A Taste of Sin (5 page)

When Sinjun remained uncharacteristically silent, Rudy slapped his thigh and crowed, “By God, ‘tis Lady Flora, isn’t it? I wondered where you’d gotten off to last night. You both disappeared at the same time.” He leaned close, though no one was around to hear. “How was she? A veritable tiger in bed, I assume, else you wouldn’t be wasting your time.”

Sinjun stiffened. For some reason he didn’t want to discuss Lady Flora with anyone, not even his good friend. His thoughts were too private, his conquest too new to share.

“The nature of my engagement tonight is private,” Sinjun said. He reached his carriage, then turned to inquire of Rudy, “Shall I drop you off someplace?”

Rudy laughed. “I do love a mystery. I hope you tell me about it one day, Sinjun. Very well, drop me off at Brooks. Perhaps I’ll join in a card game and increase my wealth a bit.”

“Or lose more than you can afford,” Sinjun muttered as he tooled his matched bays toward Pall Mall, where most of the gentlemen’s clubs were located. He pulled up at Brooks on St. James Street. The moment Rudy stepped down onto the sidewalk, Sinjun flipped the reins against the bays’ backs. A grinding spin of the wheels, and he was off.

There were few carriages on the street to hinder his progress as Sinjun headed for Belgrave Square. He found Lady Flora’s house with little difficulty and spent an indecisive moment deciding if he should leave the carriage in the street or drive around to the carriage house. The carriage house, he decided as he drove the team to the end of the street and into a rear alleyway. A brawny stableman loomed up out of the darkness, holding a lantern aloft. He looked Sinjun up and down, a sneer curving his lips.

“I’ll see to your rig, milord,” he said, eyeing Sinjun with what could only be described as loathing. Sinjun couldn’t recall having encountered the man before and wondered at his surliness. When he noted a Scottish burr in the man’s speech, he dimly wondered where Lady Flora had found the Scotsman. Since Culloden, most Scotsmen held Englishmen in contempt.

Abruptly he shoved his mental musings aside as thoughts of the woman waiting for him inside the townhouse took their place. Perhaps, he thought, this
affaire de coeur
would prove more diverting than others he had conducted in the past. Though he was loathe to admit it, flitting from affair to affair was becoming a burdensome chore. But changing his lifestyle at this point in his life seemed rather senseless. Nor was he ready to claim his Scottish wife, who doubtlessly despised him. No, he wanted nothing to do with his wife, though he appreciated the fact that he was able to use his marriage as an excuse to maintain his lifestyle.

Meeting the mysterious Lady Flora had been an invigorating experience, Sinjun decided. Beating the competition, the thrill of pursuit, the excitement of the capture, the bedding, all combined to put a fine edge to the game.

Sinjun reached the front door, mounted the steps, and knocked discreetly. It was opened almost immediately by a tall young woman Sinjun assumed was a maid. She held a branch of candles, the light illuminating her face and figure, and Sinjun couldn’t help gawking at her ample breasts, bright red hair, and wealth of freckles sprinkled liberally across her nose. She said not a word as she motioned him inside and started immediately up the staircase, looking over her shoulder once to make sure Sinjun was following.

To his dismay, Sinjun felt himself harden in anticipation of the pleasurable hours he intended to spend in Lady Flora’s bed. The thought that she had chosen him to be her first lover was empowering, and his virility had never been more potent.

The maid reached the top landing and continued down the hall, stopping before a closed door. She knocked once, nodded at Sinjun, then turned and disappeared into another room, plunging the hallway into darkness. Sinjun’s hand curled around the doorknob. He twisted, and the door swung open. He entered immediately and closed the door behind him.

His hooded gaze searched the room for the lush figure he remembered so well from the previous night. He could see nothing beyond the circle of light provided by a flickering candle placed on the bedside table. His gaze settled on the empty bed, turned down invitingly. His nostrils twitched as he caught an intriguing whiff of her perfume—the same scent he’d noticed last night when he’d held her in his arms and kissed her into submission. Roses, with a subtle underlying hint of something that belonged solely to the woman herself.

