The Rogue of Fifth Avenue

by Joanna Shupe

  He swallowed and tried to remember what they were talking about. “I don’t wish to hurt you.”

  “If you do something I don’t care for, I will tell you.”

  Holding his gaze, she plucked the stud from his collar, tossed it on the ground and slid the collar free from his shirt. His breathing hitched as she started undoing his shirt buttons. Every brush of her fingers against his chest and stomach was pure torture. It seemed the ability to move had deserted him. He could do nothing but breathe and struggle to maintain his control while she attempted to shred it.

  She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “You’re enjoying this,” he said.

  “You’re quiet for once. How could I possibly complain?”

  He huffed a laugh—and couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually laughed while intimate with a woman. He charmed them, yes. Complimented and pleasured them. But no one taunted and teased him like Mamie. Or drove him to the brink of insanity, as she was currently doing.

  She pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and pulled the tails of his shirt out from his trousers. In one quick movement, he whisked it over his head. She wasted no time in unfastening his trousers and shoving them over his hips. He stepped out of them, leaving him in just a thin undergarment that hid nothing from her roving eyes. If she looked below his waist she’d hardly be able to miss the erection tenting the cotton.

  “My goodness,” she whispered as she skimmed her fingers over his shoulders and biceps.

  “Do I pass muster?”

  “As if you were worried you might not.”

  He had been, actually. Bedding an inexperienced woman was new for him. Had she seen an unclothed man before? Would he scare her? So when she reached for the buttons on his undergarment, he stilled her hands. “I believe it’s my turn.”

  Lifting her hands in surrender, she took a step back and waited. Undressing women was a lesson in patience. So many hooks and tiny buttons, tapes and laces to protect all that lusciousness from prurient gazes. Normally, he conducted this process in a logical, straightforward manner, his excitement in check as he went along smoothly.

  As he started on Mamie’s clothing, however, his fingers felt clumsy. Awkward and anxious. The idea of having her naked in mere moments made him stupid. Three buttons broke in his haste, and she had to help with the skirts because he fumbled with the ties. His heart was pounding as each layer landed on the floor, more of her bare skin revealed. Each beat echoed along his shaft, his cock hard and ready.

  Keep it together. You must make this experience perfect for her.

  “Damn,” he said when the strings of her corset twisted and knotted in his haste.

  “Oh, dear. Do we need scissors?”

  He dropped to his knees to better see the problem. “I hope not. I cannot remember ever being this inept.”

  “A word of advice,” she said over her shoulder. “Never remind the woman in your bedroom of how many others have come before her.”

  The string pulled free and he set to work loosening the laces. When he worked enough slack into the garment, he moved to face her. “No other woman has ever flustered me like this. You’ve turned me upside down—and if I don’t kiss you soon, I may—”

  She launched herself at him, this glorious, adventurous woman, and their mouths crashed together. It was messy, but he was too desperate to care about finesse. Why had he ever considered her audacity a defect?

  He unclasped her corset as quickly as he could manage and dropped the heavy thing to the floor. Soft, full breasts spilled onto his chest, and their hips met as she pressed closer. He groaned, overloaded with sensation. Tonight was definitely going to kill him before it was all through.

  And that’s when she took his hand and led him to the bed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Her poor lawyer.

  He was rattled—and nothing pleased Mamie more. His reaction made her feel special, not just another face in a long string of women who’d visited his bed. She sensed he was holding back, taking this slow for her sake. The consideration, while thoughtful, was unnecessary. She was absolutely burning alive, desperate for him. Desperate for more of the mind-numbing bliss he’d given her the other night.

  It was time.

  Without breaking their kiss, she led him toward the massive walnut poster bed in the middle of his room. She still wore her chemise, drawers, stockings and shoes, and Frank was clad in just his undergarment. Lord, the sight of him nearly unclothed should be photographed, painted and sculpted by artists everywhere. The cloth clung to every ridge, muscle and curve, showing off his hard angles and long limbs, with bulges in all the very best places.

