by Lynne Barron
“Christ, woman,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Do you think I have not tried?”
“What is it you want, Lord Malleville?”
“You.”
The single word unleashed a flurry of warring emotions in Lilith, hope and despair, desire and fear, fury and, oddly enough, amusement and affection. Damn the bloody man.
“You cannot afford me.” Lilith refused to regret the words even as Jasper flinched. Turning away from the pain she saw in his eyes, pain she’d intentionally inflicted, she started up the stairs, heart hammering and perspiration sprouting up on her temples and nape. “Go back to the house.”
Lilith climbed the circular staircase, her legs shaking and her heart racing as a terrible, heavy silence followed her ascent. She made a half-hearted attempt to convince herself she was pleased Jasper had heeded the order to return to the house, to his betrothed and the bosom of his family where he belonged.
Except she’d forgotten the man was stubborn and perhaps a bit mad.
A low roar of rage shattered the quiet, quickly followed by hurried footfalls as Jasper tracked Lilith’s ascent, his heavy tread shaking the staircase.
Reaching the landing, Lilith raced down the balcony to her borrowed bedchamber, Jasper close enough she heard his ragged breathing, felt the heat of his big body hot on her heels.
“You’re for bed early.” Tula looked up from the coverlet she was folding when Lilith pushed the door open with enough force to send it banging against the wall. The girl’s gaze skittered past her mistress and her eyes widened. “And in fine fiddle from the looks of things.”
“Out.”
Goodness, it was truly amazing what Baron Malleville could accomplish with a single word.
Tula tossed the coverlet on a chair, scooped up the candelabra on the table and scuttled around both her mistress and the enraged man looming over her shoulder in the open doorway. Lifting her skirts in her free hand, the maid ran for the staircase.
Lilith took two steps into the bedchamber and spun around to face the man who ought to know better than to allow himself to be led down the primrose path.
Jasper stood at the threshold, feet firmly planted, hands fisting at his sides. In the meager light of the moon, his face was all hard angles and jagged ridges, from his jaw clamped tight, to his heavy brow pulled low, to his lips, those lovely pouting lips, drawn into a rigid slash, and his eyes darkened almost to black.
Lilith knew she ought to be afraid. She’d awakened the beast, after all.
Yet she felt no fear, only a shivering sort of anticipation coupled with a queer sense of inevitability.
Still, she made one final attempt to save the poor man from his own foolish actions. “Please, my lord, return to the house before you are ruined.”
He stepped into the bedchamber and kicked the door shut behind him. “Too late.”
Lilith closed her eyes, a sigh of surrender trembling on her lips.
She was going to steal this one night, revel in it and wring every last bit of pleasure she possibly could from it. And from the man who, in six days’ time, would be forever beyond her reach.
When she opened her eyes, Jasper was standing directly before her, his bulk blocking the scanty light, his scent surrounding her and his hunger coming off him in waves of heat.
“One night,” Lilith whispered.
Jasper made no reply beyond a soft hiss. Of surprise or satisfaction, of agreement or denial, it hardly mattered, as in the next instant his arms coiled around her, his hands spanning her back and dragging her up against him.
There was no hesitation in his kiss, no cajolery or request.
His lips demanded, taking hers with reckless abandon and devastating ardor, claiming and conquering and devouring. His tongue swept over the seam of her lips before delving between, taking possession in sure, masterful strokes that had Lilith curling her arms over his shoulders and driving her hands into his hair—for purchase as the world spun off its axis, for balance as he lifted her until only the tips of her toes met the floor, for the sheer pleasure of tangling her fingers in the silky locks.
“Jesus, Lil,” Jasper muttered against her lips, one hand sweeping down her back to cup her bottom and pull her tight against his arousal.
“Yes,” she whispered in encouragement.
One-handed, Jasper plucked at the buttons running down the back of her dress, cool air marking the release of each one until her dress gaped open. His mouth trailed along her jaw and her head fell back in blatant invitation.
