He looked like a perfectly chiseled statue come to life, every elegant, rock-hard
curve of muscle—biceps, shoulders, chest, thighs—and then the pulsating hardness at his groin, his rampant erection, made her mouth water and her inner muscles clench.
Like a prowling lion he moved up onto the bed, and then she felt nothing but the warm, tickling delight of his fine mouth, dusting more kisses up the back of her legs, which parted eagerly at the teasing sweetness of his touch, while her hands clutched the sheets.
She shivered in anticipation, a complete wanton, not sure what to expect, but she had faith in her husband to provide pleasure. When he gently spread her bottom cheeks with his skillful, warm hands, she let out a cry of shock as his wicked tongue plunged into her from behind, stroking her with a kiss.
His mouth on her was scandalous but oh, God, so pleasurable she could not bring herself to object. Bliss like none she’d ever known spiraled through her body. She felt open, exposed, but she didn’t care. She trusted Sebastian with her body and her heart.
He rewarded her trust by curling his hand around the front of her thigh and caressing her little hardened nub with his fingertips while he explored her open sex with this tongue.
Beatrice reached behind her, lacing her fingers in his thick, dark locks. His powerful arms and chest teased her, just out of reach. At her insistent tug on his scalp, he glanced up and sent her a smoldering look, his enticing mouth against her pale skin. Then, with a knowing look of smugness, he bent his head and continued pleasuring her.
Soon her breathing became labored, her legs shook, and any coherent thought fled. She was so close; she moaned loudly and to her despair his mouth left her body. She yanked his hair in frustration before letting him go, but Sebastian merely chuckled. “So feisty. I love that about you.”
He began kissing his way up her spine, holding her firmly by her hips. She felt his hardness nudging between her thighs and her head tipped back. “Yes,” she said, “now.”
He ignored her, his hands skimming her sides and down her arms. He lifted her hands from the sheets, and still on her knees he shuffled her forward and placed her hands on the headboard in front of them. “Don’t let go until I tell you,” he commanded in a voice laced with sex.
He was behind her, covering her with his body, pressing her forward, his hands pulling her hips back and up. His chest was hard and hot against her bare back.
His muscled body was so large he seemed to surround her on all sides, dominating her. She could hear his heavy breathing, felt the massive evidence of his need as he teasingly rubbed his hardness against her.
She tried to twist round but he captured her hips and held her fast. “Please,” she begged.
He drew back and she felt a finger enter her. “You’re so wet, and hot, and tight. I can barely wait to take you,” he told her, his voice husky and filled with want.
Then, mercifully, he guided his hardness to her wet, glistening entrance and sank deep within her. She leaned back and sank onto him; he pushed her back up on her knees, withdrawing until he almost left her body, holding her there, teasing her until she squirmed trying to sink back onto his rampant hardness. She panted with desire and arched her head back as his fingertips lightly caressed her throat, then moved down to tease her tightly budded nipples. She moaned with want, her body undulating above him. In that moment, he possessed her totally.
“More?” he asked, his voice tight and low.
She whimpered his name, begging him to take her hard.
Then he slammed deep. A groan tore from his chest and he held her hips as he finally lost the control he’d always mastered in their bed.
She clung to the bed head, bending forward more, pushing back to meet his thrusts, trying to take him deeper. Her breasts bounced with each thrust and his hands snaked round to claim them. She felt his teeth on her shoulder. A tender bite as if he were marking her.
His hands traveled down her sides, following her curves down to her hips.
“So sweet, so tight,” he whispered. His hands were everywhere, at her breasts, teasing her aching nipples, then between her thighs, stroking her hardened nub, while he continually whispered decadent phrases in her ear.
Soon their combined moans and groans echoed around the room. He thrust inside her again and again. He groaned with pleasure as he took her from behind. Not being able to see his face was torture, but hearing him, and feeling him surrounding her, in her, seemed to heighten her desire to the bursting point.
He moved faster, seemingly unable to stop. The thrill of feeling him lose control, giving everything of himself to her, hiding no part of his needs and wants,
was like being caught in a whirlpool of sensations.
