She waved her hand dismissively. “And what is your punishment for him?”
“He is below the hatches and I hold the notes to Compton Abbey”
She snorted. “You are clever—and efficient. In one action you could have revenge against the two of us—the person who tattled and the one who discharged you.”
Juss had to admit that, when spoken out loud, it did sound rather. . . juvenile, if not downright stupid.
But then he remembered Clara and what Venable had done to her. He’d never told a living soul Clara’s secret, but he did not want Oona to keep looking at him the way she was currently doing.
“I agree that my behavior has been reprehensible.” Juss flinched at her bitter laughter. “But I haven’t told you the entire story.”
“There’s more? What else did you have planned for us—for me? A public stockade? A stoning?”
“I know you don’t owe me anything, but let me tell you the rest of the story.”
For a moment he thought she would tell him to go to hell.
But then she dropped gracelessly onto the bed, fixed him with a dead-eyed stare, and said, “I’m listening.”
∞∞∞
Oona felt like she was in some kind of nightmare: all of this had been revenge. He’d never wanted to help; he’d never liked her. He’d only wanted—
“I now gather that you never heard why I was sacked?”
Oona threw her hands up. “How would I have? None of the servants ever spoke to me. All I know is that one day you were there, and then you were gone.”
He shook his head and muttered something beneath his breath. “He called us both before him, one at a time, and told us he didn’t tolerate that kind of behavior. And then—” he ground his teeth. “And then he accused me of getting not only Clara pregnant, but a woman who’d worked there and left six months earlier—do you recall Jenny Linton?”
“A slight, dark-haired kitchen maid?”
He nodded.
“She was dismissed for becoming pregnant?”
“Apparently, although that was the first time I’d heard about it.”
“So you hadn’t—”
“No, I barely even knew Jenny.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“What was the point? He might not have been wrong about Jenny, but he was right about Clara—or at least that’s what I thought at the time.”
A sick feeling was growing inside her. “What do you mean?”
“I won’t deny that what I’m about to tell you is self-serving. It doesn’t justify my behavior toward you, but perhaps it will help you understand what I was thinking.”
She crossed her arms. “Go on.”
“Clara’s child wasn’t mine, it was Venable’s.”
Oona couldn’t breathe.
“She was two months pregnant and decided I would make a good father.” He shrugged. “Being young and stupid and apparently incapable of simple addition, it didn’t occur to me that the child was coming far too soon until the midwife said something to me not long before I went to gaol. When I confronted Clara, she told me the truth. I couldn’t fault her—she’d been scared and alone. If we’d not been caught together I probably would have married her and we would have stayed working at Compton Abbey and I would have been none the wiser.”
“Did she say—that he—”
“He didn’t force her, but she said he was persistent and persuasive and finally she just gave in.”
Oona knew exactly what Clara meant. Exactly.
He sighed heavily and she looked up. “I know the bastard knew the child was his—along with poor little Jenny’s. But of course there was nothing a mere groom—a disgraced impoverished one at that—could do. I’m sorry for what I almost did to you, Oona. But Venable?” His jaw tightened and his expression made her shiver. “I hate him.” His blue eyes burned, the pupils tiny specks. “All those years I couldn’t find a job because he had discharged me without a reference for a child that was his—” He stopped, his jaw so tight she could see the muscles ticking beneath the skin. “Clara might have still died had we had a home and ample food, but then again she might have been fine. I might have had ten children by now. Instead she died at the age of nineteen in miserable circumstances because of him. ”
The only sound in the room was the fire crackling.
“You will take his house?”
“I will take his house, his land, everything.”
Oona could not argue with him, nor did she want to. Viscount Venable was a man who took what he wanted and let others pay the price; Oona knew that better than anyone. She looked at Juss, who was staring at her with a strange expression.
“What is it?” she asked.
His mouth pulled into a half-smirk, but this time it looked self-mocking. “You never knew I fancied you?”
“Of course not. I thought you all disliked me—you especially. You always teased me so dreadfully whenever I came to the stables with the children.”
“I was young and stupid.” His face broke into a sudden, disarming grin. “Of course I’m now older and perhaps even more stupid.”
Oona couldn’t help smiling.
He stood and came toward her, holding out his hands.
Oona put her hands in his before she even considered her actions, and he pulled her gently to her feet.
“I’m sorry I believed ill of you,” he said, his eyes roaming her face as if he were searching for something.
“I’ll admit it hurts, but after what happened to Clara?” She gave a tired shrug. “Well, apology accepted.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, releasing one of her hands and brushing her jaw lightly with the back of his fingers. “I still remember the first time I saw you,” he said in a voice that didn’t sound like him—a voice that almost dropped her to her knees. “You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.” Oona made a mortifying gulping sound. “And so proud and stiff and haughty,” he said with a smile, his fingers not ceasing their delicious stroking.
“W-why didn’t you say anything?”
“You were beyond my reach, weren’t you? A governess and a groom? Not very likely.”
Oona could have told him it was far more likely than a governess and a viscount, but wisely kept that to herself.