Tracing a path down her neck, tongue swirling, teeth grazing, he stopped to linger at the juncture of her shoulder. He sucked the flesh between his lips and bit down, lightly, oh so lightly, a mere tease of teeth quickly followed by the lash of his tongue.
Lilith couldn’t help the moan that fell from her lips any more than she could help the bowing of her back or the undulation of her hips.
With a low groan, Jasper started on the laces of her corset, tugging and pulling in time to the suction of his mouth and the nipping of his teeth, until finally the bothersome garment sagged within the confines of her loosened dress.
“Hurry,” Lilith begged, releasing his hair to run her hands down his neck and beneath his coat, pushing the fabric off his shoulders.
Jasper ignored her attempt to divest him of his coat, muttering what might have been a curse or a prayer as he yanked down her gown, corset and shift. Bending her back over his arm, he took her exposed nipple into his mouth.
Lilith cried out, her hands curling over his shoulders, fingers clinging as he feasted on her flesh, suckling avariciously. Pleasure inundated her, arcing from her breast to her womb, coiling tighter and tighter.
“Jasper…good…God,” she panted, squirming in his embrace, undone by the exquisite sensations he wrung from her with his nimble lips.
Transferring his attentions to her other breast, voraciously worshiping her flesh with luxurious swipes of his tongue and gentle nips of his teeth, he set up a rhythm that had her franticly twisting and bucking, chasing a release that was suddenly just there, hovering on the horizon.
Jasper relinquished her breast, swung her up in his arms and tossed her on the bed, wrestling out of his coat before coming down over her.
Lilith reached for him, hands splayed across his back, fingers clawing at the fine linen of his shirt. She captured his lips in a kiss owing nothing to finesse and everything to the desperate desire he’d unleashed within her.
Jasper’s tongue drove into her mouth, taking control of the kiss and threatening to send her flying over the edge. His hands were everywhere, dragging her skirts up to bunch around her waist, caressing her thighs and hips, pushing her legs apart, delving between them.
He cupped her femininity in his calloused hand, the gesture so masculine and possessive, Lilith’s breath left her on a low moan. Jasper broke their kiss to lever himself above her on one arm. His gaze collided with hers, his eyes nearly black in the dim light, his face all harsh angles and dusky shadows.
Settling on his knees between her thighs, he dragged two fingers through her curls, parted her folds, skimmed along the flesh within, forward and back, and again. With one fingertip he circled her center, his touch light, little more than a tease.
Lilith swiveled her hips, chasing his finger when it retreated, sighing in frustration, then again in gratification when he found her clitoris.
He played with the sensitive bud, flicked his fingertip over and around, taunting her, torturing her, before finally giving her the pressure she craved.
Limbs trembling, hips twisting and lifting, Lilith moved in counterpoint to his touch. Together they found the tempo she wanted, the friction she needed, until she was panting and writhing, desperately seeking an orgasm that promised to shatter her to pieces.
And all the while Jasper watched her with savage satisfaction and blatant hunger.
Relinquishing his treasure, ignoring her hiss of complaint, he breached her body with one long,
thick finger. Tilting her hips in welcome, Lilith moaned and his big body shuddered above her. Withdrawing, he added a second finger, slowly filling her, stretching her, before retreating, only to return. Once, twice, and again, harder and deeper with each pass.
“Oh, God,” Lilith groaned, hips rising to meet each foray, swiveling to take his fingers deeper into her body, wanting, needing more. “Now, Jasper, take me now.”
“Shh, let me make you ready, love,” Jasper whispered, his voice low and guttural.
Lilith realized then what he was about and smiled, in apology, in regret for all she could never offer him, her maidenhead being the least of it. “I’m not a virgin.”
Jasper stilled above her, his fingers buried deep inside her body, his breath ragged when he released it on a long, stuttering sigh.
“I want you,” she said, sweeping her hands down his back. “Now, Jasper.”