  In fact, divesting him of the rest of his clothes was her top priority.

  She wasn’t nervous about the act itself. Not with Frank anyway. She trusted him, knew they shared something extraordinary—a spark she certainly lacked with Chauncey or any other man. Furthermore, based on what happened on the billiards table, she was certain he would take great care with her, ensuring she enjoyed every minute.

  When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, he lifted her like she weighed nothing and placed her on the edge. His hands moved swiftly, removing her shoes and stockings, then sliding the chemise up and over her head. He kissed her again, angling them down until she was flat on the bed, his body partially atop hers. Before she could complain about his remaining clothing, he cupped her bare breast with his hand, gently testing and shaping the flesh. He tore his mouth away from hers. “I’ve been dreaming about these beauties,” he murmured before bending to take her nipple into his mouth.

  She gasped. The pressure was unlike anything she’d experienced, her nerves stretched like electric wires, shocks of pleasure traveling to every part of her. By the time he switched to the other breast, she was shaking, restless, her hips moving impatiently. “Frank,” she breathed. “Please.”

  He licked the underside of her breast, scraping his teeth across the tender flesh, as his fingers found the tie of her drawers. She helped him push the garment over her hips then kicked the cloth onto the floor. Before the silk had even dropped he was turning her more fully on the bed and moving between her knees. Then his head dipped and his mouth was there, licking and sucking the very heart of her in an erotic rhythm that sent her soaring. Her back bowed off the mattress, a moan escaping her throat as she closed her eyes and let her thighs widen in surrender.

  A large hand closed around her wrist and lifted her palm to her breast. Yes, that felt even better. Without thinking, she plumped and molded the heavy mound, rolling the nipple between her fingers. Touching herself alone had never yielded results quite like this, where her limbs trembled and her body raced toward the pinnacle at breakneck speed.

  The tip of his finger played at her entrance, dipped inside. She rose up to meet the pressure, craving it, demanding it, and he dove in, filling her. His lips wrapped around the bud at the top of her sex and drew it into his hot mouth, suckling. Then he added another broad finger, stretching her tissues, and the orgasm rushed up like lightning through her limbs, an electric charge pulsing in bursts to steal her reasoning.

  When she regained herself, Frank was still between her legs, moaning as he lapped up the additional moisture and whispering praise about her beauty, her taste and the way she’d responded to him. She relaxed, floated on a cloud of bliss and listened to the deep rumbling of his voice. He gentled with his attentions but didn’t pull away.

  After a moment he easily slipped two fingers back inside her. She twitched, her body more sensitive, but his clever digits curled and pressed a secret spot that caused her hips to buck. “Oh, God,” she said, startled.

  His gaze, bright and hot, watched her intently as he repeated the ministrations deep inside her. Desire exploded in her lower body once more, stronger, faster—and her lids fell closed. He then began sliding fingers in and out of her channel, a sweet friction that left her aching every time he withdrew. A third finger joined as his tongue swirled. She could feel her mu
scles tightening, the fever expanding, as his clever mouth and hands worked.

  When she was mindless and panting, he stood at the side of the bed. His cheeks were tinged with red, a flush on his neck. Wild blue eyes raked her nakedness as his fingers hurried to undo the buttons of his undergarment. He pulled his arms free then shoved the garment to his waist and down his legs. When he straightened she had a brief glimpse of a thick shaft in a nest of black hair before he crawled toward her. Bare skin met hers for the first time, and the crisp satiny hair of his chest and legs teased her everywhere.

  He braced himself on his arms above her with most of his weight supported by the bed. The heavy length of him rested on her thigh. “We may stop if you don’t wish to continue.”

  “I don’t wish to stop.”

  “You know what this will mean, don’t you?”

  Her brows knitted. “No, what will it mean?”

  Reaching for her hip, he rolled onto his back and pulled her atop him, her legs straddling his hips. His erection, hard and insistent, was directly under her core. He cupped her face and stared up at her, as serious as she’d ever seen him. “It means you’re mine.”

