by Darcy Burke
His chagrin was so complete that it drew a laugh from her. What else could she do? “Quite. I hope she’ll be gone by Monday or Tuesday. My father won’t last that long without her. They had a disagreement over money.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
She shook her head. “Why did you stop?”
He glanced at her hand. “You want me to continue?”
They were alone. Their plans for later were foiled. Why not take advantage of right now? “Please. If you don’t mind.”
“Never.” He kept his eyes on hers as he pulled the glove from her hand, then he kissed her palm, using his tongue to trace the lines there, watching her while she watched him.
Phoebe had never imagined such a simple act could be so erotic. He moved to her other hand, removing the glove, and repeating his seduction with his lips and tongue. When he’d said there were other things they could do besides intercourse, this hadn’t even registered as a possibility. And yet here she was, quivering and desperate for more.
“Should I keep going?” he asked, the deep timbre of his voice sending shocks of want through her.
“Yes.” She glanced toward the open doorway.
He noticed. Clasping her hand, he drew her across the room to a closed door, which he opened, and pulled her over the threshold. He closed the door with a firm click, shutting them into a much smaller, rather dim space.
“This is the music room.”
She looked around and saw a pianoforte as well as a few mismatched chairs and a chaise. “You don’t come in here.”
“I do not. It appears to be used for a bit of storage—the perfect place for privacy.” He arched a dark brow as he pulled her against him. “Unless you’d rather I carry you up to my bedchamber?”
The pulse in her sex intensified. Before she could answer, he spoke again. “Perhaps not today. We are taking this slow, after all. Furthermore, I didn’t soak a French letter. I don’t suppose you brought a sponge?”
She shook her head, unable to speak. He was warm and solid against her, and her breasts tingled where they touched. She hadn’t thought she would feel anything resembling pleasure when it came to her breasts, where—
No, she wouldn’t think of that.
Overcome, she stood on her toes and curled her arms around his neck, then kissed him. She was a terrible novice, but hopefully what she lacked in skill, she made up for with zeal. Applying all she’d learned from him, she opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his lips. He met her with a soft moan, his arms pulling her more tightly against him.
The sensation in her breasts heightened, making them feel heavy and…aching. She wanted him to touch them. Almost as badly as she wanted him to touch her sex again.
She pressed her chest to his and tugged at his hair as she angled her head to spear her tongue deeper into his mouth. He pulled back, and she feared she’d done something wrong.
“Dear God, Phoebe,” he breathed. “You are magnificent. Are you ready for the next step?”
“Yes. Please. Tell me what to do.” She threw off her hat, uncaring of where it landed. “I want to do what you did for me the other day.”
His eyes darkened to nearly black, the pupils dilating. “You want to—” He gave his head a shake. “Later. This is about you first. Always.”
“You’re not touching me,” she complained, eager for whatever this step entailed.
“My apologies.” He took her hand and led her to the chaise. “Will you sit?”
She did so. “I want you to…” She faltered.
He perched on the chaise, folding one leg atop the cushion so that he faced her. “You want me to what? Don’t ever be embarrassed or ashamed to ask for what you want, especially in the bedroom.” He glanced about. “Or the unused music storage room.”
She smiled, then worked up the courage to say what she wanted. “I can’t believe I’m asking, but I want you to touch my breasts. They seem to, um, want you to.”
He blinked, surprised at the request. “Well, I am not one to disappoint you or your breasts. How does this gown unfasten?”
She turned to present her back. “It’s a drop front. Untie it.”
He plucked at the tie, and she felt the gown loosen around the bodice. When she turned back, she opened the fabric, exposing her corset and the chemise beneath.
Slowly, he lifted his hand and drew his fingers over the upper curve of her breast. “You’re certain?”
Desire trailed in the wake of his touch, stoking the fire he’d started the day before. “Yes.” She lifted her hands to untie her corset below her breasts.
“May I?” He put his hands over hers, and she moved out of his way.
Picking at the laces, he untied them. He leaned forward and kissed her, his lips and tongue stealing her breath and equilibrium. She felt light again, ready to fly at any moment. He tugged her chemise down and apart, then loosed the top of her chemise. Cool air caressed her bare skin and then his fingers did the same.
He gently stroked her flesh, drawing circles around her nipple as he continued his gentle assault on her mouth. She whimpered with need as he drew closer to the tip. She clutched his shoulders, wordlessly begging him to give her what she didn’t know she wanted.
His hand closed around her briefly, then cupped her from underneath, lifting the weighty globe. At last, his thumb dragged across her nipple. She gasped into his mouth and then moaned when his thumb and finger closed softly around her. When he tugged—ever so gently—she thought she might go mad.
Suddenly, his mouth was gone from hers. He was kissing her jaw and neck again. She loved the feel of him ravishing her flesh, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She moved her hands up into his hair, holding him to her and basking in his touch. He delved lower still, licking along her collarbone and then dipping over her breast.
She inhaled sharply, and he paused. Her fingers tightened around his scalp. “Don’t stop.”
He cupped her breast as his lips grazed her skin, leaving a path of heat and need. Then his mouth was on her nipple, wet and tantalizing as he suckled her.
