LadyClarissasSeduction (3 page)

“Damn,” he whispered, his breath coming as hard and fast as
hers. He wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned his forehead into hers. “I
don’t think I have the patience for washing your hair, princess. I want you in
my bed.”

The words were frank, without artifice. No man had ever been
so blunt. The statement shocked her, aroused her. She was curious about him,
about the act of love. Did she dare to entrust herself to the care of a man she
knew to be the worst sort of rake?

“Am I to be your forfeit in every sense, Mr. Foster?” She
swept her lashes down over her eyes, afraid to look at him.

“Pierce,” he corrected, his hands, large and warm, stroking
her back. He kissed her cheek. “And we will only do what you wish, princess.”

Clarissa was very much aware of her naked body, of his touch
marking her. Claiming her. “I…” She could not speak.

“Do you want to go to my bed?” he asked, rubbing his lips
lingeringly over hers.

He was a practiced lover, she told herself. She should not
give in to the madness. She should regain her tattered resolve, push him away.
But the most primitive part of her knew this was inevitable. She had been
adrift in her old life, alone, searching for something. Searching, it seemed,
for him.

Clarissa kissed the corner of his mouth, her entire body wound
as tightly as a watch spring. At any moment, she felt as if she may explode or
come out of her skin. “Yes.”

A low growl rose from his throat. Setting both his hands on
her waist, he lifted her completely from the water. Cradling her dripping body
against his chest, he carried her from the bathroom and into his chamber. She
shivered.

“Are you cold, darling?” Concern tinged his voice. “I’ll
stoke up the fire.”

“No.” She didn’t know how to give voice to the sensations
coursing through her. But it was most assuredly not chill making her shiver or
her body ache so. Rather, it was anticipation.
Desire.

Her body hummed with eagerness to know the wicked pleasures
the equally wicked Pierce Foster could work upon her. He was a notoriously bad
man. A ruiner of innocents. A gambler. A purveyor of vice. She knew she should
care, exercise restraint. But she could not help herself. She scarce recognized
the woman she had become in his arms.

“Have you any experience with men, princess?” he asked
softly, his eyes glowing with a keen understanding.

Had she been bedded before, he meant. “No.”

Of course she had not. The furtive kisses she’d known in the
past were nothing compared to this all-consuming passion blazing between them.

“I’ll try my best to be gentle.”

He laid her upon his bed with great care, then stood back,
his fingers working on the buttons of his shirt. His blue eyes devoured her.
She looked at her own nakedness with him, aroused at the sight of herself on
his big bed. A glossy sheen of water still clung to her skin, beading on her
sensitive nipples, bellybutton and the warm wet folds of her pussy.

“You are beautiful, princess.” When he spoke the words, she
believed them.

He was naked from the waist up when he joined her on the
bed, covering her soft body with his hard one. She ran her hands over his
muscled chest, enjoying the feel of the strength leashed within him, the
prickle of his light chest hairs against her fingers. Another growl escaped him
at the play of her touch over his body.

“Have I done something wrong?” Her voice was hesitant. She
knew very little of such matters.

“No.” His breath hissed through his teeth. “I like your
hands on me, princess.”

He kissed her again, and this time it was a deep and
consuming kiss. A kiss that claimed and possessed. His fingers teased the tips
of her breasts into aching peaks, knowing with unerring ease where to touch,
how much pressure. Her body was made for sin, it seemed.

“And I enjoy your hands on me, sir.”

“Pierce.” His golden head lowered to her breasts, catching a
nipple between his teeth. Holding her gaze, he tugged, biting with just enough
pressure to shock and entice her without hurting her.

She arched into him. “Pierce.”

His fingers went to the fall of his breeches, fumbling.
Delivering a kiss to his shoulder, she rose, helping him. Together, they
removed the black breeches, tossing them to the floor. His long, thick cock
jutted magnificently between them. A gasp of breath stole from her throat.
Never before had she seen a nude man, and the sight of Pierce Foster was enough
to induce a swoon.

“Touch me,” he rasped, voice strained.

