Exactly what had possessed her to behave how she imagined Charlotte might during one of her performances, she couldn’t say. But what a result. Even now, she could still taste his salty sweetness in her mouth, and though she’d been the one kneeling, not once had she thought herself the supplicant. It had been so very heady, touching him, stroking him, teasing him to the point of madness in the guise of drying, then ordering him to come. Never had she felt so powerful, so alluring, so utterly feminine, and yet she hadn’t obeyed a single Brimley teaching.
That was the difficulty, comparing the two realities of this chamber and a lifetime of instruction and rules.
Strong arms slid around her waist, the cool quilted satin of his untied black robe a delicious contrast to his hot skin. “What are you thinking about?”
“Everything and nothing,” she replied with a sigh, leaning back against Grayson’s bare chest. “It is very strange when a hidden truth is suddenly clear.”
He froze. “And what hidden truth might that be?”
“You like me better when I am not what I ought to be.”
A laugh rumbled in his chest, the tension leaving his muscles. “That is half-true. I like you most when you are the fiery, whip-smart angel who charges in to save me from myself, and makes her needs and desires plain.”
Heat sizzled along every nerve ending. “So if I were to, for instance…tell you to do something to me, would you do it?”
Grayson’s lips trailed a path of fire to her ear. “Anything that brought you pleasure, yes.”
“Then undress me.”
His intake of breath was audible, even over the crackle and snap of the fire, and Eliza shivered in excitement. When she lifted her arms, he tugged off her gown with deliberate care and draped it over the low side table. Then he got to work on her stays, loosening the silken cords, every scrape and chuff only increasing her anticipation as the constricting garment gaped a little farther with each tug and pull. Last of all he removed her knee-length chemise, though accidentally tearing it from her body might have been a better description. He now stared in comical dismay at the two jagged halves of whisper-thin linen in his hands.
“I’ll buy you a new one. No, twenty.”
Eliza laughed, sinking onto the long chaise next to the fire. “My, my. The ledgers will never recover. Now, perhaps you should pour me a drink. There was a bottle of champagne on that dinner tray, wasn’t there?”
In record time, Grayson brought over two full glasses of champagne, but as he returned, his toes caught in the braid of the rug and he stumbled, sending an arc of golden, fizzing liquid across her breasts and belly. “Shit. I’m sorry, Eliza, I’ll get a cloth—”
“No,” she said softly. “I think your tongue would do a better job.”
Wordlessly, his hot gaze dancing over her naked, champagne-soaked body, Grayson sank to his knees next to the chaise. He started with her collarbone, collecting the drips before licking down the outer curves of her breasts. His mouth was warm and wet, his tongue a smooth delight on her skin, and yet every so often his teeth grazed her, making her whimper.
Her nipples hardened painfully, begging to be sucked without delay, but he took his time circling the areola with the tips of his fingers. She let him, knowing in a flurry of anticipation that he wouldn’t stop this time, not even if they had an audience of thousands. Knowing he prepared her for an orgasm the likes of which she had never experienced.
When Grayson’s tongue lashed her nipple, she squirmed with desire. Finally his hard lips engulfed the taut peak and drew firmly, over and over, sending fierce jolts of pleasure to her liquid, throbbing core.
“More?” he whispered. “I could suck your nipples for hours, you know.”
Eliza inhaled unsteadily. “It feels so good, but I need your mouth between my legs. I want…I want you to lick my pussy.”
Shock widened his eyes at the word he often used but she never had. Then he smiled, a smile so tender and wicked, she nearly came on the spot when his big, strong hands carefully spread her thighs wide and he lowered his head.
His thumbs parted the thatch of auburn curls guarding her mound, and for a brief moment, his breath was a gentle tease against her soaked flesh. Then his tongue drove in, strong and sure and rough, licking her folds and massaging her clit until she came with a low scream. But Grayson didn’t stop as the pulses rocked her entire body, just kept greedily lapping up the juice as it trickled from her center, even pushing his tongue deep inside her for more. When he lightly pinched her clit with his thumb and forefinger while his tongue ruthlessly plundered, she came again, her hips bucking wildly.
