“Why is it all right for women to do it and not men?”
“There are some men who do indulge themselves that way, but not me. Not ever.”
“I’m glad,” Carmalina replied.
“You are?”
“I cannot picture you doing any of the things in this portrait.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It would be indecent.”
“Not between a man and a woman who are committed to one another, who are passionate for one another.”
“You would expect me to do this?” She pointed to the woman bent over while a man stood behind her.
“If it’s where the moment takes us.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You have never done it like this before?”
His question and bluntness startled her. She could not admit to her humiliating lack of experience. “Not quite like that.”
“He must have been made of stern stuff,” Justin commented.
Carmalina would have taken offense but she didn’t want to invite questions of her dead husband. She also didn’t want to lie. “He was,” she replied with a firm nod.
“What about like this?” He moved her along to the next picture, his hand on her hip burning through her dress. This picture was smaller than the first but even more intimate. There were only two people in this one, a man and a woman. The woman wore a gown of green silk and the man still wore his shirt and trousers but they were joined together despite their trappings. The woman’s skirt bunched around her waist, her white thighs braced on either side of the man’s hips while he lay against her, his trousers pulled down a little. They were on a daybed in front of a roaring fire whilst outside the window stars twinkled in a night sky.
In a moment of clarity and fierce wanting, Carmalina imagined herself and Justin in the painting. Would she wear the same look of ecstasy on her upturned face?
By the time she recalled he’d asked her something, she’d forgotten the question.
“Is this what you came to show me?” She had to change the direction of their conversation, to dispel the tension that thrummed between them. He stood at her back, so close she could feel his warmth.
“Hardly,” he muttered harshly.
Stunned, she turned to stare into his eyes, to see what had suddenly upset him but what she found there wasn’t anger, although this emotion scared her more. Once again his blue eyes smoldered. He didn’t smile but his intent was clear as he lowered his head to hers.
“Do you not know what you do to me, bella?”
His words caressed her soul, the yearning in his tone, the wanting in his eyes. He rubbed his hips against hers so she could feel his erection against the fabric of her gown. She gasped and involuntarily swayed into his body, her breasts crushed against his chest.
“God, how I want you,” he groaned before taking her mouth, demanding everything she had.
She raised her hands, speared her fingers into his hair in an effort to pull him closer. Fire consumed her as his tongue thrust into her mouth over and over, drawing one piece of her soul at a time into his. When finally he released her so they could both take a panting breath, she whispered the words she knew he wanted to hear. Later she would blame it on the devil still perched upon her shoulder.
“Take me,” she murmured against his collarbone.
* * *
Justin’s cock jumped, more from her hot breath against the opening of his shirt than her words. He could not and he would not take her here but he had to taste—he had to—otherwise he was going to suffer an apoplexy. The first time he sank into her sweetness there would be no chance of interruptions, no mumbling of voices from the floor below and no stench of cigar smoke tainting the air.
He’d never had a woman in his own bed. That was where he would have her writhing beneath him. That was where he wanted to make memories with his songbird. Hers would be the only form he imagined between his sheets when he was alone, with only his reminiscences to warm him.
However, not wanting to waste the opportunity to be alone with her, to get that one step closer, to earn a measure of trust without breaking their agreement, he took her hand and dragged her into the closest room at his back.
He knew her first impression of this room would be that of a library, but it was no ordinary library. Each book that rested on the oak shelves had been carefully selected and placed there with purpose. Each one was naughtier than the last and contained more exposed bodies than any other room in London, maybe the world.
This was a den of sin.
The purpose was to meet with one’s lover, choose a book from the thousands of volumes, open to a random page and perform the sexual position displayed there. It was the most popular room for the members of the ton to meet for secret assignations.
In front of the roaring fire lay a bearskin rug flanked by two chairs, one positioned next to a small table. On the table a warmed jug of apple cider rested. Justin went straight for the fortification. The cider was strong; they would both need it.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, pouring the cloudy liquid into two glasses before she could answer with a no.
Now that they were in the room, the only light coming from the fire, it was all so intimate and she looked a little frightened.
“I will not hurt you,” he assured her.
“I know that,” she replied, coming to stand directly in front of him, her eyes alight with what he thought was fear but closer up, revealed curiosity and desire.
“What do you want, Carmalina?” They both knew his question had nothing to do with the cider, and as he placed the decanter back on the table, he wondered if she would tell him.
“I’m not really sure,” she admitted with a frustrated sigh.
He ran the tip of his finger along the top of her gown, over the swell of hot flesh and then dipped his finger beneath the fabric. He caught the ribbon closure in the valley’s dip and pulled it until it loosened.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” He was perfectly prepared for her to ask for what she wanted but more than willing to guide her in his chosen direction.
