Her Wanton Wager (20 page)

At the brunette's keening moan, sweat sprouted upon Percy's brow. She felt her turban slip as the woman looked over her shoulder, moaning to the man heaving between her thighs.
Fuck me 'arder, get your cock good and deep
... The man responded by pumping furiously, his hips slapping her bottom again and again while she screeched,
Yes, luvie, like that! Oh, I'm goin' to come so hard …

Heart thundering in her ears, Percy's gaze flew to another couple. As the man lounged on a Roman bed, a redheaded woman knelt between his legs, her expression salacious as she stroked his member with her fist. Eyes heavy-lidded, the man twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her head toward his lap. Percy sucked in a breath as the woman's tongue darted out and
licked
the flaring dome of his member. The man groaned, pressing her head down more firmly. Red curls bobbed as the fleshy pole disappeared within her lips …

… On a nearby couch, a woman was on her knees between
two
men, her frenzied cries blending with hoarse, guttural shouts as they jousted her between them …

Dazed and feverish, Percy stumbled back from the hole.
Dear God, what am I doing?
I have to get back downstairs, have to before—

The hairs suddenly lifted on her skin; even though she'd heard no footsteps, she knew he was there. His presence lived in the rapid tattoo of her heartbeat, the tightening of her nipples against her bodice. She whipped around.

Hunt stood there, watching her. Golden hellfire raged in his eyes.

Her throat squeezed. "I—I was only ..."

"Didn't I tell you to wait downstairs?" As large and foreboding as Hades himself, Hunt stalked toward her. Her breath rushed in and out of her lungs as he bent his head and glanced into the viewing hole she'd been looking through. "My, what a naughty girl you've been," he drawled. He shut the panel, muffling the lascivious sounds.

Her cheeks pulsed hotly. "I didn't mean to—"

"Lie to anyone you wish, but not to me. You knew
exactly
what you were doing." In a quick motion, he disposed of her turban; her hair tumbled free. "You're a hot-blooded little baggage, Persephone Fines, and there's no use denying it."

Lips trembling, Percy lowered her head. He was ... right. About her. She wasn't the good, proper daughter her parents had wanted—why did Hunt have to be the one to see her for the wicked girl she truly was? She wanted to curl into a ball and die of embarrassment. Heat burned behind her eyes.

A finger tipped her chin up. Eyes of infinite darkness held her.

"Don't be afraid of who you are," he said. "You're perfect, Percy. Passionate and brave, everything a man could want." Before she could understand the relief, the joy rippling through her, his lips were hot upon her neck. "And hell's teeth, how I want you."

Desire sizzled along her nerves. Yet she pushed at his shoulders "The w-wager," she stammered. "I cannot do this. I can't betray my brother."

"But you want me, don't you Percy?"

She could no longer hide from the truth. She desired Hunt—a man who did not abhor wickedness, but understood it. Understood
her
. She gave a small nod.

Triumph flickered in his gaze. "I'll do what it takes to have you, Percy. Even if it means calling a truce."

"A truce?" A gasp edged from her arched throat when his lips returned to their wanton exploration.

"An armistice, if you will. We will continue our wager, but your maidenhead will be safe with me …"—his grasp tightened on her hair, exposing her further to his touches, his kisses—"until our sixth and final meeting. I give you my word."

His words barely permeated the haze of pleasure. She moaned as a hot lick titillated her ear. She had to think, to resist the desire spinning out inside her. "You won't try to seduce me?"

"I didn't say that. I said I wouldn't put my cock inside you … for the time being."

A tremor shook her at the wicked words, at the sharp nip to her earlobe.

"For the next three meetings, I won't take your virginity. There are many other avenues to bliss, after all. Think of it, Percy," he murmured, "nothing but pleasure between us—and you'll be guaranteed three victories against me to boot."

Three meetings in which she needn't worry about losing the wager or betraying her brother—not that she was worried. Of course, she understood that Gavin was only giving her the skirmishes and delaying the ultimate battle until the final
rendezvous
. Still, to have three encounters in which she could explore the desire burning within her ... She moaned as his hands molded her breasts, teasing the tight nipples beneath the fabric. She couldn't take the torture much longer.

