by Darcy Burke
“Which would you prefer?”
In answer, she unbuttoned his fall. She moved slowly, hopefully teasing him as he’d teased her. No, to do that, she needed to affect him physically. She scooted toward him and kissed the hollow of his throat. A vibration started beneath her mouth and came from him as a soft moan. Encouraged, she licked down and over to his nipple, where she used her lips and tongue the way he’d done with her.
He sucked in a breath and twined his hand in her hair. Surprised it had remained up this long, she felt it give away and tumble around her shoulders.
She kissed her way down to where his breeches gaped open. Slipping her hand into the garment, she found the hard shaft of his sex and marveled at how soft his flesh felt. She tried to push the fabric down over his hips. Thankfully, he added his assistance, freeing his cock completely.
“I can put my mouth on you too?” she asked, recalling what he’d said and more than excited by the prospect.
“If you want to.” His voice was a bit higher than normal. “Here.” He wrapped his hand around hers and showed her how to stroke him from base to tip and back again. On the third time down, she pointed her finger and swept it along the soft sac beneath.
“You can cup them.” He sounded like he was clenching his teeth.
She didn’t look up to verify if that was true for she was far too engrossed in her task. With each stroke, he seemed to surge against her. A drop of wetness gathered at the tip. Apparently they could both be wet—she knew he would be later, when he released his seed.
“You can also move faster,” he murmured, his voice low and coarse. “If you like. But that will send me to the brink.”
“Will it?” She glided her hand around him with more speed then cupped his balls. Pitching her head down, she breathed against his tip. “And my mouth should do the same?”
“Yes.” He pressed on her head, urging her forward.
She licked him, a slow, languid glide around the head and down the underside along a thick vein. Curling her hand around the base, she brought her mouth back up then sucked him along her tongue.
He swore violently, his hand tugging her hair. “Go slow. Please. I won’t last if you don’t.”
He hadn’t guided her wrong yet, so she did as he asked and swallowed his length with a slow glide before easing back once more. She did this more times than she could count, tasting the salt of him on her tongue.
“Anne, I can come in your mouth or I can shag you. Which do you want? And decide quickly.”
She released him and looked up into the strained contours of his face. “Can’t I have both?”
“Not today.”
“Which do you want?” She continued to stroke him with her hand.
Wordlessly, he stripped the rest of his clothes away then did the same for her, nearly tearing her petticoat in the process of wresting it from her body. She helped him with the chemise and had barely cast it away before he picked her up and rotated her on the bed.
He knelt on the mattress and moved between her legs, his gaze sweeping over her body. His lids drooped as his head came down and he claimed her mouth. She arched up from the bed, eager for his touch. He cupped her breast and toyed with her nipple, pinching and tugging as their kisses, hot and wet, grew shorter and more desperate.
Panting, they explored each other, their hands moving eagerly over heated flesh. He swept his fingertips down her side and clasped her hip. She splayed her palms on his back and moved them down until she found the curve of his backside. When his hand moved between her thighs, she held her breath. Her sex, already sensitive, ached for him.
He moved his hips, and his cock was against her, nestled at her sheath. He stroked her clitoris, stirring her desire, before he guided himself into her.
“Breathe, Anne. I’m going to go very slowly.”
He did. Even more slowly than she’d done when she’d had him in her mouth. She wanted him inside her completely, but as her flesh stretched to accommodate him, she realized this was for the best.
It didn’t hurt, but there was a tenderness. Of course there would be. She’d never done this before. “I’m so glad this is you,” she said softly, cupping his nape.
He looked into her eyes. “Thank you. For this gift—for you.” He slid completely into her then, or so she thought because she felt incredibly full. Brushing her hair back from her face, he ran his thumb over her forehead. It was such a sweet, caring gesture, and again she was aware of the stark intimacy between them, of knowing and feeling someone in a way she never had before. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Is this…all?”
He chuckled and gave her a swift kiss. “No. This is just the beginning. Wrap your legs around me.”
She did, curling her thighs against his.
“Higher,” he said. “Around my waist.”
Oh, that was better. She thought she was full before, but he seemed to slide even deeper. “Oh Lord,” she breathed.
“Lord Bodyguard,” he said with a smile just before he began to move.
He withdrew and thrust into her again, still moving incredibly slowly. She felt his body quiver, sensed the power that he kept under a tight rein. Though she’d never experienced this, she knew when he moved more quickly, they would both get where they wanted to be—to the brink as he’d said before when he’d cautioned her against going too fast.
She swept her hand down his back and settled her palm on his backside. “Are you going to speed up?”
“Siren,” he breathed. He did go faster, but only incrementally. “We’re doing this my way. Next time, you can be in control.”
Next time. And there would be a next time because they were getting married.
Joy and pleasure crashed over her at the same time. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the lead of his body. As he eventually moved faster and faster, the pressure inside her built. Until she quite suddenly plunged completely into ecstasy. Her sex tightened, and she gripped him with her legs and hands lest she lose herself completely.
