He bent his head over her chest as he lavished all of his attention on her breasts. He licked the underside of one, learning its shape with his tongue until finally, finally he circled her nipple. Once, slow and easy, and she whimpered. He noticed, glancing up so his darkened gaze met hers, and continued to stare as he carefully enveloped her nipple between his lips.
Oh, he was so deliciously bold. Completely unlike how he behaved in public, he was a strange contradiction, her wicked marquess.
He was also a masterful lover. He swirled his tongue about her nipple, his lips sucking, pulling on her sensitive flesh. She curled her hands around his head. Holding him close, she urged him on silently as he offered the same attention to her other breast. She grew wet between her legs, restless and edgy, and wondered idly if a woman could spend just by having her nipples sucked.
It was a most deliciously wicked thought.
Camden moved down her body, raining kisses on the gentle slope of her stomach, upon each hip bone. She quivered and shook beneath his touch, excitement and nerves making her eagerly anticipate his next move. He lifted above her, propping his elbows on either side of her hips, his face perilously close to the spot between her legs. Only her thin silk pantaloons prevented him from seeing her completely.
And he removed those with a quick efficiency that left her panting.
“Pretty.” He reached out and traced the top of her garter with a single finger. Pale cream lace and blue silk ribbon rimmed the top, and she watched in agonized fascination as he pulled the loop of the tied ribbon. It unfurled with a whispery sound, so feminine and delicate while clutched within his large, masculine fingers. “You are a most exquisite woman, my lady.”
Her heart swelled at his words and her throat clogged. She couldn’t speak, could only whimper when he slid her stocking first down one leg, then the other. Until she was completely and totally bare to his assessing gaze.
And assess her he did, his eyes sliding greedily over her unclothed form. He even licked his lips like some sort of feral animal, anticipating her taste. Her legs shook and she arched her hips, wanton in her indescribable desire for him.
Bending his head, he pressed a soft kiss to her belly, just below her navel. His lips lingered. He swiped his tongue across her skin, a gentle scrape that sent gooseflesh scattering all over her body. She blindly reached behind her, clutching at a plump pillow, desperate to anchor herself before she floated away on a cloud.
“I want to taste you,” he murmured as he delved his big hands between her legs and spread her thighs wide.
She gasped. Her husband had never looked upon her so intimately. How could Camden want to do such a thing?
Oh, but he was downright eager. Sliding down the bed so he lay between her legs, he bent his head. His nose, his face nuzzled the dark hair that covered her mound. A bolt of sensation cut through her and her breath caught in her throat. Anticipation for what he might do next almost killing her.
“God.” She threw her head back, closing her eyes at the first rasp of his tongue against her tender flesh. His large hand settled low on her belly, seeming to open her to him even more, and he licked again. Along the seam of her, teasing her apart to search the depths within.
She never thought she could feel like this. Her entire body vibrated with the intensity of his touch. The languid way he licked her, sampled her, flicked his tongue over the sensitive bit of flesh that was the center of every delicious tremor that wracked her body. He licked again and again, his lips engulfing her, his tongue tasting her, thrusting so deep inside her, her hips lifted toward him. Eager for more.
He slipped his hands beneath her and cupped her bottom, holding her in place. She arched off the mattress, her eyes tightly closed, solely focused on what his mouth, his wicked tongue were doing to her. She was close, so easily close to shattering into a million tiny little pieces and when he pushed two fingers deep inside her body she couldn’t withstand it any longer.
She fell apart. Her cries were loud, echoing in the confines of the room as wave after wave washed over her. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically about his thrusting fingers, her legs shook, and still he licked her.
He continued lavishing his attention upon her flesh until the very last tremor shook through her. Until she finally lay slumped upon the mattress, weak and smiling, desperate to catch her breath. She couldn’t help but laugh.
“And what are you finding so funny?” He dropped a light kiss just on the inside of her left thigh.
