by Stacy Reid
She leaned against the wall and perused him slowly. “I want you to make love to me…with me.”
Her words tore gaping holes through his composure. “I believe I misheard.”
“You did not.”
He pushed from her, taking a few steps back. She followed, and the sinuous way she came over to him should have been seductive, but he could see the nerves in her eyes, the slight tremble in her delicate frame.
“I came here tonight for this…for you. I want to be made love to by you. I want decadence for the night. Make love to me…Elliot.”
Chapter 5
Emma’s heart was a war drum in her chest. Elliot’s hands gripped her hips in a painful vice, but she did not complain. She was too intrigued by the battle flashing across his face. Stark hunger, uncertainty before the coldness won out. She had pierced his armor, and the success of it had all the nervousness fleeing. In fact, she wanted to do a little dance of victory and barely restrained the need.
Instead of pulling her to him, he pushed her away. Though she had spied the raw cravings a few seconds before, his face was a mask of studied indifference. She wouldn’t let it disconcert her. Resting her hips on the balcony, she ran her gaze lazily over him. “I’d thought a reputed rake as yourself would have ravished me already.”
His brows arched. “Do you now?”
The amusement in his voice piqued her a bit. She wanted him to find her bold and enticing. Nothing else. She shrugged as if his insouciance didn’t sting a bit. “Yes. I have heard whispers that called you London’s wickedest lover. I’ve heard that you are truly sinful.”
Her voice was a purr in the dark, and Emma kept her eyes glued to his face. Her brother Anthony would roar in rage if he ever discovered how she was shamelessly using an overheard conversation when he had been in his cups to further her own agenda.
Elliot gave her a long, unfathomable glance. “I hesitate to wound you, but you don’t want to be anywhere near my wicked desires, princess.”
“Don’t I?” she sashayed over to him, hoping her walk was provocative and not clumsy. “Why don’t you tell me what they are, and I will be the judge of that.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Is it spanking?” She had no notion what that meant, and Anthony would be truly appalled if he knew she had been in the library trying to sleep that night he had been talking with their cousin, Mr. Thomas Belfry, another rogue of the ton.
Surprise flared in Elliot’s eyes, then desire.
Emma fought to hold back a sudden smile. “Is that it? It would be such a pity if your wickedness was only spanking.”
He went still. Yet his was the stillness of a predator stalking his prey. He prowled closer, circling her. She wanted him to kiss her…dear God, she wanted him to kiss her so badly. The last time they had swayed together this close he had kissed her with such longing. It was that night she had fallen so hopelessly in love with him and had never been able to drag herself back to normalcy. I miss you, Elliot.
Doing her best to root herself into his moment, she tipped her head back, probing his features in the shadows. “Kiss me.”
His lips twitched ever so slightly, and his eyes warmed. “You don’t know what you’re inviting.”
“I do. I want you to make love to me. Tonight.”
“Take off the mask,” he said, watching her closely.
A sudden rush of fear almost made her jerk from him. This was not part of the script she’d prayed he would follow. “No, the mask stays on…no matter what happens.”
The raw flash of pain that seared from his eyes had doubt clawing at her. He stepped back, encasing himself further in the shadows, and she wondered if the bleakness had been her imagination.
A shaft of hurt slammed into Elliot’s chest, and he ruthlessly buried the telling emotion. Emma wanted him to make love to her, pretending he did not know her identity. Why the hell did that hurt so much?
“Amelia…” he bit back his groan as she twisted and slid her hands around his nape, then thrust her fingers through his hair.
She wanted to walk on the wild side. With him? She needed to regain her wits and good senses. Yet the burning desire to succumb to the raging need he’d had for her for years, to draw her into a world of debauched delight ravaged his control.
She pressed her body closer to his, and he could feel every inch of her delectable curves. “I only want tonight, Elliot.”
Her voice rang with sincerity, but he could not allow it. His gut burned in denial and cramped in protest. He gripped her hips preventing her from pressing closer. It would not do for her to know how much she had aroused him. “I don’t fuck virgins,” he said flatly.
She flinched at his crudity, then swallowed.
How he regretted speaking to her in such a manner.
“I’m worldly enough.”
He narrowed his gaze taking in her slight blush, and he could see the racing pulse at the base of her neck. His next words were painful to push past his throat, but he could not let her even hope tonight would have the outcome she desired. “I am not a man who is gentle and sweet, princess. You obviously came here tonight for something. That is not with me.”
There was a pregnant pause, and then her hands tightened at his nape. “If you do not make love I can f—” she licked her lips. “I can do what you want.”
Elliot could not help himself. He laughed. She stiffened, obviously stung at his reaction. Pressing her deeper into the hidden alcove, he dipped his head, his lips perilously close to hers. “You can’t even say the word princess, and it is for this reason I am taking you home. You do not know what you are asking. What I want to do to you would scare you, and have you running,” he said low and hard, hopefully, mean enough where it would shake her up and encourage her to stop acting recklessly.
Her chin lifted, her lips too damned close, brushing against his. “I will not run.”
Yes, you are…to America.
“I must say you will, because I’ll debauch every one of your ladylike sensibilities, and I know you cannot handle that.”
