by Lavinia Kent
“That’s my girl. So needy,” the man growled again, but this time softer.
“Do you want me to—” The woman’s voice asked quietly before being cut off.
“Not this time. Turn and put your hands on the desk.”
“But—”
“Do it.” The man spoke with such command that Bliss almost found herself moving to follow his direction, her body eager even if she knew not for what. She pressed her legs tighter, her nails digging into her thighs, the brief spike of pain helping her to remain calm.
Without another word the woman stepped around the man and, turning away from him, placed her hands flat upon the desk, her head falling forward, her eyes still partially closed.
Bliss’s breath caught as the man rose and turned toward her. She knew him. Lord Banks. He sometimes called upon Swanston. Did he see her? How could he not? What would she say? How would she explain…?
Although he was staring in her direction, he clearly saw nothing but the woman in front of him as he moved to stand behind her, his hips thrusting forward to press tight against her behind. For a moment he did nothing but rub himself against her skirts, which had fallen again when she moved to the desk. Then he leaned his body forward, almost pressing the woman into the desk, letting his weight rest upon her. His mouth moved against her ear and Bliss could hear the whisper of words.
He moved an arm forward, his hand reaching up to run his fingers over the full breast, which still escaped above the woman’s bodice. His hand moved in a soft caressing movement and then, as Bliss watched, he began to press his fingers tighter. Bliss waited for the woman to protest, but she only turned her head to look over her shoulder, her teeth biting down on her lower lip.
Bliss realized she too was biting down, her own teeth nipping into tender flesh. What did the woman feel as Lord Banks’s fingers tightened about her? Again Bliss’s hand rose to her own breast. She squeezed softly as she felt the swollen flesh beneath her fingers. This time she had to bite down to prevent her own moan from escaping.
“Like that, do you?” Lord Banks questioned, his finger closing further.
The woman did not answer, but her hips thrust against him, her back arching.
Yes, she liked it—and Bliss did too. She pressed her fingers tighter, feeling the need in her breast grow, the nipples growing ever tighter.
“Want a little more?” Lord Banks’s fingers slid down the breast roughly, his thumb and forefinger stopping as they reached the woman’s nipple. Bliss’s own nipples ached in response. She shuddered as she watched him pinch tight, far tighter than the woman had pinched herself, and then twist and pull. And then again. She slipped a hand into her bodice, feeling a slight release as air reached her hot flesh. Her whole body shook as a single finger brushed one puckered tip.
She waited for the woman to scream at the hard pinch, but there was only a deep moan, and the woman’s behind pushed more urgently into Lord Banks’s pelvis.
He pulled again.
Another moan.
Didn’t it hurt? Bliss’s hands moved over her own breasts, feeling her own hard nipples; they strained against the pressure, the delicate linen of her chemise grating against them as her fingers withdrew. Almost without thought she squeezed herself, feeling a bolt of heat flash down between her legs.
She gasped, her eyes still glued to Lord Banks’s fingers, which were pulling with greater urgency.
“Damn. You like that, Julianna. I can feel how wet you are through your skirts,” he said. And then he pulled away from the nipple, which stood rosy and distended, the peak glistening in the moonlight.
“Don’t stop,” the woman, Julianna, gasped. “More, I want more.”
“I’ll give you more.” With a sudden jerk, Banks pulled up her skirts revealing her bare behind. His hands went to his waist then, and before Bliss could blink his trousers fell to his knees, and…Now Bliss blinked and blinked again.
She’d seen baby boys. She’d even peeked at Greek and Roman statues, but—but this was something else.
The man’s male member was…She didn’t even know any words to use, perhaps frightening—yes, that was true, but incomplete. Glorious? Horrible? Incredible? Beautiful? Hideous?
Could they all be true?
Even as her brain was trying to solve that riddle, Banks moved forward, his hands separating the cheeks of the woman’s behind and thrusting his member between them.
Bliss slammed her eyes shut, and then opened them quickly.
Her fingers kept moving over her own nipples, more and more shocks of pleasure moving down to between her legs. She should stop, she should not be doing such a thing, but her fingers kept moving, kept drawing, kept pulling.
And she definitely shouldn’t be watching what was happening before her, but how could she not?
His hips pulled back and then pushed forward, burying him deep within the woman. She moaned again, soft little gasps with each movement. His hands were on her hips holding her tight as he began to thrust harder and harder, the slap of flesh spreading through the small chamber.
Bliss closed her eyes again, her mind moving to another time, another place. She’d seen this all before, but without her current understanding—and without the detail she was seeing now. Then it had been hurried…No. She wouldn’t think of it. She tried never to think of it, never to imagine herself…
This time she was free to imagine. She opened her eyes again, watched the pounding of flesh, the gasp of breaths. She pushed her legs tighter together, unable to relieve the growing pressure. Her fingers pinched her nipple again, sensation coursing through her.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Banks was gasping now with each movement, pushing forward and then pulling almost all the way out, his member wet and glistening.