The fullness of having him seated so deeply within her sent passion flowing through her veins like wine. She shivered and clutched the headboard tighter, gasping for air as undreamed-of pleasure consumed her very soul. She was aware of nothing else but the man at her back, the man thrusting hard and hot into her, directing her ever closer, and then he sent her spiraling out of this world, release crashed through her body, and she cried out his name, gripping the headboard to keep herself from falling.
Immediately his hands were at her hips, he was whispering wildly to her, but she couldn’t make out the words, so lost in a state of bliss, she was rigid and pulsating.
As her body began to milk him, the last of his control flew asunder. He took her with urgent, violent strokes, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. Then Sebastian gave himself up to the demands of his release as it came roaring up from the depths of him. A barbaric growl tore from his lips. His mighty body went rigid and he gripped her in a savage tight embrace, his body covering hers; his hips lunged and his manhood pulsed with completion deep inside her, leaving him spent.
If not for his arm around her waist, she would have collapsed. Their lovemaking had been intense, like nothing they had previously shared. He must have noticed her shaking, because he pulled her tightly against him, her hands falling from the headboard, and pulled her down into the soft mattress beside him, safe in his embrace.
He was still breathing deeply, but his face was relaxed, the perfect picture of a man thoroughly satisfied.
He pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. “Lord, what you do to me, woman. I could die a happy man after that.”
“I’d rather you didn’t die, darling. I’d like to do that, with you, for the rest of my life. In fact, I’d like to do that again shortly if that is at all possible.”
He gave a tired laugh. “Give me a few minutes to recover. It’s been a long day.”
They lay quietly, locked together, breathing in complete unison.
“You’re going to challenge Dunmire, aren’t you?”
He brushed the hair from her face. “What do you expect me to do? He deserves it for what he did to Lizzy, but also, if he is H.B., he likely killed Doogie and
shot at me. I can’t let that go.”
Beatrice pushed up out of his hold. “But killing Dunmire doesn’t get us the answers we need. Wouldn’t it be better to try and trap him? Then we can interrogate him and learn who is behind this.”
“Interrogate?” he asked, smiling.
“Well, Arend would probably do the interrogating. He has a knack of getting people to talk. Even though I know him, sometimes his dark scowl can make me shiver.”
“He’d never hurt you.”
She pressed a kiss to his chest as she snuggled back into his embrace. “I know that, but he hides a darkness, which I assume comes from his past. It must have been horrid fleeing the violence of revolutionary France.”
“He doesn’t talk about it.”
“Well, that speaks volumes. Promise me you’ll talk with the others before you challenge Lord Dunmire.”
He lay back on a sigh and stared at the ceiling. “I just want this to be over. Marisa is missing out on a season and Helen tries to hide how scared she is. It’s not fair on them, or you. This is not what you agreed to when we married.”
Beatrice loved how he was always thinking of his family, a family that now included her. “It will be over sooner if we can get Dunmire to talk.”
Suddenly he rolled her beneath him, rising up on his arms above her, delivering a wicked smile. She felt his member stir against her thigh. “I was lucky to have accepted your proposal. Who would have thought intelligence in a woman could be so sexy?”
“Is it only my intelligence you find attractive then?” She loved how desire flared in his eyes as she stretched her arms above her head, pushing her breasts up, while she widened her legs so he settled fully against her womanhood.
His response was to take one pert nipple deep into his mouth, drawing a moan from her lips. When he raised his head, he whispered against her heated skin, “I love everything about you. Your kindness, your determination, you stubbornness, your intelligence, and yes, the delights of your body.”
She lay there speechless. Then warmth seeped into her and she reached up and kissed him.
As he began showing her just how much he loved every inch of her, Beatrice
knew she was the luckiest woman in the world.
Chapter Seventeen
The following evening, they walked into the Cavendish ballroom and joined the queue waiting to greet the host and hostess.
