by Lavinia Kent
Her mind filled with the image of his long hard penis, of his hand stroking up the veined underside, of that glistening drop of seed forming at the top, of the look upon his face, the strain in the tendons of his neck. It was all she could do to not glance back and see if her dreams were being met.
“What are you thinking, my angel? Your legs are tensing and relaxing in a most delicious fashion, and you’re growing damper by the second. I would have lit more lamps in the music room if I’d known what a sight I was going to be treated to. You make me long to taste you. Would you like that, would you like for me to taste you? Oh, don’t worry about answering; your body is your answer—that little shiver, the sudden clenching of your sex. Did you know I can see that? I can see how your inner muscles tighten just by the way you move.”
She didn’t know how her legs supported her. If she wasn’t careful she’d go toppling right off the balcony. It was a good thing the wall was so high.
And then she heard him move, felt his breath upon her behind.
“You have a most glorious ass. I had not realized before. I should always have you pose this way, have it arched and ready for me. It is all I can do not to sink my teeth into it, to bite you like a ripe peach.” He placed a kiss upon the left cheek of her behind, his lips slightly parted. His tongue slipped out and ran a slow trail over her.
Her fingers clenched tight into the cold stone beneath them. She forced her eyes onto the people below her, tried to concentrate, tried to smile, although she was sure her face was shadowed and invisible.
His fingers gripped her inner thighs, tight. She would be bruised in the morning—and she simply didn’t care. Anything was worth this instant, this moment.
“I really would like to nip you, to leave my mark. I’ve always liked to see my mark on a woman’s creamy flesh.”
She didn’t want to think about other women, to think about the fact that he’d done this before. “Then do it,” she whispered between gritted teeth. “Just do it, do whatever you like. I told you I was yours to command and I meant it.”
He licked her again, his tongue hot and wet. He made little circles, nipped her lightly with his teeth and then again. When the actual bite came, she felt as if she’d been waiting for it forever. The pain was sharp and hard, and yet she welcomed it. She felt her legs open farther of their own accord. Her fingers bit into the stone.
His tongue was back, laving the wound.
He pulled away, his breath moving over her back. “So beautiful.” A finger traced the lower part of her spine through her gown then disappeared beneath her raised skirts, then skimmed down again quickly, sliding between the cheeks of her buttocks. “And wet, so very wet.” The finger circled places she had only recently learned to consider and then moved lower, sliding over her center. Her whole body clenched at the feel, her hips arching farther, seeking.
He swatted her. “Bad girl. I asked you to be still.” And then there was a hand on each buttock, pulling them apart, his fingers sinking deep into her flesh.
She moaned. She could not help it. Her whole body was on fire. She needed. Oh, she needed.
“I’d like to fuck you here and now. Do you know that? Do you know that I want to push you down hard on that stone ledge? That I want to sink into you as you scream and call my name? And you want that too, don’t you? I begin to fear that you may not be an angel at all.”
Another moan, this one far louder than she liked.
There was movement below, faces turned up at her.
She lifted a hand, gave a little wave, tried to look as if nothing…
He slipped between her legs, coming to rest with his back against the stone ledge. And then his mouth was on her, on her as she had never imagined, hitting that spot, sucking that spot, biting, nipping—and then again. She bit down on her lower lip, trying hard not to moan again, not to call further attention to herself.
A finger slipped between her lower lips, trailed through her wetness.
This time he was the one who moaned, low and deep and so very guttural. “God, you’re sweet.”
He licked again, moving along her whole length. She bit her lip harder, afraid she would draw blood.
A single finger pushed up into her. Her body stiffened at the intrusion. She’d never felt such a thing. She’d imagined what it must be like, but the reality was far different. Her thighs twitched, and for a moment the whole world stopped as she tried to grow used to the strange sensation.
He held the finger still, and then his lips closed upon that special spot and he sucked, hard and fast. The fires lit within her body again and she found herself tightening down on that finger. It began to move within her, up and down, pressing on the front wall of her passage. He stroked across a certain spot and something happened, her whole body began to move, to…
He sucked again. His finger stroked again—and she lit, burned, exploded.
The tenor sang. People giggled.
And she died and was born again—and then again.
Her whole body was as tight as a bowstring, every muscle straining.
Too much. It was too much.
And then it was over.
Her body sagged against the wall. She wished she could sink down beside him. Her muscles felt as if they would never move again. She felt his finger withdraw, and then with a small movement her skirts were free, falling to the ground.
She turned slowly, leaning, letting her head fall back so that she stared up at the stars.
A thousand tiny points of light spread across the sky. Even the faint glow shining from the house did not dampen the wonder, the glory of the moment.
—
Colton leaned against the wall to the house, fighting his own desire. She was magnificent. He had not expected that from her. He seemed to always be underestimating her, thinking that she would not measure up to what he needed, and always she surprised him.
