Claiming the Courtesan (22 page)

He hauled her down and kissed her again.

He’d never been a man who’d taken much interest in kissing. He’d always considered it a distraction from earthier satisfactions. Now he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, the succulent lushness of her mouth.

When he rolled her beneath him, heat flared along his
body. He lay between her legs, poised for joining. His arousal clamored for him to take her, but he prolonged the moment. He intended to savor his happiness before a malign fate snatched it away.

“We should adjourn to your room if you’re feeling particularly adventurous,
mo cridhe
.” He laughed softly. “This cot won’t allow much more than the traditional relief.”

He thrust his aching sex against her belly. He fervently hoped she didn’t plan an elaborate seduction, or he’d never last the distance.

“Mo cridhe?”
he prompted.

“What?” she asked in a dazed voice.

“Your room. Shall we go?”

She looked around, and he saw her take in the cramped space.

“One of us will end up on the floor if we stay here.”

She gave an enchanting gurgle of amusement. “That wouldn’t sit well with the ducal dignity.”

“That wouldn’t sit well with the ducal rump.”

This laughter was a heady new experience. He and Soraya had shared pleasure but never joy. And his passion for Verity had been dark and driven by destruction.

What a marvelous discovery that after over a year with this woman, he still had untold new worlds to seek.

He lifted himself off her and stood up, offering his hand. Not long ago, she’d have treated the gesture with suspicion. Tonight, she took his hand willingly and rose in a billow of transparent blue silk.

“Let me have my wicked way with you,” she whispered, releasing him to collect the candle and move toward the door.

He followed and swung her around to face him. The man he’d once been would have accepted this bounty without question. The man he’d become needed final confirmation
of consent.

Startled silver eyes flashed up to his. The candle’s flame wavered wildly. “Your Grace?”

His hold firmed. “Kylemore. Or Justin. I prefer Justin.”

The smile she gave him was pure temptation. “Perhaps when I know you better.”

He left that argument for another day. Instead, he spoke somberly. “Are you sure, Verity?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She raised her hand to cup the side of his face with a tender gesture, then she took his hand once more. The warmth of her touch flowed along his veins like brandy. “Come with me. I promise to chase the bad dreams away.”

A
s she made her way along the hallway, Verity was dauntingly conscious that more than six feet of lean, strong male followed only a breath behind.

Lean, strong,
aroused
male. He was naked, and his interest in her was blatantly clear.

It was unnerving.

It was exciting.

A thrill shivered through her to have that leashed potency utterly focused on her. As recently as a mere two days ago, that potency had terrified her. Now she luxuriated in its power.

She was no longer the reluctant demimondaine who shared her bed in return for a livelihood. She was no longer poor lost Verity, afraid that if she surrendered to her deepest impulses, she’d forfeit her eternal soul.

But still when they reached her room, she hesitated at the edge of the bed.

This suddenly seemed such an irrevocable step.

Kylemore stepped behind her and encircled her with his arms. Immediate heat surrounded her. “What is it?” he murmured.

Was this new, the way he was in tune with her merest thought?

No. For how else had he managed to lure her along the difficult but inexorable path to surrender?

She laughed softly, nervously. “Would you believe I feel shy? You’ll think I’m ridiculous.”

“I think you’re perfect.” He released her and moved across to stretch out on the bed. His erection jutted out, giving the lie to his outward patience. “I’m all yours.”

Tonight, she knew, that was true. She’d already accepted it wouldn’t be true forever. A woman like her could never have forever.

Still, tonight was enough for now.

With one smooth movement, she tugged the filmy negligee over her head and let it float to the floor. His sex twitched, and his mouth took on a strained line.

“I’m not sure that was a good idea,” he said huskily. “Not if you want me to keep my hands to myself.”

She gave Soraya’s laugh, except this time it emerged perfectly spontaneously. “I’ll tie you up if I have to. It has to be your turn.”

How could she jest about her abduction? But somehow, when she’d recognized that she loved the Duke of Kylemore, all earlier pain and rancor had faded.

If he hadn’t kidnapped her, she’d still be a crippled creature willing to settle for a half life. Good works, independent celibacy, family duty couldn’t compete with the abundant wealth of emotion that swirled around them tonight.

The possibility of heartbreak hovered too, but she faced it down. She meant to grab joy and hang on as firmly as she
could. No matter how long it lasted. No matter what pain awaited in the future.

She climbed onto the bed and knelt above him. Her knees pressed into his lean flanks, and her hair flowed down around them. She smiled slowly, lasciviously, when he curled his strong hands around her waist as if he’d never let her go.

