Masquerade (Scandalous Ballroom Encounters Book 1) (8 page)

She couldn’t help her wide grin as pride filled her. All her dreams of him had consisted of her being overcome and overwhelmed by his prowess as he mastered her. Yet, she had been the master for this encounter. Knowing that perhaps she held as much power as he, if not more, filled her with a feeling she could not put a name to. Euphoria. Pride. Exhilaration. Perhaps a bit of all three.

Camden’s fingers began working at the back of her dress, slipping the tiny buttons free and exposing her back bit by bit. He kissed his way from her lips to her neck, where his tongue began to explore in slow circles, tracing a path toward the sagging neckline of her bodice.

“Christ above, woman,” he grunted as he nuzzled her breasts. “Are you naked beneath this gown?”

She laughed, feeling delightfully wicked and wanton as he parted her dress to discover bare skin beneath it.

“You told me that I could be myself with you, Camden,” she purred. “I felt a bit naughty while dressing to come meet you. I hardly thought I’d need a corset and drawers for our little tête-à-tête.”

He grasped the gown’s sleeves and pulled them from her shoulders, baring her breasts and belly, then hips and legs as the garment pooled around her feet.

“You have not failed to amaze me since the night I met you, Maggie.”

“Neither have you,” she said, her voice melting into a breathless sigh as his lips closed around one of her nipples.

“I do not intend to start now,” he murmured, lifting her and carrying her toward the bed. “Reach into the drawer and grasp a sheath for me, darling,” he added as he deposited her on the bed.

She rolled onto her stomach, crawling across the massive bed toward the bedside table where he stored his condoms. She’d only just found one when his strong hands grasped her hips from behind. His tongue between her thighs caught her by surprise, causing her to fall against the pillows resting on the headboard as he gripped her cheeks and spread them. He lapped at her, his tongue teasing her distended clitoris, slick inner folds, and the opening of her channel. His lips claimed her pearl, suckling gently while his tongue circled it, drawing a sharp cry from deep within her chest.

She swayed against him, her hips moving in an instinctive rhythm to match the strokes of his tongue. Planting her hands against the headboard, she spread her legs wider, arching her back to allow him better access. He moaned, his tongue never ceasing its exquisite torture. The pressure building between her legs and low in her belly swelled and grew, becoming unbearable. She reached down, her fingers encountering her wet folds as she stroked herself in a way that sent shivers down her spine.

Camden, who had turned his attention to tonguing her slick entrance, took her hand and moved it away.

“Such a naughty girl,” he purred, his breath warm and teasing against her wet mons.

She gasped as his palm connected with her left buttock, the impact echoing through the room with a resounding slap. He soothed it with a few gentle caresses, his touch cooling against her flaming skin. She bit her lower lip and whimpered as her arousal made itself evident by dripping from her core and trickling down her thigh. He bent his head to lick it away, tracing its path back up to her cunt, where he suckled her throbbing bud once more, sending a jolt of electrifying pleasure through her entire body. She cried out, her fingernails scraping the wooden headboard as she teetered on the edge of release.

“You’ve been so bad, Maggie,” he whispered, placing a kiss where he’d spanked her. “Haven’t you?”

She shuddered, wiggling her hips against the searching fingers delving between her cheeks and sliding toward her waiting opening.

“Have I?” she teased.

Another slap, this time to the right cheek, caused her to clutch the bed even harder as stars danced behind her eyes. His palm soothed the sting away as before, his fingers kneading her pliant flesh.

“You know very well how bad you’ve been. Sneaking away in the dead of night with a known rake. Dressing in such a thin gown without undergarments. Sucking my cock like a tavern doxy.”

“Yes,” she cried, satisfaction filling her as two of his fingers slid into her aching core. He stroked her slowly, pulling another low moan from her. “I am a doxy.
Your
doxy.”

“Are you mine?” he murmured, leaning over to place a kiss at the base of her spine. His lips trailed upward, skimming between her shoulder blades and to the nape of her neck. “Mine alone?”

His fingers quickened inside of her, teasing her toward a higher plane of pleasure. She gasped, moving her hips against him and straining toward an ending just beyond her reach.

“Yes, Camden!” she cried as he found a particularly sensitive spot just within her inner walls. “I am yours!”