Instead she told him the truth. “I wish you would have said something.”
His hand froze, his pale eyes darkening. And then his mouth lowered over hers.
Thirteen
Juss’s palm slid around to hold the back of her head, his lips caressing hers, his teeth nibbling, and his tongue invading—his actions smooth yet dizzying.
This was not Oona’s first kiss, but it was certainly the first kiss of this sort.
He was gentle, but something about the way he entered and stroked her—as if he wanted to consume her—was beyond wicked.
Edward’s kisses had been swift, rushed, and closed-mouthed, as if they were something to be gotten through quickly.
Juss kissed her with languorous thoroughness, as if kissing her was his new avocation and he could kiss her all day and night.
There was so much of him and he engulfed her with his big body without overpowering her, making her feel safe, cherished. When was the last time she’d been held by another person other than Katie? And even that had been months ago.
Oona heard a moan and knew it was her, but she didn’t care. She burrowed into his arms, pressing her body against his erection, glorying in the knowledge that he’d become so hard for her.
A growl of approval rumbled from his chest and he trailed kisses from her mouth to her ear.
“I’ve thought about you so bloody often over the years. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you standing there that night—right beneath my not insignificant nose.”
Oona laughed softly, too thrilled by his words to speak.
“I want you, Oona.” He ground himself against her belly, the action crude and primitive and so very arousing. “If you want me to stop, tel
l me now, because—”
“I want you, Juss.”
He made a primal sound of pleasure and dropped to one knee, taking her booted foot in one hand.
“Take off your coat and unbutton your dress,” he ordered, his big fingers methodically working the buttons of her ankle boot as efficiently as a button hook.
Oona’s own hands were shaky and unresponsive and he’d already removed her boots and she was barely out of her coat.
He stood, staring down at her with a look of raw possession, his hands moving on his coat, which was tight enough that getting out of it was an erotic contortionist show for Oona.
But not as erotic as the long hard ridge that distorted his tight leather breeches. His hand slid across his erection and he squeezed himself, the muscles in his hand and forearms flexing in a way that made her swallow. When his hand released his arousal Oona’s eyes jumped up to find his smile one she’d never seen before—sensual, needy, and cruel.
“Come, come, Miss Parker. You’ll never get that coat off at this rate.”
She fumbled so badly with one of the buttons that she snapped the thread and it skidded across the floor. He chuckled and leaned forward, sliding his powerful hands beneath her shoulders and lifting her onto the bed with as much ease as Oona had lifted Katie when she’d been a baby. But Oona was no child and his strength caused an insistent throbbing between her thighs that made her legs weak.
“I’ll finish for you,” he whispered against her ear, and then nipped her earlobe, making her jump. Oona whimpered at the sensation of his night beard scratching against her tender skin, his fingers working blindly but surely on the few buttons that ran down her back.
His mouth stopped at the base of her throat and he licked and sucked on her pulse before lowering his lips to the swells of her breasts and groaning. He took her hand and lifted her to her feet while he pushed the gown off her shoulders, his dark gaze flickering over her stays and chemise.
“You’re so lovely,” he muttered, turning her around swiftly enough to make her head spin, his hands working on her laces. “I’ve had dreams about you, Miss Oona Parker,” he whispered heatedly, his hips pulsing against her lower back, his organ impossibly hard. “And the things I did to you in those dreams—” he broke off with a wicked chuckle and spun her to face him, seizing her mouth with a ferocity that left her breathless. “How is it that you taste like a strawberry, Oona?”
Before she could answer, not that she could answer, he shoved the stays over her hips, pulled the chemise over her shoulders, and then tossed her onto the bed, where she landed with a squeak, wearing only her stockings and garters.
“You’re perfect,” he hissed, reaching over his back to grab a fistful of shirt and pull it over his head, revealing some perfection of his own.
Oona’s mouth fell open and he grinned down at her, running one hand over his astoundingly defined abdomen before pulling open his fall and then pushing down breeches and smallclothes with one shove.
“Oh my.” Oona had supposed that men differed in penis size as well in all other regards, but. . .
He gave a low laugh, the action causing his muscles to shift and tighten in fascinating ways. Once again he grabbed himself, and Oona watched in stupefaction as he gave himself several ruthless pumps before taking her knees and pushing them apart.
When she sucked in a shocked breath and tried to resist he paused and looked up from her exposed sex. “I’m going to make love to you with my mouth.” He laughed outright at the noise she made. “Did your lover never pleasure you that way?” he asked, his nostrils flaring as his eyes flickered between her hips and eyes.
“N-no,” she stuttered, which she seemed to be doing quite a lot. She’d liked lying with Edward, but he had been efficient and speedy and would have already come into her at this point. He’d certainly never suggested something so outrageous.
Juss lowered himself while pushing her wider and wider. “Open for me, Oona, I want to see you.”
She couldn’t resist him—not because he was using force, but because he was looking at her with an expression that was reverent and hungry.
She startled when his thumbs slid up and down her swollen, sensitive lips; nobody but her had ever touched her down there, but Juss’s fingers were exploring her with an eager confidence that sent waves of anticipation and pleasure ricocheting through her body.