Again he wondered: Could he have been mistaken when he decided she could not truly meet his needs? That possibility spun through his mind—and was rejected. They were playing right now.
They both admitted that this was a game. She might be intrigued with what they had done, but no more. They had played with the edge of excitement, but he had never pushed her over the edge into forbidden territory—well, only with Granderson, and that had not ended well. Nothing else they had done was that unusual. But what if he pushed her further, indulged his own desires a little more? She’d said she dreamed of being tied when questioned by her lieutenant—how far was his angel ready to go?
Lady Johnson let out a loud laugh below.
“I think I could float away.” Angela’s voice was soft and low, in many ways quieter than a whisper.
“I think that is a common experience after orgasm. I know that I frequently like to sleep.”
She laughed lightly, almost a titter. Her face came down to look at him. “I must admit I have heard that about men. Some of the married women speak of it with relief and some with regret. I think I would fall solidly into the regret category if you fell asleep on me.”
He had a hard time imagining falling asleep, although the fact that his cock was hard and bulging against his evening breeches may have had something to do with that. He pressed a hand tight against his flap, willing it down. He would not be able to return to the party until it did.
Her eyes followed his movement. “I could help with that.”
“And how would you propose that?” He focused on her mouth, on those still-damp lips.
She blinked. “I could certainly touch you. You could show me how.”
Well, that would work, too, but…“There is not time. The music is coming to an end. And the angles present something of a problem. It would not do for you to disappear, only to have me standing in your stead. I would imagine that your mother would be up here in less than five minutes. And I may be in a state of need, but I still like to think it would take more than five minutes.”
“Oh.” She considered his words, turned, and
looked down over the balcony. She lifted a hand and waved. “She is looking at me.”
“I imagine she is. And I also imagine that at some point soon my absence will be noted.”
“I doubt that my mother would ever consider that she could be looking at me while I…”
“While you had an orgasm? Can you even say the word?”
“Orgasm.” She said it slowly and clearly, if rather quietly. “And climax. It is called that too, is it not?”
“Yes.”
She smiled, a cat with a faceful of cream.
Although perhaps he was the one with the faceful. He pushed to his feet, being careful to keep to the shadows as he stepped back through the music room doors. “I had best clean up and then reappear at the party. I would suggest that you stay in place until your mother gestures you down. I expect she will do so soon enough.”
“But what about…?” She gestured to his breeches.
“I will survive—or I will take it in hand as I did the other night. I can assure you that you have given me plenty of pretty pictures to relive. Should I describe what I saw? Would you like to know how you looked, how you tasted as my fingers plunged into you as—Fuck. Forget that. I do need to be going, and I see from the look in your eyes that you would like it all too much.”
“Yes. I believe that your words as much as your touch cause my body to heat. When you tell me what you want me to do, something happens to me. I want nothing more than to obey you, to please you. I don’t understand it, but I feel as if I have no control—as if I can only gain control by doing as you ask.”
And that was not helping his condition. Despite his words, he had no intention of pleasuring himself this evening. He’d spoken for himself as well when he talked of the glories of anticipation. “I will be off. Wait for your mother.” He quickly stepped farther back and strode from the music room. He would find a pitcher of cold water and probably a couple of strong whiskeys.
“But what comes next?” Her question echoed after him.
Chapter 14
What did come next? The question had troubled her throughout the long night. Angela glanced about the breakfast room. She’d thought of little else since her encounter with Colton. How had she ever dared to do such a thing? If he had described what he wanted to do, she doubted she would have agreed. How could that have happened to her body in a place where others were watching? She knew they could see nothing, but…
Had she really done that?
Yes. And to be honest, she knew she would do it again, that she would love to do it again. In the beginning this had all been a plot, a way to draw Colton into her web, to bring him to a point where she could punish him as she saw fit, to find justice, but now…It grew harder and harder to know what she wanted. Well, she knew that she wanted him, wanted the things that he could do to her body, wanted…wanted more. She wanted more. She might still not know quite what more was, but every time he touched her she felt herself slipping further and further into his trap. His trap. How had she started as the hunter and become the prey? Although that was not fair. It didn’t seem as if he was pursuing at all; she simply came and offered herself to him.
She bent her head, staring down at the now-cold eggs on the table before her. What was she doing?
“Ah, Miss Ripon, up so early. I thought ladies lay in their beds until noon.” Lord Thorton entered the room and looked over the dishes arrayed on the sideboard.
“I have never been one for lying abed.” Particularly when she’d been up all night trying to understand what was happening. “And who could resist such a beautiful country morning. I wish I’d been out even earlier. I would have liked to ride through the mists as the sun came up. Although I am not much of a horsewoman.”
“Strange. I thought you’d started to ride in the park each morning.”
How did he know that? Not that it was a secret, but still…“Only once. Though perhaps I should ask my father to have a mare brought to Town for me if he decides we should stay in London until the Christmas season. It did feel good to be up and about so early in the day, and I do not wish to keep borrowing a ride.”
