Taming the Rake

by Monica McCarty

  She obeyed, enjoying the way her breasts strained against his chest. She wanted to arch her back and rub against him like a cat. Her mouth was only inches from his. He smelled delicious. Like mint, fresh air, and something entirely masculine.

  “Now kiss me,” he ordered calmly, but she could see the effort it was taking him to remain still. To make no move toward her.

  Slowly, she leaned toward him, placing a tentative kiss on his lower lip. He went completely rigid. She tried again, this time squarely pressing her lips to his. She frowned when he still did not return her kiss. Until she noticed the tic behind his jaw.

  A slow smile curved her lips. With the tip of her finger she traced the hard angles of his handsome face, savoring the moment of recognition: He wanted her as badly as she wanted him. He liked what she was doing to him, but he wasn’t going to make it easy on her. He could try to feign coldness, but she wouldn’t allow him to deny their passion.

  She leaned toward him again, but this time she slid her tongue along the crease of his mouth, savoring the dark, sinfully delicious taste of him.

  His restraint snapped. He attacked, taking her mouth hostage in a violent embrace. His fingers laced through her loosened hair to grip the back of her head, pulling her mouth to his in a deep, openmouthed, no-holds-barred kiss. She felt the hot slide of his tongue as it delved into her mouth, demanding her intimate response. His passion was hot and furious, leaving her no doubt. He wanted her. Badly. With a frenzy and wildness that belied his attempts at coldness.

  A hot band of satisfaction curled low in her belly.

  No longer a novice, she met each parry with a thrust of her own. Sinking deeper and deeper into frantic oblivion until her senses were overpowered with the need of him. Until her hands roamed the wide expanse of his shoulders, wanting to feel him. To get closer still.

  He kissed her until she couldn’t breathe, until her lips were swollen and her cheeks burned from the scratch of his day-old beard. Until the gentle tingling warmth between her legs clutched with sweet frustration. She wanted him to touch her there again, to press his fingers inside her, to relieve the clawing need that would not let her go.

  When he lifted his head, his blue eyes were dark as onyx and his breathing had become hard and fast. She could feel his manhood straining against her bottom. She shifted against him, settling his massive strength between her legs. She yearned to sink onto him, desperately craving the heavy thickness inside her. He was big and as hard as a rock wedged solidly between her thighs. His shape seemed to fit her perfectly.

  She moved again against him, sliding back and forth along his considerable length. The swell of pleasure was nearly unbearable. He groaned and pressed against her. The tingling between her legs intensified, greedily demanding more. Faster, harder, she rubbed against him, wanting to weep with relief, having found what she craved, relishing the burgeoning sensation of pleasure. Her head fell back as she gave herself over to the magical rhythm. The pressure built, her heart rate climbed, and she was tantalizingly close to reliving the shattering pleasure she’d experienced in the card room.

  He made a sound of agony and lifted her off his lap.

  Stricken, she stared at him. “Did I do something wrong.”

  “No,” he said tightly.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Nothing.” He swore then met her gaze. A slow, devious smile curled his lips. “It’s time to take off your clothes, Lady Georgina. I want you naked when I take you.”

  He’d said it harsher than was necessary, but she was driving him mad with lust, and to hell if he was going to make it easy on her. The sensation of his cock wedged between her thighs with her grinding against him, even separated by clothing, was too much. The fact that she’d discovered how to find her own pleasure made it that much worse. Watching as she pleasured herself had been one of the most deeply erotic moments of his life. How could he resist such innate sensuality? He couldn’t. It was a priceless treasure that belonged to him.

  He wanted to challenge her, but instead she was driving him mad with lust. If only she would run before he refused to let her go.

  Her face flooded with color at his demand. “But surely… I mean…” Flustered, she didn’t know what to say. He knew her freshly minted passion was warring with her sense of delicacy and modesty.

  “It would please me.” Remembering his goal to drive her away, he added crudely, “I want to see what I’ll be getting.”