“My lady? Where are you?” His voice was husky with grinding need, the kind he hadn’t felt in far too long.

She stepped into the puddle of light, and Sinjun exhaled sharply. She was a feast for the eyes, dressed in something white and gauzy, demure yet highly erotic, so sheer he could see through both the gown and shift beneath.

Her nipples were plainly visible, two dark peaks cresting creamy mounds more tempting than the finest wine. His gaze roved downward, past the incredibly tiny waist, over sweetly curved hips, and down pale, luminous thighs to trim ankles. Suddenly his gaze jerked back to her thighs and the dark triangle sheltering her woman’s mound. The groan began deep down in his belly and rumbled through his chest.

“My God! You’re lovelier than I dared hope.” His hand slid below his waist. “I’ve been rock hard all day just thinking about tonight.” He opened his arms. “Come to me, goddess.”

Christy conquered the sudden onslaught of fear and stepped into his arms. She’d thought of nothing all day but what tonight would be like, and it couldn’t compare with reality. This was her wedding night, whether Sinjun realized it or not. Then his arms closed around her and her initial fear was swamped by other, more potent feelings. She lifted her eyes to his, to meet the challenge of his gaze, and her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes fell, and wordlessly, she lifted her face, offering her lips.

He took them, framing her face with his hands as their lips fused. Boldly he pressed his loins into the cradle of her thighs. His hands slid lower, brazenly outlining the contours of her bottom. He filled his hands with her flesh and kneaded gently. She stiffened, then relaxed as she remembered her reason for being here and what Sinjun intended to do to her. Heat spread, flushing her skin as their bodies meshed into one.

She felt the rigid proof of his desire, felt his heavy member pressing against her belly. He held her against him a long time, kissing her, slowly awakening passions she never knew existed. She closed her eyes and sank beneath another wave of sensation as his tongue surged deeply into her mouth. She was panting softly when he broke off the kiss and lifted her into his arms, so flustered she could barely think, much less string coherent words together.

Struggling to collect her wits, Christy remembered that she wasn’t supposed to enjoy this, but her body betrayed her as Sinjun took her mouth again. The evocative caress of his tongue, the unhurried possession of her mouth sent molten heat surging through her veins. It settled hot and heavy in her loins. The force of their combined desire stunned her. Moments later she found herself lying fully clothed on the bed with Sinjun leaning over her, his features dark and predatory, his eyes seething pools of liquid fire. A heady languor weighted her limbs, slowed her senses.

She didn’t resist when Sinjun gently turned her, his nimble fingers making short work of the fastenings holding her dress together. He was very good at this, she thought dimly.

A master of seduction.

The unspoken words reverberated through her head, returning her abruptly to reality. Lord Sin was a remorseless rake, and she must remember that she was just another conquest to him. A woman to bed and then discard after she had lost her heart to him, or he tired of her, whichever came first. But Christy had resolved beforehand to protect her heart against Lord Sin’s seductive charm. What she wanted from Sinjun had nothing to do with her heart, and she had no intention of losing it along the way to obtaining her goal. Allowing Sinjun to seduce her was necessary, she reminded herself. Definitely not something she should enjoy. Unfortunately her body refused to listen to her mind.

Christy was achingly aware of the muscled hardness of his body. Of her nipples pressed against his chest. Of his tightly controlled passion waiting to be unleashed. She should have been frightened, but she wasn’t.

Christy started violently when Sinjun peeled the dress from her upper body and pulled the tape holding her chemise together. The moment the edges loosened, he pulled both gown and chemise down to her waist and stared at her breasts as if they were the first he’d ever seen. A nervous giggle slipped past her lips at the incongruity of that thought.

Sinjun’s gaze slid upward from her breasts to meet hers. A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “Do I amuse you, my lady? Do you find me clumsy?”

“Oh, no, my lord,” Christy protested. “You are neither clumsy nor amusing.”

His eyebrows shot upward. “I hope, before our association ends, you will find me fascinating. I’d hate to be remembered as a bore.”

