How to Catch a Wicked Viscount

by Amy Rose Bennett

  Nate waggled his eyebrows as he tugged off his other boot. “I know. Positively indecent, aren’t they? I had such fun picking them out.” His boots and stockings removed, Nate stood and pulled off his shirt in one smooth movement. “Now, Sophie, my love,” he said as he dropped the garment onto the chair. “As much as I’d love to continue chatting with you about my shopping expedition, I think the time has come for you to start removing your clothes.”

  Oh. Sophie swallowed. She’d done all kinds of scandalous things with Nate, but she’d never been completely naked in front of him, in broad daylight. Her body might be thrumming with desire and her mouth watering at the sight of Nate’s bare, heavily muscled upper body, but her stomach was aflutter with butterflies. What would he think of her?

  He was a rake and he’d bedded so many women.

  But she didn’t want to think about them. And right at this moment, Nate only had eyes for her. Indeed, his hot gaze was so intense as she began to pull the pins from her hair, she thought she might catch alight.

  He moved closer. “Would you like me to help?” he asked in a low voice that seemed to stroke over her like a velvet-soft caress.

  She swallowed and nodded. “Yes.” Trying to smile with a confidence she didn’t feel, she added, “For some strange reason, I seem to have gone all shy.”

  “Don’t be. I love you, Sophie. And you’re beautiful.” He seemed transfixed by the sight of her hair, tumbling about her shoulders. Lifting one of the tresses, he rubbed it between his fingers. “It feels just like silk.”

  She smiled. His soft, reverent words gave her confidence. “Would you help me undo my gown?”

  “Gladly.” Nate stepped behind her and swept her hair to one side. As he undid the laces of her gown, stays, and shift, he dropped a trail of featherlight kisses upon her nape and down the length of her spine, making her tremble with delight. “Your skin feels like satin beneath my lips,” he whispered as he gently cradled her jaw with one large hand. Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled and the gentle current of his breath stirred her desire all the more. “I’ve always loved how you smell . . .” He laved her shoulder with a hot, openmouthed kiss. “And taste.”

  When her garments had pooled on the floor at her feet and she stood naked but for her stockings and slippers, Nate drew her against him, her back to his front. His large hands rose to cup her breasts. “You have such pretty breasts, my love.” His thumbs circled her nipples, and liquid heat flooded her sex. “So perfectly round and perfectly delicious. My mouth waters at the sight of them.”

  “It does?”

  “Oh, yes. And I’d warrant your sweet cunny is just as lovely.”

  Sophie bit her lip and dropped her head back against Nate’s shoulder. The folds of her quim were now heavy and throbbing with need. Any lingering shyness had at last fled. “How can you say such wanton things?” she whispered. Nate’s member was a hard rod against her bottom, and she had the urge to rub herself against it.

  He scraped his cheek against hers, the gentle rasp of his stubble making her shiver. “I intend to do wanton things with you, my love. Climb upon the bed.”

  Sophie kicked off her slippers and did as he asked. Lying on her back, reclining against the plump pillows, she felt both desirable and beautiful as Nate’s fevered gaze drifted over her. She reached for the ribbon garter of one of her white silk stockings, but he stayed her hand. “Leave them on, my sweet. Seeing you almost, but not quite, naked stirs me like nothing else.”

  “Very well. But while I am almost completely naked, you are far from it. Remove your breeches, Lord Malverne. Your bride-to-be wants to see you in all your naked glory.”

  Nate grinned. “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

  Within moments, Nate had whipped off his formfitting breeches, revealing his thick, muscular thighs, firmly rounded buttocks, and proudly jutting manhood. Sophie bit her lip as a fresh wave of desire washed through her.

  “Do you like what you see?” he asked as he slid onto the bed beside her.

  She nodded. “Yes. You take my breath away, Nate.” She touched his warm chest and ran her fingertips through the dark hair dusting his pectoral muscles. “You are beautiful too.”

  He smiled. “Thank you. Now . . .” He kissed her mouth, then her shoulder. “It’s time for this viscount to be truly wicked.”