  Something flashed across her face. Hurt perhaps, before her mouth tightened angrily in response to his challenge. Her green eyes blazed.

  “Is there enough light in here?” she asked sarcastically. “I could call Jennings to turn on a few lamps. I wouldn’t want you to feel like you didn’t get a proper look.”

  He cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face. She would not discourage easily. He was surprised to realize how much it pleased him. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Indeed, even with the heavy curtains pulled closed there was plenty of light.

  He held his breath as she finished unbuttoning the pelisse that he’d already half undone.

  Studying her, he realized that he’d probably done her a favor. Anger at his harsh words had replaced her uncertainty and seemed to bolster her courage. Her hands were steady, her movements deliberate, her face impassive. Gina was no blushing schoolgirl, but a woman full of pride and confidence, almost daring him to find fault. Sliding the pelisse off her shoulders, she carefully placed it on the edge of the divan.

  She walked back around to stand right in front of him. With a stubborn toss of her chin, she looked him straight in the eye. “I’m afraid I shall need some help with my gown.” She spun around so that her slim, straight back was facing him. He resisted the urge to wrap his hands around her tiny waist. Deftly he worked the pins and ties, ignoring the increasing rate of his heartbeat as anticipation coiled inside him.

  The unevenness of his breath gave him away.

  Turning back around to face him, a calculated gleam in her eye, she slipped the short sleeves down past her shoulders one at a time. She seemed to be moving excruciatingly slow, holding his gaze the entire time, as if she disrobed for a man every day of the week. As if she knew how much the mere act of taking off her clothes excited him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He’d be damned if she wasn’t getting the hang of it. The woman was a born coquette.

  Finally, the gown bunched at her middle and all that remained above her waist were her stays and a thin—very thin—chemise. Coventry stopped breathing. The perfection of her body stunned him. She was all lush curves and slim contours. Her breasts were large and round, standing high above a flat stomach and tiny waist. He made a choking sound and she smiled, aware of the powerful effect she had on him.

  Shimmying her gown and petticoat down over her narrow hips, she stepped aside, carefully picking them up and laying them next to her discarded pelisse. She gave him her back again and silently he helped her with the stays, trying to ignore the perfect round shape of her bottom and the sudden urge to clutch her hips and slide deep inside her from behind. Later.

  Stays unlaced, his fingers itched to cup her luscious breasts as he freed them from their silk and bone bindings.

  He could dispense with this self-imposed torture and simply rip her chemise down the middle. Perhaps guessing his intent, she stepped out of his reach and perched on the edge of the divan to remove her half boots.

  His heart stopped.

  Leaning over, her breasts spilled forward, nearly escaping the fragile bonds of her chemise. The lush swell of flawless ivory flesh was perfectly visible in silhouette and achingly tempting. An image of her on top of him, arching against him with those glorious round breasts bouncing in his face… He nearly reached out and touched her. Instead his fists curled into tight balls at his side, and he forced his gaze to the task at hand.

  But there was no escape, even watching her remove her boots proved enticing. Mesmerized, he noticed how tiny her feet were,
with delicate arches and slim ankles. Turning his gaze away entirely, he counted to ten.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked knowingly.

  “No,” he snapped, unable to hide his impatience. “You’re moving too slowly.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, though it was clear that she wasn’t. “I thought you were enjoying the performance.”

  He didn’t trust himself to speak. A born jade, he thought again. This wasn’t going at all as he’d planned. He’d wanted to push her, not increase his own sexual frustration.

  He was painfully aware that stockings and a thin piece of linen were all that separated him from a glimpse of paradise. A gloriously naked paradise.

  Temporary bravado exhausted, it was clear that she was suddenly aware of it as well, though she valiantly tried to hide it. She covered her breasts with her arms and a telltale pink flush spread across her chest and cheeks.

  No mercy, he reminded himself. “Now me,” he ordered softly. “Take my clothes off.”

