“Are you wearing drawers?”
He was taking them both towards those open doors.
“Did you touch yourself last night too?”
Thea panicked at the thought of going outside on the terrace alone with this coldly angry man when he must be able to see the answer to his question in her guilty expression.
Because she had not obeyed his instruction and had pleasured herself last night.
Something she was sure Blackmoor was aware of as his mouth thinned in his displeasure.
Julian’s arm tightened about Thea’s waist as he sensed she was about to foil his intention of taking her outside. “You do not want to make a scene,” he warned softly. “Think of the embarrassment to Amelia and George,” he added as he danced them both out the doors onto the candlelit terrace.
“You are the one who will have caused a scandal by bringing me outside alone to the terrace.” She pulled roughly out of his arms to glare at him through the slits of her mask.
“Far better we are out here together than that I bare and spank your backside in front of everyone,” he murmured without heat.
“You would not dare!” she hissed.
Julian chuckled at her vehemence, his anger disappearing as quickly as it had arisen. He could not remember enjoying a woman’s company as much as he did this one. Certainly, laughter had not been a part of his previous liaisons.
Perhaps he was being too strict with her? Expecting too much too soon? After all, he knew from their conversation yesterday that taking a lover was all new to her. They would both need time to…adjust to each other’s needs. Yes, perhaps he was being a trifle harsh, and the spanking could wait for another misdemeanor. Which, taking into account her surprisingly rebellious nature, were sure to be many.
“Did you obey me at least in regard to not wearing drawers?” he prompted huskily.
She eyed him uncertainly, warily, much like one of his skittish mares did when being coaxed into being covered by the stallion. “I…” She moistened her lips. “This silk gown is rather warm, the cut rather low, and so I—so I decided I would forego wearing any undergarments.” Her gaze no longer quite met his.
Julian decided her lack of undergarments proved she had not intended to be completely defiant.
He knew this woman to be passionate and responsive beneath her veneer of respectability. A veritable feast to be savored and explored at his leisure. As he wished her to explore him.
Talking of which…
He clasped one of her gloved hands within his to walk down the steps into the moonlit garden.
Thea had little choice but to accompany the duke when he had such a tight grasp of her hand. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere private.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Punish you, of course.”
He spoke so dispassionately. So dismissively. Almost as if he were discussing the weather instead of—instead of— Of what? What form would his punishment take? Did he intend spanking her, as he had just threatened? Or perhaps he would arouse her and play with her, as he had yesterday, before once again denying her release.
Blackmoor gave her a sideways glance. “I trust I have more…imagination than to repeat myself so soon in our relationship.”
Thea’s cheeks warmed at his having correctly read her thoughts.
She also knew, whatever form this punishment was to take, she should not be looking forward to it quite so much as she was.
Perhaps she had even hoped her defiance might lead to this?
Her anticipation and excitement grew as they continued down the garden towards where she could see a rose arbor, the addition of more lighted candles there obviously an encouragement to the Harringtons’ guests to explore, even seek out this seclusion.
“Blackmoor—”
“Julian,” he invited huskily as he turned to face her once they had stepped into the privacy of the rose arbor.
What had he said to her yesterday? She would call him Blackmoor when they were in company, Julian when in the throes of her release, and Remy when she was begging him to fuck her.
She looked about the seclusion of the arbor, lit by the candles, the air perfumed with the scent of the many roses.
“Remove your mask, if you please.”
Her gaze skittered back to the austereness of Blackmoor’s expression. A coldly handsome face which had no need of a mask when he hid his thoughts and emotions so well without one. “Why?”
He bared his straight white teeth in a hard smile. “Because I asked so nicely?”
He had asked, Thea acknowledged, rather than issuing one of those orders he seemed so fond of barking out and expecting to be obeyed.
One of her hands moved slowly up to the fastening of her mask, pulling and unfastening the bow before allowing the mask to fall into her waiting hand.
She instantly felt naked without the cover that hid it was the respectable Lady Dorothea Fitzroy wearing this revealing red gown.
“Thank you.” Blackmoor gently took the mask from her hand and placed it on the wooden bench behind him before shrugging out of his jacket and laying it at his feet. “Now kneel between my legs and unfasten my pantaloons.” He sat to lean back against the bench seat, legs splayed wide.
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Why?”
He gave a wicked smile. “Oh, I think you know exactly why, Thea. You see, unlike you, I did not pleasure myself last night.” His expression was reproving. “An oversight I am now asking you to rectify.”
He wanted her to… He expected her to…
No, he asked.
What he asked was that she kneel between his legs, unfasten his pantaloons, and… And what? Thea felt sure that it involved his cock and her mouth, but other than that, she had no idea how to do as he asked.
“My groans of pleasure will guide you,” he encouraged softly at her hesitation.
Groans of pleasure? I am to be allowed to see and hear, to be responsible for Blackmoor’s pleasure?
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “What if some of the other guests should venture outside?”
“They will not.”