She just began to rise to the surface when he cried out and drove into her. He kissed her neck and throat as she cast her head back and held him to her. He thrust a few more times, his body shuddering. She swept his hair back from his forehead and kissed his temple.
When his body stilled, he fell to the side, gathering her against his chest and bringing her with him. Stroking his arm, she listened to his breathing even out. He slid from her body and rolled to his back, holding her to his side.
“That was quite lovely,” she said, smiling as she put her hand on his chest. “Next time, I get to control things? I can’t quite envision how that can happen with you…doing what you do.”
“Well, you can tell me exactly what you want and what to do. You’ve never had a problem with that before.”
She laughed and felt his chest rumble gently beneath her hand.
“But I think maybe you’ll be on top, riding me.”
Pushing herself up on her elbow, she looked down at him. “Like a horse?”
“Somewhat. I can’t say because I don’t ride.”
She tried to envision it, straddling him with his cock inside her. Her legs would go around his hips. “Do you thrust up in that position?”
“Yes, but I can try not to, if you prefer.”
She thought of him moving beneath her and decided she wanted that very much. “I suppose I can’t say for certain right now, but the thought of you under me doing what you just did… I can hardly wait, honestly.”
He cupped her face and pulled her down for a long, lingering kiss. “You are an astonishing woman, Anne.”
“When will the wedding be? I suppose you’ll need to write to my father.” She made a face.
“You’re of age.”
She was, but it was the right thing to do. “Yes. We don’t need his permission. We must have the banns read, however.” She calculated in her head. “We can marry any time after the twenty-fifth.” She frowned. “That’s so far a
way.”
“It’s not as if you won’t see me before then.”
“But like this?”
“We’ve been…innovative on plenty of occasions.”
She laughed again as a joy she’d never imagined surged through her. “If you become the earl soon, you could just get a special license and we could marry right away. That’s what Anthony did when he wed Jane. They didn’t even get married in a church.”
He curled a lock of her hair around his fingers. “Is that what you’d like?”
“I like whatever allows me to be with you. And a special license means we wouldn’t have to be apart at all.”
“Then I shall get a special license as soon as I may.”
What if her godfather contested his claim? Uneasiness settled through her. She shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked, pulling her more tightly against him.
“Yes. I should get dressed.” And cleaned up.
“I suppose we must. You need to get home. We’ve been gone too long.”
She should tell him that her godfather had doubts about him. Except she’d learned so much about him today, seen the goodness and generosity inside him. She’d convince her godfather that Rafe would bring honor and integrity to the earldom.
He kissed her forehead before sitting up and swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Anne touched his back. “You’ll be a wonderful earl.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “You’re biased.”
“Because I know you, and I’m right.”
His lips parted as if he was going to respond, but he didn’t. Turning his head straight, he left the bed and went to a dresser.
A moment later, he returned with a cloth and gave it to her before gathering their clothing.
Yes, she knew him—the man who owned a bookshop and a house in Cheapside. The man who’d adored his wife and lost her and his unborn child. Her heart ached and longed for this man.
Even so, she couldn’t dismiss the persistent feeling that there was more of him that he kept concealed beneath the surface. The part of him that couldn’t love her—or that he wouldn’t allow to. Yet.
She pushed her apprehension away. There would be time to discover all his secrets.
A lifetime.
On the return drive to Mayfair, Rafe wondered if he’d made a mistake. Not about the sex or even about marrying her, but about the reasons for it.
Rather, one reason.
Marrying her would give him access to her godfather, and hopefully to evidence that would prove he’d killed his brother and plotted to kill Rafe. It wouldn’t be enough to simply reclaim his stolen title, Rafe needed to see his murdering uncle strung up for his crimes.
He glanced over at Anne as he drove into the Grosvenor mews. Her face was hidden by the veil, but he didn’t need to see her features to feel the visceral attraction that had only intensified since he taken her to his bed.
At the very least, he should tell her about her godfather, and he would. Soon. He wouldn’t regret asking her to marry him. The matter with Mallory wasn’t the primary reason behind it, not that it mattered. It was done. They would be wed, and Rafe would ensure her godfather was punished appropriately.
He pulled the cabriolet to a stop and got out to help her descend from the vehicle. Squeezing her hand, he leaned his head down next to hers. “Don’t come to my interview with Colton.” He was going to drive around to her brother-in-law’s house to speak with him about the marriage. “I know you’re tempted.”
She exhaled. “You know me too well. Though it will pain me, I will refrain from interrupting. I will send you a note about dinner with my godfather as soon as I confirm Thursday evening.”
He straightened. “I promise I won’t make you wait long until I pay a call. Perhaps tomorrow we can walk in the park?”
“That would be lovely. Every moment until then will seem an eternity.”
He laughed before kissing her hand. “Read some romantic poetry.”
She tugged on him until he bent his head once more. “I will imagine you beneath me tonight. That will be far more titillating.”
“Siren,” he hissed, wishing he could kiss her. Soon.
He released her hand and climbed back into the cabriolet, where he watched her disappear into one of the stables. Exhaling, he adjusted his seat to ease the pull of his breeches on his erection.