Jasper removed his fingers from her core, ripped open the placket of his trousers and pushed the garment past his hips. His cock brushed her inner thigh before he took the shaft in hand and guided himself into position. He prodded the opening to her body, making his imminent invasion known but not quite penetrating.
“Please,” she begged, grasping his taut buttocks and lifting her hips.
With one long, smooth stroke, Jasper filled her.
Lilith came apart, crying out as bliss erupted. The climax that gripped her, that stole her breath and left a scream in its wake, was unlike any she’d ever experienced. On and on it went, tossing her about in a dark vortex of pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain.
As lost in a world of sensation as she was, she still heard Jasper’s gravelly groans and the slap of flesh against flesh. She felt each thrust, hard and heavy, pummeling her body, taking possession of her completely and irrevocably. Until, with a rumbling growl, he planted himself deep within and spent his seed, his hulking form shuddering and bucking wildly.
Chapter 13
Jasper Edward Grimley, ninth Baron Malleville, came awake in slow degrees, consciousness claiming him one sense at a time.
Someone nearby was humming, the melody as soft as a whisper, the voice as rich and sultry as fine whiskey. A splash of water followed, then a soft squeak of surprise and an almost silent curse.
Scents drifted around him on a cool breeze, foreign yet familiar, cinnamon and citrus underlain with something floral, perhaps jasmine.
Rolling to his back and stretching his limbs across the mattress, Jasper attempted to shove off the bed linens binding his legs and twisting around his chest and shoulders. It proved to be a fruitless endeavor as he only became more entangled.
He opened his eyes, blinked a few times until his vision cleared, and found himself staring up at exposed wooden beams in dire need of a good whitewashing rather than the moth-eaten canopy above his bed.
Memories slammed into him, a disjointed recollection of sensations, soft hands and breathless moans, deep kisses and pebbled flesh on his tongue, silky heat clenching around him and pleasure unlike any he’d ever known.
“You’re finally awake.” Lilith’s voice, husky and faintly laced with amusement.
Jasper scrambled to sit, his open trousers bunching around his thighs and his shirt collar strangling him as he found her across the room before the small table situated between two windows.
Lilith stood in the interlocking circles of golden light cast by two candles, one on the mantle above the empty grate, the other on a bookshelf wedged into the corner. Ancient velvet curtains worn thin fluttered in the breeze from the open windows, framing her long, lithe form.
Christ and all the saints, the woman was entirely, wondrously, blessedly unclothed.
Jasper couldn’t ever remember seeing a lovelier sight than that of water glistening along the long line of Lilith Aberdeen’s back, rivulets trailing over the gentle swell of her hips, the soft round orbs of her buttocks and the endless length of her slender legs.
She peered over her shoulder, her lips twitching and her eyes sparkling as she swept her gaze over him from his head to his toes.
Toes still ensconced in scuffed black boots.
As if reading his mind, she stared pointedly at his boots before turning back to the basin of water sitting on the table.
Christ, he’d taken her while wearing his bloody boots. And every other article of clothing he’d donned for the evening, save his coat which was carefully draped over the single chair in the sparsely furnished bedchamber.
“I was beginning to wonder if you meant to sleep the night away,” Lilith said, her words muffled as she dragged a soapy cloth over her face.
“How long was I asleep?” he asked, his voice louder and harsher than he’d intended.
But damn it, in all his fantasies, and there’d been dozens, hell hundreds, he’d never once imagined making love to Lilith while wearing his boots.
Nor had he tumbled her to this narrow bed in a chamber that had always struck him as dank and somehow desolate. The dungeon of Breckenridge, where he’d come to lick his wounds after tossing away his fortune and his family’s future. Where he’d thought to stash Dunaway’s mistress in a petty, childish fit of temper. Where he’d left Lilith even after he’d discovered her true relationship to the earl.
“Hmm, about an hour, I suppose,” she replied, swiping the cloth around her neck. “There isn’t anything so civilized as a clock in here, so I’m only guessing. Why, have you somewhere else to be?”