No, they probably would not, Thea acknowledged ruefully. He was, after all, Julian Remington, the Duke of Blackmoor. A man none in society would dare to challenge. Or spy on.
She no longer hesitated as she dropped slowly onto her knees, his jacket cushioning her from the hard ground beneath. Although she did give a self-conscious squeak as Blackmoor reached out a hand to push the already low bodice of her gown down even farther, allowing her breasts to spill free.
“Looking at them adds to my pleasure,” he assured her gruffly as she raised self-conscious hands to cover herself. “You have such pretty breasts, Thea. Such succulent nipples,” he complimented. “I will very much enjoy playing with them shortly.”
Her cheeks burned as she slowly allowed her hands to drop away from her breasts, her fingers shaking slightly as they moved to unfastening his pantaloons and the excitement rose within her. Indeed, this did not feel like a punishment at all.
“Very good.” Blackmoor watched between his long dark lashes as Thea became transfixed once she had folded his pantaloons back from his body and revealed his bare cock jutting upwards from a thatch of dark curls. “As you can see, I did not feel the need to bother with undergarments this evening either.”
As I can see!
Dear God, were all men’s cocks this magnificent?
Were they all so long and thick when they were aroused? With those thick and throbbing veins running the length of them? A purple head protruding like a mushroom from the top, the slit wet with a viscous fluid that made her mouth water with a need to taste it?
She had never seen Henry’s cock because he had always come to her bed in darkness, never removing his nightshirt or her nightgown either. But she was sure that the member he had thrust inside her on those occasions had been nowhere near as long and thick around as this one. Indeed, she wa
s not sure a cock this size would fit inside her—
“Lick it,” Blackmoor encouraged throatily as one of his hands fisted around his cock and held it up and towards her temptingly. “Lick and taste it as if it were a particularly delicious cream cake you wish to savor and enjoy before taking into your mouth.”
Thea was particularly fond of cream cakes. Most especially those long delicate pastries with cream inside and chocolate on top.
She licked her lips at the thought.
And immediately saw more of that fluid bubbling from the slit at the top of that mushroom head. In response to her having licked her lips?
She licked them again, with the same result.
“Yes, you are responsible for that,” Julian confirmed as Thea looked up at him uncertainly. “Lick your lips again. Slowly,” he encouraged, giving a low groan as she did so and his cock instantly responded. “Now lick my cock in the same way,” he invited softly.
His previous mistresses had all been experienced in the ways of pleasing a man as well as themselves. Deliberately so. Julian wanted the physical release, not emotional closeness.
Thea Fitzroy’s obvious inexperience seemed to arouse him when all the practiced machinations of an experienced courtesan had long since lost their appeal.
It was a puzzle to Julian why this should be so, but for the moment, he was more than willing to enjoy—
Oh dear God!
Thea had not shyly licked the top of his cock as he had expected, nor had she explored or touched his balls, nor curled her fingers about his length. Instead, she had taken his cock fully into the heat of her mouth, and she was now sucking and laving it with her tongue as if it were a particularly edible sweetmeat. Or that delicious cream cake he had suggested.
Sweet lord, what she was doing with her hot little mouth was sinful. Absolutely sinful. Sucking and licking as if she was too impatient to wait for his ejaculation and would simply suction his cum up from his balls.
“Fuck,” Julian groaned, no longer reclining back against the bench seat but leaning forward to place his hands either side of her face to hold her in place as his pleasure raged out of control and he began to thrust into the heat of her mouth in earnest. Deep urgent thrusts that she took to the back of her throat and then deeper still as he lost all sense of control.
Dear God, he was coming…!
The heat of his cum shot the length of his cock with the force of a volcano erupting, the hot lava pouring into her mouth in a never-ending flood that she quickly swallowed down before greedily going back for more.
And, surprisingly, there was more.
He groaned as his cock, not completely softened from his first ejaculation, grew hard as stone a second time beneath Thea’s ministrations and just seconds later, he came a second time.
“Thea, you have to stop.” His voice was hoarse from his low shouts of pleasure, his throat dry for the same reason. He could not— “Oh dear God, do not stop yet. Not yet,” he encouraged with an agonized groan as he began to come again, his release an ecstasy bordering on pain because he had nothing left inside him to release.
Thea looked up at Julian Remington anxiously as he half lay, half sat slouched against the back of the bench, eyes closed, his face pale, the only sound that of the harsh rasp of his breathing. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Something wrong?” He roused himself enough to open his eyes. “I do not think— No, I am incapable of so much as a single thought,” he acknowledged self-derisively, pulling up to a sitting position before leaning forward to take Thea’s hands and assist her in rising to her feet and then sitting down beside him.
She straightened her gown as he refastened his pantaloons, hoping that the rest of her appearance had not fared as badly as her rumpled gown.
“You sucked my cock perfectly.”
“I did?” She eyed him anxiously.
“Oh yes.” He gave a tired laugh as he straightened from collecting his jacket. “I do not think I have ever experienced anything quite like it before.”