  “What we’re doing isn’t wicked enough?” asked Sophie as Nate lowered his head and drew one of her nipples into his mouth and suckled.

  Nate raised his head and flicked his tongue against her other nipple. “Not anywhere near it.”

  His fingers skimmed over her ribs, across her belly, then down to the black curls at the apex of her thighs. One long finger brushed the wet seam before he pushed between the folds.

  Oh, it feels so good.

  Closing her eyes, Sophie threaded her fingers into Nate’s thick silken hair and gave herself over to the desire flowing through her veins like molten honey. Nate began to circle the small sensitive bud at the top of her quim, and she moaned, spreading her legs wider. Arching into his touch.

  All of a sudden, Nate skated down the bed and gently pushed her thighs even farther apart until his shoulders fit between them. Her sex was completely exposed, and he was studying her most private parts with an expression that could only be described as rapt.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped. She’d read about all sorts of sexual practices in Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, but she never thought Nate might actually do some of them. With her.

  “Being wicked.” He looked up the length of her body, his dark gaze hot and hungry. “I want to taste your cunny, my love, and I’d wager it’s just as sweet as the rest of you.”

  He ran one long finger up one slippery fold, then down the other, before sliding it into her tight, virginal entrance. Sophie sucked in a breath at the novel sensation of being invaded in such an intimate place. But she rather thought she liked it, especially when Nate began working his finger in and out of her, mimicking the act of love.

  “So . . .” He cocked an eyebrow. “You haven’t answered me, Sophie. Will you let me use my mouth on you? To pleasure you?”

  “Mm-hmm. If you want to.” Her shock and any lingering inhibitions had been washed away by delicious sensation. Everything Nate did to her always felt wonderful. He loved her and she trusted him. “Do whatever you like. I’m yours.”

  “Sweet Jesus, Sophie,” Nate groaned. His breath was hot against her dew-drenched folds. “If you say wicked things like that, I’ll come before I even get inside you.”

  Sophie smiled but then all coherent thought fled when the tip of Nate’s tongue delicately lapped at her sex.

  Oh, my God. Wicked didn’t even begin to describe the sensation. Could something be divinely wicked? If it could, it was this. Her breath quickened as Nate’s tongue flickered over and around the tiny throbbing nub where her pleasure was centered. Her insides tightened and rippled as her orgasm began to build, the familiar tension growing. Swelling. It felt as if a beautiful budding thing was about to bloom just like a flower bursting open in bright sunlight.

  Nate slid another finger inside her and increased the pace of his thrusting. The exquisite friction increased, and she rolled her hips and gripped the silk counterpane beneath her. Pleasure beckoned. She could feel it pulling, tugging, but just out of reach. She moaned in frustration, and then Nate captured her nub with his lips and suckled. And that was enough to throw her heavenward into ecstasy. Scintillating bliss radiated through her and she cried out, twisting and writhing, holding on to Nate’s head as he continued to pump his clever fingers while ravishing her pulsating core with his mouth.

  When she could stand the pleasure no more, she curled her fingers into his hair, trying to lift his head. “Nate . . .”

  “Yes, my love?” The evidence of her arousal shone on Nate’s lips and chin. Heavens, she was wet. She sup
posed she should be embarrassed, but she felt so drugged with satisfaction and wonder, she wasn’t. And Nate certainly wasn’t bothered. Not judging by the sinful, satisfied twinkle in his dark eyes.

  “Thank you. That was truly amazing. Indescribable, really. Indeed, you’ve loved me so well, I’m certain I won’t be able to move for a week.”

  “Surely not.” Nate crawled up the bed until he hovered over her, his hot, hard body close to but not quite touching hers. He bestowed a gentle kiss on her lips. “We’ve only just begun.”

  He buried his face in her neck and devoured her throat and jaw, and very soon, Sophie felt desire stirring deep inside her lower belly again. How was it possible? Nate was turning her into a wanton creature with an insatiable appetite for all things carnal.

  She suddenly wanted the man she loved with all her heart to truly make her his. Her hand slid between their bodies, and she brushed her fingers along Nate’s rigid shaft.

  He immediately jerked. “Sweetheart,” he groaned. “I so want to be inside you. Will you let me?”

