Tangled in Sin

by Lavinia Kent

  He felt her move, but was too lost in sensation to care. He was going to give himself over to it, give himself over to pleasure as he had never known.

  Something hot and damp hit the tip of his prick. Her tongue. God, her tongue was upon him. He’d dreamed of having her do this to him, but never dreamed she would do it on her own without his command. Her warm lips cupped the very tip, opened, parted, slipped a bit, pulled back. How did she even know…So good. So good. She sucked him farther. And then farther. Tightened her lips as she pulled back. God, she was born for this. Deeper again. One of her hands came up, stroked his balls, explored. Her mouth took him deeper still. God. God. Her other hand cupped his butt, fingers pressing tight, digging in. Even deeper. Fuck. She had him almost to the hilt. Her hand slipped toward the crack of his ass, toward…

  It was too much.

  He gave in, exploded.

  His head dropped back and he roared.

  Chapter 25

  His thighs thrust hard against her, his cock filled her, stretching her lips to their limit, tickling the back of her throat. She could not breathe. She was going to choke. Still she did not pull back. She offered her all.

  And took his all.

  She heard his yell even as he pushed deeper than she would have thought possible. She felt the spurt, tasted the salt, felt the warmth on the back of her throat, swallowed.

  And then it was over. His body relaxed, sagging against the bonds.

  Pulling back she peered up at him. He hung there, languid, all the tightness of his muscles gone, his eyes almost sleepy, groggy. His lips curved up under her perusal. “Will you untie me now?”

  Hesitating, she stood. Was she done? She rather thought she might want to do that again.

  He caught her look. “If you’re not careful, you might actually kill me.”

  “I wouldn’t want that. I am working so hard to avoid scandal. It wouldn’t do my reputation much good to be found here with your corpse, but then Jasmine might help me get rid of the body. She’s not been so fond of you since she found out you tried to have her abducted.”

  “I can assure you she’s forgiven me, at least mostly, or she would not have helped with this meeting.”

  “That’s probably true.” She moved and ran her fingers over the silk holding his wrists. “I do like how you look. I would never have thought it, but there is something in the contrast of all your strength tied by such thin silk that sets me all atwitter.”

  “Atwitter? I don’t think I’ve ever heard what I do to a woman described that way.”

  “Well, I am unique.” She ran a finger under the silk. She turned and stared at an elaborate inlayed chest on the other side of the room. “And I am not sure you should be mentioning other women while you’re still tied. I haven’t investigated that chest yet, but I would imagine that there might be something over there that would make you wish you’d remained silent. Oh, what a look on your face. I am right. You make me want to go and look.” She started to turn away.

  “Sin,” he said, her name a clear command.

  She turned back with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.” She freed his first wrist. He stretched his arm, loosening the muscles as she worked on the other. When both wrists were free she stepped back. “I imagine that you can manage to free your ankles.” She strode away with pretend nonchalance.

  “Do you really think you’ll escape me so easily,” his voice said behind her.

  “I don’t—”

  “We made a bet. Are you reneging on your part?”

  Buttercups! She hadn’t really thought beyond what she wanted to do to him. Swallowing, she turned back to him, her thighs growing even damper. What would he do to her?

  Several long scarves still trailed from his fingers.

  “I don’t want to be tied to the columns.”

  “I don’t think it’s your turn to make decisions. But I was not planning on using the columns.”

  “Oh.” That was good. There really wasn’t anyplace else in the room he could tie her. He couldn’t even tie her to a chair as there weren’t any. He might tie her hands together, but her legs would still be free. He wouldn’t want to tie her ankles together, would he? She couldn’t think of what he could do to her if he did—although he’d probably think of something.

  A low rumble from deep in his throat. “I believe it’s once again my turn to tell you to stop thinking and start feeling. Although, I do like that flash of worry in your eyes. It does get me thinking. I’ve always liked a little anxiety, a little wonder. It gets the blood pumping. And I do like it when your blood pumps.”

  “You sound like some kind of beast, ready to eat me alive.”

  “I definitely plan to eat you.”

  She’d been afraid of that, hoping for that. Her mind filled with the things he could do with that wicked mouth.

  “Take off your chemise.”

  She could hardly complain when that had been her first demand of him. She started to gather the material.

  “No, I change my mind—don’t. I like seeing you half-hidden. A present to be unwrapped.” He moved forward with catlike grace and cleared the table, placing the candleholder on the floor a safe distance away. He gestured. “Lie down.”

  On the table? That had never even occurred to her. And was it big enough? Her legs would hang right off.

  As if reading her mind, he said, “You’ll fit, don’t worry.” And with a slight smile, “And I don’t actually need all of you on it. If you hadn’t already worked me over with your lovely mouth, I’d be tempted to let your head hang off one end to…”

  He kept talking, but for a moment her mind was too filled with the image of lying on the table while he…She never even considered such a position, but it did have her shivering. James was most creative.