Suddenly the woman’s body shuddered, her mouth opened and she let out a short scream—but there was no terror in the sound, only emotion, deep and raw.
Bliss knew she moaned herself, but the woman’s scream drowned it out.
And then Banks slammed forward, his hips ramming the woman hard into the desk. “Fuucckkk.” His cry filled the room as his buttocks spasmed and he fell forward across the woman, his mouth open, teeth digging into her bare shoulder above the lace edging of the gown.
Feeling light-headed, Bliss let herself fall back against the wall. How long had it been since she’d last drawn a breath? Her heart raced and pounded, filling her entire being. Her breasts were tight and tingling within her bodice and lower, between her legs, she couldn’t even identify what was happening. She pulled her hand free and bit down hard on her lip, trying to gain control.
“God, you’re good,” the woman said, turning to look up at Banks. He began to rise.
Bliss started. She had to get out of there. They might have been too busy to notice her huddled in the shadows, but how much longer could that hold true? Should she hide or flee?
Banks straightened completely, pulling his trousers up and tucking himself behind the flap before reaching for the buttons.
Flee. Definitely flee.
The French doors to the garden were on the other side of the couple, which meant she’d have to go back the way she came.
Sidestepping carefully, Bliss eased herself toward the door, praying that no floorboard would creak. Her legs shook as she moved and she was not sure if it was from the fear of discovery or the other strange feelings that still swept through her body.
Hand on the door handle, she eased it open, her eyes on the couple who were slowly recovering, but still seemed lost in their own world. Even as she eased the door open and a sliver of light from the hallway sliced in, they did not look around.
She slid through the door, her eyes blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the seemingly bright light. Pulling the door closed behind her, she let her back slide against it. Her eyes dropped to her slippers as she tried to regain her emotional balance.
She’d never seen anything like that, never imagined it. Well, perhaps she had tried to imagine it,
but she’d never even in her deepest fantasies come anywhere close to the intensity of what she’d just seen. Even after…No. She wasn’t going to think of that.
Her mind still spun with images, with questions.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. She could do this. She could return to the dance and pretend nothing had happened.
At least pretend for now. Later when she lay in her own lone bed she knew the images would return to taunt her, to tantalize her, to offer questions with no chance of answer.
Raising a hand, she laid it upon one hot cheek. Her face must be flushed, but everyone knew she liked to twirl. No one would ever imagine what she had just been through. No one.
And then she raised her eyes from the floor.
Chapter Three
Duldon could only stare as Bliss eased from the library. He’d known she’d seek escape in the freedom of the gardens rather than the retiring room, but when he’d reached the door and heard the unmistakable noises coming from within he’d been prepared to turn away. There was no possibility that Bliss was in that room, and from the sound of things it had been going on awhile. A smile curled upon his lips as he started to turn away. Someone, or rather someones, were having a very good time.
He paused as the door eased open and a small green slipper slid through, followed by a rosy pink skirt. What was Bliss doing in there?
For the briefest of moments his hands curled into fists as he reached the obvious conclusion. He’d known she was curious, seen it in her every glance, known of her involvement with the notorious Countess, but he hadn’t expected her to act on her curiosity. He took a step forward.
And then just as quickly his mind calmed.
She was flushed, but still dressed. Her eyes might look dazed, but not with the haze of spent passion—if anything she looked in the first stages of arousal. And her hair—he would guarantee that the woman whose cry echoed into the hall did not still have her hair neatly caught up with only the sweetest of curls escaping.
No, his Bliss had merely gotten an eyeful—and based on her flush and the heavy beat of the pulse at her neck she’d quite enjoyed it.
He watched as her eyes settled on her delicate slippers and then slowly rose up.
He saw her eyes widen as they met his, felt her sudden intake of breath, the jerk of surprise that would have sent her a step back if she had not already been pressed against the door.
He raised a questioning brow.
Her flush grew darker. Her eyes dropped and then flashed back to his. He saw a moment of consideration and could only imagine what flitted through her mind. She held his gaze, although her color grew even deeper. His Bliss was not a coward despite her earlier flight.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was accusing.
Clearly she was defensive. He continued to let his gaze rest upon her for a moment. Her breath remained fast and shallow. She was finding him most unsettling. Curious of her response, he let his eyes wander down her body, taking in the tight nipples visible beneath the silk of her gown and the slight quiver of her thighs. He let himself imagine pulling her toward him, pressing her belly tight into his rapidly hardening cock. He’d reach a hand into her bodice and pull those eager nipples free, lower his mouth, and devour her.
He tried to halt the thoughts. They were quite inappropriate for the woman he wished to make his wife, but…
Bliss swallowed, the movement of her throat drawing his eyes back to her face. Her pupils had grown large and dark despite the multitude of candles. She caught what he was thinking, or at least the gist of it. What exactly had she just seen?