  She kissed him. “Of course. I want that, too, darling Nate.” She wrapped her fingers about him and gently squeezed. “I’ve been waiting so long for this moment. I cannot wait to be yours.”

  Nate’s forehead creased with a concerned frown. “It will hurt at first. Or so I’ve been led to believe. I must confess”—he stroked her face as he looked deeply into her eyes—“this is a first for me too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, not only am I making love to the one and only woman I’ve ever fallen in love with, this is the very first time I’ve bedded a virgin.”

  Sophie arched an eyebrow. “Surely not. You must be teasing me.”

  Nate’s gaze was serious again. “Not at all.”

  “Goodness, I hope I measure up then.”

  “Sophie Brightwell, to me, you are incomparable in every single way imaginable. And I consider myself blessed indeed that you have consented to be mine.” Nate dipped his head and caught her mouth in another lingering kiss that made Sophie’s toes curl and desire pulse with an insistence that could not be denied.

  “Nate,” she murmured when he released her mouth, “I cannot wait a moment longer. I love you, and more than anything, I want this, for us to be joined as one flesh.”

  “God, I love you, Sophie.” The flames of desire behind Nate’s eyes were tempered by the soft conviction of his words. And in that moment, Sophie truly believed him. Any doubts she’d had that Nate really loved her were utterly chased away.

  Nate gently nudged her thighs apart with his legs and positioned himself at her entrance. The head of his member parted her folds. “You’re still very slick, my love. That should help ease my way.” His gaze locked with hers. “Are you ready?”

  She laced her fingers around the back of his strong neck. “With my whole heart, I say yes.”

  Nate began to thrust his hips in a series of gentle pulses. Even though Sophie was ready and willing, his penetration burned and brought tears to her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, my heart,” he whispered. “You are so very tight.”

  Despite the pain, Sophie couldn’t help but tease him. “And you are so very large.”

  “You are doing wonders for my self-esteem, darling girl.”

  Sophie closed her eyes and swallowed a whimper as Nate pushed farther in. Surely he must be all the way in by now. “As if your self-esteem needs stroking, Lord Malverne,” she murmured when she was able to catch her breath again.

  “By you it does.” Nate pressed forward again. “I need constant reassurance that you consider me worthy.”

  “Of course you are. And you always will be.”

  “Almost there.” As Nate surged forward one last time, Sophie gasped, but the worst of the pain seemed to have passed.

  “My brave girl,” he whispered before feathering tender kisses across her cheeks, forehead, and then her mouth. “Are you all right?”

  Sophie attempted to smile but she suspected it was more of a grimace. “Apart from the fact that I feel as though I’ve been impaled by a maypole, I’m perfectly fine.”

  “It will get better . . .” Nate’s face showed signs of strain as well; his brow was beaded with perspiration, and the skin over his cheekbones was stretched tight. His substantial biceps muscles were bunched with tension as he held himself perfectly still. “If you can stand it, I’d very much like to move, my love.”

  “Of course.” Sophie curled her fingers around his wide shoulders. “You’ve given me so much pleasure, my darling Nate. Take yours.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Nate stared down at the beautiful woman in his arms, and thanked heaven for the gift of her. He didn’t deserve Sophie, but he was thankful all the same.

  He bent his head and captured her mouth as he began to move, each glide long, slow, and measured at first; he knew Sophie was putting on a brave face for him. She enveloped him so tightly, it was as if he were gripped by a silken fist. The pressure, the friction, the wet heat were overwhelming in their intensity; it wouldn’t be long until he achieved his own climax.

  But he wanted Sophie to be with him when he tumbled into bliss as well.

  He worshipped her lips, her neck, her breasts, anywhere he could reach with his mouth as he gradually began to increase the pace of their coupling. And by degrees he felt Sophie relax; her fingernails no longer dug into the flesh of his shoulders and she started to move her own hips, her pelvic thrusts perfectly timed with his.

  When she moaned and wrapped her legs about his buttocks, he thrust harder, faster. Deeper. His blood pounded; his heart raced at breakneck speed. He could feel his orgasm gathering pace, gathering power like a storm; the pressure was building, coiling around his spine, drawing his balls up tight, making his hammering cock throb with the need to let go. To surrender to the irresistible urge to pour everything he had into Sophie.

