Let It Snow (40 page)

He reached for the pile of towels on the night stand and wiped the traces of his seed from her neck and breasts. Though he couldn’t help but fondle them. They were still slick from the oil and he loved the feel of his thumbs sliding over her nipples.
I could do this all day
, he thought.

“Not quite wicked, though you are getting warmer.”

He pinched her left nipple, squeezing firmly. “Your saucy mouth is going to get you into trouble.”

She bit his finger, rubbing her teeth back and forth over it.

“That is it. You have pushed too far!”

He stood up then grabbed her waist and draped her over the bed so that she was bent in half. She still wore her kid boots and stockings.

When Violet turned to say something, he put his hands on her neck and gently pushed her back down to the bed. He looked down at her derrière, admiring each curve and glimpsing a peek at her sex. It dripped with her arousal.

“You are an impertinent, brazen woman who does not know when to hold her tongue.”

“I think my tongue did quite well at holding your manhood.”

“You will learn.” He would punish her thoroughly and make her so wet she would spill her silky come all over the covers. One thing that had
not
changed about him was that he never shied from a challenge, even one issued by the most delectable creature he’d ever met.

He was the Marquess of Kittrick. Obstinacy was bred into him like loyalty into a hound. He
remembered
! It had been there on the edge of his awareness this week. He remembered his sister’s name and her stern face and flashes of his mother and father, but his full name had teased the edges of his mind.

Now he knew it. Daniel Cosgrove, Marquess of Kittrick and Earl of Stanwick. Though he preferred to go by Kit. When he boxed outside of a gentleman’s club, he often used the pseudonym of Kit Daniels.

“I remain as uneducated as I was minutes ago. When will my studies begin?”

Violet brought him back to the present. As elated as he was to finally have a name, he could not forget about his dark promise.

He sat beside her on the bed, which sunk under his weight, so he had to move her into a better position. With a gentle sweep of his fingers, he stroked the elegant curve of her back. Once. Twice. Next, he brushed his hand over her round bottom. He massaged the soft mounds with both hands, even letting his thumbs skim her sex.

Though he would love to bend down and explore the open petals of her pussy, it wasn’t time for that. So he lulled her into relaxing with tender strokes until he felt her go pliant.

With a crack, he slapped one side, then the other.

“Oww!”

“Quiet.” He smacked her bottom again. A tell-tale flush had spread over her alabaster skin. “You could have spared yourself, but you chose to goad me. Now your derrière will pay the price.”

“I could scream,” she warned.

“No doubt you will,” he replied with a smile. “But do you think anyone will come since they’ve no doubt already heard the moans coming from this room?”

She did not respond.

“No wise remark? Good, you are learning.” He rewarded her by sliding his fingers over her pussy, stroking until she gasped.

“Please,” she whispered.

His response involved another crack against her left cheek. She whimpered and he slapped the right side.

When he could count to twenty and she’d made no sound, he slid his finger into her wetness. The temptation to suck her slick petals and rub the little nub at the top of her sex was too enticing. He could give her the release she so badly needed.

Already his shaft came back to life and he wanted to fuck her.

But today wasn’t about fucking. She’d given him such immense pleasure and stolen something from him that no woman ever had before. He would see to it that she came—hard and frenzied—but he would teach her not to push him too far.

Violet shimmied and he realized he hadn’t moved for a while. He loved watching her beg, even if no words escaped from her lips—especially then.

He bent down and kissed her bottom. He licked and sucked a spot on one side then nibbled the other side. All the while, his fingers quested, exploring her quim in slow, measured strokes.

“I can be generous,” he said, whispering close to her ear. “But never forget that I am the wicked one, my dear.” In a steady rhythm, he spanked her several times. Not so hard as to bruise, but enough that she would feel the sting.

A small squeal made him ease up on the sweet torture. He could push her farther, but he decided he’d rather watch her unravel before him. Taking three fingers, he thrust into her pussy. She lifted her bottom and he kissed it.