Grunting in satisfaction, he withdrew his fingers. She gasped in protest, swaying back toward him. He pressed one hand to the small of her back, commanding her without words to remain on her hands and knees. She obeyed, her lips parted as breathless anticipation filled her. Her arms and legs trembled, but she remained in the position he’d placed her in, legs parted and all her secret places bared to his view.

She trembled when he took her hips in his hands and pressed the head of his cock to her entrance. He’d grown rock hard again, solid and hot against her. She wiggled a bit, taking in the first few inches of him, moaning in pleasure at the friction of him against her insides.

He gave her the rest, his fingers digging into her hips as he slammed into her, seating himself as deep inside her as possible. She rocked against him and he thrust into her, his hips pounding against her backside as they found a rapid and frenzied rhythm. His strokes vibrated through her, their impact seeming to touch the far reaches of her body until she could feel him in every crevice.

“Ah, Maggie you feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice gone raspy and breathless.

His touch grazed her ribs, reaching around toward her front and finding her breasts. His fingers teased her nipples into stiff peaks, and his touch sent more lightning strikes deep into her belly in a resounding crash that caused a storm of pleasure within her.

“That’s it, love,” he urged. “You’re so close. I want to hear you scream.”

His finger pressed against the opening of her back entrance, causing a new sensation that nearly sent her over the edge.

“Camden!” she cried, all other words stolen away as he teased the tight little hole, pressing against it with gentle but insistent pressure, as if requesting entrance.

“Do you like that, love?” he whispered. “Does my naughty little girl like it when I finger her tight little arse?”

She responded with a high-pitched moan that echoed from the high ceilings of the bedchamber as he slid his finger in an inch, probing with gentle curiosity while his cock continued in and out of her channel.

He chuckled, the sound seeming to fill her as much as his body did.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured.

Her orgasm came over her so swiftly, she barely knew what was happening before she became swept away on waves of pleasure so strong she thought she might die from them. Camden never ceased his erotic assault, his hips thrusting against hers and his finger gaining further entry into her back passage.

She spiraled and crashed, screaming her release as her channel contracted in violent spasms, gripping his cock in a fist-tight hold. He groaned, pumping into her a few more times before going still. He shuddered, his own climax spilling from him along with a few muttered oaths. He came to rest against her, his hands still maintaining their tight hold upon her hips, his sex still filling her.

She went limp, her upper body collapsing against the pillows as he slowly withdrew. She collapsed onto her stomach, closing her eyes and waiting for her heart to slow. Camden left the bed to dispose of the sheath, then returned and lay down beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She nestled against his chest, her fingers toying with the soft, springy dark hair sprinkled across his chest.

He sighed and rested one hand over hers, turning to face her.

“Maggie,” he said, his voice low in the dark room. “Why did you do it?”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to face him, staring into eyes brimming with inquisitiveness. “Do what?”

“Leave me after our night together without saying good-bye,” he said. “As a man, I can understand it if you wanted a clean break. Avoiding complications of the heart are my specialty when it comes to the fairer sex. Is that why? I won’t be angry if you say is it.”

She reached up to stroke a lock of damp hair tumbled over his glistening forehead.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t your attachment I wanted to avoid, but my own. I’ve watched you from afar for so long, wondering what it would be like to be utterly yours. After our first night together, I feared I would lose my heart to you, only to have it broken.”

He frowned. “I would never hurt you on purpose,” he declared.

She smiled. “I know. That is why I thought it best if I were the one to break away. You’ve never promised me anything beyond what we just shared. It wouldn’t be fair for me to expect more from you.”

“Yet, you are here,” he pointed out.

“Because I could not help myself,” she replied, pressing her face against his chest and resting there, inhaling his heady scent. “When I saw you in the marquess’ drawing room looking so dashing in your evening clothes and watching me as if you wished to devour me … I knew I was lost again. I could not have said no if I’d wanted to.”

“Then this isn’t good-bye?” he asked. “I will understand if it is. I just want to hear it from your lips this time instead of a note.”

She placed a kiss on his left breast, just above his nipple. “Well, the season hasn’t ended yet. Perhaps it needn’t be over just now.”

He sighed as if in relief, holding her tighter against his side. “No,” he agreed. “It is only the beginning.”

Camden met Maggie again the following evening. It was risky—asking her to creep away two nights in a row—yet, he couldn’t seem to help himself. When he thought of going to bed alone after the night they’d had together, it left him feeling disappointed. Lonely, even. He could have fulfilled his needs with any available woman, but found he truly wanted her company.