  Christ, he needed to come but Sophie wasn’t on the brink yet. She panted beneath him, her eyes squeezed shut. He thrust his fingers into the tumbling black mass of her hair.

  “Sophie . . . come with me, sweetheart . . . look at me.”

  Her blue eyes met his, and then her whole body arched. Her fingernails scored his back and she screamed his name. Her core spasmed with such force, it sent him over the edge as well.

  Groaning, shuddering, he was engulfed by a great pulsating rush of pure ecstasy. Stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. All the while, Sophie’s rippling sex squeezed him, milked him until he had nothing left to give.

  Sweet Jesus. He’d never had a more profound sexual experience in his life.

  When he at last emerged from the sublime haze of deep satisfaction clouding his senses, he discovered Sophie’s mouth had curved into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. It was a smile he’d never forget until his dying day.

  “I love you, Nathaniel,” she whispered, her blue eyes shining with tears, and with such adoration that Nate’s thundering heart almost stopped.

  “And I love you, too, my sweet Sophie. Now, forever, and always.” And then he pressed his mouth to hers, sealing his promise with a kiss.

  EPILOGUE

  Wedding bells are ringing in Gloucestershire!

  The word is out . . . Nathaniel Hastings, Viscount Malverne, is to wed Miss Sophie Brightwell of Monkton Green, Suffolk, at his country estate.

  Felicitations to Lord Malverne and his new viscountess!

  The Beau Monde Mirror: The Society Page

  Deerhurst Park, Gloucestershire

  June 20, 1818

  Sophie still couldn’t quite believe it. But every time she glanced at the shining diamond-encrusted gold wedding band on her ring finger, she knew it must be true; she and Nate had indeed been married by special license in Deerhurst’s private chapel only a few short hours ago.

  Sh
e never thought she could be so happy. She was awash with it. And she couldn’t stop smiling.

  Sipping champagne with Charlie and Olivia, the late afternoon sunshine bathed the flower-filled gardens of Deerhurst Park in soft golden light. Could she actually be in heaven? From her position on a stone bench by a fragrant rose arbor, she was afforded a glorious view of her breathtakingly handsome husband; attired in a perfectly cut swallowtail coat of dove gray and ivory trousers, with the gentle early evening breeze coming off the River Severn ruffling his chestnut hair, he was a striking sight. He was currently conversing with his father, Lord Westhampton, the devilishly handsome Duke of Exmoor, and her stepfather. When Nate threw his head back, laughing at something the duke said, her smile widened. Yes, she couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Quick, pinch me, Charlie,” she said, reaching for her friend’s hand. “I want to make sure this is real and I’m not dreaming.”

  Charlie laughed. “You will have bruises all over you at this rate, Lady Malverne. How many times have you asked me to do that today?”

  “Too many, I expect,” said Olivia. “She’s asked me too.”

  Sophie was thrilled Olivia was here sans her guardians. Somehow, Lady Chelmsford had managed to persuade her friend’s aunt and uncle that she would be able to provide suitable chaperonage during her stay at Deerhurst.

  Charlie’s aunt was presently chatting to Alice, Jane, and her own mother, who was glowing with champagne and good cheer. Sophie had never seen her mama so happy. And she could certainly understand why. All her daughters’ futures would be secure. Not only was her oldest daughter now Sophie Hastings, Viscountess Malverne, both Alice and Jane would have spectacular debuts when their time came.

  The sound of male laughter again drew Sophie’s attention to the group gathered by the river. It was wonderful that the Duke of Exmoor had been able to attend considering Nate’s other two good friends hadn’t. Lord Langdale was still on the Continent, and Hamish MacQueen, the Marquess of Sleat, had been called away to attend to business on his remote estate on the Isle of Skye. It appeared Lord Sleat was a magnanimous man indeed, as not only had he sent his sincerest apologies, he’d gifted her and Nate a whole crate of fine French champagne for everyone to enjoy at the wedding breakfast.