“That…that was amazing.” She threw her arm across her still-closed eyes and blew out a harsh breath. Heavens, her body still quivered. “I have never experienced anything quite so—intense before.”
“Really?” He slid up her body, until his face was close to hers and he was pulling her arm away from her eyes. They stared at each other, his insistent erection nudging against her belly, and she reached between them. Brushed the very tip of him with her fingers, reveled in the way his lids flickered and he shuddered at her fleeting touch.
“I want to do the same for you,” she whispered, her voice a mere rasp. Her throat hurt from her earlier cries, she’d been so loud.
She’d never, ever shouted like that with her husband.
“Keep touching me like that and you will,” he said on a groan, his encouragement making her bolder.
Daphne wrapped her fingers around him, awed by his size. He was large, thick and long and so responsive to her every stroke. He moaned, thrusting into her grip, and she slipped her thumb over the head, smearing the creamy wetness and making him shudder.
“I want to be inside you,” he whispered urgently by her ear, his lips nibbling along the lobe. “Now, Daphne.”
She guided him to the very heart of her and he slipped in easily. She was so wet, making his entrance a simple push. Then he was seated completely inside her body.
They were connected, their bodies were as one, and when she looked up at him, saw that he watched her with the same sort of wonder glowing in his eyes as she felt, she knew she never wanted to let him go.
Ever.
* * *
Christ, her velvety feminine heat clamped tight around his cock made it hard for him to move. One thrust and he might come apart. One thrust and it might all be over before it even began.
Praying for control, Hartwell breathed deeply, held the air in his lungs for a long, torturous beat before exhaling. She slipped her delicate hands over his back, stroking him into oblivion. When she settled her palms against his buttocks and pressed him deeper, he thought then and there it was done with.
Luckily enough he had more restraint than he first believed.
Slowly, carefully, he withdrew from her honeyed heat, then thrust back in. The glide, the friction was sweetly exquisite. It tore at him, made him want to rut upon her like an out-of-control animal until his seed shot deep within her body. To fill her completely with his very soul until they both collapsed with exhaustion.
Get a grip, man!
“Camden.” Her sweet voice whispering his name made his heart shatter. She squeezed his buttocks, her fingers dancing across his skin. “You feel so good.”
The understatement of the century. The way she touched him, responded to him, felt surrounding him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. She was beautiful. Responsive. Sensual. And if he allowed his thoughts to become grand, someday she just might become his.
All his.
Daphne wiggled beneath him, sending him even deeper, and they both moaned their pleasure. Gritting his teeth, he moved slowly, wanting to ensure she experienced her pleasure though he knew only moments before his mouth had brought her to climax with ease.
He could still taste her on his lips, could still feel her quivering, wet flesh against his seeking tongue. She’d tasted sweet and unique, her scent musky and feminine. He bent down and kissed her, hoping she’d get a taste of herself, hoping she wouldn’t recoil in disgust when she realized what still lingered.
Pleas
ure surged through him when she opened to him eagerly, her tongue dancing with his. Ah, this woman was refreshing. So responsive and wild. Though she wasn’t nearly as wild as he felt.
Her legs slid against his, then went wide, wrapping about his hips so she anchored herself completely to him. Increasing his pace, he thrust deeply, as deep as he could get, trying not to go too fast for fear of ending their lovemaking too soon.
“Let go, Cam,” she whispered against his mouth, her tongue darting out to lick. “I want to see you lose control.”
No. He couldn’t. Former lovers complained of his aggressiveness in bed before. Women he’d dallied with who were never satisfied with what he could offer, always criticizing his every move. None of them able to look past his speech affliction and focus on bringing him pleasure.
Until Daphne.
“Please.” She rested a hand against his cheek and he opened his eyes to find her staring at him, her expression unguarded, completely open. “I can sense you’re holding back. I want to feel you. I want to know what it’s like, to be your complete focus.”