The other Libertine Scholars agreed with Beatrice that they should scope out Dunmire and try to learn more. They agreed to carry on as if everything were normal: they would reenter the season and use the social whirl to get closer to Dunmire.
So here they were at another ball. Sebastian had promised to spend the whole evening with the ladies for their protection. He wasn’t taking any chances. Beatrice was actually looking forward to a ball for the first time.
She lifted her head high and kept her eyes locked on Sebastian, knowing that the vicious talk about how they had wed had not abated. Ignoring the whispers, they stood in the receiving line, waiting as guests shuffled forward. Once the pleasantries were completed, they moved fully into the ballroom.
Beatrice couldn’t help staring at her husband. She knew it wasn’t the thing, but her traitorous breath caught in her throat every time he smiled. How did he do it? She tore her gaze away from the intoxicating sight of him, trying to quell the fluttery sensation developing in her stomach. He was so handsome this evening, but to her he was always handsome.
She’d never considered that a man could look better naked, until she’d seen her husband as God intended. She smiled inwardly, feeling sorry for the women in the room gazing upon her husband. They would never know that while his ensemble set off his physique to perfection, Sebastian was pure sinful pleasure
au naturel
. She looked forward to running her hands, and lips, over the heated muscled flesh hidden beneath the soft fabric, later this evening, when he came to her bed.
Tonight he seemed taller, more masculine, even in his finery. He was her flesh-and-blood fantasy. His soft blue-gray eyes seemed to deliberately entice; usually just a smile set her pulse hammering. Her husband was a temptation sent to make women want to sin.
The introduction for the first waltz cut through the hypnotic moment. His eyes held hers and for once she hid nothing from him; her request, nay demand, flashed in
her eyes. His fingers closed about her hand and he lifted it fleetingly to his lips. Then he elegantly bowed, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’d like to dance with my beautiful wife, if she so desires.”
She more than desired. She gave him a dazzling smile, gratitude beaming from within. Thankfully their relationship was back on an even keel. Respect, admiration, and friendship once more restored but they shared more—love. The fact he had embraced Henry and allowed her to bring him into their home was something she would never forget. Thankfully, Henry’s fever had broken that night and he was back to being a rambunctious two-year-old. She owed Sebastian everything. She inclined her head and let him draw her to the floor.
Sebastian steered her through the swirling throng, his powerful arms holding her gently, his firm thighs scorching through the sheer material of her gown. Her breasts tightened, and her skin came alive as his fingers stroked her waist through the silk. This must be what debutantes felt like upon their first waltz—giddy, nerves trembling, taut with anticipation. She was no longer the staid old spinster of twenty-five. She remembered his naked body lying next to her from earlier that afternoon and her gaze dropped to his groin.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to embarrass myself on the dance floor and we won’t be able to leave it.”
She gave a delighted smile and raised her eyes back to his face. His face seemed harder, more chiseled, more austere. His body seemed more powerful and there was something in his eyes as they rested on hers. It was warmth. There was warmth glowing from his eyes. Since the argument over Henry, they had wordlessly agreed to start again, starting a new life, one that she looked forward to.
“I shall look forward to staring at more of you later this evening when we get home,” she said.
Typical man. He was trying to stop the smile hinting at the edges of his lips. “I look forward to that immensely. Perhaps you’ll even do more than stare?” He straightened and pulled her closer. “We will go and get Henry together tomorrow. We will close the house down and we will move Henry and Monica into Waverly Court.” Just as he finished speaking, the smile died from his eyes and his body went taut beneath her hands.
“What is it?”
“Dunmire is here. Christ, I want to challenge him.”
“Please don’t. We have a plan. Please stick to it. Look how disastrous Doogie’s duel turned out. I don’t want that on my conscience and neither would Lizzy. The way we can beat Dunmire is by milking him for information before handing him to the magistrate, and by raising his son Henry to be a good man.”
They twirled round the floor and he just looked at her. “I don’t know if you are right,” he said, “but I do know that we need to put Henry’s needs first. And it wouldn’t do for a man like Dunmire to know his son was alive and well and in our care. It would give him leverage over us.”