"My darling, curious girl," he coaxed, "all you have to say is yes."

Could she do it? Could she put aside everything she knew to be proper and right? The choice came from the part of her that could no longer remain hidden. That
would
not remain suppressed. The answer sprang from her like a bone snapping from stays.

"Yes," she sighed.
Oh, a thousand times yes.

His mouth found hers, and the kiss surged with hunger, with the giddy joy of reunion. His lips were hot and fierce against hers; their tongues twined, stroked. She could not taste him or feel him enough. She gave in—to him, herself. To the hunger twisting her insides.

Humid air wafted against her skin as the gown fell from her and whispered to the ground. Layers followed, and as the weight dropped from her, she could not be rid of it quickly enough. When she was clad only in her drawers, he backed her against the wall, the wood smooth and cool against her bare shoulders. His hands closed over her breasts, his fingers lightly tweaking the budded centers.

"I love your tits," he growled. "I want to suck these pretty nipples so hard they'll remember my kiss. Do you want me to?"

It was so easy to answer him in the dark.

"Yes, please," she whispered.

A shudder racked through her as he bent his head. He suckled her as he promised— fiercely, without restraint. Her fingers dug into his scalp, wanting to hold onto the exhilarating pleasure as he went from one breast to the other. When she felt the scrape of his teeth, she jerked in surprise. Warmth flooded her lower belly.

"Too much?" he said.

"I—I don't know."

He laughed softly. "Let's find out. Tonight is about your pleasure, my sweet. I want you to tell me what you feel, what you like. This, for instance." His hard thigh wedged boldly between her legs. "What does that make you want to do?"

Oh, it made her want to rub herself against him. To feel that exciting friction she'd furtively discovered in the privacy of her own bed ... She bit her lip.

His grin turned wicked. "Naughty girl. I think you
do
know what to do. Go ahead, then," he murmured, his mouth lowering to hers again, "ride me."

As the heady taste of him washed over her senses, she couldn't help but obey. Her arms winding around his neck, she rocked herself shamelessly against the muscled leg. It felt
delicious
. She did it again, and this time her thigh brushed against another sizeable muscle. His man's part. Oh my. He was so hard, so large—
everywhere
.

"Christ, you don't know how good that feels," he groaned against her lips.

Oh, but she did. Nearly naked, crushed against this big, fully clothed male, she was seized by a primal drive. She began to ride him with feverish abandon. He encouraged her with hot words, petting her breasts, making her grow wetter. Through the slit in her drawers, she could feel how she was dampening his trousers, yet she couldn't stop herself. She clung to him, trying to get the pressure right where she needed it ...

"I can feel how wet you are, Percy. I
have
to touch you." He replaced his thigh with his hand, and she cried out.

"So goddamn perfect." The words sounded scraped from his throat. Her hips jerked as his fingers found her through the thin lawn, sliding along her slick groove. "You have the sweetest pussy. So soft and lush. Shall I pet it, make it purr?" 

His thumb circled the peak of her pleasure, and her legs gave way. He held her upright against the wall, rubbing her, giving her no ground. His scar taut and chest heaving, he stared into her eyes. As if challenging her to deny the pleasure ... as if she could. He knew exactly how to touch her, his rough words driving her more and more out of control.

"Do you like having your pearl tickled? Do you want me to diddle you harder, faster?"

"Yes," she gasped as fire streaked down her legs. "Oh, yes."

"I'm the only one who touches you this way," he rasped. "Say it."

For goodness' sake, who else would—
A whimper escaped her lips when he pulled his hand away. He gave her a stern look. "Say it, Percy, or we stop this instant."

"You." The admission came from her lips, but the recognition was deeper. The past and future faded away. There was only this moment, this man, and a certainty she'd never known before. "Only you," she whispered.

"Good girl." For some reason, his approval aroused her as much as his masterful touch. He watched her face intently, as if she were the only thing in the world that existed. "Work yourself against my finger," he instructed. "Show me how hot and wet you can get."