Soraya had been powerful, but Soraya had been a lie. What she felt now came from her very core. The core that was heavy and molten with desire for this one difficult, beloved man.

His indigo eyes darkened to black as he read her expression. Mutual arousal was familiar. This incendiary level of excitement wasn’t, whatever stellar heights they’d scaled in the past.

She bent to run her mouth down the center of his chest, lingering, tasting, enjoying. His musky scent intoxicated her as no wine ever could. Gradually, inevitably, she traced the arrow of silky hair that led to the base of his belly.

With great satisfaction, she felt him struggle to draw breath. She’d meant her leisurely exploration to splinter her lover’s vaunted self-control. Apparently, she succeeded.

She dipped her tongue in his navel and placed her hand very deliberately on his sex. He shuddered as she stroked him, testing his heat and vigor.

Oh, she had chosen a wonderfully virile man for herself. And all that robust masculinity was hers, all hers, lucky girl that she was.

Soon, so soon, she’d taste him there. With a sigh, she slid lower to where he rose in proud glory under her exploring fingers. He groaned, and his hands tangled in her hair.

Slowly, she licked his length, feeling the tension build in the muscles of his thigh, where she’d moved her hand to balance herself. Then, with a concentration that she knew tortured him, she flicked her tongue across the head, savoring
his arousal. Beneath her other hand, his belly clenched hard. When he groaned once more, she felt the sound well out from the deepest part of him.

Of course, she’d pleasured him with her mouth before. Often. But tonight, the act held a joyous freedom she’d never experienced during all those torrid afternoons in London.

She tried to prolong this teasing overture. The sight of him stretched on a sensual rack satisfied some innately feminine element in her. He jerked under her tantalizing kisses, silently begging for more.

And she wanted to give him more. Need tugged insistently in her blood, dictating an end to delay. Almost greedily, she took him in her mouth.

He was hot, so hot. When she began to suck, he trembled beneath her as if he suffered a fever. How intoxicating to have him at her mercy like this. She increased the pressure, initiating a rhythm that echoed the act of love.

“Mo cridhe…”
he grated out, tilting his hips up toward her.

She leaned closer to take more of him, and his fingers clenched convulsively against her scalp. He was very close to breaking, she knew. Her own excitement sparked like lightning as she sensed his futile but frantic struggle to harness his desire.

She wanted him to lose control.
She wanted him to lose control for her.

But before she achieved her goal, he dragged her upward with shaking hands. She gave a frustrated whimper as he deftly rolled her beneath him. His weight pressed her down into the mattress, and the thought of all that lean strength above her made her shiver with anticipation.

“I want to give you pleasure,” she protested in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. She licked her lips and tasted his skin. She wanted to taste
more
.

He raised his head, and for once, his smile held no darkness. Even piqued of her objective, she couldn’t help thinking with a stab of longing how beautiful he was.

“This time is for you,” he said softly.

The wild desperation to snatch this moment and guard it as a miser guarded his gold seeped out of her even while her desire blazed higher, more brightly.

“Yes,” she whispered. And watched the final shadow slip away from his face as she at last gave him her consent.

Kylemore shifted over her very gently. Her hips cradled him, and his cock nudged eagerly at the softness of her belly. After their decadent past, this should be so familiar.

But he couldn’t dismiss the extraordinary idea that he made love to a virgin. In spite of all the pleasure they’d shared. In spite of what he’d done to her in this house. In spite of the frenzy her clever mouth and hands drove him into.

Softly, as though touching her for the first time, he explored her body. The unsteady pattern of her breathing guided him to where her pleasure lay.

He took his time, struggling against the need that seethed like a whirlpool within him. His heart beat such a mad tattoo in his chest that he thought it might burst. But he clamped down on his hunger and concentrated on her. After all his transgressions against her, he owed her this.

He caressed and kissed her breasts until she gasped and shook in his arms. Her nipples were so sensitive that he knew he could bring her to climax like this.

But still it wasn’t enough. He’d promised her pleasure and, by God, he meant to give her pleasure such as she’d never known before. The ache in his loins clenched into agony, but somehow he contained the urge to enter and possess.

He touched her dewy center and smiled his satisfaction
when she bucked and moaned under his hand. He’d always loved her responsiveness. The redolent scent of her arousal invaded his senses as he stroked the plump, damp folds until they were swollen and wet beneath his fingers.

He pushed two fingers into her and bent his head to sink his teeth into the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She cried out and shuddered, rewarding him with a hot flow of moisture against his seeking hand.

Immediately, he gentled, nuzzling the fragrant hollows of her neck as he began to work his fingers in and out of her. She shivered and wound her arms around his naked back. Soon she trembled like a sapling in a high wind, and her breath emerged in panting moans.

