Taming the Rake (27 page)

The little vixen. She’d guessed he was bluffing.

Perhaps he had been, but he wasn’t any longer. He wanted her and he was done denying himself.

As if in afterthought, he stopped her with the door half open. “Oh, Georgina?”

She stopped, slowly turning around again. “Yes.”

“Now.”

The color drained from her face. “You can’t be serious.”

He stood and reached her in three long strides. Pushing the door closed with a definitive slam, he pulled her hard into his arms. His body’s readiness was undeniable. “I assure you, I’m very serious.”

“But—”

He put his finger to her mouth to stop her. “We’re alone. They won’t return for hours yet.” Though as desperate as he was to have her, he’d be lucky if he lasted five minutes. “As you pointed out”—he returned her sugary smile—“we might not find a better opportunity.”

“But I’m n…not pr…prepared…,” she stammered. He caressed her quivering lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

“Oh, but I think you are,” he whispered against her neck.

Her body betrayed her. He held her gaze as he moved his hand from her mouth, reaching down between their bodies with the flat of his hand, her taut, aroused nipple pressed against his fingers through the thick layers of clothing. He suppressed a groan and the overwhelming urge to squeeze it in his hand. “I think you’re prepared,” he said softly. “Your body yearns for me. Do you see how hard your nipples are, how ready they are for me to taste them.” She made a low sound, half gasp and half moan. “Do you want me to put your breasts in my mouth, Georgina? Do you remember how it felt, how much you liked it when I circled your nipple with my tongue? When I nibbled you with my teeth? When I put my lips around you and sucked?” Circling the tip with his thumb, he lightly pinched the taut peak between his fingers, molding the lush curve of her breast with his hand. “I could make you fall apart just by sucking you.” His voice lowered to a dark whisper. “Would you like that?” She whimpered as if he was torturing her. He pressed his mouth against the fabric, teasing her with what he would do were there nothing to separate her skin from his lips and tongue.

Her head fell back, siren’s lips parted, breath jagged, begging for more. God, he loved how she melted in his arms. How quickly her body flamed at his touch.

But he wouldn’t give it to her yet. He moved his mouth from her breasts to nuzzle her neck, inhaling the sweet rose of her skin. Unable to resist the velvety softness, he tasted every inch of her exposed flesh, trailing kisses from her nape to the sensitive curve of her shoulder, stopping only when she shivered and moaned with frustrated desire.

“Are you sure you’re not ready, Georgina?” he teased softly. “Should I touch you and find out?”

Her eyes widened as she took his meaning. “No!”

He lifted a brow. “Not ready, yet?” He smiled wickedly. “We’ll see.”

Mutely, she stared at him, not sure what he meant to do.

Untying the ribbons of her bonnet, he quickly dispatched it to the divan and carefully pulled the pins from her hair, sucking in his breath as the heavy waves of honey brown locks tumbled in a shining veil around her shoulders. He’d dreamed of seeing her hair like this, wondering what it would look like framing her delicate face with its lush splendor. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Awed, he rubbed a lock between his fingers, testing its silken softness with his thumb, lifting it to his nose to inhale the sweet floral bouquet. Imagining it spread across his naked chest like a downy soft blanket.

He wound his fingers through the shimmering waves, dipping her head back so he could continue to feast on her neck. He pressed his lips against her frantic pulse, slid his tongue around her ear and slowly worked the buttons of her pelisse.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice ragged.

“Please what?” he taunted against her ear. “I think you want this, my sweet. Even without the promise of marriage.” He’d pushed aside her pelisse, working the bodice of her gown aside to reveal the tight pink tip of her nipple. Wickedly, he dampened it with a quick flick of his tongue and blew. The warmth of his breath caused the tiny pearl to tighten even more. A shiver racked her narrow shoulders. “Your body is practically begging for me.” Just like his cock was weeping for her. “And Georgina?”

Dazed, she opened her eyes half-mast.

“Unless you leave this room right now, I’m going to give you what you want.” He paused. “Everything you want.”