“Siren,” he repeated as he left the mews and drove onto Grosvenor Street. In front of Colton’s house, he stopped the vehicle and gave it over to the tiger. “Thank you, Tim. I won’t be long.”
The butler admitted him to the entry hall and kept him waiting only a moment before taking him to Colton’s office. The viscount was just moving toward the center of the room as Rafe entered.
“Thank you, Purcell,” Colton said, his gaze moving past Rafe.
Rafe heard the door close behind him. “You might want a glass of brandy.”
Colton snorted. “That’s a hell of a greeting. I rarely partake anymore, and never at this time of day.” He frowned. “Why would I need a drink?”
“Let’s sit.” Rafe went to the chair he’d occupied on his last visit while Colton perched in his, looking expectant. Or perhaps just outright apprehensive.
“You have the look of the Vicar about you,” Colton said slowly.
Bloody hell. “What does that mean?”
Colton shrugged. “I can’t say exactly, just an aura of foreboding. What villainy are you about?”
“I’m not a villain.” He’d left his hat and gloves in the hall and now ran his hand over his chin, his fingertips sliding along the smooth ripple of his scar. Distractedly, he wondered what Anne had thought of the knife scars on his torso. She had to have noticed. Her attention had been complete and intense.
“Bowles? Rather, Mallory? Or should I just call you Stone?” He shook his head. “You’ve more names than the Bible.”
“Perhaps you should call me Rafe.” He realized that wasn’t how it was done among the peerage. Men such as Colton would call him Stone. “Because we’re to be brothers-in-law. I’ve come to tell you that Anne and I are going to be married.”
Colton shot to his feet, his face turning a mottled shade of red. “The hell you are. Get out.”
“Please sit,” Rafe said calmly. “I know what you must be thinking—”
“Do not presume to know me or my mind. How in God’s name do you even know her well enough to marry her? This is unconscionable.” He paced to the sideboard, where he eyed the brandy before stalking back toward Rafe. “You were right about that bloody drink.”
“Yet you didn’t pour one.”
“No, and I won’t. I buried myself in any bottle I could find after my parents were murdered. Which was your fault.” He held up his hand before Rafe could speak. “Indirectly, but if you hadn’t sent your man to intimidate me into repaying your loan, they would still be here.”
“You know how deeply I regret what happened to your parents.” Now that Rafe knew he’d lost his own parents as the result of someone else’s evil deed, he felt worse. “You’re right,” he whispered. “That was my fault. You have every reason to despise me. I would.”
Colton stared at him. He gripped the back of his chair, his jaw and throat working. “I don’t know what you’re about, but I’m not letting you near Anne. She’s already been hurt enough by that blackguard Chamberlain. God, you have your hands in that too.”
“No, I didn’t. I had no idea Chamberlain was courting her. I never would have allowed it.”
“You wouldn’t have allowed it? Just who the hell do you think you are?” His eyes widened. “How long have you known Jane’s sister?”
“A few months,” he answered tightly. “We met by chance, and I thought that was the end of it. Then I met her again here.”
“Here? At my house?” Colton picked up the back of the chair and slammed it down.
“I would have met her anyway. Her godfather is my uncle.”
“The only reason
you know that is because of me.” Colton sat back down and rested his elbow on his knee so he could drop his forehead into his hand. “If I’d never gambled, I wouldn’t have gone to you for money. My parents wouldn’t be dead. My sister-in-law wouldn’t want to marry a criminal.” He peered through his fingers at Rafe. “She does want to marry you?”
“Yes.” Rafe coughed. “And might I point out that she may not even be your sister-in-law if not for me.”
“Oh, bloody fucking hell!” Colton dropped his hand from his head and straightened. “It doesn’t matter how we got here, only that you leave. You can’t marry her. You must understand that, don’t you? Think of who you are.”
“Were.” Rafe stiffened his spine and used his iciest Vicar voice. “I’m the Earl of Stone.”
“Not yet you aren’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d manipulated that situation somehow, perhaps assumed the identity of a dead boy.”
In a jolt of fury, Rafe leapt from the chair and pinned Colton to his. He curled his hand around the viscount’s neck. “Don’t ever say that. I am that boy. Like you, I should be dead and my parents are gone, mur—” Rafe released him and turned away, stalking away to the edge of the room. He fought to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. His vision tunneled, and he clenched his hands into fists.
“Were you going to say they were murdered?” Anthony asked softly.
Rafe wasn’t going to disclose anything, not to this man who held him in such contempt. And perhaps rightfully so. “It doesn’t matter. They are long dead.” He slowly turned, twitching his shoulders and flexing his hands. “I am going to marry Anne, and I am not going to hurt her. There is no one I care more for in this world, except my sister. I expect you understand that too.” Like him, Colton had a younger sister.
“I do. Sarah married a cad like you. Well, not like you, but a cad just the same.”
“I thought she married your best friend.”
Colton waved his hand. “Wait until your sister wants to marry your best friend. Only that won’t ever happen since your sister is already wed.” He blew out a breath. “Does Anne know who you were?”