Sensation overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes. Rapture bloomed and spread like a field of wildflowers opening to the sun. Desire, urgent and encompassing, pooled in her sex, growing with each lick of his tongue and caress of his fingers.
She held him against her, reveling in the pleasure building within her. It was just like the day before, her body rushing toward that magnificent release.
He guided her back on the chaise, pushing her up the cushions. Then he left her breast. She opened her eyes and saw that he was staring down at her.
“You’re unbearably beautiful.”
“Really? You can’t bear it?” She reached for her chemise. “Should I cover myself?”
He grinned, recognizing that she was joking. “Don’t you dare. I will bear it. I want to see more. May I?” He reached for the hem of her skirt.
She clasped the folds near her waist and pulled the fabric up in answer to his question. “Is that what you want?”
“Higher.”
Kneeling between her calves, he watched her legs as she tugged the fabric. Realizing she could taunt him the way he did her, she moved slowly, revealing herself bit by bit—her knees, her thighs, higher still until the hem of her gown was at her waist.
“Open your legs.” His voice had gone incredibly deep so that the words sounded like a command.
She parted her thighs, again moving slowly. When she thought she should stop, she opened them further, until she felt more exposed than she ever had in her life. The chaise wasn’t wide enough, so she let her legs drape over the sides.
“Perfection,” he murmured, moving between her legs, his gaze locked on her sex.
Looking at him fully dressed, a dark lock of hair hanging over his forehead, she was overcome by his masculine beauty. And the fact that she couldn’t see very much of him.
Arranging the gown at her waist and pushing the weight of it to one side, she sat fo
rward and reached for his cravat, pulling the ends from his waistcoat. He looked up at her as she untied the silk and slid it from around his neck. She brought it to her nose and inhaled. It smelled so much like him, she never wanted to return it. She clutched it in her hand and watched as he removed his coat and dropped it to the floor.
“The waistcoat too.” Now she sounded like him, ordering him about.
He arched a brow but said nothing as he unbuttoned the garment. This game was almost as arousing as when he actually touched her.
The waistcoat followed his coat to the floor. He prowled up the chaise, and she reclined as he came up over her. He braced his hands on either side of her and kissed her, exploring her mouth with passion and tenderness. When he drew back, he tugged her lower lip with his teeth. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He pinned her with a dark, seductive stare. “Remember that everything you feel and do is right. Everything.”
He kissed her again before returning his attention to her breasts. He worked at a feverish pace this time, using his lips, tongue, and fingers to tease her nipples into hard, aching buds. She cast her head back and closed her eyes, surrendering to his touch. When he pinched her, she gasped, but not from any pain. Sharp desire pulsed in her sex.
As if he knew that was precisely what had happened, his hand moved between her thighs. He grazed her heated flesh, slowly, gently, then with more purpose, his fingers tangling in the curls and finding her clitoris. When he pressed her there—like he was now—she knew she could fly.
Her hips shot up off the chaise, and she moaned.
Then something wet was against her. She opened her eyes and looked down—at the top of his head. Oh God, he was using his mouth. Was that even right?
Remember that everything you feel and do is right.
She took that to include everything he did to her. And how could anything that felt this extraordinary be wrong? She shivered with want as his tongue explored her sex, licking and teasing. Then driving right into her as his finger had done the day before.
She bucked up, unable to contain her reaction. Instinctively, she grabbed his head.
He clasped one of her thighs. “Wrap your legs around me.”
She couldn’t… Except she did. This couldn’t possibly be right. Except it was.
Robbed of coherent thought, she arched up, wanting more of him. And he gave it to her, adding his finger to her sheath. He pumped in and out as his mouth drove her to the brink of sanity. This was familiar. The sky beckoned. She just had to let go and take flight.
He drove his finger deep inside her, and she bore down, crying out as her release flooded her senses. Her legs quivered helplessly around him as she rode the tide.
She had no idea how long it went on, but eventually, he eased her legs from him and laid them flat along the chaise. All she heard was the sound of her heart and blood pounding, a staccato rhythm of satisfaction and joy.
“I had no idea that was possible.” She opened her eyes to see him standing next to the chaise. Her gaze was instantly drawn to the thick bulge of his sex pressing against his breeches.
The sight of Sainsbury’s long, thin member flashed in her mind. She closed her eyes to banish the image, then opened them again.
“Do you need help with your clothing?” he asked.
Such a thoughtful man. So caring and generous.
Phoebe sat up and brought her legs around to the same side of the chaise as him. Then she scooted over until she sat directly in front of him. “Not yet. I’d rather help you with yours.”
He looked down at her, his brow furrowed in question. “I can manage.”
“I know, but I think I’d like to unbutton your fall myself.” She lifted her hand to his breeches and flicked the first button open.
“Phoebe.” His nostrils flared, and he put his hand over hers. “Not today.”
“Yes, today.” She needed to expel the Blackguard from her mind for good. “I need to do this. I showed you mine. Time for you to show me yours.”
“Fine.” The word was tight and hard. “But you’re only looking.”
He moved her hand to her lap, then finished what she’d started. With each button he freed, her heart beat faster. Shockingly, desire rippled through her again.
