“Do not worry, my sweet. We’ll be mindful of the rules.” He slipped away the mask and replaced it with the cravat, tying it around her eyes. He proceeded slowly to seduce her—raking his teeth below her ear, lifting her hair to leave a kiss on the nape of her neck. His hands guided hers over her breasts, proud and plump in the tight corset. He gripped her flesh, smoothing over her stomach, and lower still, caressing through the fabric, his long fingers stroking firmly.
With a soft moan, she wrenched her hands free. Her breathing was ragged. Jane’s thoughts tumbled in a dark, lusty haze. Had she not thought about this more than once in her dreams? What it would be like to be with such a man, so fearless, so strong? She could turn and call his bluff. Demand an explanation. But the allure of his seduction, her needs—the needs he’d created in her—won out over finding answers to her questions. Yes, tonight beneath the dim lights and the anonymity of masks, they could be who they wanted to be, take their pleasure at will, have their fill of whatever they desired.
His tongue circled her ear, fanning her pulse into a flame.
“What game shall we play, master?” she purred, leaning her head to the side giving him full access to her throat. The thought of tangled sheets, the weight of his body on hers, fueled her desire.
“Game, my pet?” He closed his mouth over her dangling earring, tugging it slowly between his lips. His fingertip barely touched her jaw. “I’m going to undress you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Randolph caught her as her legs buckled. Had she had enough, then? Had he already succeeded? Was she regretting her choice to ignore his instructions not to meddle? “Does that frighten you, my sweet?” He smiled. He would have to play the part, of course, make a fuss when she refused him and left. He pulled her close, aware of every curve that he held against him.
She squared her shoulders. “I’m—”she paused—“fine.”
“You’re quite certain?” he asked. Unprepared for this surge of tenacity, he grabbed his glass and downed the remaining liquid in one swallow, garnering the strength of its slow burn. He purposely took a step back, ready to catch her if necessary, but she stood, shoulders firm, head erect, as though before a bloody firing squad.
Randolph blinked, taking a moment to clear his brain. His eyes were riveted on the long row of pearl buttons securing her gown at the back. How he could use another drink. He swiped his hand over his mouth, debating how far he should go with this little lesson. She was determined, he’d give her that much.
“Would you rather I undressed for you?” she said, lifting her chin.
His gaze narrowed. Her behavior seemed very brazen, even for Jane. Could Jonesy have been correct? Did Jane enjoy her pleasures on the dark side? He shifted his stance, painfully aware he’d grown hard. He had to remember his purpose was to get her out of the manor, not into his bed. He pressed his lips together, determined that, with what he did next, he’d surely receive a slap to the face before she fled from the room.
He watched her shoulders as he turned each pearl button, pausing once or twice to shove away the lust causing his hands to tremble. She had no idea as she stood, her shoulders squared, how much he wanted to weigh her breasts that were begging to be freed from that infernal corset. And after that, taste every inch of her, head-to-toe.
“Are you having trouble?” she asked, almost politely.
He chuckled quietly, amazed by her response. “No,” he muttered. He stilled, however, when the fabric gave way and the black lace corset came into view. Yes, he was having trouble, but not the kind she thought. He raked a hand through his hair and in a moment of insanity considered tearing the fucking gown from her to stop this bloody torture. He was walking a fine line here—a bloody dangerous one, at that. You’d could give her warnings until you’re blue in the face and it wouldn’t do one damn bit of good. There it was. The entire reason for this little ruse—or was it?
His heart faltered, and so, too, his fingers. Traditionally, madam prepared her escorts by removing the underpinnings that would impede. The image of Jane with only a corset, stockings, and shoes beneath that gown hit him like a lightning bolt. It did nothing to ease his arousal. Swallowing, he decided to push his theory a little harder, hoping that she’d flee, or God help him, he didn’t know what he was going to go.