  He took her mouth and kissed her, robbing her of the ability to respond. His hands moved over her, touching as much as he could reach. Stroking. Petting. For a man who’d just ripped off the remainder of his clothing he seemed to have infinite patience, content to drive her wild.

  She, on the other hand, was burning alive. She knew about the mechanics of intimacy with a man—Florence did own a set of erotic playing cards, after all—but she hadn’t expected to feel this insane craving and blind desperation for another person. How necessary his touch felt. Her body had a mind of its own, seeking fulfillment, and she rocked her hips over his shaft.

  He bucked underneath her. “Christ, Mamie. I need to be inside you. Take me in, for God’s sake. Please.”

  Oh. Now she understood. Was this . . . with her on top?

  “Yes, my lovely girl. Just like this. It’s supposed to be easier for you this way.”

  Never mind how he’d so easily understood what she’d been wondering. That was a thought for another time. Reaching between them, she gripped his shaft firmly—and he hissed through clenched teeth. She dropped her hand and started to retreat.

  His fingers clamped onto her hips. “No, Mamie. You’re perfect. It’s perfect. Make it more perfect, please.”

  She tried again. This time he watched, head bent to see her lift him and rise up on her knees. “That’s it,” he said. “Put the head inside then drop down a bit at a time, whatever you can—”

  His jaw clamped shut, words bitten off, because she’d taken his advice and started working him inside her channel. The smooth crown slipped in, and from there it was a matter of breathing and adjusting every few seconds. There was no pain, merely pressure, and she suspected his fingers had done much to prepare the way. Frank remained still, a light sheen of perspiration coating his skin, his glorious chest rising and falling, as she controlled the pace.

  Soon he was fully seated and they both gasped. He felt huge and hard, taking up all the available space in her body. It was almost too much, her walls stretched around him, gripping his shaft. Then suddenly it wasn’t enough. She squirmed slightly, unsure what to do but ready for more.

  His big palms guided her hips, rocking her. Soon she caught the rhythm and reveled in the way he watched her, hooded lids shielding his hot gaze. Any awkwardness over the position or her bouncing breasts disappeared. They moved together as one, both reaching and straining, grasping at each other, nails biting. Each stroke caressed the swollen nub he’d loved with his mouth earlier and she only wanted more, more, more . . .

  “God, yes. Faster.” He levered up to take the stiff tip of her breast into his mouth, sucking hard.

  White sparkly fire washed over her and the pleasure crested. Her muscles squeezed and pulsed around him and he took over as her rhythm faltered. His hips churned through her orgasm, then he stiffened, growling deep in his throat. Dimly, she felt his shaft thicken as he pumped inside her.

  She collapsed on his chest and tried to catch her breath. Good heavens, that was . . . unexpected. For her first time, she’d expected messy, awkward and painful—and tonight hadn’t been any of that. It had been sweet and passionate. Energizing and exhausting. All because of this maddening, charming and beautiful man.

  He was still hard inside her, his hands rubbing her spine in long sweeps. A fire burned low in the grate and gave the room a soft orange glow that matched Mamie’s mood. Warmth settled into her bones and she closed her eyes, content to stay here all night.

  “I meant what I said earlier,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re mine, now.”

  She smiled and pressed her lips to his sternum. “For the next few weeks anyway.”

  He shifted until they were lying on their sides. “No, my little stubborn rose. I mean mine, as in forever mine.”

  She blinked at him, so adorable in her confusion. But after what occurred here tonight, how could she doubt him?

  No way was he giving her up. Not now, not after he’d been her first—and only—lover. He’d just come inside her, for God’s sake. She might have conceived a child tonight.

  And why did you not withdraw, as is your habit? Are you trying to force her hand?

  No, he wouldn’t do that to her. To be honest, he hadn’t been able to help himself. The orgasm had taken him by surprise, rushed at him so furiously he hadn’t been able to pull out in time. That had never happened before, not once. After watching his father’s philandering ways as a boy, he’d always been careful not to sire any children. He’d failed tonight with Mamie, but would take more care in the future.