  “Now lie down.”

  With some trepidation, she did. The wood was cool beneath her warm buttocks, hard and slick, the thin linen of her chemise sliding. It was somewhat awkward. If her entire head was to be on the table, then her thighs hung off, only her behind held steady. She shifted, unsure.

  “Easy, Sin, it’s my turn to worry. All you need to do is trust me.”

  A deep breath in. Trust him. He had done his best to trust her, however silly the test might have been. And it had been difficult for him; she had not missed that. No matter how much pleasure he’d had, he liked being in control. His hands had yanked at the restraints more than once with the desire to take over, but he had held himself back.

  He was trying. It might not be perfect. It might mean that he would need to practice on the larger issues, but it was a start, a start he had not had to make.

  “I do trust you,” she said. And it was true, at least as far as this went. She, too, would need to think about the bigger issues.

  He took the silk ties he still held in one hand and moved to her left wrist, lifting it near her face and then quickly tying it to the table leg. The ache between her thighs grew.

  The second wrist.

  When he moved to the first ankle, stroking the tender flesh of the inside, she swallowed. What was he going to do? There was nothing for him to tie it to.

  And then he bent her knee, drawing her foot up almost to her hip. He tied the ankle quite tight, tighter than he had her hands.

  “I find that when excited, you have a tendency to kick. I will release you whenever you ask.”

  She wasn’t aware that she kicked, but then, she had to admit she probably wasn’t aware of very much when pleasure and joy were bursting about her. “I can understand that.”

  He brought up the other leg and suddenly she realized just how exposed this position left her. Yes, at this moment her chemise still draped down and covered her, but she was sure that was not going to last for long. With her legs up and open, all of her would be on display. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen it all before, but…

  “Don’t be nervous. I will take good care of you.”

  She knew he would; that’s what she was afraid of.
>
  When her leg was secure he leaned back on his heels and examined his work. His eyes roamed over her hungrily.

  “Very, very pretty,” he said.

  Another shiver.

  He leaned over and stroked her breast just above the tear. His finger trailed down to circle her nipple. His right hand reached over and tightened the linen over her other nipple so that it shone through the fabric, pale pink barely visible.

  “I do like this,” he murmured. “Hidden and revealed at the same time, but I think I might like it better if…” He grabbed the thin fabric in each hand, ripping hard. It split almost to her navel, leaving her breast completely bare. Spreading the fabric so that nothing remained secret, he smiled a little boy’s smile; all the sweets were his. “Perfect, almost perfect.”

  He moved then, lifting the bottom of the chemise so that all her womanly parts were seen. He stared for a moment, licked his lips. One finger reached out and tapped her clit, a single flash of lightning. He knew her body far too well. Heat rose up her chest to her cheeks.

  Standing, he backed away, surveying her. “I would like to have your portrait painted just like this, all pink and tender and slightly shiny. I’d hang it in my bedroom and fall asleep dreaming of you each night. I can imagine nothing sweeter.”

  Painted? Like this? At least he wasn’t talking about placing it in the room of the long gallery. She felt the flush grow, knew she must be as red as a robin’s breast, even as she felt more moisture pool between her thighs. What would it be like to be captured like this?

  “Are you trembling? Do you like the thought of being seen, of being watched, and examined? I think you do. I must tell you though that I’ve never been a man for sharing. What is mine I keep.”

  He’d said that before, and she could only be thankful.

  He moved to her head and leaned down and stroked her cheek. “I love how your desire grows when you are mine to do with as I like, helpless to my desire. I love the trust that I see in your eyes.”

  But did he love her? It wasn’t even a word she’d thought of, caring, desiring, needing, liking—but love? And was that what she actually wanted? Had she been using different words to avoid what she truly felt? Did she love him? Had all the other thoughts she’d had been nothing but avoidance of the truth?

  She was very afraid that might just be the case. Staring back at him, she hoped her feelings were not too apparent on her face.

  She loved him. She loved James.

  He traced down her cheek, her neck, the upper curves of her chest, circled each nipple, and then ran his finger lower, to the deep vee in the rent fabric. “I do have an important question I must ask you, however.”

  She forced her focus back to the wandering finger, letting his words pass over, her eyes following his hand.

  “Sin,” he said, his tone rough.

  She blinked and looked back up. “Yes?”

  “I have an important question to ask you.”

  “What?” She loved him. Her mind could not move beyond that simple fact.

  “You have agreed to marry me?”

  “Yes.” Why was he even questioning that now?

  “And you have no intention of changing your mind?”

  “No.” And she didn’t. No matter how unsure she might sometimes be, she knew deep in her heart that it was the right choice. She could no longer imagine marrying anybody but him.

  “Then when are you prepared to marry me?”