  She hesitated for only an instant before moving to stand between his legs, enveloping him in her sweet feminine scent. Awareness crackled between them, all of his senses were heightened, focused on her every move. When she finally touched him, he felt as though he’d jumped out of his skin. He shuddered and clenched like a man in the throes of ecstasy.

  And he was.

  His skin came alive at her touch. The sensation of her hands sliding over his chest, slipping under the lapels of his jacket, was excruciating in its innocence. Pushing his coat back over his shoulders, her breasts swayed and jiggled as she struggled to get it off, tantalizing him to the point of madness.

  When she’d finally removed his coat, her hands lingered on his shoulders and arms, caressing the hard bulges of his muscles in silent admiration. A powerful wave of masculine pride surged over him. But the sensation of her hands moving over his body coupled with her provocative position between his legs was too much. He felt drunk on her beauty, enchanted by her heady scent. The urge to crush her delectable body to him was nearly overpowering.

  She fumbled with the intricate knot of his cravat, her nervousness increasing by the moment. When she trembled, he couldn’t hold back any longer. Taking pity on her, he quickly removed his cravat, waistcoat, and finally, his shirt.

  Her eyes widened, but not with maidenly shock at his half-naked body. No, his bold Lady Georgina’s eyes were wide with unabashed appreciation.

  “You’re beautiful,” she blurted. Greedily, her eyes trailed over the hard sculpted muscles of his chest, arms, and stomach to the line of hair disappearing behind his trousers.

  He tried to ignore the flash of pleasure. Her approval shouldn’t matter so much. Though, of course, it did. He reminded himself that she could never see his back.

  He traced the curve of her breast with his finger. His voice sounded uncharacteristically husky. “So are you.”

  He wanted to bury his face in the heat of her skin, to taste her honey, to force some of her innocent sweetness to rub off on him—obscuring some of the darkness inside him. Unable to stand it any longer, he slid the thin straps of her chemise down her shoulders and cupped her bare breasts, slowly bringing them to his mouth. Holding her gaze he flicked his tongue over one nipple, then the other. She made a small sound of delight and her eyes clouded with passion.

  He wouldn’t look away; he wanted her to watch him as he pleasured her.

  When he slid the rosy bud of her nipple into his mouth, her moan nearly unmanned him. She clutched his shoulders to prevent herself from collapsing as he sucked her. Hard. Harder and harder until she arched and shook in his arms. Her hands were everywhere, across his shoulders, on his arms, but when her fingers clawed at his back, he knew she was close.

  He liked to keep his promises.

  The circle of his tongue and gentle nip and tug of his teeth sent her tumbling over the edge into paradise.

  The sweet cries of her release echoed in his ears like a booming death knell—his precious, hard-fought control was fast fading away.

  Though he wanted to, he could not deny the connection that sizzled between them. He’d never felt like this before with a woman. Like everything they shared was a moment of awakening. Like watching her in the throes of an orgasm was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.

  She gazed at him with an adoring expression that terrified him. Tenderness hurt. It made him hope. And hope was the most painful emotion of all.

  She was getting too close.

  He hardened the softness spreading warmth inside him. Brutal, unharnessed lust, nothing more, he reminded himself. She would reach the breaking point soon. Perhaps even now. “Touch me.”

  The harsh tone caused her to look at him strangely. But like a child with a new toy, she eagerly did as ordered. She splayed her fingers across the broad plane of his chest, tracing the thick bands of muscles that lined his stomach.

  “You’re so smooth and hard,” she cooed approvingly. His muscles flexed reflexively under her deft fingertips. She dropped a soft kiss on his shoulder. “I love the way you taste,” she murmured, “like warm spice.” She dropped a trail of kisses along his chest. He fought for control as her gentle exploration sent a bolt of heat to his already throbbing cock. The expression of rapture on her face was too much, her pleasure seemed to match his own. What more did he have to ask of her before she would shy from his demands?

