The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 (31 page)

Then once again she took in the sight of the thick cock thrusting up from his nest of black curls. She still didn’t see how it could fit inside her, but she had to admit it had a strange beauty all its own.

And the way it bobbed under her gaze made her want to laugh. But she knew Edwin wouldn’t find
that
amusing.

Her gaze continued down over the well-wrought thighs she hadn’t yet seen to the handsome calves that always looked so fine in evening attire, and then roamed back up. “Can I . . . touch you?”

“God, yes,” he growled. Then, as if worried he was being too fierce, he added, “Please.”

With a little thrill of anticipation, she stepped for
ward. All the male beauty she’d coveted was now hers to fondle without fear. He’d said they could stop whenever she wanted, and she believed him.

Amazing how freeing it was, to know she could balk if she wished. Perversely, it prompted her to be bolder, to smooth her hands over everything—his arms, his chest, his thighs—to relish the different textures of hair and smooth skin and rough calluses. To feel his muscles flex and tighten beneath her touch.

What delicious wickedness! And nothing at all like suffering the sordid gropings of the Vile Seducer.

She brushed the head of his cock, and he swore under his breath. Jerking her hand back, she said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he ground out. “It just . . . makes me want you all the more. Perhaps we should return to letting me explore you.”

Suddenly nervous, but also intrigued, she gazed down at the hard male form before her. “Or you could show me what you were talking about. Show me how a woman makes love to a man.”

He went still. “I could.” He searched her face. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” She thought she was, anyway.

“Very well.” Drawing his legs together, he leaned forward to catch her by the hips and tug her toward him. “We’ll start with you sitting astride me, on my thighs.”

How curious. “Like this?” she asked as she straddled him as far away from his cock as she could get.

“If I promise not to ravish you, will you come a
little
nearer? You’re hurting my knees.”

“Oh! Sorry.” She scooted closer. Now his cock reared up between them, just brushing her damp curls. “I still don’t see how it would work like this.”

“It wouldn’t,” he said, his voice oddly strained. “But if you
were
to choose to make love to me, you’d plant your knees on the seat on either side of me. Rising up on them, you’d fit yourself onto my cock, however slowly or quickly you liked, rather like pulling a glove onto your hand. If it hurt too badly, you could rise up and get right off. If you found it pleasant, you could inch down more.
You
would choose how far up inside your glove my hand should go.”

“Oh.” So there would be no thrusting and shoving into her, no fighting a man’s weight atop her. She eyed him with suspicion. “You really would accept it if I stopped in the middle and pulled myself off of you?”

“I swear on my mother’s grave,” he said solemnly. “You will have me utterly at your mercy.”

“All right, then.” She swallowed hard. “I want to try it.”

His cock, which had been flagging through the discussion, shot straight up. “You do?”

“I—I can’t promise to endure it for long, but I want to try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

With a determined nod, she knelt above him on the seat, straddling his hips. Though she’d understood his directions, it proved trickier than she’d expected.

“I can help,” he said. “Or you can take my cock with your hand and guide it in.”

That hadn’t occurred to her. And she did
that.
In
the meantime, he started rubbing her nipples with his hands, making her feel quite . . . heated, and before she’d even realized it, she was sliding down upon him. To her shock, though his cock felt intrusive inside her, there was no pain. No pain
at all.
Just some tightness.

Her gaze flew to him. “It . . . it doesn’t hurt!”

“Good.” He didn’t say, “I told you so,” or, “Ta-da!” or anything. Indeed, he looked as if he were having difficulty just breathing. His eyes were closed, his jaw taut enough to cut glass. “God help me, minx. You feel incredible.”

The rough timbre of his voice sent a feminine thrill through her that made her relax and slide down a bit more. “Do I?”

“Like silk. Hot, enveloping silk.” He gave an undulating move that sent him farther up inside her, then gritted his teeth. “Sorry. I wasn’t supposed to do that, I know. It’s just . . . you feel so damned wonderful.”

“So do you. I think.” Thank God Yvette had been right. How much it hurt definitely depended on the man’s approach.