Violet loved her punishment. He would have to keep that in mind. He’d been wrong about how strong a finessing she needed, but he’d been right that he could fulfill his every fantasy.

With every jab of his fingers, she moaned. At one point she even tried to grab his arm and push him deeper. This time instead of punishing her, he spread her thighs apart and angled her so that his fingers would get maximum reach.

If only he had one of those wooden phalluses that he’d seen on the Continent. He’d drive its long length inside of her until she couldn’t take it anymore. It would never be as good as a real cock, but he’d enjoy watching her with it.

When she whimpered helplessly, he bent down to whisper again. “Soon, my love. Soon you will be flying.” He pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his thumb, so that he could stroke the hood of her sex while he thrust into her cunt.

As he played and stroked, he bit down on her shoulder. Then her back. She seemed close, but she hadn’t fallen over the cliff yet.

Reaching under her with his free hand, he cupped her breast. He rolled her nipple in his fingers, teasing it. Her hips gyrated faster over his hand, which was now covered in her juices. Kit pinched her nipple and her little nubbin at the same moment.

Spasms shook Violet’s body and she mumbled incoherencies. A flood of her honey spread over his fingers and he knew she’d found heaven.

He kissed the side of her face. She lay quietly shivering, so he pulled his hand from her body and grabbed a towel from the pile. He wiped her sex, then his own fingers, but not before slipping one into his mouth to taste her.

“Next time, I will kiss you until you scream.”

“What?” She looked up dazedly.

“I will taste you and draw the honey from your body, stroking you there,” he swept his hand over her sex, “until you fall to pieces in my mouth.”

“Oh!” She shivered again.

He grabbed a blanket and draped it over her before climbing onto the bed and joining her. Cradling her against his chest, he listened to her breathe until he fell asleep.

Violet woke to the sound of snoring and the feel of solid arms wrapped around her. She was naked, so she felt every bit of the male body pressed against her back.

In a daze, she realized that it was not John. This man was bigger, firmer, and he smelled like a wild storm rather than the lavender-water that John often wore.

It took a few minutes for everything to come back to her. It was Kit in her bed—no, not
her
bed. She was in
his
bed. Violet’s eyes shot open. She’d lain with a man in the middle of the day, when everyone in her household was running about doing chores. Her cheeks burned and she put her hands up to cover them.

How had she let him talk her into this? If she was going to be so reckless, it was better done at night when there was the illusion of privacy and she could walk about her house with dignity.

Soft lips brushing over her neck reminded her of how much she’d yearned for Kit, how much she still craved him. Even though he’d spanked her like a child, it was difficult to think back on that without feeling flushed all over. From embarrassment, but also from arousal.

The desire to have him push her down into the bed and throw up her legs was palpable. It would be easy to turn over and take his hardness in her hands and bring him back to life. She would ride him like a stallion.

She wanted it. She wanted him more than she’d wanted anything in a long time. But such wanton abandon came with a cost. Was it one she was willing to pay? Perhaps she should take the pleasure they’d found and let that be all.

No matter how she envisioned this, all roads led to a poor end. How long could she keep him here? A few more days? A week? A month? Two? That was the best she could hope for.

Kit had made no promises. Nor could he. How could a man who did not know who he was offer her more than a passionate tryst? Though she thought him a gentleman, what if he wasn’t? He admitted that he was a boxer. Could not a successful pugilist have the degree of wealth that a merchant or gentleman did, assuming he invested his funds well? Could he be a commoner? Or was he the heir to some grand dukedom?

She was not sure which would be worse. A low-born boxer or a rich duke so far above her that she could never be more than a fleeting affair. Unless she became his mistress. Could she lower herself to do such a thing?

