exactly the same spot that she’d originally occupied. He knelt to retrieve her shoes as she began to gather up the jeweled pins from her hair that were strewn about the carpet.

  She laughed as she gathered the ornaments from the floor. “I once told Aunt Alice I would throw flowers at your feet, but I confess, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  “No?” He lifted her up, his hands at her elbows to steady her as he guided her back into his arms. “I rather liked it.”

  “Did you?” she teased, daring a small kiss on his cheek, and feeling oddly awkward with him. They’d crossed every line of decent behavior and she’d held nothing back from him, but suddenly she was dressed and retrieving hairpins and starting to worry that she might not be ready to face what she’d done.

  “Like Julius Caesar entering Rome. Didn’t they throw flowers?”

  She nodded, unable to resist teasing him. “Yes. Just before they stabbed him to death.”

  “Ah! A good lesson, that!” He leaned over, then gently cupped her chin with his hand, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Promise me that you’ll let me see you again.”

  “I . . . of course! I thought we—I mean, I assumed that you—” Panic coursed through her at the awkward admission. Is he asking because he hadn’t thought to see me again until this moment? Did I misunderstand all his pursuit and attention for more than it was?

  He quickly reached up to smooth her cheeks. “I want far more than one night, Miss Moreland. You were not mistaken. I should have spoken more graciously just now, but you have me bemused. So, you must swear to be kind and not overthink every phrase.”

  She sighed with contentment. “I am new to . . . this.”

  “Good.” The sound of a passing carriage on the street below broke the spell, and Galen glanced up at the clock on the mantel. “I would keep you here, if I could, Haley, but . . . it will be dawn soon.”

  “Don’t worry. I made sure that I could slip back into the house without anyone noticing.” She retrieved her shoes, suddenly shy when he knelt before her to place them on her feet. “You don’t have to—”

  “I want to. It’s an excuse to touch you.”

  She smiled, then sat up in the chair, her back stiffening as a new thought occurred to her. “Herbert—I’ll have t
o tell him this afternoon when he calls!”

  “You can’t,” he said, leaning back slowly to sit on his heels before her.

  “It’s the honorable thing to do.”

  “No, wait, Haley.” He kissed her fingertips. “I don’t think the man has any idea—about much of anything—but certainly about us. It may cause a scandal if it’s known that we . . . that I was the reason you ended the engagement.”

  “I don’t think I can lie. I’m a terrible liar, Galen.”

  “Hear me out. Trumble may not take an abrupt drop as well as you think. If he acts aggressively against you or your father—”

  “I don’t think he’s a violent man.”

  “Not violent, but he may be more petty minded than you realize. If he’s paid for your Season . . .”

  “Oh.” She felt her color change, the calculation of debt making her stomach hurt. If he called in his debts and demanded payment, we’d be ruined! “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Don’t worry. If we let him down gently, I’m sure he’ll negotiate or even forgive it all as a gesture of goodwill.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I do.” He began to gently massage the back of her calves, taking advantage of his position to caress and calm her. “I have spent too much time in London not to know the ways of the world. Trust me, Haley. If you suddenly broke with Trumble and then appeared on my arm the next day, it would be a smear we might never recover from.”

  “What do you think we should do?”

  “Let’s be patient.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, a whisper-soft caress of his lips against hers. “There is nothing to keep us from seeing each other, and when the time is right, you can tell Herbert your decision—but not that you’ve found another lover. If he cares for you, he won’t want to hurt you or your father, but if you tell him the whole truth . . .”