“I don’t want to—” he gritted his teeth when she shifted, sending him deeper, “—hurt you.”
“I don’t believe you could.” She caressed his cheek, her index finger tracing down the length of his nose. “Please, Cam. I’m begging you.”
Ah, Christ. Her words were sweet, the glow in her eyes even sweeter, and he rose up on his propped hands, slamming inside her with everything he had. Again and again he pounded within her welcoming body, the wet sounds of their connected flesh driving him on, driving him mad. She wrapped herself around him, held on for dear life, and when he felt the first quivering of her inner walls clenching and releasing around the length of his cock, that was it.
He let the climax take over, shouting her name hoarsely as his entire body shook with the intensity of it. Her whimpers and cries seemed to urge his completion on and he spilled himself deep inside her. Again and again, until he felt as if his body had been completely pumped dry.
She stroked him, slipping her hands down his sweat-dampened back. The rhythm of their harsh breathing matched, she seemed to slow hers as if to relax him. He pressed his cheek close to hers. Kissed her on her earlobe and made her squirm.
He never wanted to withdraw from her embrace again. It felt so good, so right in her arms. But what would they do now? What was he supposed to say? His previous encounters with women had always been casual. This woman, she might want more. Hell, he wanted more.
He just wasn’t sure how to ask for it.
Chapter Nine
“If I have to listen to her sing one more song, I just might strangle her.”
Daphne smiled, speaking between her clenched teeth to her brother. “Sounds delightful. Then you would put her out of her misery for good.”
Hugh chuckled and shook his head. “More like put us out of our misery. The lady cannot sing, no matter how hard she tries.”
They were speaking ill of their hostess, so of course they had to pretend to smile and nod as if they were enjoying the horrendous renditions she pushed upon them. Her husband beamed with pride. The other guests looked painfully uncomfortable.
It was one of the worst nights out Daphne had spent in recent memory.
It didn’t help that she hadn’t heard a word from Camden since their one blissful night together. Her cheeks heated at the memory and she gripped her fan, flapping it hurriedly to cool her skin. They’d stayed up the entire night and far into the early morning hours. Exploring each other’s bodies, they’d brought themselves to climax again and again together. She’d slept like the dead the entire day after he left. Had woken up that evening, fully expecting he’d call upon her.
He had not. She hadn’t seen him again. And that was almost a fortnight ago.
The disappointment that filled her was nearly overwhelming. Perhaps he didn’t care about her after all. He’d never said such a thing, though he’d behaved like a man who cared. He was, after all, only a man. A man who was known for his cold, heartless behavior, for being arrogant and rude. She never believed him cruel.
Until now.
His reputation had conflicted greatly with the man she’d been with that night. Yet the description matched perfectly with the behavior currently exhibited by him. How his neglect hurt. Yet she put on a brave face. Continued to attend various gatherings all over London accompanied by Hugh in the hopes she’d catch a glimpse of Hartwell, but so far, nothing.
It was as if he’d disappeared.
“You’ve been in a mood.” Hugh nudged her shoulder with his own, a scowl on his face. He looked so much like their father, his brown hair turned golden from the candlelight that shone down upon them from the large chandelier hanging above.
She smiled and shook her head. She appreciated Hugh’s company more than he’d ever know. “My mind is elsewhere tonight. I’m sorry.”
His frown deepened. “What’s troubling you, sister?”
Their host turned in his chair to glare at them and Daphne pressed her lips together. “We’ll talk later,” she whispered from the side of her mouth.
“It’s Hartwell, isn’t it?”
Shock washed over her, chilling her to the very bone. “What?” Her harsh whisper rang loud and several people sent curious glances their way.
She’d forgotten how pushy she’d been, demanding Hugh introduced her to Hartwell. Of course he knew of her intentions, of her blatant pursuit of the man. She merely chose to banish it all from her memory, hoping Hugh would do much the same.