At her hesitant nod, her eyelids fluttered closed, as if she waited for the moment for his mouth to brush against hers. Instead, he loosened her gown a little more and pulled the lace and silk down until her breasts overflowed into his waiting hands. Before she could utter a word or even gasp at what he did, he closed his teeth down gently on one nipple while he wrapped an arm around her back to halt her imminent retreat.
He was astounded when she made a mewling sound in her throat and leaned into him so he could suckle more of the rosy tip. When he made to move his tongue to her other breast, her fingers tightened in his hair to keep him where he was. He would have chuckled had he not been held in thrall by her taste, the feel of her silky smooth skin in his hands. Heaven awaited and he wanted more.
He let her body sag in his arms until she lay back on the bearskin. The fire’s glow kissed her olive complexion and the sight made his mouth water. She lay perfectly still and a dreamy expression glazed her eyes as he unhurriedly unfastened each tiny button down the front of her gown. At last she was fully exposed to his sight and he reveled in the way she felt beneath his fingers, the way she arched when he squeezed, the way she all but purred when he stroked. He bent his head to feast again. While he licked and laved, squeezed and rolled, his other hand travelled down to the raised hem of her skirt. At first she tensed; her knees came together and she tried to sit up.
Justin raised his head, but did not remove his hand from her shin. “I won’t hurt you, sweeting.”
“I-I know, it’s just…well…” She stuttered and stammered but no more objection passed her sweet lips.
“We will not go any further than you want and if you tell me to stop, I will.”
Carmalina just stared at him, one moment a confident woman with a woman’s passions, the next, a lamb with the fear of a girl.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
&nb
sp; “Yes,” she whispered.
“Then trust me to bring you the pleasure your body cries for.”
“Yes,” she whispered again and lay back down, a smile playing at her lips.
He really just wanted to strip the gown from her delectable body and lick every inch of her but they didn’t have the time and it was a task he wanted to carry out slowly. Instead, he coaxed her to release the lock on her knees and let her legs fall where they would. The sensation of her sheer stockings made his fingers tingle as he inched closer. Deciding to abandon her breasts, he lifted her skirts higher and took up position between her thighs.
He smoothed both hands over her thighs, up and down, over the tops of her stockings but didn’t free them or take them off. He liked the look of the white lace against her dark skin. Already he could smell her desire and he desperately craved a taste of her honeyed centre.
Again and again his thumbs edged closer to her sex still hidden beneath the hem of her skirt. Closer and closer he got until his fingers were near enough to feel the crisp hair, the dewy moisture. How he longed to free himself, bring them both the pleasure that would see them joined as one, crying to the heavens as climax after climax rained down upon them. But he couldn’t and he wouldn’t. He would have to settle for only one momentous climax.
Hers.
Chapter Eleven
Once again Carmalina couldn’t sort her jumbled thoughts. Justin did not stop his assault on her senses even for one second and she began to feel light-headed as stars danced before her eyes. What he did to her was wicked. She liked it. A lot.
Her back arched off the floor and she shifted a little lower towards him just as his hand brushed her most secret place. She closed her eyes as her skin flushed, embarrassed by her own wanton behavior but not enough to beg him to stop. The only begging to pass her lips would be for more.
She groaned as he traced the creases where her thighs met her torso with his smooth thumbs, skirting around that which she wanted him to touch the most. It didn’t matter how much she writhed and wriggled; he still didn’t touch her. When she opened her eyes, he looked so smug, the lion sensing victory but who toyed with his victim before the kill.
“What do you want, Carmalina?”
“I don’t know,” she groaned, the pressure within building and building.
“Yes you do. Tell me what you want,” he demanded, brushing the back of his hand over her curls in a touch so light, so gentle, so frustratingly close.
“I want you to touch me,” she whispered.
“Touch you?”
“I want you to touch me…there.”
“Here?” he asked as he stroked his fingers through her wet folds towards the sensitive nub only to pull away before he made contact.
She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut before she shamed herself by pleading.
“Like this?” His breath on the inside of her thigh startled her. All thought fled when he finally parted her curls and stroked her again and again until she pushed into him for more.
When Carmalina opened her eyes to look into his, she realized he didn’t touch her with his hands. He stroked her with his tongue.
“Oh…you…you can’t…” She had no air in her lungs to protest, the pleasure was so intense.
His muffled voice tickled but he did not stop.
She cried out again when he added his hands, gently probing her entrance, sliding one long finger into her heat as he licked and suckled.
He withdrew his hand only to slide slowly back, the friction almost unbearable, in and out, in and out, until the whimper she tried to hold in slipped through her crumbling guard. All at once the wave of desire she rode crested higher and higher, and then crashed over her and heaven exploded in a shower of stars and light.
Sated, she sagged back down to the rug and her knees flopped bonelessly to the sides, unaware that her position afforded him a view he would never get enough of.
Justin licked his lips. He wouldn’t waste one single drop of her essence; she tasted of the best brew and he felt a little drunk from it. Gone was the lamb, the timid songbird. In front of him was a woman pleasured to silence.
