She dismissed Jane, her maid, for the night, and Bea’s second knock on the adjoining door was louder and firmer. The first had remained unanswered, despite the fact she had heard two male voices in conversation in that bedchamber only seconds ago.
She gave a gasp as the door was flung open almost the moment she had removed her knuckles. “You startled me!” she accused with a frown.
Wolferton raised his brows. “When you knock on a door, it is usual to expect it will be opened.”
Yes, it was, and Bea had been determined the duke would do so. But she now found herself completely disconcerted as she took in his appearance. His hair was even more disheveled than it had been earlier, as if he had been running his fingers through it. He had unfastened yet more buttons on his black shirt, revealing inches more of that bared and muscular chest covered in that dusting of dark hair. He had also removed his boots.
Bea acknowledged there was something strangely…intimate about conversing with a man who was in his stocking feet.
She bristled with indignation. “I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave Hanwell Manor.”
He raised mocking brows. “Now?”
A blush warmed her cheeks. “In the morning will do.”
“Why?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You know very well why. Your behavior this evening was…well, I am sorry to say it was rude and unsociable.”
“Wishing all the other guests gone so that I might be alone with you is unsociable?”
Bea could only stare at him in consternation as her next reproof died unspoken on her lips. Was it possible… Had he truly…
No, she would not allow herself to be seduced by his man’s overt flattery.
The Duke of Wolferton, as all of Society knew, was not known for his flattery, overt or otherwise.
Bloody-minded arrogance, yes. Cold disdain and haughtiness, also yes. But flattery? No, Bea was sure he had never been accused of that particular nicety. His coldness this evening toward everyone but her would explain the reason why he had not.
She sighed deeply. “You are ruining my summer party with your cold and standoffish behavior.”
He tilted his head. “And it was my intention to rescue you from a week of boredom.”
“You—”
“Come in, and we will discuss the matter further. Or I will come into your bedchamber,” he added dryly as Bea stepped back in alarm, “if that is your preference?”
Of course it was not preferable to her. Indeed, now that Bea considered her actions, she realized she should not have dismissed her maid or knocked upon and unlocked this adjoining door between the two bedchambers. She would never have considered doing such a thing if Landbourne still occupied this room.
Did that mean she was attracted to Wolferton?
Well, of course she was attracted to him. She might never intend remarrying, but she was still a woman, and the duke was a legendary lover, his prowess in the bedchamber having been discussed by the ladies behind many a fluttering fan. Bea defied any woman to resist feeling flattered by having such blatant interest shown toward her by Darius Strong.
Bea was usually sensible enough to realize how ridiculous such an attraction was, on either side.
Unfortunately, when she was with Wolferton, she was aware she did not feel in the least sensible.
Perhaps having her hair loose about her shoulders and wearing the daring red gown and black corset were having a strange effect upon her? She had never allowed her head to be turned by a handsome face before this. Had certainly never seen the point of allowing herself to be attracted to a man like Wolferton, when she knew that interest would never be returned.
Bea now considered the duke between narrowed lids. “I insist you tell me why you are behaving in this way.”
“Being rude to your guests?”
“No,” she snapped.
“Then I can only assume you must be referring to my inviting you to join me in my bedchamber.” He shrugged. “I thought I had made my intentions clear earlier.”
“You’ve made several outrageous statements since your arrival, yes,” Bea reproved. “Obviously, you do not know me very well if you think I can be seduced with insincere flattery.”
“I am never insincere, nor do I flatter. And I do not know you at all,” Wolferton murmured softly, those gray eyes no longer cold as his gaze swept over her in slow appreciation. “But it is certainly my intention to do so. Every single inch of you,” he added so there could be no misunderstanding as to his meaning.
That fluttery sensation had started up in Bea’s chest again. And her breasts, pushed upward and unconfined beneath the bodice of the red gown, were actually aching. The nipples had firmed and were sensitive, and the split gusset of her drawers was drenched with the same lubrication as earlier, simply from talking to this man.
She felt hot down there too, and uncomfortably swollen. To complete her confusion, she was also aware of a heady aroma, not unlike flowers and yet spicier. A perfume she was very much afraid was coming from that dampness between her thighs.
Darius could see the pained confusion in Bea’s expression. Her eyes were huge in her heart-shaped face, her cheeks flushed, and her lips a deep rose color, the top one swollen as if it was bee stung. Her engorged nipples were clearly visible pressing against the soft material of her gown. The perfume of her arousal was even more intoxicating than the two glasses of brandy he had drunk after dinner.
Her bewilderment in regard to the responses of her own body, and Quinlan’s earlier comments, would seem to indicate she had no idea what they meant, leading Darius to assume Hanwell must have been one of those husbands who had no regard for his wife’s pleasure, only his own. Many men in Society held with the same practice, which was why so many of their wives chose to look elsewhere for their pleasure. Bea had obviously not been one of those wives, or as a widow, apparently, and now had no idea of her own arousal or her need for physical release to alleviate that discomfort.
This naiveté could all be a ruse, of course, a veneer in keeping with her life as a respectable widow and also a way of hiding her role as a spy for Napoleon.