  “Not there,” he rasped. “Touch me here.” He took her hand and placed it on his crotch, the sudden heat threatened to unman him. He met her uncertain gaze. “Undo my breeches. I want your hands on me.”

  She looked as if she might protest. Probably something like, “This isn’t proper,” or some other nonsense about her offended maidenly sensibilities. He held his breath, wondering if this was it. Had he finally pushed her too far?

  No, thank God. Her hands skimmed the fall front of his breeches. The thick, round head of his erection jutted against his waistband, threatening to escape. Carefully, she unbuttoned the flap, releasing him from the constricting confines of his clothing. Her eyes widened with alarm.

  “You’re so…” A flash of panic sparked in her gaze. “Are all men so proportioned?”

  He smiled. He couldn’t help it. So much for maidenly modesty. “No,” he answered honestly. A thought struck him. “Do you know what is going to happen, Gina?”

  He used the diminutive of her name like an endearment.

  She nodded.

  “It won’t be easy for you.”

  She swallowed. “So I see.”

  Coventry couldn’t recall ever having a conversation like this, at a moment like this. But his wry response to reassure her was lost. When she touched him, encircling him in her hand, he lost the ability to think, let alone speak.

  He closed his eyes and allowed the dark sensations to take over. He instructed her with his voice and his hands. Showing her how to stroke him, how to find his rhythm. How to caress her thumb over the round head of his cock. Concentrating all the while on not exploding in her hand as every primitive cell in his body urged him to do.

  Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her wildly as she pumped him. Harder. Faster. His mouth and tongue mimicking the furious rush of blood pounding in his engorged manhood.

  How dark could he go? How far could he take her? The erotic fantasy that had wormed its way into his consciousness could not be denied. He wanted her mouth on him with every fiber of his being. His conscience argued with him, but he would not heed its warning. This was who he was. If she wanted him, better she find out his wicked delights now.

  He caught her hand and looked deep into her eyes, hiding nothing of the gnawing hunger raging in his. “Do you want to please me, Gina?”

  She nodded.

  “Then take me in your mouth.”

  Rather than recoil repulsed as he’d expected, she merely looked curious. “I never imagined…” She wrinkled her nose. “This is done?”

  “Sometimes,” he answered truthfu
lly.

  “And it will please you?” she asked.

  He closed his eyes, unable to think about how much. Dear God. “Yes.”

  Agony gripped him as he awaited her reply, fearing that he’d pushed her too far. Fearing that now she would run.

  “Then it would please me.”

  His eyes snapped open with disbelief. His chest ached from the heavy pounding of anticipation hammering his heart.

  She lowered herself to her knees, holding his gaze the entire time, until she reached his cock. Then she focused all of her attention on his erection.

  “What should I do?”

  Suck me, he wanted to beg. “What I did to your breasts,” he managed through clenched teeth.

  A primal moan from the deepest part of his soul tore forth when she lovingly placed those full sensual lips around the heavy head of his cock, drawing him deeper into the glorious recesses of her mouth. His stomach muscles clenched. The bolt of pleasure was so intense and acute he thought he might pass out. Lust he’d experienced a thousand times before, but simple lust paled in comparison to the euphoric sensations exploding through every corner of his body. The wave of emotion that crashed over him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

  Something inside him broke.

  He looked down at her, for once not masking his feelings.

  The obvious delight with which she took to her task undid him. She loved him with her mouth, laved him with her tongue. No woman had ever given herself so freely to his pleasure. She was a virgin, doing things to him that most wives never dared. The tiny mole at the edge of her mouth danced as her tongue explored him, circling the head then sliding down the long length of him.

  He thought he’d go mad.

  A heavy bead of moisture glistened at his tip. She looked up at him for guidance. He was holding himself rigid, trying not to spill, but he managed to nod. Smiling, she licked the drop of his pleasure, making a mewling sound of delight as if it were the most divine ambrosia.

  He clenched his ass and stomach muscles, preventing the explosion that clamored to burst free.