A silly voice inside her head said she could do anything if it meant keeping him. Yet if she became his mistress, she would be the one kept. He could have any number of women aside from her: a wife, another mistress, lovers…

Her eyes welled up, but she wiped the tears away. Crying was the least productive thing she could do. If she was on the battlefield with a mangled leg and a hole in her chest, then she could cry. If her brother was found bloody and dead, then she could cry. But crying over a charming man—who had no choice but to leave her and resume his life—was useless.

Violet eased apart from him and planted her feet on the cold wood floor. A hand grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”

She did not look at him. If she did, she would want to stay. Instead, she looked for her chemise and stays and put them back on. She shook out her discarded petticoat and tied it around her waist. As she tied the laces on her stays, he took hold of her waist and pulled her against his body.

He was so warm and hard. His chest crushed hers and she felt so small in his arms. Again, her eyes welled, but she blinked the moisture away.

“I hope you are merely stepping out to get some bread and cheese or to check on tonight’s dinner.”

“I have a few things to attend to. You should lie down and get some rest, Kit. Someone will come and check on you for dinner.”

His voice was a shard of ice. “
You
are not coming back for dinner?”

She turned her head from him. “I cannot say.”

“You mean you will not say. Why are you running from me?” His voice strained as he spoke, which finally convinced her to glance at him.

His eyes went wide and his hands gripped her arms as he held her a short length from his body. “Did I
hurt
you?”

Why did he think that? If he had hurt her, she would have screamed at the top of her lungs until Avery came and beat Kit to a bloody mess. Or she would have clawed and fought until
he
screamed in pain.

“Do you think me as weak and fragile as that?”

“Then you enjoyed your earlier punishment?” His gaze searched her face.

Yes
. “I do not enjoy being treated as a four-year old, but I did find the rest pleasurable.”

Kit sighed heavily. “Good.” His relief was almost tangible. He smiled at her and she felt the walls around her begin to crumble.

“I need time.”

His gaze was long and hard. “Time for what?”

“To collect myself. To speak to Mrs. Norris and Avery. To take a bath.” The waver in her voice betrayed her weakness. She had to appear strong. This was a man used to charging his opponents like a wild bull.

“How much time?” He crossed his arms.

Somehow the loss of his hands on her body made her feel empty rather than relieved. “I do not know.”

“I don’t understand you.” When he shook his head, his dark tresses swayed and she bit back the desire to run her fingers over the strands of his hair.

He cupped her chin and leaned down so that they were nose to nose. “You do not run from me. I respect that you…” He let out a long breath. “Need time. It has likely been a long time since you have known intimacy with a man. I am not so much of a brute that I would ignore that. But
tell
me. Do not run and force me to chase you. You will not like the result.”

Was that a threat? She looked into his eyes. Yes, it was. Should she be afraid? Somehow she could not bring herself to be. Kit was a man who lived his life on the edge of a knife blade. She’d known men like that before. Avery had once been such a man.

However, Violet was no meek woman. Kit would learn that soon enough. Though she was very much a woman, she was independent and opinionated. If she’d been any less, she would not have survived the marches and battles in the war.

“Fine. I will not run. But never assume that I will cower before you. I am not afraid of your temper, Kit. Nor will I ever be.”

She backed away from him and resumed lacing her stays, then looked through the blankets for her gown.

“I have never met a woman quite like you.” His voice was soft, all trace of the bull gone.

“I have known many men like you,” she countered.

“Really?” Even before he spoke, she could feel the heat of his body close to hers. So it was no surprise when he touched her waist.

“I met soldiers in the war who thrived on the thrill of the battle, who lived for pistols, liquor, and women. I’ve known reckless boys who charged into war with idiotic ideals and came back missing limbs, if they came back at all.”

“But am I the only one you graced with your heavenly body?” he asked, running his fingers up her sides then back down again. Her body hummed in response. Like a cat, she leaned into him, rubbing him.

“My husband was not that sort of man,” she said. “I have taken no other to my bed.”

He turned her around to face him. The glide of his lips over hers made her knees want to give way. She yielded, wrapping her arms around him and slipping her fingers through his hair.