The fall of his breeches dropped, but his shirt covered what she was trying to see. She lifted her hand again, to move the fabric, but he did it first, lifting the lawn to expose his sex.
It looked nothing like Sainsbury’s. Thick and long with a dark nest of curls at the base, the flesh appeared like velvet. She needed to know if that was true.
She glanced up at him, her voice carrying a note of apology wrapped in anticipation. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to touch you.”
Chapter 10
Pleasure jolted through Marcus as Phoebe’s hand gently wrapped around his flesh. “You were just supposed to look.” He ground the words out as if he were being tortured. And he supposed he was. He’d been working so hard to keep a rein on himself, to stifle his needs for another time.
“I did try, but you’re too touchable.”
He nearly laughed, but he couldn’t while trying to maintain his self-control. He’d been trying so damn hard to take things slow with her. “You aren’t supposed to be doing this.”
“You said that already.” She slid her hand down his shaft, her attention focused entirely on him.
He thought of her past experience with that blackguard Sainsbury and felt horrible for enjoying this. She shouldn’t be doing it. Not yet. “Phoebe—”
“Don’t tell me to stop.” She paused as she brought her hand back up to the tip and looked up at him, her green eyes dark and beautiful. “Unless you really want me to. I want to touch you. I’m enjoying touching you. In fact, I’m considering putting my mouth on you. Is that done?”
Bloody hell. “Yes, that’s done. But you don’t—”
He didn’t get the words out because she’d pushed back his foreskin, and put her lips on the head of his cock, kissing him. Then they moved down the side, her softness teasing and coaxing him. As if he needed any help in getting to the edge of release.
“You should probably tell me what to do,” she said between kisses. “Otherwise, I’ll have to make it up.”
“You’re doing a fine job so far.” His body, taut with lust, shuddered as she tentatively touched him with her tongue. He caressed the back of her head. “Yes.”
“Yes?” She used more of her tongue, licking along his length.
He groaned, unsure of how long he would last. And he didn’t want to surprise her or disgust her, given what she’d endured before. “Phoebe, at some point, I’m going to come.”
She tipped her head back and looked up at him again. “In my mouth?”
Oh God, did she want him to? No, he was absolutely drawing the line there. “Not today.” He saw his cravat next to her on the floor. “Hand me my cravat.”
She did so, then stroked him as she dropped her head once more. “You’ll tell me when?”
“Yes.” The word drew out on his tongue as she took him back into her mouth. “Phoebe.” He gripped her scalp and took great care not to thrust. It was incredibly difficult.
Her tongue swirled over his flesh, and he nearly lost himself. Then she sucked, pulling a loud groan from his lips as her hand stroked up and down his shaft.
He was not going to last. If she took him farther into her mouth, he was done.
She took him farther into her mouth.
Holding him firm, she moved her lips down over him, flattening her tongue. Her mouth and hand squeezed around him. His balls tightened, and he gasped. “Phoebe. Move. Just a bit.” He couldn’t help himself. He wanted this from her. He needed it.
She retreated to the tip, then came back down over him, engulfing his flesh. He watched her suck him, her hand wrapped around his cock, and knew the end was near.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to just feel for a thrust o
r two. Three… Four… That was it. He pulled away from her and pivoted, thrusting himself into the cravat in his hand as his orgasm crashed over him. He grunted as his body trembled with the force of his release.
When he could grasp hold of his senses, he opened his eyes. Wiping himself clean, he wadded the cravat and tossed it to one of the chairs. Then he buttoned his fall before turning back to her.
Phoebe sat at the edge of the chaise, her dress back in place as she fought to tie the strings behind her back.
“Here, let me,” he offered.
She stood and presented her back. He took care of setting her to rights. “All finished.”
She turned to face him, her cheeks flushed, her gaze shimmering with contentment. “I hope you don’t mind what I did.”
“On the contrary, I would walk through fire to experience that again.” Not just the physical gratification of it. More than that, it was her generosity and her sweetness that had enthralled him.
She laughed. “I can’t imagine that would be necessary.” Her gaze fell on the open neck of his shirt. “Next time, you should take off your shirt.”
Next time… “I’ll be happy to. Whenever that is.”
“Hopefully, my mother won’t be with me more than a few days. My father will either come to his senses and forego his investment scheme, or my mother will admit defeat and return home. I do hope it’s the former.”
He bent to pick up his waistcoat, then pulled it on. “Why is that? Is there something wrong with his scheme?”
“He’s lost money on two prior investments with this same person.” She began to button his waistcoat for him. It was a rather intimate task, and one that no other woman had performed for him. Surprisingly, he liked it. “Have you ever heard of meeting someone at night in Leicester Square for the purposes of investing?”
Marcus froze. He put his hands over hers as she fastened the last button. “Leicester Square?”
She nodded. “My mother said he goes to meet some man there. That’s not how my investments are handled at all.”
He took her hands in his and pressed his lips together. “Phoebe, this doesn’t sound like a good strategy, particularly if he’s already lost money on prior investments. You said they were with the same person?” Marcus needed to find his bloody cousin.