Her voice was breathless, sensual yet questioning, “How?”
He chuckled in disbelief watching her try to process his meaning. Without thinking too deeply about his actions, he inched her gown up to her thighs, his fingers skimming over silken stockings. He was not seductive about it, just matter of fact in his lesson. And he prayed to God she understood this lesson as it was the only way to save them. To save him.
Her breath hitched as he nudged her legs wide and cupped her. Elliot froze. Ah, Sweet Mercy. She was wet. He battled against the primal urge to drop to one knee, push her legs wider, and taste her. He couldn’t believe it was Emma he was touching. Emma.
Anthony would kill him.
What scared him the most was that he might give into temptation. And he damn well knew if he made love with Emma there would be no turning back. He would not let her go and would use his considerable influence to ensure she married him, and perhaps he would destroy all that was good and pure in the process. His body throbbed with a relentless ache. She needed to leave, but he couldn’t shatter the soft hunger and confidence practically illuminating her with a harsh rejection. The trust she most likely did not realize she stared at him with. If he rejected Emma, she would be devastated, and this confidence, this beautiful daring she radiated would be crushed. That was the last thing he wanted. But if he would send her running, then they would both be safe. It had to be her decision to leave, and the best way to deter Emma, and make her do the rejecting was to allow a piece of his desires to peek out.
He jerked from her and spun her around to face the wall. Even though the alcove was darkened, he did not want to risk her seeing the naked need in his eyes. He gripped her hips and dragged her roughly against him. Elliot wanted her to feel the hard length of his erection pressed tightly against her bottom. He pushed his thigh between hers, lifting Emma to her tiptoes, grinding against the soft, heated pad of her sex.
A tortured groan slipped from hi
m. She was everything he wanted, everything he had dreamed of for ten years. He’d ignored his rising lust every time she flirted with him, ignored the weakness in his gut every time she smiled at him, touched him, and invited him to kiss with her eyes. His fingers itched to stroke over her soft folds and into her silken wetness, and he was starving for the taste of her. He’d kissed her once, and it hadn’t been enough. He could kiss her every day, and it would still not be enough. With Emma, he wanted forever.
Concentrate, you moron. This was a lesson meant to send her calling for her carriage and rushing home. He gripped her left hand and wrapped her fingers around the girth of his cock through his trousers. Her delicate fingers had no hope of circling his length fully, and a breath shuddered from her. He hoped her gasp was of trepidation, but a niggling part of him thought it might be arousal. He removed his leg from between hers and stroked his fingers up past her garters and up to her beckoning heat.
She shivered.
He slipped a finger deep inside of her wetness. She was impossibly tight.
“Elliot!”
Her face was a study in pleasure, and he couldn’t look away. He had dreamed of this so much, wanting to hear her cries echoing around him as he pleasured her. She arched her back and rested her head on his shoulders, biting her bottom lip as her core contracted around his finger. Blood thundered through his veins, and he closed his eyes, imagining how she would grip his cock.
“I won’t lie to you. I hunger to take what you are recklessly offering.” And It made him feel like a despoiler of innocents. He groaned at her neck, fighting the need to bend her over and bury his cock deep. “If I cave to my desire, I will take you in ways that will have you running. I will torment you with my tongue and fingers until you are begging for my possession. I wasn’t raised as a nobleman, and I do not make love as one.”
She gasped, purred and shuddered as he withdrew his finger and pushed back in even deeper. A dull roaring began in his head as wetness bathed his fingers. He struggled to resist. She should be repulsed not excited. He swallowed and prayed that he was successful because his will was fast slipping away. If she did not run, he would take her, and the storm of pain that would unload would be huge. Because once he took Emma, there would be no letting her go.
Run Emma…please sweetheart, run.
Chapter 6
Emma’s breath strangled in her throat.
Elliot’s finger was inside her, and it was without a doubt the strangest and most compelling sensation. It was torture, and it was bliss. And she understood now how many ladies found themselves ruined for pleasure.
She’d always known he would make her feel this way. With just a few words and his wicked caress he brought all sorts of explicit fantasies to the forefront of her mind. She slowly twisted her head and met his eyes. His golden gaze was direct and challenging. He angled his sleek dark head to one side and studied her with unflinching intensity, without a doubt waiting for her reaction to his explicit promise.
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
His chuckle against her ear was low and mocking, yet filled with heated promises. “If I tup you, I will take your mouth first, and I will not be sweet, princess.” His tone held a note of warning, and she wondered if he was really trying to scare her away.
He pressed more into her, his erection unmistakable. “Have you ever taken a cock in your mouth?” he growled with sensual menace.
She barely managed to maintain her calm composure. Were such things possible? He was definitely trying to scare her. Trying to make her change her mind. Emma was certain. She wasn’t about to, though she felt the heavy press of intimidation. She couldn’t even imagine Elliot taking her with the rawness he hinted. Her stomach fluttered with sudden nerves. Emma inhaled deeply. In this, she would not be proper. Not for this one night. She would be bold and adventurous; she would step out of the cage she’d opened fully from the moment she had entered the countess’s grand ballroom. “You may ravish me however you want for this night. Let me be wicked with you.”
