Deliciously Debauched by the Rake (4 page)

“Turn around, my darling,” he murmured.

All around her, a slender goddess in black whirled about and the black silk skirts flowed like mysterious waters, catching the light and holding it as the fabric settled in sensual clinging folds. The bow in the tie at the neck pulled undone in a heartbeat. The ribbon at the waist followed. Designed just for this, it slipped down her length to puddle around her feet. He swung her around to face him, his hungry gaze skimming her body, lingering at her breasts rising stark white above the black lace edge, and then moved on to where the chemise barely covered her femininity and revealed the length of her thighs and the garters above her knee.

He knelt before her to remove her shoes with reverential movements while she kept her balance by holding on to his broad, powerful shoulders. Next came her garters, his fingers working swiftly at the silken bows she'd tied with such care. They, too, were removed. He slid his hands up her calves over her knees and gently caressed her thighs before dipping his dark head to the apex and kissing her through the muslin.

She hissed in at the sensation of hot breath and pressure on that most sensitive place.

He groaned, a sound of pleasure mingled with pain, and kissed her again. She wanted more, much more, and she curled her fingers in his dark hair, pressing him closer. Sweet pleasure. But it did not last long. Against her wishes he rose. His gray eyes smoky, eyelids heavy, he kissed the point of her chin. “Patience.”

He didn't seem to have an awful lot of patience as he divested her of chemise and stays, leaving her naked to his hungry gaze. She could not remember when she had been so blatantly nude. Indeed, she'd always been a little prim and proper, and had never felt quite comfortable flaunting her body, though he had seen her naked in his bed many, many times.

His eyes seemed to drink her in as he followed the contours of her body with his large, warm hands. She thought she might melt into puddle, his expression contained so much longing and tenderness.

She couldn't bear the tenderness. “Now you,” she ordered.

His nostrils flared as if he would object, but he stepped back and stripped off his own clothes, revealing he was just as aroused as she. She loved his bold shaft. The size of it and the heft of his stones. Excitement, anticipation had her trembling. Eagerly, she let him lead her up the marble steps to the dais and then up a couple more to a platform that would allow her to step down easily into the shell-like bath.

She paused to gaze down into the scented water. It smelled of roses. Just like the blooms he had given her last night. Across its surface floated yellow petals. He mounted the steps behind her, looking over her shoulder, his erection hard and warm against her buttocks. “A new beginning deserves a new color,” he murmured in her ear.

Inwardly, she winced. “What if it is an ending?”

“Oh, it is definitely that,” he replied. “It deserves its own color, too.”

Black. For mourning. Roses didn't come in black. She stepped down. The water, perfumed with oil and just hot enough to be comfortable, reached almost to her knees and enticed her in. The air in the room was also deliciously warm, she realized. Even naked she felt not a shiver. The warm, silky water, played over her belly and breasts and she watched him step down to join her, so lithe and strong and manly. Beautiful.

She'd been fortunate to keep him for so long.

Oh, dear, now was not the time for sadness to blur her eyes and fill her throat with burning. Shaking off the sudden rush of emotion, she reached out a hand that trembled a little more than she wanted. Seeming not to notice, he took it and while the tub was wide enough for them to lie side by side, he sank down, facing her. Quite naturally, without any thought, at least on her part, their legs entwined, and they drew closer together, their genitals barely inches apart. His breaking the surface of the water, hers feeling the warm water like a hot caress. The water covered her nipples. She hummed her contentment.

“Relax and enjoy,” he said.

Behind his head, set into the marble, she noticed something strange. Metal loops. And on the edge of the bath above them red silk ropes. The picture in the hallway flashed into her mind. Her body clenched in a most delicious way at the images dancing in her head.

He half turned to see what had caught her attention. When he turned back there was a quizzical expression on his face. “Like the idea, do you?”

“No,” she said, shocked that he had read her thoughts. “Of course, not. I mean, I don't know what you mean.” But she did. She was shocked at herself, because she did like it. Very much.