“You
think
?” he echoed, a thread of amusement in his voice.

She wriggled on him, and the groan that came from deep in his throat made her feel more alive, more of a woman than she’d allowed herself to feel for years. “I’ll have to experiment some more to be sure.” She settled herself on him, trying to find a more comfortable position.

“Stop that.” His eyes flew open. “God, please stop.”

She blinked at him. “That’s what
I
usually say. But
you
can’t possibly want me to stop this.”

“Not ‘this.’
That
. Moving around. It’s just enough motion to . . . make me insane.”

“Is it?” She wiggled some more. “How about that?”

“Don’t torture me, my sweet. I can’t bear it.”

“I’m not trying to torture you. I just really don’t know what to do.”

“Right. Of course.” He was breathing hard, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Try . . . moving up and down.”

Up and down? Remembering how the Vile Seducer had driven into her, she realized that this would be that in reverse, with her controlling the motion. How intriguing.

“
Please
,” he rasped. “Before I go out of my mind.”

“All right,” she said, and came up, then slid down.

His fingers dropped to grip her hips. “Yes, sweetheart, yes. Again.”

“For a man at my mercy, you are very demanding,” she said with a sniff, but did what he asked.

This time, he gave a low moan of pure pleasure. It was quite rewarding. And the up-and-down motion felt good to her, too. Rather enjoyable. So she did it again. And again.

It got easier each time. And when he began to finger her down where they were joined, she felt that quick leap of sensation she’d felt when he’d had his mouth on her in the carriage. “Oh,
Edwin . . .
oh my . . .”

He kissed her then, deeply, fiercely. He’d begun thrusting up inside her, too, but she rather liked that. It gave her an idea of the proper rhythm. And when he bumped her a certain way . . . it was glorious. Absolutely glorious.

Heavens. This wasn’t what she’d expected
at all.
No pain . . . no fear. Just Edwin beneath her, undulating into her, making her want to devour him, to engulf him, to show him she truly was his bride.
His
woman. His wife.

“You’re mine . . . now . . . Edwin Barlow,” she said as she clutched at his shoulders, riding him faster, harder. “My husband. For always.”

“My wife,” he choked out, his face alight. “Forever.”

It had the sound of a vow. And now that rushing feeling was building down low in her belly, and her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she felt as if she were hurtling across the grounds on horseback, neck-or-nothing . . . heading for the biggest jump of them all. The one that would take her into the heavens . . . glittering there . . . just beyond her reach . . .

“Yes . . . more . . .” she cried as their motions reached a fever pitch. “Yes, my darling,
yes
!”

He drove up and spilled himself inside her. “Clarissa . . .
My
Clarissa!”

Mine.

With that exultant thought, she shot over the moon and into the stars.

It took some time for Edwin to come to his senses, especially with his lovely wife draped luxuriously over him.

That was amazing.
She
was amazing. And he couldn’t believe he’d finally made her his. Thank God it hadn’t taken a year; he never would have lasted that long. He’d have had to go live with monks for a while.

He nuzzled her hair, which had tumbled down
rather spectacularly in the midst of their frenzy. It smelled of lilacs and lavender. So very sweet.

“It’s getting dark outside,” Clarissa murmured.

She was in a position to see out the window behind him. Fortunately, none of the servants went into the garden at this time of the day. They were too busy preparing for dinner.

Still . . . “It won’t be long before we can be seen easily from the garden. Unless one of us gets up to blow out the candle.”

She drew back to flash him a sultry smile. “Is that a hint that I should move? Am I too heavy for you?”

“Hardly.” He lifted her off of him. “Though you’re heavier than I would have expected for such a small woman.” When she laughed, he realized that he probably shouldn’t have been quite that honest. “I mean . . .”

“Don’t mince words with me,” she said as he rose. “You’re probably the only man I know who would have been as understanding of my . . . difficulties as you were. Besides, I’ll take your bluntness any day over a lot of insincere compliments.”

“Glad to hear it. Because clearly I am very bad at them.”