“You have a body made for my worship,” he spoke quietly, brushing his lips against the back of her neck. He breathed in her scent, a mistake of monstrous proportions. The lines between doing what was right and doing what she’d allow began to blur. He watched her profile, fascinated to gauge her response when he slipped the gown over her hips and let it fall in a pool around her feet. He stifled a groan and closed his eyes. Her silhouette was maddeningly beautiful, her pale skin pearlescent in the candlelight. He couldn’t help himself. The need to touch her was desperate. He reached over her shoulder, raking his fingers over the fleshy pale mounds thrust upwards from her corset. He leaned over her shoulder, twisting open the first and second corset hooks, and slipped his fingers beneath the lacy fabric. Her mouth parted in a soft sigh. Her sweet round bottom rested comfortably against his hardening cock, sending his wits into a tailspin with his every touch.
Randolph closed his eyes, trying to rein in his lust. He glanced at her, watching the pink tip of her tongue dart out and lick her lips. He sighed against her shoulder, unable to stop, mesmerized in watching her sweet mouth part in a silent gasp as his fingers splayed over her soft triangle of curls. He bit back a smile of secret delight, forgetting for a moment his true intent. Why aren’t you stopping me, Jane? Black thoughts taunted him to shove his hand between her thighs, relentlessly stroking until she came in a blinding rush. Mustering every ounce of control, he stepped away. Run, Jane. Run, before it’s too late and I refuse to let you go.
“Damn you.” The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. This wasn’t supposed to have gone this far.
“Master?” She head tilted to the side. “Are you displeased?”
Just one word of his dissatisfaction to Madam and she’d not be allowed to return.
“Lizzy, I have to ask—are you a virgin?”
Her stance went rigid. “Madam didn’t mention that you preferred a virgin.”
Randolph blinked. God in heaven. He fought to make sense of his scrambled thoughts. Had he insulted her now, on top of everything else? Was it time to stop this game, reveal his identity, and reprimand her for ignoring his instructions to stay out of his investigation? His gaze dropped to her perfectly shaped bottom and long legs encased in thigh-high black silk.
A woman like her wouldn’t understand the needs of a man like him.
His thoughts swam in a pool of lust. “No,” he found himself justifying his lascivious appetite. “In fact, I’ve found that an experienced woman is far more intriguing.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t turn.
Primal instinct kicked in, taking over where rational thought no longer remained. He slipped his hand in hers. “Come with me.”
“But I cannot see.” She turned her face toward his voice.
Thank God. He guided her to the end of the bed and perched her on the mattress, trying valiantly not to let his eyes stray to her naked lap. He searched for the strawberries he had soaked in champagne, a thoughtless indulgence to savor in celebration of this alleged successful venture. Now he’d have to improvise, realizing that by now, with any other woman, he’d be close to hearing her scream with ecstasy.
His body ached in places he thought not possible as he looked upon her half-naked body. She reached out, her hand brushing over his arousal, and he leapt back. “No, no, Lizzy.” He swallowed with some difficulty. “Not yet. We’ll play a game, then, since you cannot see. You shall be at the mercy of your other senses, dear Ja—Lizzy.” He ground his teeth at his faux pas. “Open your mouth.”
“Is it edible?” she asked, her mouth quirking at one corner.
You little tart. “Do as I say, Lizzy.”
She dutifully parted he
r lips.
He stood over her and held the dripping succulent berry above her lips, glad that the blindfold prevented her from seeing the obvious tent in his trousers. If she knew it was him performing this seduction, she’d likely claw his eyes out and ask questions later. He lowered the berry onto her tongue.
She hesitated, but only briefly as she took a bite. Sticky, sweet juice trickled down her chin, making splotches on her exposed swells of flesh. She lifted her chin as though looking up at him. “And now?”
“Naughty girl. Now look, you have juice all over you.” He bent down, gliding his tongue across the swell of her breasts. Her body stiffened at his bold ministrations, and he smiled. Perhaps she was not as brave as she thought? She sat perfectly still, arms locked at her sides as he licked every sweet drop from her flesh.
Then she did something unexpected. She cupped his face and slid her cool, slim fingers, down his heated jaw. He stared at the blindfold as she searched and found his lower lip, with an almost reverence, raking her thumb across it. He had to force himself not to nip her thumb, draw it between his lips.