Thea’s blush was now one of pleasure. “I pleased you, then?”
“You pleased me so much, you almost gave me a heart seizure,” he acknowledged wryly. “And you say you have never done anything like that before?”
“Never. But I have imagined it often since you mentioned it yesterday,” she admitted ruefully.
Julian thought he had never met anyone quite like Thea Fitzroy before. On the outside, she looked so prim and proper—well, usually. Tonight, in this red silk gown, she appeared more siren than prim—and on the inside, a woman of such sensual longings, she felt no hesitation in putting them into practice when the opportunity presented itself.
In future, Julian intended presenting himself as much as possible. “Come home with me tonight?”
Her eyes widened. “Go with you to Blackmoor House?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Do you know of any other establishment in London that I call home?”
“Well…no. But do you not have a—a discreet house somewhere? A place where you meet with your mistresses?”
“Plural?” His brows rose even higher. “Is that one of your fantasies, Thea? To share me with another woman?”
“Absolutely not.” Thea shuddered at the thought.
Then she stilled, as she realized how deeply the thought of Julian with other women disturbed and distressed her. She did not want to share this man with anyone else. Indeed, the thought of his being with any woman but her, of allowing some other woman the intimacies they had just shared, made her feel positively ill.
Which was not the point of a lover at all.
In her imaginings, a lover was someone who fulfilled sexual needs while leaving the heart unscathed. Someone with whom she might flirt and enjoy fulfilling all her carnal longings for several hours a week, and then forget about while she acted and behaved in society as the oh so proper Lady Dorothea Fitzroy.
If that were so, then she would have been wise not to choose Blackmoor as her first lover. He was far too much of a presence, too demanding, too everything, to ever allow himself to be forgotten. Even for a moment.
Except she had not chosen Blackmoor. He had chosen her. And his personality was such that Thea had been swept along in the tide of his arrogant demands.
“I believe I should tell you that I have absolutely no interest in watching you perform with another woman,” he now rasped harshly.
Thea stood abruptly to glare down at him. “How can you even suggest such a disgusting thing?” She gave another delicate shudder.
“I was merely stating a personal preference—”
“This, the two of us, was a mistake,” she insisted firmly.
Julian stood as he realized she seemed poised for flight. “I strongly disagree.”
“I have allowed you liberties, taken liberties that have led you to believe me no better than the whores you obviously usually associate with—”
“I do not associate with whores!”
“The demimonde, then,” she dismissed impatiently. “No matter what you may have assumed to the contrary, I am neither, and I will not tolerate being treated as such.”
He scowled his displeasure. “I meant no disrespect—”
“Whether you meant to do so or not, that is the result,” she continued determinedly. “I believe it best if we both consider this association as being over.”
Before Julian had the chance to protest, to apologize again for having offended her, Thea had grabbed up her mask and turned on her heel to rush out of the arbor and down the garden path towards the house, as if the devil himself were at her heels.
He being the devil, Julian acknowledged self-disgustedly.
Chapter 5
So.
It seemed that Blackmoor’s visit to Latham House two days ago had not been to the earl at all, but to his young and widowed sister.
Lady Dorothea Fitzroy.
A woman, Shilton had informed Jennifer, in possession of little beauty or womanly cha
rm.
And yet yesterday evening, at the Harringtons’ masked ball, Blackmoor had apparently first danced with the lady before then scandalously disappearing alone with her into the garden for over half an hour.
The couple had returned separately, Lady Dorothea looking flustered and disheveled, Blackmoor less so.
Which did not surprise Jennifer in the slightest; it seemed that nothing succeeded in ruffling or disturbing that arrogant bastard.
Although he had, apparently, looked less than pleased when he left the ball just minutes later, after witnessing Lady Dorothea dancing with another gentleman.
A brief liaison or the start of an affair?
Or something more?
Jennifer knew from personal experience that Blackmoor was incapable of loving any woman.
A liaison or an affair, then.
Either was a chink in Blackmoor’s armor, considering the connection that would soon exist between the two families. She very much doubted the Earl of Latham would approve of Blackmoor bedding his widowed sister.
At last, a weakness she might be able to exploit. Slowly. Pleasurably. As she twisted the knife of revenge in Blackmoor’s cold, dark heart.
Chapter 6
“We have arrived together so that we may all hear the delicious details of last night directly from you!”
Thea had barely managed to hide her dismay when her three closest friends arrived at Latham House just minutes ago. She could not turn them away of course, and instead instructed Cross to show them up to the private parlor.
The delicious details they had come to hear had to be concerning her disappearance into the garden with Blackmoor the previous evening.
The four ladies had become fast friends during their first Season together, and they had remained so ever since, during happy or unhappy marriages. One of them was determined to suffer through neither and, with the help of a legacy left to her by her grandmother, had remained single. A daring and unfashionable decision on Sally’s part, and one which Thea had always secretly admired.
Even so, she knew that none of these ladies wanted to hear how she had played with fire the previous evening and had her fingers well and truly burned.
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