Delirious with desire, she obeyed. She rode his hand, her secret knot seeking the pressure of his thick digit. Oh, she
was
hot and wet and needful of relief. Broken pleas escaped her as the slick friction coiled ever tighter in her belly. "Oh, please Gavin, help me ..."

"You're so damp for me, so perfect." His eyes anchored her as the tempest inside her raged. "You want to come, love?"

"
Yes
."

"Then spend for me right now." He bent his head and sucked hard on her nipple. His teeth grazed her at the same time that he gave her pearl a sharp flick. She catapulted over the edge, the finish searing through her senses. A cry broke from her lips as spasms rocked her.
Bliss
—as she'd never known existed. As she dissolved into bone-melting ecstasy, she caught his voice above her thundering heartbeat.

You're mine, Percy.

For once, she hadn't the strength to argue.

NINETEEN

Seated before the looking glass, Priscilla studied her reflection. For so long, she'd seen a too-round face, an insignificant nose, and bothersome freckles. Her features had not changed, yet now she smiled ... and the pretty girl in the mirror smiled back.

—
from
The Perils of Priscilla,
a manuscript-in-progress by P. R. Fines

Scanning the dining lounge of The Temple of the Muses, a bustling book emporium in Finsbury Square, Percy spotted Charity at the far corner by the window. She navigated past the crowded tables, catching snippets of gossip along the way. Most centered around His Majesty The King's latest efforts to divorce his wife on the grounds of adultery.

"And do you know what Her Majesty supposedly replied to the accusation?" a patron said to her companion. "That she did indeed commit adultery once—with the husband of
Mrs. Fitzherbert
."  

As the two ladies laughed, Percy's own lips twitched. Though it was improper, she could not help but appreciate the beleaguered queen's wit. Everyone knew that the King had kept Mrs. Fitzherbert as a long-time paramour; not only that, but years earlier he'd married his mistress in an illicit ceremony.
Talk about the pot calling the kettle black
.

Reaching Charity's table, Percy said breathlessly, "Sorry I'm late."

"Not a problem. As you can see, I've ordered for us both," Charity said, nodding to the pot of chocolate and dish of pastries on the table.

Percy took the seat across from her friend said in a low voice, "I got held up with Paul."

Framed by the brim of her dove grey bonnet, Charity's eyes looked even larger than usual. "How is he?" 

Inebriated, belligerent, and impossible to reason with.
Snagging a biscuit, Percy bit into it with frustration. Paul had been so far gone that he hadn't even questioned her story about Hunt agreeing to release his debt to Nicholas. Instead, he'd pressed her for money. Not knowing what else to do, she'd given him what she had in her reticule.  

"Paul is getting worse and worse. I'm certain he's gaming again, and I couldn't convince him to come home with me." Throat tight, Percy added, "This isn't like him. Ever since that blasted Rosalind Drummond, he hasn't been the same."

Charity kept her gaze on the pot as she poured out the chocolate. "Do you think he is still in love with Miss Drummond?"

Percy shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Whenever I try to ask him about her, he shuts me out. He won't countenance any mention of her name."  

"He must still have feelings for her."

Seeing Charity's downcast gaze, Percy reached for the other girl's hand and squeezed it. "Well, Rosalind is married now, so there's no going back," she said. "If only my idiot brother would realize that you—"

"That's neither here nor there." Charity pulled her hand away, straightened her narrow shoulders. "Have the Hartefords and your Mama written back?"

"No, and I sent the missive over three weeks ago. What if it got lost?"

"It could be that their reply got delayed," Charity said, her brow furrowed. "Perhaps you should write them again."   

Percy nodded. She sipped her chocolate, letting the creamy sweetness soothe her.   

Looking left and right, Charity leaned over the table and whispered, "In the meanwhile, how did things go at your second meeting with Mr. Hunt?"

Up until this point, Percy hadn't been completely truthful with her friend. She'd omitted all the debauched details, saying only that she'd garnered a victory against Hunt at Vauxhall. Now she set her cup down in its saucer, chewing on her lip.

"It well ... well," she hedged.