Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) (24 page)

“Vaughn, what do you intend now…?”
she began. He lowered his mouth to her mons and slipped his tongue inside the folds to stroke her heated, swollen nub.

She gasped and her hands buried themselves in his hair, clenching tight. “Oooh…!” she gasped, and he delighted at the sound, knowing from her reaction that no man but he had ever done her this service before. He caressed her with his mouth, and slid his fingers into her channel. He stroked and played the flesh there, feeling spasms and ripples of excitement pulsing through her. Her breath was coming in tight little gasps, faster and faster. Her whole body was quivering, shifting under his ministrations. He could feel the peak of her pleasure building and coaxed her to that point with every skill he had learned.

Elisa climaxed, a screaming gasp locking her throat and her body tightening into a stillness that seemed to spin out for an eon. She shuddered, waves rippling through her. Her hands tightened convulsively against him.

Her pleasure was intoxicating. He was responding to her even without direct stimulation.
 
Once more he marveled at the effect she had on him.

Finally, the surge ceased and her body went limp. Elisa licked her lips, her eyes heavy lidded with languorous satiation.

He lay down beside her and stroked her soft skin—gently, without provocation, allowing her to recover. She rolled on her side and her legs entwined with his own. Her heart was beating a thousand miles an hour…like his own.

He looked down at her upturned face. Her eyes were closed, a soft smile on her lips. She was a woman who’d been pleased.

With a sigh she opened her eyes and smiled. “My bones have melted.”

“Good,” he murmured.

“That is what you meant when you said you could give me even more pleasure?

He smiled a little at her curiosity, which held no taint of coyness or fake prudery. “That is what I meant,” he assured her. “It will serve?”

“Oh yes!” Her lips curved in a glorious smile. “Only…” She blushed deeply. “Until this moment I believed I was experienced in the ways of men and women. I thought I was a wicked woman because what I knew of these things left me unhappy—”

“You mean unsatisfied, do you not?”

She bit her lip, considering the question. “Yes, but Vaughn, you must believe me when I say that I did not know all of it. Until yesterday, I did not know of this, that I was capable of…climaxing. Is this something that every woman can experience? Or is it just the women that men call whores that do so? Is that why they are whores? Is that why men seek them out?”

His laughter came from the bottom of his belly and it felt and sounded like good laughter—bereft of any of the cynicism that had colored it of late. “Elisa, my sweet, I believe that all women are capable of what you just achieved, but many, many of them will never experience it because they will not open their minds to the possibility. They think it wicked and will not consider it.”

“Yes, I know many women like that. Most of the women I know are like that. I always thought…” and she paused, a frown puckering her brows. “I always thought there was something wrong with me, that because I found the little experience I had with my husband not enough to…satisfy me, that I was…perverted.”

“You are a delight, Elisa. How could that be perverted?”

“Men have tried to…seek me out.” She looked up at him from under her brow. “I know what they say of me, Vaughn. I thought that I was truly a whore and that was why they sought me.”

He could feel the distress behind her simple words.

“Yes, they call you whore and worse, but it is just a name, Elisa. Just a name that comes easy to their lips. I believe that men can sense you are capable of enjoying yourself and that makes them eager to experience it with you.”

“It does?” She was startled by the idea.

“Certainly. Oh, they may not understand this themselves, but I know that I enjoy making love with you because you enjoy it yourself. It is not an odious duty to you.”

She lifted herself up on one elbow. “Truly? You do not think less of me because of it?” She was watching his face, missing nothing.

He took a deep breath. “Truly, Elisa. I do not think less of you. More, if anything. Far more than I believed a month ago.” And he realized he was speaking the utter truth.

She continued to study him carefully for a moment, then visibly relaxed. A slow smile curved her beautiful lips. “I see,” she said.

And he knew that she did see, that she understood intuitively far more than their simple conversation encompassed.

She glanced over her shoulder towards the pond. “I believe I will bathe.” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but came slowly to her feet and walked toward the water, completely uninhibited. He stared at her backside, her heart-shaped buttocks, her long legs, her beautiful back. As the water lapped around her ankles she turned to him with a smile. “Come, join me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice.

Coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, nuzzling her neck. His hand captured one breast and he rubbed his thumb over the upright nipple. She gasped, with a tiny catch in her throat, then gently pushed him away.

With a sweet laugh, she walked further into the water, then plunged beneath the surface. A moment later she emerged at the other side, her hair—dark now it was wet—slicked back off her face, showcasing her fragile beauty.

He followed her, the cold water taking the breath from his lungs. But at least it helped to ebb the fire that burned within him. While she paddled in the water to keep herself afloat, he found he could touch bottom. He pulled her into his arms and she wrapped her legs around his hips, her smile wicked as she pressed her breasts against his chest. He lifted her higher, taking a rigid peak into his mouth, laving it, suckling hard.

She shifted and impaled herself on his still rigid cock, gripping his shoulders as she ground against him. The motion washed water around her neck, so he moved forward a few paces until they were in shallower water and he could control her movements. He held her hips and thrust into her with slow strokes. Despite the coolness of the water, he was responding with the same overwhelming reaction as before. Her newly released inhibition was a glorious coercion.

He thrust deep and hard, the primal need driving him to the delicious pinnacle once more. It was a powerful need that bound his body and mind. She must have sensed it, for at that moment she pushed away from him with a little laugh and climbed back onto the bank.

Water streamed from her as she turned and looked at him. She did not beckon to him, but her stance, the small smile, were beacon enough and he found himself emerging from the water, moving towards her.