He cocked his head to one side. “Do I tie you? Or do you prefer it the other way around?”

She swallowed. The thought of this big magnificent male tied and at her mercy made her heart pound in her chest and her breathing uneven. “I tie you,” she gasped. She felt wicked, evil. “But not if you don't want to.”

His eyes became hooded and hot.

Heat rushed through her body. “Do you?” she asked.

“Only for you, darling.”

He spoke so quietly, with such conviction and determination, she had no trouble believing this was not a liberty he had ever allowed. Certainly never with her.

Their lovemaking had been lovely, satisfying, delicious—how could she want something else?

“I don't mind if you don't like it.” But she did. Some madness inside her made her want this strange, inexplicably naughty act. The thought of making him submit was driving her body wild with excitement. She blushed. She who had been a mistress for years, who had ignored the slights and gossip, was actually blushing with embarrassment at her wayward thoughts.

She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, his forehead, enjoying the way the water ran off her body and swirled around them. “No. Really. It is all right.”

He cupped her breast with his hand, gently teasing her hard budded nipple, while his other hand found her feminine folds below the water. Such a lovely sensation, hard fingers, silky warm water. She watched his erection grow and harden between them even as he gave her pleasure with his hand.

“Tie your knots well, my lady,” he said in a harsh murmur. “For if I escape, I will have my revenge.”

The words sent fire through her veins. The knot of tension low between her legs drew even tighter. A wildness entered her blood. A longing to set herself free. Be who she was. Yet there was dryness in her throat. Her heart knocked hard against her ribs. Fear. She had nothing to fear. No position to maintain. No reputation. Taking courage, she knelt, straddling his hips to capture the silken strands behind him.

His hands came to her flanks, steadying her as she reached over him. His head turned and he licked her breast, nuzzling into it with a deep rumble of pleasure. Delicious. She melted as he did the same on the other side. Distracting. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the sensations ripple across her flesh. Her hands clenched around the cords, and she recalled her purpose with a jolt of desire.

Slowly, she lowered herself onto his stomach, refusing to go where his hands tried to guide her. “Give me your hands.”

For a moment, he looked as if he might refuse. Then laughed and released his grip on her hips and held up his hands. Trust. Her insides fluttered wildly. Heat built between her legs. Was there anything so sensually exciting?

She tied his wrists together, not tight, but close enough that he could not slip free, then pulled the free ends through the metal eye, forcing him to lean back with his arms above his head, just as she had seen in the picture. “There,” she said, sitting back to admire her handiwork.

He raised his knees to support her back, cradling her in his lap, rocking his hips, his eyes full of mischief.

“Rogue,” she said, realizing what he was up to as he lifted and rotated his hips. “It is for me to give and you to receive.”

He grinned unapologetically.

She rose to her feet, giving him a good eyeful of what would be his reward if he behaved himself, then made as if to climb out of the tub.

His grin turned to a frown.

“Be good then,” she said. “Put your knees down and open your legs.”

With a groan that bordered on laughter he did as she bid.

She stepped between his feet. Never had she seen him so vulnerable, or so beautiful. Had she ever really looked at him? At the beauty of his body? She always felt a little restrained. He'd treated her with so much respect, she hadn't wanted to spoil his good opinion. His chest was wide at the shoulders, but whipcord lean and firm, each muscle delineated. The water lapped over the ridges of his abdomen, softening their outline as he breathed raggedly. Below the water, his flat stomach narrowed to lean flanks adorned by dark crisp hair and his maleness. The shaft stood proud and dark above the water, his stones nestling in the crisp curls of hair. She licked her lips.

He drew in a quick sharp breath of anticipation. Would he like her mouth there? Wasn't it dreadfully wicked, something she'd only heard whispers about? Was that where she would start? Her gaze flicked up to his face. His expression was just a little tortured as he stared at the place between her thighs, but not the slightest submissive.