He cursed virulently. She was right. He had not expected her to acquiesce. All of his crass words were to turn her away.
“Wicked with me?” he drawled menacingly.
“Yes!”
His finger left her body, and she bit back the protest. He trailed fingers wet with her essence up her neck to the corner of her lips. His thumb caressed her lips, and she could smell her own musky scent. She knew he did it to shock her. To show him she would not hide from his passion, she licked his fingers with a slow, deliberate curl of her tongue.
“Bloody hell.” His snarl vibrated in her.
He became a statue behind her, and she wished she could see his face.
“I want my sensibilities stripped.” Heat crawled up her neck, and she was glad he could not see it. She had already faced a monumental task in seducing him. It would not do for him to see her blushing. “I want excitement, and I want it for tonight. I want your co…cock in me like how you said. Not to be treated like a porcelain statuette of a woman. If you will not do it…”
He became dangerously motionless and her neck prickled in warning, all her instincts screaming for her to tread carefully. “I will not go home this night unsatisfied.”
There, that was better than saying she would seek someone else. She prayed he would not call her bluff. Because she wanted no one else, and she would go home cold and empty if he said no. She should have drunk another glass of champagne, at least for more courage. Her stomach quivered, and her knees wobbled. Thank God she hadn’t eaten anything, or she would be casting up her accounts and embarrassing herself any moment. She had never felt such nerves before. Not even years ago when she had kissed him and confessed her admiration.
She met his gaze. The intensity of his stare encompassed her entire body. Every dip, every hollow, and every curve felt the caress of his eyes as he probed. Anxiety cramped her gut. What if he knew it was her? Was that why he hesitated?
His voice was rough, deepened with arousal. “Widen your legs.”
Emma complied and pressed her face to the wall. The marble tiles cooled her heated cheeks, and she shivered.
“Grip the drapes.”
She held onto them. She knew Elliot. He sensed something about her that made him want to test her reaction. Oh God, what was it? He could not have suspected her. He would have sent her packing already. Wouldn’t he?
Two fingers suddenly speared inside of her, jerking her to her toes.
Heat, bliss, and a bite of pain cascaded through her core. “Elliot!” It was marvelously wild, and unlike anything she had ever dreamed of. What shocked Emma more than his rough actions was the pleasure that rolled over her, unexpected, seething, and powerful. She quivered, and a low moan, raw and fractured echoed from her lips as wetness gushed his hands.
“For the love of Christ!”
Laughter from below the balcony reached her ears along with the crash of glass. Her pulse fluttered frantically. She knew the alcove was too dark for anyone to see them, but she still couldn’t believe the position he had them in. He pressed into her, and she felt every indentation of his body. He kicked her already wide legs even wider and Emma’s breathing harshened. His fingers retreated and came back bringing delicious pleasure. He thrust harder, her breath hitched on a whimper, and he froze.
He groaned, and placed a wet kiss on her neck, and then a nip. “You’re tight.”
“You are talking too much.” Her voice was thick with tension, arousal, and her core clenched in hot need.
“Amelia …” The hard body curved around hers trembled.
Emma could practically feel his struggle.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
She met his eyes.
“This…the loss of your maidenhead. Do you not want marriage?” His dark golden gaze was direct and curious.
Blood thundered in her ears. “If I wanted a husband I wouldn’t be here.”
Shadows danced in his eyes before a brief smile to
uched his lips. “Marriage would bring you a similar pleasure…perhaps more.”
Emotions clogged her throat. Tension arced from her to him and uncertainty filled her. “Elliot, I—”
“Turn around,” he rasped.
God. She almost revealed herself. Gratefully she obeyed. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face toward the soft glow of light, searching her expression. “There is no turning back once we reach my chamber. Do you absolutely want this?”
“I want this…I want you.”
She grabbed the lapel of his jacket, pulled him to her, rising up on her toes and fastened her mouth to his—hot, wet, hungry, yet so wonderfully tender. Their first kiss in eight years. His mouth moved over hers, softly at first, teasing her lips open. Emma was lost in a sea of unending sensation. His lips on hers were everything she’d secretly feared, everything she had ever craved. Exciting. Decadent. Her lips parted, and his tongue plunged into her mouth ravenously.
He shoved her up against the wall, thrusting his hips up into the cradle of her thighs. “Are you sure?”
Heat burned her cheeks, and she hesitated. This is Elliot, she reminded herself. Be honest. “Yes.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, and his eyes darkened dangerously.
“Why me?”
Emma stared in eyes that glittered with lust and felt such regret she wanted to cry. How she had longed to be with him like this. She wished he knew it was her. She lowered her lashes. “You make me feel so much,” she whispered and prayed he did not question it, for her answer was too revealing.
“Look at me.”
She glanced up.
Shadows shifted in his eyes. Carnal. Dangerous. “If you stay, I won’t let you go home tonight,” he promised. “I’ll keep my cock buried in you all night long, and I will not hold back with you. There are times I’ll destroy your sensibilities where you’ll want to run, but I won’t let you go.”