And then he opened her and she jolted and bucked. “Justin.” The word came out half groan, half whisper, and she breathed in ragged gasps.
“What is it, love?” he cut her a glance, but quickly looked back, as if he were transfixed. “So pretty,” he crooned, and then lowered his head and covered that most sensitive part of her with his hot, soft mouth.
∞∞∞
Juss massaged her with his tongue, smiling against hot, slick skin when she cried out and her hips bucked. It was a good thing Mr. and Mrs. Cantrell were both slightly deaf as he was going to make Oona scream tonight.
He brought a hand up to her entrance and slid his middle finger inside her while he sucked.
“Oh, Juss.”
He released her with a soft sucking pop and began to work her with his hand. “Do you like it,” he asked, pumping her in slow, deep strokes.
“Please,” she whimpered.
“You want more? You want my mouth on you?”
“Mmmph.” She nodded jerkily, her head tipping back, her pelvis lifting in silent entreaty. Juss gave a soft laugh of triumph and closed his mouth on her, working her ruthlessly toward her climax. He moved to her entrance when her peak became too sensitive, replacing his finger with his tongue. She was even tight around his tongue so he slid in first one and then two fingers while she writhed, scissoring gently, stretching her snug passage and getting her ready.
“Shall I make you come?” he asked in a voice rougher than gravel, his fingers pumping her, harder now.
She shuddered at his crude words. “Yes, please. Juss . . .”
She was so sensitive that he’d barely begun before she was bucking and grinding into his mouth, her small hands laced into his hair and holding him steady while she used his mouth for her own pleasure.
He needed her right bloody now.
Juss pushed onto his knees while the waves of pleasure wracked her body, lifting her legs over his forearms and bringing her hips toward him. “Take me in your hand, Oona—guide me inside your body,” he rasped.
She complied with shaky, clumsy urgency and he pulsed his hips gently against her, but not enough to breach her, just stroking her slick softness with his sensitive crown, teasing, pushing in a little more with each stroke until his fat head was inside.
He groaned. “You feel so good. I won’t last, Oona, I’m sorry. I won’t—” Juss’s cock took control of his body and he entered her in a long, hard slide, not stopping until his balls rested against her spread sex. He hesitated a moment, vaguely aware he’d taken her harder than he’d intended, wondering if he’d hurt her, wondering if—
Her sheath tightened around him. And that was all it took.
∞∞∞
Oona imagined it was what being caught in a hurricane or electrical storm must be like—a force of nature that could not be stopped.
His powerful hips drummed savagely, his strength alone an aphrodisiac. Oona remembered how to tighten her inner muscles and then relax them the way Edward had told her to do and Juss shuddered and groaned.
“Yesss,” he hissed his eyes closed, his expression one of bliss.
The two men were as different in bed as they were in every other way. Juss was earthy, enthusiastic, and generous—just as he was in the rest of his life. Never had she guessed a man could—or would want to—give her such pleasure. A pleasure she had only ever given herself in the past.
“Oona,” he rasped breathlessly, capturing her with his slitted gaze, his teeth gritted in a snarl, and his nostrils flaring. “Going to—” he grunted, his thrusts becoming jerky and uncontrolled. He stopped with shocking suddenn
ess and pulled out of her, pumping his long, slick shaft once and then twice before his body went rigid.
“Oh God.” The muscles of his chest and abdomen became even more defined with each spasm, the cords of his throat strained and distinct as hot ropes ribboned over her belly and breasts.
Oona could not look away. He was so big and ruddy, the veins that ran up and down his shaft were visibly pulsing each time he spent. He was an erotic work of art, hard and slick and lost to his passion.
The last shudder produced barely a drop from the small slit and he groaned, a massive shudder wracking his huge frame as he dropped down beside her, his body shaking the bed so hard that the Cantrells, who slept below them, must be staring at the ceiling and wondering if the roof had caved in.
He pushed himself almost drunkenly off the bed onto his feet and then bent to snatch something from the floor—his shirt. Oona frowned. Was he getting dressed already? What was he—
“Here.” He lowered the shirt over her stomach.
“No, you’ll—”
“Shh,” he murmured, mopping up all trace of his spend.
“You’ll ruin it,” she said, almost more breathless at his careful cleaning than she’d been before.
“Then it will be ruined,” he grumbled. “The water in the basin is too damned cold and those towels are as rough as tree bark.” His hot eyes burnt over her body. “And you should never have anything but the finest, softest silk touching your beautiful skin.”
Oona gaped.
He gave his signature smirk and then used the shirt to dry himself before tossing it off to the side and collapsing onto the bed beside her.
“Oona.”
Never had anyone said her name with such utter and thorough satisfaction. He reached an arm over her and grabbed a handful of bedding, pulling it over her body, tucking her tight to his muscular form from shoulders to hips and then heaving a huge sigh.
It was a moment before she realized that he’d simply fallen asleep, his arm like an iron band around her body.
A Second Chance for Love: A Bachelors of Bond Street Novella Page 8