Their eyes met, his dark blue and stormy with passion.
Intense. He caught her hand in his, brought it over his chest, down the firm
ridges of his abdomen to the scorching length of him. They gasped in unison as
her fingers closed around his hard cock. His head fell back, his sullen mouth
parted and slack. Clarissa’s pulse pounded, her blood slowing and heating, her
body aching like an instrument begging to be worshipped.

He was more beautiful than a man had a right to be. Watching
his face, the stark angles, the lazy slits of his eyes on her, she kissed and
licked a path to his neck as she worked her fingers over his shaft. His skin
tasted salty and musky, utterly tempting. Her free palm flattened over his
heart, feeling its racing beat. She kissed his strong jaw, his chin, his mouth.
Her pussy throbbed to feel that delicious cock inside her.

Pierce pulled her hand from him, pinning her down to the
bed, ravaging her mouth with kisses. And then he found the place within her
where the ache budded and bloomed. His fingers skimmed over her pussy with
perfect pressure, finding the knot of her desire and toying with it until she
was feverish beneath him.

“Now I want to taste your sweet little pussy.”

Oh dear.
Taste? What could he mean?

Sensing her confusion, he explained. “I want to put my
tongue inside you. Would you like that?”

It sounded naughty. As she pondered his question, he lowered
his beautiful face between her legs, watching her all the while. He spread her
thighs with his large, capable hands.

“Your pussy is absolute perfection, princess,” he whispered.
“Pink, wet and waiting for me. I have to have you.”

Without waiting for her response, he dipped his tongue into
her folds, tasting and toying. His stubble grazed her in the most maddening
way. She arched into his mouth, a sigh slipping from her. He rubbed his face in
her pussy, looking up to meet her eyes as his long tongue slid inside her. In,
out, in, out. She moaned, reveling in the warm slippery heat, the tantalizing
pressure.

“Mmm,” he murmured, “so wet and ready for me.”

His lean body covered hers again, pressing skin to skin.
This time, his cock jutted against her pussy, demanding the entrance she so
desperately longed to give.

“Taste yourself on my mouth.” He trapped her face between
his hands and kissed her again.

His tongue tasted of her, she realized, thrilled by the
intimate act.

At last, he tore his mouth from hers, his breathing harsh.
“Do you want me, Clarissa?”

“Yes.” More than she dared to admit.

“Are you certain?” He kissed her cheek, his jaw a lovely
abrasion against her skin. “There will be no going back.”

“Please.” She clutched at his shoulders. He had stopped
pleasuring her and she desperately wanted more of his caresses. “I’m coming
apart. I need…” She didn’t know precisely what she did need, only that Pierce
Foster could offer it to her. Turning her head, she caught his lips in another
drugging kiss.

He groaned into her mouth, sliding a finger inside her. The
intrusion startled and titillated. A maddening rhythm commenced, and just when
she feared she’d shatter and faint dead away, she knew the hardness of his cock
again. Instinctively, she bucked toward him, her legs falling apart to
accommodate his large body.

In one swift thrust, he sheathed himself, her maidenhead
rending in a quick but painful tear. She stiffened against him and he stilled,
allowing her to grow accustomed to the feeling of him within her. With
deliberate, gentle strokes, he filled her, slipping just inside, then out, then
deeper. She threw her head back on the pillow, crying out. She knew her entire
body was about to shatter into a million splendorous bits. Delightful tingles
skittered over her skin. Her pussy throbbed and her breasts ached. She could
scarcely breathe.

His teeth raked over her neck. He lowered his beautiful head
to suck her nipple into his mouth once more, rasping his stubble against the
curve of her breast. Spasms rocketed through her. “Just like that, darling,” he
cooed, “just like that.”

Then he began again, and the pain ebbed away, replaced once
more by the consuming desire, the ache to be one with him. She met his rhythm,
taking him deeper, each thrust stretching her, making her pussy the center of
her being. She was going to swoon.
Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

Soon her body convulsed in sweet release, rocking against
him, pulling him into her even more. He moaned, increasing his pace, sliding
into her harder, faster, until his hot seed spurted inside her. Her undoing was
complete. She collapsed against him, hands clutching for desperate purchase in
his thick, soft hair.