“You have a nice mouth.”
Randolph poised on one knee had to grab the bed to steady himself. She leaned forward and he was unprepared for the soft kiss she placed on his forehead, followed methodically by each eyelid. Who was seducing whom? Her lips grazed his cheekbone, trailing lower until he realized his mouth was next. He turned his face to avoid her lips on his. There’d be no turning back if that happened. “What do you think you’re doing?” He pushed the words from the rasp in his throat.
“Trying to please you.” Her hands framed his face and, had he not known the material of his cravat was dense, he would have sworn she could see right through it—that she was staring into his eyes. But, of course, that was absurd.
Standing, he grabbed her wrists with a little more force than necessary and pushed her back on the bed. He knelt on one knee, hovering over her, holding her hands above her head as he watched the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. He summoned every ounce of control to keep from kissing those berry-sweetened lips.
The braided silk cords from the bedposts caught his eye. A burning need, fired by her tenderness, clawed at him. “I do this for you, Lizzy.” He quickly fastened the ropes to each wrist, spreading her arms wide as she lay beneath him. Her deep mahogany tresses fanned out across the pillows, her face—that mouth—his for the taking. She lay still, making no sound, keeping her knees locked. He saw her swallow, following it down her slender, pale throat. He was afraid he’d hurt her. Afraid that he’d lose control. She wasn’t like the others he’d known—she was soft, delicate—a light to his darkness. The bed gave as he shifted over her. He was careful when he stroked his fingertip down her cheek and let it trip gently over her sweet pout. His purpose now was muddled, and he’d forgotten why he should send her away. “Do you like this, sweetheart?” he asked, sliding his tongue over her silky flesh. Her teeth raked across her lower lip, but she remained silent.
He worked carefully, wresting open two more hooks, enough to squeeze her perfect breasts to freedom. He closed his mouth over one breast and then the other, teasing each rose tip, massaging, caressing, his brain claiming a victory when her body arched upward, offering herself to him.
Her body writhed beneath his and he was a man lost in the sensation of pleasure. Her skin was like fine rose petals against his rough hands. He couldn’t get enough as he caressed every curve, following close with his mouth, lingering when she sighed. He splayed his fingers over her naked thighs, torturing himself in ways unimaginable. He couldn’t be the man she deserved, couldn’t whisper promises she wanted surely to hear. She was not like other women he’d known. She confounded him. She annoyed him. She made him want to bury himself so deeply inside her that he’d forget the demons of his past.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
“You’re not afraid?” he asked, as he tried to ease her legs apart and was met with a hint of resistance.
“Would it matter?” she asked
Guilt attacked him, but lust shoved it away. Randolph considered that her experience with men might lack his brand of passion, but he’d never equated emotions with pleasure, anyway. Sex was sex. There was nothing more to it. “What if your fear excites me?” he said, pushing her even further. “What if all I want is to consume you, bend you to my will, make you writhe in my dark pleasures?” Driven by the musky scent of her arousal, he blew breath across her flesh, smiling when she shivered. She wouldn’t understand that his unorthodox passion kept him from going mad, from being eaten alive by the darkness in his life.
“Why should I care?” He answered with an angry response. He released the frustration bottled inside him—of what he couldn’t give her and that she hadn’t heeded his warning not to get involved with the investigation. God he was on fire for her—burning alive from the inside out.
He pushed her knees apart, lowering his face between her thighs, feasting on the tender flesh, tasting, teasing, relentless in sending her once more over the edge. She was warm, wet—ready for him, straining against the ropes as she writhed beneath him. Dark need fogged his brain as he gripped her thighs, unyielding to her soft cries. God he wanted to tear off that damn blindfold that separated them from the truth. But he couldn’t, unable to bear what she would think if she discovered his secret, his deception. He barely heard the pleas she whispered for the dizzying lust spinning his brain.
“Yes…yes, master,” her last words, barely audible, rode on her sigh. “Yes….Randolph.”