She chuckled. Curling up into a ball on the window seat, she watched as he went over to the desk fully naked. “You’re a very handsome man, Lord Blakeborough. And I am being utterly sincere.”

He snuffed the candle. “Keep saying things like that, Lady Blakeborough, and I’ll be wanting to ravish you again.”

She fell quiet. As he realized what he’d said, he shot her a concerned glance, but she wore a dreamy
look. “It’s a pity it wasn’t you seducing me in that orangery years ago.”

It certainly was. How different their lives would have been. But . . . “It would never have been me.” He tugged on his drawers. “Gentlemen do not seduce young ladies. They court them, they secure their affections, and then they propose.”

A sudden gleam in her eye was all the warning he got before she rose to amble toward him with a most seductive walk. “So you don’t think I could have tempted you to seduce me?”

His throat went dry at the sight of her so rumpled and lovely. “Tempted? Yes.” He pulled her into his arms for a thorough kiss, then drew back to stare into her face. “But I would never have acted upon it.”

Her smile faltered. “Are you quite sure it doesn’t bother you that I . . . am not . . .”

“It doesn’t.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m
very
happy with my choice of wife.”

She eyed him askance. “Even though I’m reckless and impudent and always getting into trouble?”

“I’ll take you any way I can get you, minx—reckless, impudent, and all.” Even skittish and wary. As long as he could kiss the fear from her from time to time.

A sudden knock at the door made them both jump.

“Milord, milady? Dinner is served.”

“Thank you, John!” he called out. “We’ll be there presently.”

“We can’t go to dinner yet,” she hissed. “I’m naked!”

“And you do look very fetching that way, too.”

With a roll of her eyes, she hurried to don her shirt. Or rather,
his
old shirt.

He followed her. “We have a choice, minx. We can
go to dinner late, with you dressed in breeches and me thinking the entire time how I want to get you out of them. Or we can ask for a tray upstairs and head up to my bedchamber or yours. Either way, we scandalize the servants, so—”

“We might as well go upstairs,” she said in a throaty voice as she approached to place her hand on his bare chest. “I’d rather enjoy seeing how the woman-on-the-top thing works in a bed.”

When she ran her finger down his chest and strolled away, he got dressed so fast, it was a miracle he didn’t injure something. At last, they were having their wedding night. And he didn’t intend to miss one minute.

A week later, Clarissa headed to London in the carriage with her husband and wondered where the time had gone. Days of easy camaraderie had bled into nights of passion. No nightmares. No fear. No horrible reminders of the past.

Well, she still couldn’t lie beneath him without panicking, but he didn’t seem to mind that she was always on top. At least she hoped he didn’t mind.
She
had certainly come to enjoy their way of swiving. She liked arousing him. Making him lose control. Watching him fall apart beneath her. It was wonderful. They were together in every respect, and she’d never dreamed that could happen.

And if sometimes she wished she could try making love the other way, she shoved that from her mind. Because better that they do it the way they did, than not do it at all. It certainly did keep him in a far pleasanter mood than he’d been in during the first week of their marriage.

But not today. Staring over at him now, she could see how withdrawn he was from her, how pensive and subdued. Fortunately, she’d begun to understand that it was his way of dealing with things that worried him. He had to pull into himself to mull things over from every angle.

Still, they were going to their wedding celebration at Vauxhall, and she wasn’t about to spend it with him looking dour and gloomy.

“I cannot wait for the party. It sounds like great fun, don’t you think?”

“Indeed,” he said, staring out the window.

She eyed him askance. He hadn’t been so sanguine about Mama’s plans when she’d come out to Hertfordshire three days ago for final approval. Annoyed that she couldn’t find a balloonist, Mama had hired a female tightrope walker and an acrobat who did tricks with a hoop. After Clarissa had grown tired of fruitlessly trying to rein her mother in, she’d amused herself by cataloguing Edwin’s many attempts to restrain his horror every time Mama mentioned some new excess.

So either he’d had a change of heart since then, or he wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying now. She decided to test her theory. “Mama wrote me yesterday to say that she’d enlisted a snake charmer for the party, too.”