Only time would tell whether or not that was the case.
“Come in here.” Darius’s hand was gentle as he took hold of Bea’s arm and pulled her into his bedchamber before closing the door behind her. “No, do not speak.” He placed his fingertips against her lips, immediately aware of how soft they were, increasing his need to taste them. He held her dark gaze with his as he cradled each side of her face before lowering his head to claim her lips with his own.
Bea’s slightly parted lips were deliciously soft and welcoming as Darius sipped and tasted them, leading him to question whether those lips between her thighs would be equally as soft and welcoming to his attentions.
Darius intended to take his fill of these lips before venturing lower.
Bea had ceased breathing the moment Darius’s lips touched her own. Charles had not liked to kiss. In fact, he had considered it unsanitary, preferring to kiss her on the cheek, if at all. Consequently, despite having been a wife and now a widow, this was the first time Bea had truly been kissed.
It was totally exhilarating and caused her heart to pound and the blood to race through her veins, making her feel slightly light-headed and giddy with pleasure.
She moved her hands up to grasp Darius’s wrists, instantly able to feel the strength he was holding in check as his lips moved to her cheek and then explored her earlobe and the length of her throat.
Bea was filled with a physical longing to touch the glimpses of bared chest she had seen earlier. To know if the silky dark hair growing there was really as soft as it appeared. To feel if Darius’s arms and chest were as hard and muscular as they seemed.
For the first time in her life, Bea knew a burning curiosity to discover exactly how a man’s body looked and felt.
Why shouldn’t she, as a widow, give in to that temptation?
No one need ever know. Sh
e had entered through the adjoining door, and there was no one here but Darius and herself. She very much doubted he was a man who ever felt the need to boast of his conquests, and she certainly had no intention of ever telling anyone what transpired between the two of them. It was not as if she was a virgin or need worry about her future marriage prospects. Landbourne might hint all he chose, but she had no intention of ever remarrying and giving up the freedom of will that had been given to her by widowhood.
Which meant she was perfectly at liberty to take a lover.
To take Wolferton as her lover, if she so wished.
Dare she do that?
Could she allow herself this one opportunity to explore and learn all the dips and hollows that made up a man’s body? That made up Darius Strong’s lean and muscular body? To allow him to explore and learn her own body in the same—
That thought brought her quickly to her senses, and she turned her head away to evade Wolferton’s second kiss. What was she thinking? Wolferton could not be allowed to explore her body, because if he did—
Oh dear God…
She had been so totally lost to the pleasure of Wolferton’s lips, she had not realized one of his hands was now beneath the skirt of her gown. But she was totally aware now as his fingers breached the slit in her drawers and commenced stroking along the swollen lips at the entrance of her channel, gathering up her lubrication on his fingers before moving higher.
She let out a keening cry, clinging to the support of Darius’s muscular shoulders as those fingers stroked the swollen flesh nestled among her curls, sending hot waves of unfamiliar and glorious pleasure coursing through her body. Only seconds and several strokes later, she was consumed in a burst of ecstasy so intense, her knees actually buckled beneath her.
Darius was astounded by the speed of Bea’s arousal and release, and the response that followed. He had not expected to have to catch her as she almost fainted away with pleasure.
But he could not doubt her climax was genuine. He had felt the pulsing of her clit against his fingers and the gush of her release.
He bent slightly to place an arm beneath her knees and about her shoulders before lifting Bea in his arms, carrying her over to place her on top of the bedclothes before lying down beside her. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, those delicious lips slightly moist and parted, and her breasts quickly rising and falling.
He could not resist pushing down the bodice of her gown to bare her breasts to the stroke of his hand. As he had surmised, they fit perfectly in his palms, the nipples engorged and the same tempting rose color as her lips. “More?” He breathed hotly against one of those pouting nipples.
“More.” Her eyes remained closed, lashes long and thick against her flushed cheeks, her hands tightly gripping the bedcover beneath her. Her back arched off the bed the moment Darius took one of her nipples into the heat of his mouth. “Do not stop,” she pleaded, her hands lifting and her fingers becoming entangled in his hair, holding Darius close against her as he suckled and then laved her nipple with the moist rasp of his tongue.
Her thighs felt silky soft beneath his hand as he caressed his way back to the slit in her drawers. His intention was to give Bea as many orgasms as she could take until she begged him to stop. When or if she begged him to stop, which he hoped would not be for some time yet.
His hand entered that slit in her drawers as he turned the attention of his mouth to her other nipple. He was ready when she arched off the bed this time, his hand moving to cup and squeeze the cheek of her bottom, causing her to squirm and writhe against him as he allowed his fingers to explore the crease between her cheeks already dampened by the juices dripping from her pussy.
“What—”
Darius’s mouth claimed hers, her surprised reaction telling him he needed to save that particular intimacy until she knew him better. Was more familiar with him and the ways he wished to make love to her.