But his ruthlessness hadn’t altogether vanished. He continued until she broke and clung to him, sobbing. She was still shaking when he positioned himself between her thighs.

He fought for breath and for the willpower to make this good for her. Carefully, with a restraint that almost killed him, he slid into her. Her sigh as he penetrated fully was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

He’d been a power in the great world. He’d commanded the destinies of multitudes. Yet, despite that, he knew this private, silent moment was the most important of his life.

For a long moment, he remained motionless, suspended in perfect connection.

They were one.

He’d always dismissed that idea as sentimental claptrap. But for a few transcendent seconds, he didn’t know where he ended and she began.

But he was, after all, merely human. The urge to move became irresistible. He withdrew and thrust once more.

Immediately he felt again that sense of ultimate homecoming.

She sighed with delight and lifted herself to him. The
graceful arch of her body told him all he needed to know about what she wanted.

His famous control shattered into a thousand glittering shards. Wildly, he plunged into her over and over, riding out the volcanic force of one climax and another even more turbulent. Then, while the tremors still shook her, he thrust hard for the last time. With a mighty groan, he unleashed his passion into the welcoming darkness of her womb.

Verity drifted back from the dazzling realms of ultimate pleasure to find Kylemore slumped over her, his head buried in her shoulder. He was heavy and hot, pressing her into the mattress, but she couldn’t bear him to move away yet. Her arms tightened around his back as his ragged breathing gradually slowed.

Hard to believe she, the great expert on carnality, had known nothing at all. What she’d just experienced revealed her previous encounters as pale imitations of something rare and real.

She felt like laughing with joy. She felt like crying her heart out over what she’d missed. What she hadn’t even guessed existed.

She closed her eyes, remembering her stunned flash of recognition when his body had finally joined hers.

For the first time in her life, she’d felt complete. The ignorant country girl. Ben and Maria’s careful provider. The frightened servant. Eldreth’s mistress, as much daughter as lover, especially after the onset of his illness. James’s worldly tutor. Kylemore’s obsession. Then his angry resentful captive.

Daughter. Sister. Mistress. Prisoner. Lover. United in the woman who loved Kylemore. In the wake of all the painful storms, she basked now in a peace unlike anything she’d ever known.

The words
I love you
trembled on her lips.

But she could never tell him. Not for her sake—she’d never stop loving him. But for his.

The last few days had revealed he was far from the unfeeling monolith he strove so diligently to present. He already carried so much pain. She wouldn’t allow herself to add to it.

Kylemore stirred. His breathing was steadier, and his heart no longer thundered against her.

As he raised his head and looked down into her eyes, she saw he too had changed. His gaze was clear and sure. The cynicism that had always veiled his features had vanished. For the first time, he truly looked like a man a year younger than she.

Her heart was so full, she reached up to touch his cheek. His shadow beard bristled beneath her fingers.

“I’ve got a bear in my bed.” She sought relief in lightness.

Under her fingers, she felt his cheek crease into a smile. “I should have shaved.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m too heavy for you.”

“Maybe a little.”

She trailed her fingers upward and brushed his tangled, dark hair back from his temple. She’d never before permitted herself the tentative explorations of a new lover. She knew his body so well, yet these simple gestures of affection were utterly unfamiliar.

He pushed into her touch, reminding her of a kitten she’d had as a child. The memory was innocent, harking back to a time she’d almost forgotten.

She laughed softly. “You’ll start purring soon.”

“Ah,
mo cridhe
. I’m already purring. Surely you hear me.” His voice even sounded different, softer, hinting at a Highland lilt.

She could fall in love with a man with a voice like that.

“What do you call me?” she asked idly, continuing to stroke the lean planes of his face, his arrogant nose, his ears, his eyebrows.

Even more catlike under her ministrations, he closed his eyes. “Oh, it’s only a local term for a woman.”

When he raised his eyelids and glanced at her, she caught the blue glitter of amusement. Plainly, there was more to the soft endearment than he meant to tell her.

What did it matter in such a perfect moment? Her hands slid down to his back, tracing muscle and bone.

She could touch him like this forever. And still ask for more.

Who knew a man’s body offered such delights? Certainly not London’s most infamous courtesan.

He bent his head to kiss her—short, playful nips and pecks that soon had her giggling and wrestling with him in an ecstatic tangle of naked limbs.

She felt like a child again. A child with her very best friend in the world.

A child soon engulfed in distinctly adult desire when the game became more purposeful. His mouth touched her everywhere, her neck, her back, her buttocks, her breasts, between her legs. It was as if he staked his possession with kisses. Kisses that built heat a degree at a time until she burned with need.