  Besides, he meant to marry her.

  The idea had settled in and taken root the second she’d arrived tonight. He wouldn’t give her up. A lifetime to repeat tonight’s activities with her? Fuck, yes. Having Mamie would be worth any price to his career or social status.

  Not that he would give up either of those things easily. Duncan Greene might try to ruin him, but Frank was tougher than these men. He remembered what it was like to have nothing—and he’d be damned if someone would take it all away from him now.

  Wasn’t he known for finding impossible solutions? This was no different. He’d figure out a way to appease Duncan, keep his past a secret, maintain his position and marry Mamie.

  He would be the luckiest man in the city.

  Her brows dipped. “I don’t understand. Forever?”

  He gave her his most charming smile. “Yes, Mamie. You don’t think I would sleep with you and not marry you, do you?”

  She sat up, one hand trying valiantly to cover both of her ample breasts while locks of disheveled brown hair fell onto her shoulders. “Marry? Me? What has come over you? Have you hit your head?”

  His smile slipped a fraction. “Why so skeptical? Am I not capable of marriage?”

  Her jaw fell open and she scrambled off the bed. Leaning down, she grabbed his shirt and threw it on. The garment was much too large and baggy, but lust instantly spread in his groin once more. Jesus, he’d never seen anything more appealing than the sight of Mamie wearing his clothing, with her nipples visible through the thin material and her bare legs peeking out from under the hem.

  He couldn’t wait to take it off her.

  She put her hands on her hips. “First, you told me you’d never marry, that you didn’t wish to fail at fidelity.”

  He dragged his gaze back to her face. “I’m able to change my mind, you know.”

  “Of course you may, but not with me. You heard my father. He’ll ruin you. He’ll destroy you and refuse to bless our union.”

  “I have money saved, investments. He cannot take it all.”

  “I can’t allow that to happen. I’d never forgive myself—and some day you would resent me for it.”

  “Impossible.” He stretched out on the bed, folded his hands behind his head. “I would never hold an
y of this against you.”

  “This is unbelievable,” she muttered. “You’re not supposed to change your mind.”

  “I thought you would be happy. Now you needn’t marry Chauncey.”

  She covered her mouth, turned her head and fixed her stare at the wall. “Where is this coming from? Because of tonight? If you feel guilty because of my maidenhead, there is really no need. There’s no obligation of marriage between us, especially when you stand to lose everything.”

  Ah, he was beginning to see why she was so rattled by his change in attitude. Rolling to his side, he swung his legs over the mattress and stood. In two steps, he was on her. “My dear.” He cupped her head and gazed into her eyes. “This is not about your maidenhead or any obligation. It is about you and the fact that I cannot let you go. I realized it only tonight, after spending a miserable evening thinking of that damn marriage agreement.”

  “This is insane. You are insane. You should be committed.”

  “I am in my right mind, I swear.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, come back to bed so I may show you how much I adore you in my clothing.”

  “This was a mistake.” She winced, then gestured to her middle. “And I’m leaking. I have to go.” Bending, she began gathering up her clothing.

  “Sorry about that. I got carried away.”

  “Good. I’m relieved to hear you say that. Now we may drop the marriage issue altogether.”

  “No, I’m sorry for spending inside you. I normally withdraw. But I meant what I said about marrying you.”

  “Then I’ll choose to ignore it.”

  He shook his head. She made no sense. Marriage solved everything. “I don’t understand. You no longer need to marry Chauncey and I’ve said your father’s threats don’t concern me. What else could be wrong?”

  Holding her underthings to her chest, she spun to face him, her chin raised. “The reason I don’t wish to marry Chauncey is because I prefer to have a say in my future—not have it dictated to me by the men in my life. Never once have you asked me what I want. You assume I will jump to marry you because you have deigned to choose me. Well, no thank you.”