He arrived at midnight, as agreed, dressed all in black with the hood of his cloak covering his head. Peeling herself away from the dark shadow cast by the garden wall, she dashed toward the phaeton. Reaching out, he took her hand and lifted her onto the seat beside him, then took up the reins. They were off without incident, concealed by a dark night barely lit by the moon shadowed by clouds.

“I trust you found a suitable excuse for escaping the Astons’ fête this evening,” he said, darting a glance toward her.

She smiled, her eyes glittering in the dark and alight with excitement.

“I spent the entire day in bed after telling my abigail that my courses had begun. No one suspected otherwise. Mama and Papa left after dinner and will not return for hours.”

“Then we shall simply make the most of our time,” he declared, facing her and returning her smile.

Her gaze grew heated, searing him to the bone. He studied her face, on full display with the hood of her cloak pushed back. She exuded freshness and youth, reminding him yet again that she’d been an innocent when he’d found her. It had been quite some time since he’d been with a woman who possessed Maggie’s zeal and openness. Since his brother’s death, he’d tended to gravitate toward the jaded, cynical people of the world. It had seemed easier that way.

Watching her now, he was suddenly struck with an idea. “Have you ever walked in the park at night?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no, never.”

He nodded. “Would you like to? I find it quite liberating to stroll there alone at times. Without so many people, horses, and carriages clogging the lanes, it is easier to appreciate the park’s natural beauty.”

“I would love it.”

“To the park, it is,” he declared, spurring the horses on.

They rode in silence, with Maggie seeming content to sit beside him without speaking. Surprisingly, he found no need to fill the void with conversation. Guiding the greys with one hand, he took hers with the other and threaded his fingers between hers.

When they arrived, he steered the phaeton along one of the winding lanes, until reaching his desired location. Veering off the path, he dismounted from the carriage and rounded it to her side. Taking her by the waist, he lowered her to the ground, then wrapped one arm around her and pulled her close against his side.

They set off at a sedate pace with the faint moonlight streaming between the boughs of the trees. As he’d expected, they were the only ones in the park this time of night.

“Tell me more,” she said, after they’d walked a while without speaking. “About Garrett.”

Camden frowned. He never spoke of Garrett to anyone but his aunt, and even then, they never allowed themselves to grow melancholic. It was just too damned hard to talk about him without sinking into a pit of grief. He hadn’t had time to allow himself to sink too far into the pit when there was a dukedom that required his attention. He cleared his throat.

“Why the devil would you want to talk about Garrett?” he asked, aware that his voice sounded a bit rougher than it should. It wasn’t her fault that his brother was dead, any more than it was her fault that he hated talking about it.

She paused, forcing him to stop with her, and glanced up at him with guileless eyes. “I meant what I said last night, Camden. I want to know you. You offered me a glimpse … will you shut me out, even after that?”

His furrowed brow softened and he sighed. “You’re right. Forgive me.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “So, you wish to know about Garrett?”

“I knew
of
him, of course” she said as they continued walking. “Everyone did. But we knew him as the duke. You knew him as a man.”

“Even as the duke, he was the sort of person everyone liked,” he said, a smirk curving one corner of his mouth. “Always laughing, always in good humor. There wasn’t a person he couldn’t charm, male or female. Which is why, for the life of me, I cannot fathom why he remained unmarried for so long.”

“Probably for the same reasons you’ve remained unmarried,” she murmured. “He was waiting for someone who loved him, not his title, his name, or his wealth.”

He shrugged. “I, Maggie, am not waiting for anything or anyone. But you’re right about Garrett. He never found that person.”

Choking down grief, he forced himself to ignore the pain, to carry on as he always had. As Garrett’s heir, he had no other choice.

“I don’t believe you,” she insisted, pausing again. They’d wandered off the path a bit, and were shaded from the light of the moon by a large tree. Its boughs hung over them, casting them into shadow.

“No?” he said, forcing a slightly mocking edge to his tone. “Oh dear, however will I convince you?”

“Enough, Camden. You told me once that I could be myself with you. I would like to think you could trust me to do the same.”

He grunted in exasperation, running a hand through his tousled locks. “What do you want from me, Maggie? Do you want me to tell you that I miss him every day that he’s gone? Or that I do not think I could ever fill his shoes as a duke, or as a man?”