But he wouldn’t make it easy on her. He’d give her what she wanted, but he wouldn’t hold anything back. He could be ruthless in his pursuit of pleasure. Years of practice had taught him just how he liked it. Wild, untamed, and sinfully erotic. A virgin could never keep up with him. Hell, whores barely kept up with him.

Yet Gina challenged him in a way that no other woman ever had. He had a perverse desire to see how far he could push her. He’d force her to see the depths of his depravity. Then she’d run. And leave him to the demons of his own discontent.

Feet firmly rooted to the ground, Gina couldn’t move. She’d called his bluff and he’d called hers.

He was right. She did want this.

Already she felt weak with desire, drenched with sultry warmth by the wickedness of his words alone—and he’d yet to even kiss her. Her nipples hurt from his teasing, aching for the warmth of his mouth. Could he truly pleasure her just by kissing her breasts? The mere thought of his dark head bent over her, sucking her, sent a sharp bolt of pleasure shooting between her legs.

She wanted him to keep touching her, to feel his mouth on hers, the slash of his tongue, the caress of his fingers inside her. He was right, she was ready for him. Damp and warm, tingling with anticipation. She shivered, remembering the exquisite pressure that built inside her as his fingers slid between her legs, how she’d rubbed against his hand, begging for more. She wanted more. She wanted him inside her, bringing to final fruition the unspoken promise of paradise made in the card room.

She ached for the closeness of lovemaking, the intimacy that could only come with the joining of two bodies. She wanted nothing left between them, no clothes, no pretense, no barriers. She wanted to warm the chill in his heart with her love. To bind him to her. To show him how much she cared. To show him just how wrong his mother had been.

To give him pleasure.

Coventry was worth her virtue and so much more. She just had to make him see it.

“I’m not leaving,” she answered.

His face darkened, as if her words were too much for him. As if now that she’d agreed, any vestige of civilized behavior had fled, revealing the savage, raw nature of his desire. For her.

Her body hummed with excitement.

He held her back at arm’s length, staring straight into her eyes. “There will be no turning back.”

She swallowed hard. She understood what she risked. But there came a time in every young girl’s life when she rebelled against the prison of respectability and manners, from the lessons instilled since childhood to make her own decisions. This was her time, and her decision. “I know.” And if she’d made a mistake, she’d live with the consequences. And know that she’d given him everything in her heart. And her body.

He might be the more experienced player, but she still had a card or two to play. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for this man; he’d soon discover that. Her heart pounded. She took a deep breath. “Show me. Show me what to do. Show me how to please you.”

Flames leapt in his eyes. Her request surprised him. He gave her a long look before he moved to the windows, closing the curtains and blocking out all but the softest rays of sunlight. Taking her hand, he led her to the divan. Sitting down, he pulled her on his lap.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed.

She obeyed, enjoying the way her breasts strained against his chest. She wanted to arch her back and rub against him like a cat. Her mouth was only inches from his. He smelled delicious. Like mint, fresh air, and something entirely masculine.

“Now kiss me,” he ordered calmly, but she could see the effort it was taking him to remain still. To make no move toward her.

Slowly, she leaned toward him, placing a tentative kiss on his lower lip. He went completely rigid. She tried again, this time squarely pressing her lips to his. She frowned when he still did not return her kiss. Until she noticed the tic behind his jaw.

A slow smile curved her lips. With the tip of her finger she traced the hard angles of his handsome face, savoring the moment of recognition: He wanted her as badly as she wanted him. He liked what she was doing to him, but he wasn’t going to make it easy on her. He could try to feign coldness, but she wouldn’t allow him to deny their passion.

She leaned toward him again, but this time she slid her tongue along the crease of his mouth, savoring the dark, sinfully delicious taste of him.

His restraint snapped. He attacked, taking her mouth hostage in a violent embrace. His fingers laced through her loosened hair to grip the back of her head, pulling her mouth to his in a deep, openmouthed, no-holds-barred kiss. She felt the hot slide of his tongue as it delved into her mouth, demanding her intimate response. His passion was hot and furious, leaving her no doubt. He wanted her. Badly. With a frenzy and wildness that belied his attempts at coldness.

A hot band of satisfaction curled low in her belly.