Jasper swung his legs over the side of the bed, rose to his feet and yanked up his trousers. With shaking hands and fumbling fingers he buttoned the placket and let the ends of his shirt drift down to hide his seemingly never-ending desire for this one, complicated woman.
Lilith turned to face him, gifting him with an unobstructed, awe-inspiring view of her lush breasts with their pink tips, the taut expanse of her belly, the gentle curve of her hips and the endless length of her legs.
She met his gaze, her green eyes gleaming in the overlapping candlelight that, for one queer moment, reminded Jasper of theater lights, perfectly and precisely placed to draw an audience’s attention and hold it.
The odd notion flittered away, along with what little remained of his wits, when Lilith started toward him, her movements slow and languid, as graceful as the feline she’d brought to mind the first time he’d seen her. She stopped before him and tilted her head back, a question in her eyes.
“I’ll have you moved into the main house. I never should have put you out here. I thought to make Dunaway work for his ill-gotten pleasure and then, when I realized you were not his mistress but his daughter, I thought to keep you at a safe distance.” In some faraway part of his mind, Jasper knew he was babbling but it seemed imperative he explain, excuse, somehow atone for his behavior. “Only there is no safe distance where you are concerned.”
“I find myself well-pleased with my accommodations. And beyond pleased with your hospitality.” With a smile that was pure sass, she placed her hands on his chest and gave him a gentle push.
“I should return to the house,” he protested even as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Are your boots likely to come off easy?”
“What?”
“Your boots. Will I be able to slide them off with little fuss?” She bent down and took hold of his left boot. “If I must contort myself into all sorts of undignified positions to remove them, I’d best put on a robe.”
“I’ll do it,” he all but barked, his mind awash in images of her unclothed body contorted into all sorts of undignified positions.
She gave an expert twist to loosen the leather from his foot and tugged with enough force to send her stumbling backward when his boot slipped off.
“I said I’ll do it.”
“You’ve no need to shout,” she chided, dropping one boot to clamp her hands around the other. “I heard you the first time. Are you always such a bear when you first awake?”
“I’m a bloody beast even at the best of times,” he
replied as if admitting to something the entire world didn’t know perfectly well.
“I rather like that about you.” Again she loosened his footwear with a series of twists and tugs, prying it from the arch of his foot and the tight clasp at his ankle. “You quite render me mad with all your barking and snapping and growling. Did you know your eyes glow like polished pewter when you work yourself into a lather? And, good Lord, when you pout I go all to pieces.”
“I do not pout,” Jasper retorted with a chuckle.
“Hmm, I think I like that snarly laughter of yours best of all,” she mused before pulling her lip between her teeth and giving his boot a good hard yank.
She was better prepared this time, barely stumbling at all.
Dropping his boot and dusting her hands off in a purely feminine gesture that tugged oddly at Jasper’s heart, Lilith stepped between his legs.
“Do you know what else I like about you?” She traced the scar on his cheek with just the tips of her fingers, the touch as light as a summer breeze.
“What?” He barely got the single word out past the lump forming in his throat.
God, it had been so long since he’d been touched by a woman he hadn’t paid for the privilege. And never had he been touched with gentle hands seeking to soothe old wounds. It was a gift beyond price, doubly precious when offered by a woman who was unnerved by the simplest of touches.
“I like your masculine beauty,” Lilith whispered, her hands cupping his face. “The hard planes of your cheeks, the blunt angles of your jaw.”
Jasper’s eyes drifted closed, emotions he couldn’t name swamping him, drowning him in pleasure.
Lilith brushed a kiss over his lips, feather light and sweet. “Your lips drive me to distraction, so full and soft, tender and ardent by turns.”
“Ah, love,” Jasper murmured.
“I like your thick neck.” Her fingers lightly encircled his neck, slid down to slip inside his shirt, to knead the muscles she found there. “I like your shoulders, strong enough to carry the weight of the world without bending.”