“Servants talk, Daph. Smythe told me everything. I chose to let you talk to me about it first—a mistake, I see.” The look in Hugh’s eyes was positively murderous. “That no-good bastard. He dallied with the wrong woman.”
“Hugh, no.” She patted his tense thigh, desperate to calm him down. The musicale they attended was small, but still. The last thing she needed was her brother acting out and causing everyone to wonder why. “I’m fine, really.”
“You’ve sulked ever since you invited him to my house.” His jaw hardened. “If I’d known you were entertaining Black Hart, I would’ve never let it happen.”
“You cannot control me, Hugh. You said so yourself—I’m a grown woman.” She cast a glance about the room. Saw their hostess watching them with narrowed eyes as she continued to sing. Her husband glared over his shoulder one more time, offering a stern, quick shushing before he turned and resumed enjoying his wife’s performance.
Daphne wanted to die of mortification.
“As soon as she stops chortling, I’m leaving. I’ll go to Hartwell’s house myself and tell him how I feel about his treatment of my only sister.” His hands clenched into fists and rested on his thighs.
Oh, Lord help her, her brother was undoubtedly going to cause a scene. If not here, then in front of Hartwell’s house, and everyone would know what happened between her and Cam.
She couldn’t have it. She couldn’t have her reputation ruined, nor Hartwell’s. Though she shouldn’t care what happened to him, what with the ruthless way he’d forgotten all about her.
Her heart panged at the realization.
“I’m going.” Hugh popped up the moment the song ended. “You cannot stop me.”
She watched helplessly as her brother hurried away, offering a brief apology to their host before he exited the room. He never looked back, didn’t offer a hint of what he planned to do, and she shook her head. She glanced about the room and parted her lips, as if she could ask one of the few guests in attendance to help her.
They couldn’t. No one could. She needed to follow her brother and make sure he didn’t harm Camden. Despite her anger at the way he treated her so carelessly, she didn’t want anything terrible to happen to him.
She cared for him far more than she wanted to admit.
In a flurry, she left. Didn’t even say goodbye to anyone, just fled the room, exited the house and ran down the steps toward her carriage. “Do you know where the Marque
ss of Hartwell’s residence is?” she asked the footman as he opened the carriage door.
“I do indeed, my lady.” He bobbed his head. “It’s in one of the grander townhouses in Town.”
“Good. Take me there. And hurry!”
* * *
Hartwell thumbed through the thick stack of correspondence, then threw it onto his already crowded desk. He’d been called to his country estate the moment he returned home from Daphne’s house not quite two weeks ago. He’d left that morning with nary a wink of sleep, traveling over the countryside for almost two days before he arrived.
The village close to his estate, full of those he employed on his land, had been flooded almost completely when the river close by overflowed from an unexpected late spring rainstorm. He’d assisted with what he could. Laboring, paying for repairs, feeding practically the entire village. He was busy from morning ’til nightfall, collapsing into an exhausted sleep then rising before the sun came up to start all over again.
Always thinking of Daphne each night before he fell asleep, dreaming of her. Regret filled him at the abrupt way he’d had to leave London. He’d sent her a quick missive explaining his whereabouts, but still, it likely hadn’t been enough. She must hate him. He’d only arrived this morning and slept most of the day away, thankful to be back in his own bed. He needed to send word to her that he’d returned, and quickly.
He was desperate to see her again. Touch her. Pull her into his arms, hold her close and never let her go.
Glancing about his study, he grabbed the glass that sat on the edge of his desk and drained it of the liquor inside. Amazing how strong he’d become since his encounter with Daphne. All these years, his father’s harsh treatment and devastating words had colored his life. Made him believe he was less of a man, a weakling, a stuttering fool who could barely force a single word out.
A few conversations and one night with Daphne changed everything. He felt stronger somehow and believed more in himself. Knew he was capable of helping his employees ensure their tiny village didn’t collapse under the strain of a natural disaster.
A Scandalous Affair Page 6