He reached for her but she pushed on his chest a little. “Wait,” she murmured, her hands on his chest. Her lips replaced her hands. Soft butterfly kisses dotted his chest and down his stomach, which clenched tight as she fell to her knees.

She moaned low in her throat before she took him into her mouth. Vaughn’s head fell back on his shoulders. His hands drifted to her shoulders, clenching as she suckled him. She was not an expert, but she could read his responses and very quickly learned what was the most effective—her lips encircling the swollen head of his cock, slipping wetly against the sensitive ridge of flesh; the teasing stroking of her tongue against the tight ridge of flesh on the underside of the head; sucking strokes, little flicks of the end of her tongue against the tip. He opened his eyes and looked up at the blue sky. If she did not stop, he would lose control.

“Elisa,” he said, the words coming out strangled.

She clenched his buttocks with her hands, pulling him closer to her.

Finally he pushed away the slightest bit. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with a passion he was becoming to know well.

“Enough,” he said, drawing her up to him. The feel of her soft body against his hard one was exhilarating.

Perhaps sensing his eagerness, she coaxed him to the ground, to lie between her thighs. Her legs came up around his hips. She looked up at him, her expression one of complete surrender. He entered her with a single hard thrust.

Her mouth opened with a soundless gasp as he buried himself to the hilt. He began to move and she along with him.

He tried to hold on, keeping his movements slow, but it seemed she would have none of that. She clenched his buttocks, pulling him closer as she lifted her hips in a rhythm that would have him spent long before planned.

“Take me,” she whispered in his ear.

That was
 
all it took. With a savagery he’d not known he possessed, he thrust harder and still harder, until she moaned loudly. As she squeezed him tight, he came with a ferocity that left him trembling.

* * * * *

Later that afternoon as Elisa slowly dressed and arranged her hair, she glanced up to find Vaughn watching her. He sat on a nearby rock, already dressed, his eyes dark with an emotion that she was beginning to recognize as passion.

Despite making love five times, he still wanted her. And she could feel herself respond to his thoughts. Even though he had reassured her he accepted her passionate nature, welcomed it even, she wondered if her need of him did not constitute an obsession. Despite the hours that had just passed, she knew she wanted him again.

And what if he did not feel the same? What if he left for London as he had been threatening to do for a week? What if he became engaged to Natasha?

“I don’t want to go back,” she said, speaking before she could doubt the wisdom of such candor.

A small frown marred his forehead. “Then don’t,” he said.

“You know it isn’t that simple.” She dropped her hands from the row of buttons on her bodice.

“I know I hate the thought of him touching you. How could you entertain the idea, Elisa?”

“You know why.”

“I know the reason he gave you,” he muttered, standing abruptly and striding to the water.

“You hate him, don’t you?”

His answer took a moment. He glanced at her. “Do you think he’d be a good father to your son?”

She shrugged. “I would hope so.”

He laughed without mirth. “That man doesn’t know what compassion is. Not once did I ever receive a hug. Not even a pat on the head for any accomplishment. He has always hated me, hated everyone. . .except for my mother.
 
And when she was gone, he had no use for me. You want that for your son, Elisa?”

She was silent, unable to form an answer. She had not considered her life beyond the moment when Rufus restored her son to her. She had been so focused upon finding Raymond and winning him back.

“I know Rufus is the only one who has given me any hope of finding Raymond,” she answered truthfully. “I cannot jeopardize that.” She glanced at the long shadows on the ground. “It’s late. I must return before he becomes suspicious.”

“He always wins, doesn’t he?” Vaughn growled. “I make love to you, but he wins because you’re running back to him.”

His words struck a chill in her heart. “What did you say?”

He was scowling at the water, occupied by his thoughts, but he must have heard her for he sighed and ruffled his hand through his hair. “He wins,” he said bitterly. “Although…” His frown smoothed itself a little. “It occurs to me that I have had my revenge upon him this afternoon, haven’t I?” And he looked at her with a twisted smile.

The breath left her in a rush. He had not seduced her because he was attracted to her at all! He had seduced her to revenge himself upon the father who had turned his back on him.

Hollow nausea gripped her throat and stomach. “You lied to me,” she whispered.

He turned then. Her voice must have given away her horror. “Lied?” he repeated.

She finished fastening the last of her buttons with hands that trembled violently.

“The men that sought me out because of my s-s-sensuality—they at least were direct. They did not have hidden motives.”

“Elisa, what on earth…?”

“You used me in a way they never did,” she spat. “Congratulations, Vaughn, you have truly turned me into a whore.”

She turned and ran, not caring that she left her hat or that Vaughn was yelling her name.

Chapter Fourteen

When she returned to the manor, Elisa was enormously thankful to learn Rufus was resting in his bedchamber. It saved her the complication of more lies. More importantly, she could avoid Rufus’ scrutiny before she had a chance to bathe and wash the sins of the day from her flesh. As it was, by the time she reached the cold marble hallway dinner was barely an hour away. She had little time to take a bath and dress.

Marianne was unusually quiet. No doubt her maid was disappointed in her for giving into temptation. Though Elisa had kept her silence about the afternoon, it was as though Marianne could read the imprint of every forbidden caress upon her face. The Frenchwoman poured water with a sad, repressed air that seemed almost sorrowful.

No one could be more sorry than Elisa herself. She had let herself down, broken faith with her personal vow to win her son back and worse still, wanted the man who’d used her so blatantly.