His fingers stroked along the heat and wetness on her vulva, spreading that moisture over and around those swollen lips and up to her clit. He groaned his own pleasure as that knot of nerves engorged and pulsed in response to the stroke and press of his thumb. He pushed a finger slowly inside the heat of her pussy to the first knuckle, anticipating the pulsing heat of her clit precipitating her second orgasm. He stroked and swirled that pulsing nubbin, able to prolong her release when he curled his finger upward to touch the corresponding knot of nerves inside her.
Darius could see Bea was boneless with that euphoria as he moved down the bed to kneel between her parted legs and throw up the skirt of her gown so that he might remove her drawers completely.
“Darius…?”
He glanced up to see her lids were now open and her eyes were wide with apprehension. “You will let me, Bea,” he instructed softly.
Her gaze moved down to where the bulge of his aroused cock was clearly pressing against his pantaloons. She moistened her lips. “We cannot—”
“We will not make love fully tonight, if that is your wish,” he assured her. “Tonight, we will concentrate on your pleasure.” His eyes felt fevered as he looked down at her pussy.
The blonde curls did not hide the fact the lips were swollen and suffused with rosy color, the glossy folds glistening and so very wet. Darius’s mouth filled with moisture at the mere thought of tasting those hot and spicy juices. The hood above was pushed back completely, revealing her swollen and engorged clit.
“What are you doing?”
He lifted his head to look up at her from between her thighs, groaning his disappointment as he realized the delay in his mouth taking possession of those silky folds had given more time for Bea’s euphoria to fade and she was now completely back to her senses.
The paling of her cheeks and the hurried pushing down of the skirt of her gown to cover her nakedness also told him this encounter was over.
Chapter 4
Bea was fully dressed, with her hair neatly confined at her crown, and seated in the chair by her bedroom window shortly after seven o’clock the following morning.
Ten o’clock found her still sitting there, reluctant to leave her bedchamber. She had not joined her guests for breakfast, but instead, Jane had brought tea and toast to her here two hours ago. But as the hostess, Bea knew she must make an appearance downstairs, and soon, if only so that she joined her guests in time to attend church with those that wished to go.
Church.
God knows it had been difficult enough for her to attend church after Charles died, but she had eventually made her peace with that establishment. But how could she possibly sit in church today and pretend she was still the same respectable widow, occupying herself with charitable deeds, she had been before Darius’s arrival yesterday?
It was as alarming as the thought of facing Darius again after the intimacies she had allowed.
Would he be one of the guests who went to church? Somehow, Bea doubted it. There was a lawlessness to the duke that could not be contained even by the clergy’s threats of damnation for the sinners.
Perhaps that really was the meaning behind the name The Sinners for him and his friends after all.
Bea was totally bewildered by her own behavior the previous night, and her responses to the liberties Darius had taken with her. Liberties she knew she had encouraged him to take.
She had not known… Had not guessed… Charles might have been her husband for five years, but he had never attempted to touch her with the same intimacy as Darius had. Perhaps if he had, their marriage would not have deteriorated to the barely polite tolerance she had suffered for the latter part of that marriage, and those often painful couplings he insisted on every week in his effort to produce an heir.
Last night’s pleasure had been so unexpected and truly wonderful.
Bea glanced across at the door adjoining her room to Darius’s. The same door she had unlocked and opened, and willingly gone through the night before. Had she ever really meant to chastise Darius, or had it been her inten
tion all along to satisfy the burning curiosity inside her to know if he could give her the pleasure he had said he could?
If that was so, then last night had only whetted her appetite for more.
Her nipples had still been hard and aching when she woke this morning, and between her thighs swollen and damp with her own juices. Even now, if she pressed her legs tightly together, she could still feel the pulse of pleasure of that newly awakened nubbin between her thighs.
Bea longed to feel that pleasure again.
And again.
She wanted… Oh God, she wanted what Darius had promised. More.
She longed to feel Darius’s lips and tongue on her breasts again as his fingers stroked the wet folds and that hard nubbin between her thighs, taking her to a plateau of pleasure she had not known existed. More than that, Bea wanted to feel his lips on those swollen lips between her thighs, as he had made it plain was his intention before she came back to a sense of what she was doing.
Once aware, she had hastily straightened her clothes before all but running from his bedchamber and into her own. Locking the door behind her and suffering the hours of sleeplessness which followed could not erase the memory of what they had done together.
Did other women experience the same pleasure in surrendering to a man’s passionate demands?
Bea knew several of her close friends had happy marriages. Perhaps because they shared those same, and possibly even deeper intimacies, with their husbands… Bea recalled how shocked she had been when Darius touched her bottom. Did her friends allow such intimacies? Bea had a feeling that was indeed the case.
That knowledge rendered her own marriage even more soulless and without affection than she had already thought it to be.
Not that she believed for a moment Darius felt anything more for her than a desire to possess and claim. Until he tired of both those things, which, taking into account her complete lack of sexual skills, would not take very long.
But oh, how glorious would that time in between be!
Except Bea knew she did not deserve to know such happiness. It would also be difficult for her to continue with her mundane life after enjoying such excitement and pleasure. Although it might not seem like much of a life to other people—to Darius—to Bea, it was one that had been forged through great unhappiness and sacrifice on her part.
Wicked Torment (Regency Sinners 1) Page 4