  Now, that took her by surprise, drawing her attention. “Perhaps early in the summer? I’ve always wanted a June wedding.”

  “I was thinking earlier.” His finger ran back up her ribs and again began to circle her nipples.

  “Why? Does it matter?” She tried to shift, to bring his touch right to the rigid peak. It ached with an intensity that she knew would only be cured by his stroke, his touch, his taste. If only he would stop this questioning and place his lips upon her, suck her deep, scrape her with his teeth, then she could let her mind go blank, not worry about her emotions.

  “Pay attention, Sin.” His hand stopped moving. “It might matter very much.” His hand swept lower and settled on the curve of her linen-covered belly. “You might already be carrying my child, and if not, I am thinking that I might like to engage in activities that mean…”

  “You want to have relations.” She was beginning to understand.

  “I want to fuck you, and fuck you hard.”

  Now, that did make her blink, made her release her other thoughts. Her inner muscles tensed and throbbed, even as she worried. It had not felt so wonderful that first time. Did she really want to do such a thing again? But the thought of him in her, joining with her, that had fire flashing in her veins. And if she didn’t like it, was it not better to know now? “So when are you thinking of marrying?”

  “I will need to speak to your father and mine. Scarlett can get us a special license in less time than it takes to blink.”

  “But he doesn’t even know…What if he doesn’t want you to wed me?” That made her stomach tense—and not in such a pleasant way.

  He chuckled deep in his throat. “Jasmine said something similar. Did you never notice the looks he sent us when you were younger? The calculation in his gaze? He’s asked me about you on numerous occasions. I think he believes you are perfect for his second son, your connections of the highest order. I admit that if I were Langdon, the heir, he might dream even higher, perhaps a royal princess or another duke’s daughter, but you are more than good enough for me.”

  She wasn’t sure how to take that. Was it possible for something to be gratifying and insulting at the same time?

  He caught her look. “I am, of course, speaking only of Scarlett. I think you are probably too good for me.”

  “You always had a slippery tongue, Lord James.”

  “And don’t you love it.” He stuck it out and moved it in a most outlandish fashion.

  “I shall make no comment on that.”

  He glanced down to where the chemise road high above her thighs. “I could make you talk.”

  And he probably could. “Why don’t we get back to your question? How soon do you want us to wed?”

  “I was thinking two weeks.”

  “Two weeks!” It came out as a squeak.

  “That seems manageable.”

  His thumbs began to trace new patterns on her breast, reminding her that her body still had not found relief. “Are you trying to force my hand, make it so I have no choice but to agree?”

  His thumbs slowed. “No, although I do admit to the temptation. But I want this to be your free choice, Sin. If you want to wait until June, we will wait until June.”

  “What if I say yes and then one of our fathers does not agree?”

  He let out a long breath. “Do you think your father could be a problem?”

  She considered. “No, I think he will do what I want, but how will I explain our desire to hurry?”

  “I will make it clear that is my doing, and desire is exactly the word. I daresay he will understand. He will never know that we have already indulged and will merely think that I am eager to consummate the wedding after spending these last days with you on the estate. Everyone will remember your girlish affection for me and say that they always knew we would be suited to wed. And once that rumor starts, all will be well.”

  Sin was not quite so sure, but she did admit it had a good chance of working. “What if we waited a month? That way we could have the banns read and it would not require a special license. I would like to be married in the parish at home. I have always felt part of the community. The villagers offered much support when my mother died. And I do not want Gillian to feel slighted and I fear she might if she does not get to arrange for the wedding breakfast.”

  “A month. I can wait a month, and nobody will even comment on an eight-month babe. There are so many of them.”

  She still was not sure she wanted to do this. Half of her was excited by the thought and half dreaded
it. “I will tell you to proceed then, but if I ask you to stop, you will?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I stopped that first morning the very moment that it became clear that all was not as I surmised. If you ask, I will stop immediately.”

  Closing her eyes, she thought. There was no reason to wait. Things would not be better later and she was curious—and her body wanting. “Fine,” she said.

  “Then open your eyes and look at me.”

  She obeyed. He stood tall and strong above her, all long, lean muscle. She knew that body now, knew its every curve and sinew. She knew the taste of him, the scent of him. Her eyes locked on his face, sought that hidden message she had seen earlier. He did care. He might not even know how much, but she could see it in his shadowed gaze. Her eyes dropped lower. He was erect again. Hard and proud—and large. A shiver of thrill passed through her, a shiver of anticipation.

  He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. “We do not kiss enough. I look forward to days and weeks when I can show you what it is to really kiss.”

  “Do none of our kisses count as real?” Now, that did feel a little insulting.

  “Of course they do. I merely meant I look forward to kissing you for hours in the garden, in the parlor before the fire, in the back of the booth at the opera, at—”