No longer a novice, she met each parry with a thrust of her own. Sinking deeper and deeper into frantic oblivion until her senses were overpowered with the need of him. Until her hands roamed the wide expanse of his shoulders, wanting to feel him. To get closer still.

He kissed her until she couldn’t breathe, until her lips were swollen and her cheeks burned from the scratch of his day-old beard. Until the gentle tingling warmth between her legs clutched with sweet frustration. She wanted him to touch her there again, to press his fingers inside her, to relieve the clawing need that would not let her go.

When he lifted his head, his blue eyes were dark as onyx and his breathing had become hard and fast. She could feel his manhood straining against her bottom. She shifted against him, settling his massive strength between her legs. She yearned to sink onto him, desperately craving the heavy thickness inside her. He was big and as hard as a rock wedged solidly between her thighs. His shape seemed to fit her perfectly.

She moved again against him, sliding back and forth along his considerable length. The swell of pleasure was nearly unbearable. He groaned and pressed against her. The tingling between her legs intensified, greedily demanding more. Faster, harder, she rubbed against him, wanting to weep with relief, having found what she craved, relishing the burgeoning sensation of pleasure. Her head fell back as she gave herself over to the magical rhythm. The pressure built, her heart rate climbed, and she was tantalizingly close to reliving the shattering pleasure she’d experienced in the card room.

He made a sound of agony and lifted her off his lap.

Stricken, she stared at him. “Did I do something wrong.”

“No,” he said tightly.

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing.” He swore then met her gaze. A slow, devious smile curled his lips. “It’s time to take off your clothes, Lady Georgina. I want you naked when I take you.”

He’d said it harsher than was necessary, but she was driving him mad with lust, and to hell if he was going to make it easy on her. The sensation of his cock wedged between her thighs with her grinding against him, even separated by clothing, was too much. The fact that she’d discovered how to find her own pleasure made it that much worse. Watching as she pleasured herself had been one of the most deeply erotic moments of his life. How could he resist such innate sensuality? He couldn’t. It was a priceless treasure that belonged to him.

He wanted to challenge her, but instead she was driving him mad with lust. If only she would run before he refused to let her go.

Her face flooded with color at his demand. “But surely… I mean…” Flustered, she didn’t know what to say. He knew her freshly minted passion was warring with her sense of delicacy and modesty.

“It would please me.” Remembering his goal to drive her away, he added crudely, “I want to see what I’ll be getting.”

Something flashed across her face. Hurt perhaps, before her mouth tightened angrily in response to his challenge. Her green eyes blazed.

“Is there enough light in here?” she asked sarcastically. “I could call Jennings to turn on a few lamps. I wouldn’t want you to feel like you didn’t get a proper look.”

He cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face. She would not discourage easily. He was surprised to realize how much it pleased him. “That won’t be necessary.”

Indeed, even with the heavy curtains pulled closed there was plenty of light.

He held his breath as she finished unbuttoning the pelisse that he’d already half undone.

Studying her, he realized that he’d probably done her a favor. Anger at his harsh words had replaced her uncertainty and seemed to bolster her courage. Her hands were steady, her movements deliberate, her face impassive. Gina was no blushing schoolgirl, but a woman full of pride and confidence, almost daring him to find fault. Sliding the pelisse off her shoulders, she carefully placed it on the edge of the divan.

She walked back around to stand right in front of him. With a stubborn toss of her chin, she looked him straight in the eye. “I’m afraid I shall need some help with my gown.” She spun around so that her slim, straight back was facing him. He resisted the urge to wrap his hands around her tiny waist. Deftly he worked the pins and ties, ignoring the increasing rate of his heartbeat as anticipation coiled inside him.

The unevenness of his breath gave him away.

Turning back around to face him, a calculated gleam in her eye, she slipped the short sleeves down past her shoulders one at a time. She seemed to be moving excruciatingly slow, holding his gaze the entire time, as if she disrobed for a man every day of the week. As if she knew how much the mere act of taking off her clothes excited him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He’d be damned if she wasn’t getting the hang of it. The woman was a born coquette.