The way she’d responded, grinding her sex against his tongue and teeth as he bit and licked, made him proud that he’d brought her to speechless satiation. He didn’t care that his cock felt as though it would snap in two. His own passions would be taken care of eventually. Sooner rather than later, if he had anything to say about it.
“I think we should be getting home.” With one last look of longing at the junction of her thighs, he pulled her skirts back down and tried to right her twisted bodice. At any moment someone could have walked in; there were no locks on his doors. Most who visited Lucifer’s knew if the door was closed the room was occupied but that wouldn’t stop the most curious of lechers.
Her eyes eventually fluttered opened, and she grinned. “Can’t we stay a little longer?”
“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one evening, bella.”
Her skin flushed in the firelight, her breasts still on show. She sat up and tried to fix her dress but the job was too hard for only one set of hands.
“Let me help you,” he offered, pulling her hands to stand her up. He twisted her dress back to where it should have been and regretfully pulled the bodice back up over her flesh. He thought she watched his hands, her eyes downcast, until she reached out and rubbed her hand over the front of his breeches.
Justin flinched away from the not-so-innocent touch.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You shouldn’t start something we cannot finish.” His smile softened his words but confusion still lit her chocolate eyes.
“You don’t want me to touch you?”
“I want it more than I want to breathe, but not here.”
“You touched me.”
“That was different. We have an agreement and if you touch me, I won’t be able to stop myself.” It took a lot for the admission but she had to hear it.
“What if I said I didn’t care for the agreement anymore?”
“I would ask if you’re foxed.”
“A woman can change her mind.”
“I have a feeling you aren’t that kind of woman.”
Her response was a humph and a sigh. He knew it. She’d been caught up in the moment. Ordinarily he would take full advantage but he knew in the morning, when she had a clear head, she would blame him and likely regret her actions.
He could not fall for that. He had other plans. “I will make a bargain with you.”
“Another one?” she asked.
He smiled. She was adorable. “If you still want to touch me when the sun comes up in the morning, you can come to my bed and I will welcome you with open arms.”
“You will?”
“Carmalina, any time I open my eyes and see you standing in my bedroom, I will welcome you.”
Her skin flushed and she turned her back to him so she could finish doing up her dress. He’d caught the defiance in her eyes before she’d looked away, seen the determination there. It seemed a little pleasure may have awoken her desires more than he could have hoped.
* * *
Carmalina woke with the devil’s own thumping headache and a foggy recollection of the night before. Her cheeks warmed at memories of lying before the fire in the library at Lucifer’s. The pictures hanging along the gallery had piqued her interest more than they should have and when he’d kissed her and touched her, she’d been transported to a different reality, one where there were no consequences or fears, only heated desire, Justin and her.
I will welcome you with open arms.
His promise called to her on an echo from the demon that had coerced her last night and she burrowed deeper beneath the quilt. What to do now? In the cold light of the morning, she could not walk to his bedroom and climb into his bed. She may have behaved wantonly last evening, shameless in her responses, but in the morning, the problems
with becoming intimate with him too soon became abundantly clear. They had an agreement and if either of them broke the terms at this early stage, who was to say he would fulfill his part at the end of their time together?
No. She had to ensure her future and that meant their bargain had to remain intact even though it would pain her. She’d finally learned what it meant to be loved by a man and she needed more, but the path she trod had pitfalls.
It occurred to her that she could leave before their relationship went any further. She could sell some of the gowns he’d purchased for her. It would probably be enough to get her across the country. But then what? At this stage, even if the hounds of hell snapped at her heels, she would not leave the safety of his home, his arms. But neither would she throw herself at him.
Carmalina needed a walk to clear her mind, so she rose and dressed quickly, washed her face and drew her hair back with a simple ribbon. Her dress wasn’t special but where she was headed, her appearance would hardly be noticed. Sitting on the end of her bed, she drew on the new pair of riding boots. They weren’t the most comfortable shoes to run around in but at least her feet would not be cold and wet.
Smiling, she recalled why she had earned an audience for her bath in the first place. She was almost tempted to repeat the experience but provoking the lion would not end well.
Carmalina doused her candle and opened the door a crack to make sure no one lingered in the hall. There wasn’t a soul so she slipped out, tripped lightly down the stairs and out the front door before she could be seen. She didn’t mind being devious. Sometimes she just had to be alone.
When she arrived at the park, she feared the children wouldn’t have come out to play. It was bitterly cold and the wind felt as though it carried ice despite winter still being months away. Carmalina looked to the sky as thunder rolled through dark clouds heavy with rain. She didn’t need to return to the house just yet. She would have time before the rain arrived.
“Hello,” a little voice called excitedly.
“Claire, how are you today?” Carmalina curtsied to the child and received a giggle in return.
“Very well, thank you,” Claire replied, imitating her curtsy. They both giggled when she nearly lost her balance. Carmalina just caught her arm before she would have fallen.
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