“Yes, Lizzie,” he panted against her. “Keep coming in my mouth. Your pussy tastes so good.”
Eliza shook her head, her body wrung out from the power of her orgasms, and yet wanting more. Needing to be filled.
Leaning forward, she took the lapels of Grayson’s robe in her hands, tugging him upward until his mouth was level with hers. Then she kissed him, savoring the sweet and musky taste of champagne and wetness he’d drank from her, while one hand slid down to find his thick cock beautifully, wonderfully hard and ready.
“Excellent,” she purred, giving his erection a firm squeeze. “Now I’m going to ride you, and we’ll test exactly how well-made this chaise really is.”
“Yes. Fuck, yes,” said Grayson hoarsely, quickly settling himself on the chaise, one long leg resting against the back, the other braced on the floor. When she slowly sank down onto his engorged cock, he groaned, his eyes closing briefly in an expression of total erotic bliss. Her heart clenched at the thought of how many moments she’d missed listening to her head rather than her intuition. But there was no time to dwell on that now, not when her neglected body was so desperate to feel him deep.
Their rhythm remained awkward at first as she bore down and he thrust upward, but after several strokes they were gorgeously, perfectly together, straining and grinding and gasping as they hurtled toward ecstasy. Then Grayson pressed her clit with his thumb and she tumbled over the edge, her inner muscles pulsing and clenching him so hard he jerked and spurted long streams of hot seed inside her.
Exhausted, she sighed with happiness and collapsed onto his chest. His arms immediately closed around her, and when one hand began stroking her back, she only had time to process one last thought before the sleep of the utterly sated overcame her.
Thank heavens the chaise was sturdier than it looked.
Chapter Four
“Stop it, the pair of you. Fucking married men. This is a serious business meeting, and you both keep staring at the bloody door like you want to escape. You’re both goddamned crazy. Grace and Eliza are just women. Perfectly nice women, I grant you, but not goddesses!”
Devil raised an eyebrow at Vice’s irritable outburst, but it was difficult to manufacture a more scathing response when he felt so damned calm and content. Two days had passed since Sin and Grace’s wedding and the awful evening at the club which had turned into the best night of his life. For the first time in months, he was starting to feel…hope. He and Eliza were talking, really talking, she was back where she belonged with him in the office, and the sex just kept getting better. He’d been a fool to doubt the reason she had returned. “On the contrary. Eliza is absolutely a goddess, and your blathering is preventing me from joining her in my office. We have piles of accounts to go through.”
“You know, Dev,” said Sin with a smirk, “the harem reports the oddest sounds coming from your office when you and Eliza are working on all those accounts.”
Devil’s lips twitched. “No idea what you’re talking about. But I might counter with the mysterious orders for jade dildos and quantities of scented oil that somehow never make it to the toy chamber.”
His friend coughed and looked away.
“My God,” exclaimed Vice, slapping the table. “Look at his cheeks! Never thought I’d see the day the legendary Sebastian St. John blushed like a fucking debutante. I rest my case, marriage h
as destroyed him. Both of you should hand over your shares to me and retire to Bath with all the other feeble ancients.”
Sin shook his head. “One day, dear boy, one day, you’ll find the woman who turns your life upside down in the best way. God knows the level of hellion she’d have to be to make waves in your world, though. London might never recover.”
“Which is exactly why I shall never succumb,” said Vice, shuddering. “But can we please, please return to the matter at hand? Midsummer Night’s festivities? The date is only a week away now, and I have preparations to oversee.”
Devil sat back on his chair, tapping his chin. “I wondered about, ah, pagan.”
“Pagan? Fairies and fire and roses and such? Hmmm, yes. A sterling choice for those of us with majestic red h…oh Christ.”
“What?”
“I thought you were being creative and out of the ledger for once, but you just want to show off your wife. Bastard.”
“Keep talking,” said Devil, floundering for a plausible diversion from his fanciful idea. “That Lowlands accent is so very charming.”