“Oh dear heavens. What has happened to me?” Clarissa tried
to regain her breath and her strength, but both eluded her. She clung to Pierce
like a drowning victim who had just been rescued.

He kissed her again, his tongue plunging hungrily into her
open mouth. “
La petite mort
, princess.”

“The little death,” she translated when her passion-hazed
brain could once again function. “If that is death, sir, then I should like to
die again.”

A wicked grin curled his mouth. “My pleasure. In time.”
Pierce rolled onto his side and pulled her against him, cradling her body to
his. He kissed her neck. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“It was wonderful,” she murmured, fearing she had somehow
developed an impossible
tendre
for the man who held her now as if she
were his dearest love rather than a woman he’d taken to pay a gambling debt.

Chapter Three

“Breakfast is served, princess.” With an exaggerated bow and
a wicked grin, Pierce deposited a tray on the bed before her laden with enough
delicacies to feed the House of Commons.

Clarissa could not keep the besotted smile from her lips. A
fortnight had passed from the day she had abruptly become his lover, and she
had found surprising happiness here. Pierce had proved generous, considerate
and kind. “Good morning.” She raised her face up to accept his melting kiss.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “You are delicious.”

He pulled back to drop a kiss on the tip of her nose before
he plopped on the bed at her side, devilishly alluring. “I have a special treat
for you this morning.”

“Indeed?” She raised a brow, basking in his infectious good
mood. Each day, she fell deeper under his spell and she found she quite liked
the feeling.

“Close your eyes.”

She did as she was bid, but managed an attempt at sneaking a
peek from beneath her lashes.

“No peeking, C. This is serious business. You must abide by
my rules or you won’t have your treat.”

Drat. He knew her so well already. She scrunched up her
face. “Very well. I shan’t peek.”

“Good girl.” She heard a smile in his voice. A slightly
rough object touched her lower lip. “Open your mouth and take a bite.”

She did and the heavenly taste of her favorite fruit pleased
her mouth. Her eyes fluttered open. “Strawberries! Where on earth did you find
them at this time of year?”

“I have my ways.” He winked. “Would you care for another
bite?”

“Yes.” She opened her mouth and waited for him to bring the
luscious red fruit back to her again.

Suddenly, his blue eyes darkened with a familiar heat as his
gaze centered on her lips. He held the berry to her and she nipped the rest
from his fingers, leaving him only the leafy green top.

“You don’t like sharing, princess?”

“If you are exceptionally nice to me, perhaps I will let you
have a bite or two.”

“Aren’t I always kind to you?”

“You are.” Tenderness swept through her. She reached out to
caress his strong jaw, relishing the scratchiness of his whiskers. “I thank you
for it.”

He kissed her palm. “You are most welcome, dear lady.”

“Sometimes I feel as if I’ve entered a dream world, as if at
any second my maid will wake me and I’ll be back in my bed at the Grosvenor
house.” She paused, considering the complexity of her emotions. “You will no
doubt think it bad of me, but I heard such awful tales and believed them. You
are not at all the man I expected.”

He turned her hand over and kissed her fingers, then her
inner wrist. “You were anticipating a chap with horns sprouting from his head?”

She laughed at the ridiculous imagery his words provoked.
“However did you come into all this?”

“The gaming hells, you mean?” He straightened, his face
losing its playfulness and becoming inscrutable. “Either impossibly good
fortune or impossibly bad, depending upon how one views the world.”

She scooted closer to him, nestling against his shoulder
when he would have perhaps retreated. “Won’t you tell me?”

He sighed. “Have another strawberry, C.”

She retrieved one from the small crystal bowl he’d uncovered
and took a bite. “Now won’t you tell me?”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Persistent minx, aren’t
you? Very well. I was born in the streets. My mother was a maid in a fine
house, a chamber maid, but it was good work, steady income and all that.
Respectable. Until she was ravished by a footman and became with child. The
footman wouldn’t marry her, and when the master of the house discovered he had
a maid with a bastard in her belly, he dismissed her without references.”