His brain registered the impossible, and it caused his head to jerk upright. His body trembled still with unrequited need. His gaze took her in, from the flush in her cheeks to the soft part of her mouth. Had he imagined his name on her tongue? He backed off the bed, and stumbled to his feet. How could she know? Randolph squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers resting on the buttons of his trousers. She lay before him, a proverbial feast for the taking. His cock burned. He swallowed the taste of her still on his lips, driving himself to the brink of sanity. “We’re finished here,” he pushed out, his voice rough with arousal. He glanced at her, averting his gaze as her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips.
“Stop it.” He strode to the bedpost and untied her in haste.
She started to lift the blindfold and he clamped his hand over her wrist. “Leave it on.” His mind whirled between desire and an indescribable fear of what he should do with such knowledge—or worse, what she could do.
“Are you angry with me?” She sat up, rubbing her wrists.
He stalked over and snatched up her gown off the floor. “Get dressed.” He tossed it at her.
Startled, she caught it, holding it against her. “Have I done something to displease you?”
Turned away from her, he raked his hand over his forehead. The scent of her still clung to his palm. Displease? Hardly. He’d been ready to claim her and make sure she never wanted anyone else. “Just…get your clothes on.”
“Another game?” Her tone was coy, arousing him and infuriating him at once.
“Do as I say, or suffer the consequences,” he yelled.
Her smile dissolved. Her skin went pale. He paced silently, glancing at her to make sure the blindfold didn’t budge. It took her forever to fasten the corset, torturing him with having to stare at her naked backside, imagining the warmth between her thighs where his face had been. He was hard as stone. Finally, she stepped inside the gown and slid it up her body. His heart twisted as her flesh disappeared from view. Unaware of the pain she inflicted, she slipped her arms in the sleeves and adjusted the fabric at her shoulders.
“Would you be so kind as to assist me with my buttons?” she asked. Her blindfolded profile showed as she looked over her shoulder.
Grinding his back teeth, he forced himself to step up behind her, and he didn’t tarry as he had before. With each turn of the button, he grew more frustrated. Should he call her bluff? Her actions this evening were alarmingly submissi
ve for a woman of her of her stature. His intent to frighten her had come back on him. Did he want to believe that she’d allow herself to be seduced by a perfect stranger just to gain her story? Bloody hell, he wouldn’t have it! He searched on the table, found her mask, and pushed it into her hands. “Put it on.” He quickly untied the blindfold, tossing it aside as he strode back into the shadowy corner of the room
“Is this meant to frighten me?”
“You’re in no position to ask questions,” he shot back forcefully.
“You don’t, you know.” Her voice, soft, was like a dagger to his heart.
“Don’t…what?” he spoke with greater firmness.
“Frighten me.” She kept her back to him, but spoke over her shoulder.
“You’ve no idea what I am capable of.” He swallowed, facing the things he’d done not in the name of love, but of desire—pure, unadulterated desire. “I have brought welts to a woman’s flesh. I’ve had her crying for more. Begging me—” He grabbed the ornate glass decanter and slammed it against the table. He didn’t want her pity. Hell, he didn’t know what he wanted. “I could be very cruel to you, my dear. Heartless.”
“But you wouldn’t,” she responded. She lifted her chin as though waiting for his response. Her tenacity reminded him of the stark differences between them—while he’d spent his entire adult life hiding behind a façade, making excuses for his deviant behavior, she seemed at ease with her choices, choosing not to hide behind them. Her strength struck a painful truth, one he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.
“And what gives you this illuminating insight about me?” he snarled. She was a fool to think she could read him so easily, whether or not she was truly aware of his identity. “Well?” he bellowed, his defenses weakened by…what was this? Emotion?
“Because, master,” she said, adjusting her mask. “In how you touch me.”
He shook his head, refusing to succumb to her idyllic assessment. “My dear girl, how naive you are.” God he wanted to release the darkness curling inside his gut, he wanted to thrust himself deep inside her. Tear that mask off her, show his merciless lust, satisfy his burning need. “Turn around,” he blurted. “There, lean over the bed.”
The Dark Seduction of Miss Jane Page 16