“Lowlands? Why, you—”
“Gentlemen,” drawled Sin. “And I use that term in the loosest possible sense. If we are going pagan, Madame Alice will want to know as soon as possible the kind of costumes everyone will want. Plenty of silks and satins in shades of red, gold, topaz, amber…”
“I will, of course, be the Midsummer Night king,” said Vice, his eyes glinting. “Just imagine the hedonism. It may even out-scandal the pirate ball. Although, er, with no kidnappings or shootings, naturally.”
Devil rolled his eyes. “I doubt Sin, or Grace for that matter, ever wish to be reminded of that night, you numbskull. But a pagan ball it is. We can begin hiring extra staff and preparing orders for Madame Alice, the florists, and merchants this afternoon. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I promised Eliza I’d escort her to Mayfair for some shopping.”
Sin and Vice both stared at him as if he’d grown another head.
“Shopping?” said Sin dubiously. “Do you even know what a shop looks like?”
“Make sure you take plenty of money,” added Vice. “They usually don’t expect aristocrats to pay on the day, but might make an exception for you when your lackluster people skills run out and the ice man appeareth…hmmm, Grayson and Eliza, ice and fire. Now that is poetry. I am actually a genius in all ways; no wonder I outrank you both.”
“Poor deluded Scot,” said Devil, rising from his chair.
“Letting them win the odd battle for morale really was a mistake,” said Sin gravely.
His shoulders shaking with silent laughter, Devil escaped from the room before Vice’s threatened head explosion occurred. The accounts office was just three doors along from their combined office, so fortunately he didn’t have far to go to collect Eliza.
Poking his head around the door, he watched her frown and peer at a ledger then make a note on a fresh sheet of paper.
“Do we need matching spectacles, madam wife?”
She snorted. “No, my lord husband, you just need to learn how to use a pen. Good heavens, your handwriting hasn’t improved a jot.”
“Well, I can’t be perfect in every way.”
“Quite. That would be dreary.”
Devil ambled into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. “Eliza Jean Brimley Deveraux, do I detect a hint of sarcasm in your tone?”
“Only a hint?” said Eliza, her lips twitching. “One of us is losing our touch. Actually, I think it is me. I’ve been trying to solve a mystery in this ledger for hours now and it is driving me quite batty.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Every month, a certain sum is paid to a creditor by the name of Christian Holdings. But no invoices come in, nor do notes for goods supplied. It’s like the money just disappears into thin air. And it’s not a small sum; it is a thousand guineas each month!”
He leaned against the side of the desk and sighed. “Don’t worry about that money. It is a, ah, personal expense of mine.”
Eliza gripped the pen so hard her knuckles whitened. “A personal expense such as?”
“It isn’t important, really.”
“You have a child, don’t you? A son called Christian. How old is he? Please don’t say he’s a baby, I…”
Devil laughed at the sheer ludicrousness of the words. Clearly he’d concealed his vampire monk identity better than even he thought. Just as quickly he halted, his cheeks heating in shame at the hurt look on Eliza’s face. Damnation. She really didn’t know.
“There is no child, Eliza. God no…” he began, and then for some unknown reason, the words just whooshed out in a breath. “The name in the ledger isn’t Christian Holdings, it is Christina Hemmings. That is my mother’s maiden name. I set up a private account through my bankers so she would never go without, and she picks up the purse each month from them. Mother thinks Reyburn provides her allowance, but that useless fucking bastard couldn’t stump for a street pie seller, let alone a marchioness. He doesn’t have a feather to fly with.”
“What? But he is always out. The opera…the parties and horses…all the scandal sheets positively gush over his and your brother’s comings and goings.”
Devil gripped the edge of the desk so he wouldn’t pick something up and hurl it at the wall. “A complete facade. My bankers did some discreet investigating, and it seems his creditors are no longer blinded by the title. They are circling now, and it is going to be messy. My brother will have nothing to inherit at this rate. Reyburn cares nothing for those he bankrupts because he never pays his bills, so he’ll be shown no mercy in return. Fucking peers. Those who steal from others deserve everything they get.”