“Yes,” she whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Yes, if that is how you feel.”

Resting his cheek in her palm, he closed his eyes. “What about you? You cannot tell me that you are happy, either. When I saw you in the marquess’ drawing room, I saw a hollow shell. A quiet, prim little lady behaving herself like a puppet on a string. That is not the woman I’ve come to know.”

Dropping her hand from his face, she stared up at him earnestly. “You are right. I’ve never been truly happy. I’ve been well provided for, sheltered, pampered, cosseted, and then trotted out for the world to inspect and judge whether or not I’m fit to be part of society. All my life, I’ve been groomed for this time in my life—the season when I would be brought out and begin my search for a man to go on sheltering, providing for, pampering, and cossetting me. One caretaker to pick up where my parents left off. It’s my lot in life as a woman—is it not—to obediently go from father to husband and bear it without the tiniest hint of defiance. No, Camden, it did not particularly make me happy to spend my childhood learning manners and decorum, or how to hold a spoon or carry on a mundane conversation, while my male cousins were allowed to ride, and learn to shoot, and get dirty, and have fun. No, I do not particularly like attending Almack’s week after week and having to pretend that I enjoy being partnered by men who are merely inspecting me to determine if I will make them a suitable bride, thinking me interchangeable with the rest of the women in the room. No, I am not happy.” She faltered, then smiled up at him. “Except when I’m with you.”

He studied her in earnest, the little bit of it he could see in the shadows shrouding them. Before he could stop himself, he brought his hands up to her face. Gently cradling it, he lowered his lips to hers, taking them in a languid kiss. She responded as eagerly as she always did, raising up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck and pressing her body to his. The primal male response ensued, but he tamped it down, content to kiss her just for the feel of her lips and her taste on his tongue, not as a prelude to something more.

She was breathless when he pulled away, lips parted, wide, doe eyes raised to his. Caught in her stare, he opened his mouth to say the words he knew he shouldn’t.

“I feel happy with you, too. A little less lonely, and a bit freer.”

She smiled and kissed the bridge of his nose. The sweet gesture made him smile.

“I think, Avonleah, that you are not as horrible as you’d like people to think you are.”

He dislodged from her hold, taking her hand in his and leading her back toward the carriage.

“Dear God, what have I done?” he quipped. “Now you’ll bare my secret to everyone. My reputation will be ruined.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “It would serve you right.”

They indulged in small talk as they walked back to the phaeton. Camden felt lighter than he had in weeks, and truly as carefree as he’d confessed. What the devil had this woman done to him?

He still puzzled over the question as he handed her up into the phaeton, and while he drove the horses. No answer had made himself apparent by the time they’d arrived to their destination.

Maggie gave him a quizzical glance as she realized he’d returned them to the lane running behind the Seymours’ townhouse.

“Why are we here? Don’t you want to—”

He cut her off with a swift, short kiss.

“I do. More than you know. But, there is something to be said for anticipation, isn’t there? Next time, Maggie.”

Confusion flickered across her face for a moment, then she recovered and gave him a sly glance. “Oh, my lord, you are really in trouble now. Never let anyone know that you are
courting
me.”

He snorted. “You climbed over a garden wall to meet me in the dead of night. I’d hardly call that courting.”

Her smile grew knowing, and she shook her head at him. “Oh, but you took me for a ride, and then a lovely walk in the park. How romantic of you, Your Grace. However will your reputation recover?”

He kissed her again, giving her thigh a light squeeze. “I promise you, when we meet again, I will do every wicked thing to you I can imagine. That ought to do the trick.”

Leaving the carriage, he came around to her side and assisted her to the ground. He allowed his hands to linger at her waist as he pressed her to the side of the carriage again to drink from her lips. She went limp against him, opening her mouth and meeting his tongue with hers. He sank against her soft body, reluctant to leave her embrace, but knowing he must.

He finally forced himself to pull away, tenderly stroking a stray lock of hair back from her forehead. “Good night, Maggie.”

“Good night, Camden,” she whispered breathlessly, before turning to make her way toward the garden wall.

He waited until she disappeared over the wall, then gave her a few more minutes until he was certain she’d made it safely inside. Then, climbing back into the vehicle, he made his way home, once again, alone.