She gulped. Lord Sin a bore? The moon would fall to the earth before anyone would think Lord Sin a boring fellow. “You do not bore me, my lord.” She was more than a little stunned to realize that she actually meant it.

He touched her breasts, molding his hands around them. “My name is Sinjun.”

She felt her breasts swell and tauten as his fingers closed around them. When he lowered his mouth to a ruched nipple, already excruciatingly sensitive, and sucked it into his mouth, a sigh hissed through her teeth. His tongue swirled around the hardened crest, creating an ebb and surge that battered her senses.

“Oh…”

“Do you like that, sweet Flora?”

“I…” Like it? She adored it. “Aye, I like it.”

“Does your husband arouse you like this?”

She flushed and looked away. “He’s very old.”

“I need to see all of you,” he said as he tugged her gown and chemise down past her hips.

Heat surged through her as he tossed her clothing to the floor and gazed at her body, now naked but for her white silk stockings held in place above her knees with white ribbons. She could tell he liked what he saw, for his eyes darkened with an intensity that made her heart beat faster and harder. Then he removed her shoes and peeled both stockings down her legs.

Sinjun felt his control shatter. The remaining shreds had been removed and tossed aside with her stockings. He felt like an animal cursed with the instinctive need to mate, fevered with it, desperate. His body was rigid, tense with excitement, eager to partake of the feast temptingly arrayed before him. With a growl of impatience, he threw off his coat, undid his neckcloth, and unbuttoned his shirt with such haste that buttons flew in all directions. His boots hit the floor, and his breeches and stockings followed in short order. He turned back to Flora, frowning when he saw that her eyes were tightly closed.

“There is nothing to be frightened of, love. I know I’m probably bigger than your husband, but I swear I’ll not hurt you.”

Christy’s eyes opened slowly, oh, so slowly, then closed quickly, oh so quickly. What she had seen in those fleeting moments was more thrilling than frightening. Sinjun was abundantly endowed every place she looked. His sleek body was thickly muscled in all the right places. Wide chest, narrow waist, slim hips, corded thighs. Though she’d tried not to look at that place where his manhood rose from a tangled nest of wiry dark hair, she could not turn her eyes away. He was magnificent. Everything she’d ever imagined a man should be and more.

“Flora, open your eyes.” His voice, a seductive purr, slammed through her with devastating effect. Her eyes flew open.

“Look at me, Flora. I’m not an old man. I’m young and vigorous and fully capable of giving pleasure. That
is
the reason you invited me to your bed, isn’t it?”

Incapable of coherent speech, Christy nodded. That was all the encouragement he seemed to need as he knelt on the bed and leaned over her. Dark hair spilled over his forehead, adding to his rakish appeal as he lowered his head and licked her nipples. The pure pleasure of it caught her by surprise, and a moan slipped past her lips. She tried to remember that she wasn’t supposed to enjoy this, but her mind was too befuddled to think.

Her moan must have pleased him, for he raised his head and gave her a predatory grin. Then he kissed her. His kiss was rough, sharp-edged with need. His lips were hard, devouring, plundering hers and demanding a response. She tried to crush her enthusiasm, aware that she was just another woman in Sinjun’s long list of conquests, but the man was too persuasive, too experienced to allow her to remain passive. Without conscious thought her arms crept around his neck and she opened her mouth to the subtle probing of his tongue. He tasted of sin, of danger, of dark pleasure.

Her heart pounded, roared in her ears, drowning out reason. After an eternity his lips left hers and roved downward, seeking more intimate territory. She crooned a soft melody, certain she’d never heard those sounds that came from her throat. His kisses blazed a fiery path down her breasts, then he paused to rest his head low on her stomach. When she felt his breath close to her private place, she lurched sharply upward.

“Sinjun, no!” His hot breath stirred the gleaming curls protecting her mound. Frightened of the feelings he was arousing in her, she tugged on his hair. He raised his head and grinned at her.

“Do you like that?”

“ I … I’ve never done … I mean…”

“I understand. This is new to you. Very well, I’ll stop if you insist. But I swear you’ll soon beg me to taste you more fully.”