“From Lord Colton, was it not?”
She blinked. “Why, yes.”
“And how did I know that? It must have come up in conversation last night—with your mother perhaps? I know she is concerned that you not get too close to the man. And I must say that I agree. He has some unsavory habits.”
“I have never heard that. Perhaps you should tell me more.”
“I am afraid it is a subject not fit for a young lady’s ears.”
Wasn’t she tired of hearing that. Did having a penis—she said the word quite loudly in her mind—make one somehow more able to understand at an earlier age? She had always found the opposite to be true. Men acted like little boys for far more years than girls acted as if they still belonged in the nursery. “I am sure you are right.” She focused again on her cold eggs.
“And I am not sure it is good for you to have a mount in the city. I’ve never believed that women need as much air as men, and a gentle walk should supply what you need.”
Putting a bite of eggs in her mouth, she worked to chew and swallow, not even nodding in response.
Thorton continued. “I always told my dear departed wife not to leave the house if the weather was brisk.”
“I’ve often found a hearty walk on a cold day to be most invigorating.” She had to say something.
“I know that it can feel that way.” He smiled at her gently as he filled his plate and took a seat beside her. “But being too vigorous can change how the brain functions. I know that you would not want your brain to become overheated.”
“Walking on a cold day will overheat my brain?”
“I am sorry if it is too complex an idea for you to understand, but I do have it on good authority. And I know that you would wish to stay calm and ladylike. Those of the lower classes may need to partake in activities that are not suited for gentlewomen, but you are not so unlucky.”
“No, I’ve always considered myself quite fortunate.”
“Yes, I thought you would. I know that you would never want to do anything that would jeopardize your feminine capabilities.”
What was the man talking about? “No, I suppose I wouldn’t.”
He smiled at her again. “I am so glad to hear that. After speaking with your mother, I was quite sure you were suitable. I am sure that you will make a wonderful wife and mother. I am sure you are most excellent at obeying the rules of your place and station.”
He sounded like a governess she’d once had. She nodded. Well, Colton had taught her that she liked being obedient—but only some of the time, although she wasn’t quite sure that was what Thorton meant. “I do try.”
“Yes.” He reached out and patted her hand. “I am quite sure that you do. And that is all I ask, that women try to obey the rules. It is so distressing when they do not.”
There was an undercurrent here that she did not understand. She nodded again, not sure what response he wanted—or expected.
“I am sure that there would be no such problem with you. I asked your mother last night if she would approve a stroll down to the lake this afternoon, when the air has warmed. I trust an hour past luncheon would be appropriate for you.” He said it as a statement, not a question, and then spread a careful amount of butter and preserves upon his toast.
A walk? She didn’t want to go on a walk with Thorton. She wanted to find out what Colton had planned. And she certainly didn’t want more than a walk with Thorton. What was her mother thinking? Angela knew that her mother worried that she would not find a husband, but Lord Thorton? Once she might have considered him, but these recent days had definitely changed her view of the man. And he had already put one wife in the grave—and that despite her care never to risk a chill.
“Good, I will find you then.” He took another bite of toast.
“But, I—”
“I am sure you would not want to disap
point your mother or me, Miss Ripon.”
She could still refuse, but what was the harm of a walk? She would merely need to be careful not to give any indication that she was interested in anything more.
—
“Meet me at the folly on the west side of the lake, midafternoon,” Colton whispered as he walked past her toward the tables that had once again been spread upon the terrace.
“But…” she tried to answer, but he was already past.
“There you are, Angela,” her mother said, shooting a suspicious look at Colton’s back. “I am glad to see that you are staying away from that man. I was worried last night when you wandered off on your own but glad that you were so careful to stay in sight. A lady can never be too careful of her reputation. There are several eligible men about and more due to arrive. And I believe several of them ride spirited horses. I must admit that Lord Thorton’s gelding looks like it’s been taking laudanum.”
Why did her mother keep talking about men and their horses? Her mother didn’t even like riding, and Angela remained convinced that her mother didn’t intend a more bawdy meaning. “About that, Mother, you must know that—”
“You have no interest in Lord Thorton,” her mother spoke as if reading her mind. “I do know that he is too old for you, dear, and perhaps a little too fixed in his ways. The poor man actually tried to explain to me that I should not let you stroll about at all without a maid.”
“I am glad you understand.”
“I do, but I also know that nothing attracts a man as much as another man showing interest. Take your stroll with him this afternoon—although I am tempted to send a maid along with the two of you. Be pleasant and sweet, but keep an appropriate distance. Lord Thorton will appreciate such behavior and it will help prevent trouble in the future.”
What would Colton think of seeing her with Lord Thorton? He might not care at all; then again, he might, and if she wanted to keep Colton thinking she was not trying to entrap him, then it would be good to show interest in another man. It was all too confusing.