“And yet you…you help your mother.”
“Not really,” he said, attempting a smile. “The servants’ wages get paid from that money. I won’t have fifty maids and footmen and gardeners, or their families, starving because of my scapegrace father.”
Eliza didn’t smile back. “Oh, Grayson,” she said softly. “What really happened between you and him?”
Rage and pain surged and twisted through his body, so powerful he shoved himself away from the desk and crossed the office to stare blankly out the window. “Nothing worth repeating. But it is a bridge that is well and truly burned, and I have no desire whatsoever to reconcile. Shall we go? I feel a desperate need for some fresh air.”
“Grayson…”
He didn’t turn around. Maybe in the future he might speak of the time Reyburn and his valet had nearly killed him “to make a man out of him” after his submissive tendencies had come to light.
But that day was not today.
…
So much pain.
Staring at her husband’s rigid back, Eliza attempted to swallow the barrage of questions on the tip of her tongue. Whatever happened might have been years ago, but it had to be far worse than she imagined for the bitter estrangement to continue so long. Grayson had rarely talked about his father during their marriage, and Lord and Lady Reyburn hadn’t attended their wedding. Back then, Grayson explained away their absence with an expensive wedding gift and an apology note stating they were in Italy.
“They were here, weren’t they. Your parents,” she said slowly. “Did they choose not to attend our wedding, or did you not invite them?”
It shouldn’t have been possible, but Grayson tensed further. Then he let out an audible breath. “I invited my brother; he refused. I didn’t invite my parents. But they wouldn’t have come even if I had. We haven’t spoken in nearly ten years.”
Shocked to the core, she couldn’t muffle a gasp. Ten years?
Nearly sprinting across the room, Eliza wound her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back. His lean, muscular form felt like a statue against her and, dismayed, she began stroking his chest. “It must have been something awful.”
Abruptly, he turned in her arms, his green eyes glittering. “Don’t push me, Eliza.”
She hesitated, weighing the words against the challenge, the naked plea in his gaze. “Ten years ago you would have been at Cambridge, mastering mathematics. Learning about the world. And…yourself. Was university where you discovered your preference for a woman being in control?”
“I…fuck. Perhaps. Can’t we save this for another time?”
“No,” Eliza said, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. Then, on a moment of impulse, she threaded her fingers through his short-cropped hair and tugged firmly on the silken strands.
Grayson moaned, the sound so intensely sexual that moisture gathered between her legs. “You’re going to make me tell you, aren’t you?”
“Yes, darling, I am,” she replied in the steeliest tone she could muster, the relaxing of his shoulders and stark relief in his eyes giving her the courage to add: “Because I am in charge here. I’ll have it the way I like it. But first, I want you to kiss me.”
Her husband’s lips crashed down onto hers, not with cool finesse but raw hunger, as though the darkness that had been suppressed for so long was finally bursting free. Then his arms closed around her waist like steel bars, and he lifted and pressed her against the office wall, spreading her thighs and wrapping them around his hips. The wall was chilly and unforgiving against her back, but she didn’t break the scorching kiss, just held him tightly and continued to stroke and tug at his hair. This could be it. The moment that defined whether their marriage might succeed or fail. And she wanted it to succeed more than anything in the world.
Eventually Eliza leaned forward, scraping her teeth along his earlobe and biting down ever so slightly, just enough to leave a small imprint. Grayson still didn’t speak, but his engorged cock jerked against her mound, and when she slid her free hand between them and unfastened his trousers, the head of his erection spilled out, wet with pre-come.
“Now you may answer me, Grayson,” she said softly but sternly, curling her fingers around his cock and caressing him.
He shuddered. “God. Please let me come.”
“I want to. I want to so badly, darling. My pussy is wet and aching, and I know you will fill me so very full. I love it when you are deep inside me. But you are holding on to a terrible hurt right now, and I cannot allow that between us.”
The Devil's Submission (Fallen series) Page 5