She knelt between his legs, pressing his thighs wider with her knees and watched his focus slide up her belly to her breasts and then to her face. She curved her lips in a sultry smile when their gazes met.

“Have you looked your fill?” he muttered, tugging at the cords, no doubt testing how well they would hold.

“Have you?”

“Never,” he uttered darkly.

She loved that deeper note in his voice, the edge of roughness behind the veneer of civility. Waves of desire rushed through her veins. Longing mixed with pleasure. She leaned forward and brushed a kissed on the engorged head of his shaft, feeling the silky slide of it with her tongue. Taut, like a bowstring, energy held in check, he stilled.

She slid her mouth down his length, licking and tasting, supported on one hand, while the other played with his stones. His panting groan filled her ears and she felt a jolt of lust, more powerful than anything she had ever felt before. She licked her way back up to the head of his shaft and took him in her mouth, sucking and licking, savoring the feel of him against her tongue. The buck of his hips as he tried to take more than she was ready to give, along with its accompanying splash of water made her glance up.

His face was flushed. His expression torment laced with bliss. His gray eyes flickered like molten silver as he stared upward. Was he so close to the edge?

She released him and sat back on her heels, looking up, seeing them reflected in a prism of mirror above her head. Delighted, she ran her hands over his body and watched the play of water and light and the elegant lines of his body and the soft curves of hers.

“Don't stop,” he said, pushing up with his hips.

She glanced down and raised her brows.

“Please,” he added. “Lizzie, don't tease.”

Still commanding. And heaven help her, she wanted to obey, because she loved making him happy. But that wasn't her role tonight. Tonight was about discovery.

She walked her hands up each side of his body, felt his erection against her belly as she moved forward, her gaze fixed on his chest. One of the ladies in that picture had her mouth on the man's nipple. She knew they were sensitive to her touch, but had never thought to use her lips and tongue.

She tried an experimental lick. The smattering of curly hair was rough against her lips and tongue. The small bud tightened instantly. Delightfully responsive. He made a purring sound in his throat. Interesting. She licked the other one, then sucked. His hips jerked, almost tipping her off his chest into the water.

She looked up with a frown.

“I wasn't expecting it,” he said, laughing at her. “I'm sorry.”

Because she'd never been very bold in bed. She'd let him take the lead. A flush of embarrassment rose to her face. She'd accused him of being dull, but perhaps that was all her fault. She'd been a widow with very little experience, and he'd always treated her as if he feared she'd break.

And she might have in those early days.

Not any longer. She returned to nipping and licking and suckling, gauging his pleasure by the twitches and flickers of his skin and the tortured moans and breathing, until she knew exactly what sent him beyond the edge of reason.

She lifted her face to his. He was breathing heavily through his nose as he fought for control. Her insides were so tight, so needy of him, she could scarcely breathe herself. She leaned over and took his mouth, cupping his beard-roughened cheeks in her palms, wooing the mouth that had brought so much pleasure to her in the past, giving back all the joy he'd brought her, until she was breathless.

Panting, her breath mingling with his in the warmth rising from the water, she broke the kiss. Raw emotion filled his expression. Longing. Desire. Lust. He no longer tugged at the ropes; he seemed content to submit to her will, but with a pride that was all his own.

She desired him more than life itself. But he would never be hers. No matter how much she wanted to keep him, it would be wrong.

Thinking to untie him, she leaned forward for the ropes.

His mouth clamped on to her breast. Suckling. She gasped at the shock of pleasure arcing between womb and nipple, cradling his head to give him better access, first to one breast then the other while he arched his back to press against her mons. The water sloshing around her female flesh only added to the sensations swirling through her body.

Mindless, driven by the cravings of her body for him deep inside her, the means to bring her to the fulfilment she needed more than anything else, she reached between them and guided his hot rigid shaft to her entrance.

With a wild cry that echoed around the chamber, she drove herself onto him as he thrust upward. Fullness. Pleasure. A beckoning completeness. A joyful if bittersweet end to her life as a courtesan.