“I should ask what you are doing here,” he replied to her question of a second before. “I was only following you. Were you looking for a book? Perhaps I could help you find one.” He let his gaze wander over her shoulder to the library door.
“Ahh, no. That is not necessary. I was merely seeking a moment of quiet.”
“And did you find it?” It was not nice to tease her, but it truly was irresistible.
It should not have been possible for her to turn even redder, but she did. Her gaze followed his, over her shoulder, to the door. “I am ready to return to the dance floor.”
“Have a bit of extra energy, do you?” Again, he could not resist.
She dropped her eyes and he could only wonder what exactly she had seen to leave her quite so flustered, flustered and…“No, I think perhaps a stroll about the gardens would help calm you before you return to the dance floor.”
“But I don’t want to stroll. I want to twirl.” She spoke with some desperation.
He was sure she did, but equally sure he did not want her seen with that particular flush upon her cheeks, that slight wistful smile playing about her full lower lip.
“And why should I listen to you?” The lower lip pushed out in protest.
“I am your fiancé.”
He should not have said that. Her shoulders drew back and her eyes skewered him, the pupils beginning to narrow. “Not yet, you are not.”
Reaching out he took her hand, rubbing his rough thumb over her velvety skin. “You gave yourself to me when you were twelve years old. I have never given you back.”
Her pupils darkened again at his touch. “I did no such thing.”
“You certainly did, but that is not an argument for this moment. The more important point is that if you walk into the ballroom as you look now your brother will have twenty proposals tomorrow before he finishes his breakfast—and that would not suit either of us.”
“How do you know what would suit me? I am planning to find my own husband before the end of the summer.” Her chin tilted up, daring him to comment.
“That may be, but if Swanston has twenty men asking for your hand, I doubt he will wait for you to choose. He may very well decide who he thinks would suit you best.”
“I thought he already had.” Her eyes swept him, and he could not help but notice that they lingered over muscled thigh and broad shoulder.
“He has, but let us just say that despite our friendship he does have some concerns.” Swanston knew very well that Duldon was not always the man he appeared in public and he was not quite sure that he wished a man like Duldon in his sister’s bed—and Duldon could not blame him. Duldon did not have a sister, but if he did he imagined he would have felt much the same.
Bliss snorted but did not shake off his hand. “Well, I don’t know what you are talking about. I look no different than when I left the dance floor.” Her free hand rose to her hair, checking to be sure it had not fallen.
“Perhaps not to an unpracticed eye, but I guarantee you that any man who’s worth anything will take one look at your flushed skin and swollen lips and know exactly what you’ve been thinking for the last while. And that man will want the chance to put that flush upon your skin again.” He knew he certainly did.
Her eyes widened. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
He had a moment to decide. He’d always been a plainspoken man, a man who preferred to speak the plain, simple truth. But he was also a man who lived in society, who understood how rarely the truth was actually spoken. “It was impossible to mistake the sounds coming from the library. I do not know how long you were in there or exactly what you saw, but I can guess. And I do know how you looked coming out, your eyes hazy, your cheeks red, and your breath shallow. You liked what you saw and it left you full of need.”
The pulse beating at the side of her throat increased. “I do not know what you are talking about,” she repeated.
He took a step toward her, toward the door. “Should we go in to the library? Perhaps then you will remember exactly what I am talking about.”
She spread her legs slightly, creating a slight barrier, barring the door. “You wouldn’t.”
He smiled, broad and slow. “Actually I would.”
“But…” She paused for the briefest moment. “I suppose you would. You might even like it.” The last bit was said so quietly it was hard to b
e sure he’d heard the words correctly.
His smile grew.
She held his gaze for a moment, but then her eyes fell. “I didn’t like it. What lady would?”
Ahh, she was going to play it that way. “Many of my acquaintances. I did not realize you were a voyeur, but it is not altogether shocking.”
“A voyeur?”
“You like to watch.”
“I do not.” The lip was out again and for a moment he remembered her as a young girl, willing to argue any point.
He smiled softly.
“I merely found it interesting,” Bliss stated. “I was curious. Girls are not taught much about such things. Even when we were in the country at the family estate, Risusgate, my father tried to shelter us. I can remember not being allowed to leave the house because one of the mares was in heat—and I only knew that much because I overheard the kitchen boys talking. They found the incident quite educational, I gathered.”
“I imagine they did. Did you ever get to see a stallion cover a mare? It is rather unforgettable.” Duldon rubbed his thumb over Bliss’s palm, feeling her slight quiver.
“No. And why are we talking of this? What I have seen—or not seen—is none of your concern. I do not want to even think of such things. I do not. I am going to go and dance—and not with you.” She tried to pull herself free.
“If you dance, it will be with me.” He lowered the tone of his voice, filling it with command.
Her eyes flew up to his and again he saw her pupils darken and grow large. Now that was interesting.
“I will do what I want.” Her voice was defiant, but she did not again attempt to escape.
“There is another door to the gardens at the end of the next hall. Why do we not walk that way?” he asked.
