Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (9 page)

“I noticed your mother was rather more amenable than usual.” He turned another corner. Quieter, dimmer lit and on the outskirts of the gardens. Then into a grotto. Rather pleasing, with shell decoration, but she didn’t have much time to appreciate it. As soon as he’d ascertained the place was empty, he swung her into his arms and kissed her in a way her mother would definitely not have approved of.

When he opened his lips over hers, she obliged willingly, letting him taste her with lavish extravagance. Then she tasted him in turn. He moaned into her mouth and his hands, no longer safely settled at her waist, roamed over her back, her shoulders and the bare skin of her neck, where one settled, holding her close.

She could have lost herself in him, happily remained there all night, but he finished the kiss and gazed into her eyes. “Doubts?”

How could he know that? “I’ve never been here before.”

He glanced around. “It was the most obscure place I could think of. It was popular last year and there’s nothing as sad as a place that’s fallen out of fashion. Except I marked it.”

“But people could still come.”

“They won’t, I swear it.”

How could he be so sure? But heaven help her, she couldn’t stop herself from returning his caresses. She wanted to feel his skin against hers again, with nothing between them. That one taste had bloomed in her mind, grown until it obsessed her. “I want you so much, Blaize.”

“And I you, sweetheart. I fall asleep thinking of you, wishing you were with me. This obsession is beyond my understanding.” He shook his head. “I’ve had women before, you have to know that, but I’ve never been possessed with someone so much that they occupy my every waking moment. And some of my sleeping moments too.” He paused, and they lost themselves in another kiss. By the time they’d done, they were both breathing heavily and her lace was askew, pushed roughly aside by Blaize.

He drew away and watched her as he slowly dragged her breasts from their shield of stays and bodice. Lifting her chin, she saw him in the light cast by one flickering lantern. His eyes darkened with desire, his mouth was swollen from their kisses. “I dare not do more than this, otherwise I will take you here, but I need a taste. Something to keep me going. I thirst for you, Aurelia, I long for your kiss and your touch. When I hear something amusing, I want to share it with you, and when I come home, I want you there.”

Holding her head between his hands, he kissed her again, long and sweet, before touching his lips down her throat, nuzzling the pulse throbbing there and moving on to her breasts. By the time he sucked a nipple deep into his mouth, she was moaning with unfulfilled longing. The idea that someone might interrupt them had its shocking effect of heightening her excitement. How this could be she failed to understand, but she accepted it. And that nobody would. The footman would keep everyone away.

If he stood within sight of the grotto, he could see them. She gasped sharply when that eventuality occurred to her. Blaize lifted his head and must have seen her excitement. “You want to perform for an audience?”

“How do you know these things?” Her voice came out in a strangled gasp, but she had no idea how he could seemingly read her mind.

“Because we’re so well attuned, sweetheart. Think about it as us working on the same level. And while I’m enjoying you, think of that dour footman appreciating the view.” He pressed a kiss to her nipple. “Seeing these beauties. But never forget that they belong to me.” When he spoke, his voice vibrated next to the soft, yielding skin of her breast, and she shuddered.

“That feels wonderful.” He deserved to know that what he was doing pleased her, surely?

“Tell me when you like something. Tell me when you don’t like it as well. It’s the only way I’ll learn. And oh, I do want to learn.” With a moan, he went back to his feast.

Dropping to his knees, he smoothed his hands over her silk-clad calves, then up to her thighs. This was the first time he’d broken his self-imposed ban on touching her intimately. So far his courtship had been completely proper, and it had driven her mad. This was what she wanted, what she needed from this man.

His touch sent her wild, and she had to cover her mouth with her hand. Bunching it into a fist, she bit down on the fleshy part of the outside of her hand, suppressing the excited cries he was wringing from her.

Before she could plead for more, he touched her quim, slid his fingers along her crease. The cool evening air washed over her, emphasizing the sensitivity of her breasts. Shuddering, she opened her legs wider for him, but when he ducked under her skirts, he took her completely unprepared.

He attacked her like a marauder, licking thirstily at her hot, wet centre, a man in search of essential sustenance. He drank her, tasted every part of her and made her cry out sharply when he flicked his tongue into her aching, throbbing passage.

Imagine, he’d said, and she did. That footman could see what he was doing. In her mind her skirts were tucked up so he could see everything he wanted to. An elegantly dressed gentleman lapping at her, then sucking—oh, God—her clitoris.

She had nothing to lean against. She’d have taken the wall, even though it was lined with shells, which would have made the support deeply uncomfortable. She had to open her legs wide, to retain her balance and put one hand on his shoulder, feeling the way his muscles flexed as he supported her as he sucked.

From his moans, the way he worked at her so voraciously, he must be enjoying his feast, but she’d never imagined a man would take pleasure from this activity. When she realized such was possible from the books she’d discovered in the family library, snuggled behind copies of
The Spectator
, she thought the man would do it so the woman would do it to him. Would he like that?

Would the man standing in the darkness like it? Would she enjoy two men driving her wild?

Her arousal ratcheted up further, something she’d never have imagined possible a few moments ago, but it did, making her whimper against her hand.

He curved his hands around her buttocks, hauling her closer as he sucked and pleasured her to a peak of excitement. At the last moment he changed, from sucking to flicking his tongue against her unbearably sensitive clitoris.

Aurelia imagined the man outside and more, all waiting their turn, and she exploded. He pushed a finger into her, and she came around it, his surprising action sending her higher, pulsing around him.

She gave a strangled cry and he emerged from the voluminous folds of her gown, standing to sweep her into his arms and press his lips to hers in a kiss. She licked his lips, savoured her essence on his tongue.

“I want to taste you,” she whispered when, finally, their lips separated.

He shuddered, his breath ragged. “If I’d known… We can’t spare the time, my sweet.”

“Are you close?”

“Oh yes.”

“Then we do.”

She wanted this badly. To drive him as mad as he’d driven her. She glanced around. The grotto was lined with a narrow, wooden bench. That would do. “Sit.”

Half laughing, he obeyed. He was wearing dark green tonight. It would be enough to cover any marks, especially if he flicked his coat skirts up to form a cushion for him to lean against.

She swept her skirts out of the way and knelt on the hard, stone floor, fumbling with the fall of his breeches. Unfastening it, she found his underwear no barrier to her objective, and she soon had his member throbbing in her hand. The base was too large to circle with her fingers, and in truth the size daunted her. She’d seen a male member before, having lived in the country for some time, but not one in this state of tumescence.

She loved it. A bead of moisture had emerged from the small slit at the top, the smooth head that gleamed in the dim light. She bent her head and claimed it for her own. He tasted salty, spicy and delicious. She moved the hand that clasped him, surprised at the softness of the skin there and the rigidity of the shaft beneath. He rewarded her with a low groan.

He liked it. So did she. Recalling his regular, rhythmic sucking, she tried that with him, closed her mouth over the tip and sucked, then released, sucked and released.

“Look at me.” She could hardly hear him, his voice was so low and hoarse.

Lifting her gaze, she met his eyes. She hadn’t realized he’d taken a seat close to the lamp—she could see that amazing grey, now almost completely swallowed up by the black chasms of his pupils. He was gripping the edge of the bench on either side of him, so his knuckles showed white.

She had him helpless. Aurelia set to work to see what she could do. He had a handkerchief gripped in his hand, and she would have snorted if her mouth had not been full. He wouldn’t get to use that. She’d claim everything he had.

Sucking, working her mouth up and down that soft skin, feeling her lover as intimately as possible, Aurelia felt a current between them, a wash of sensation that had more to do with the way they were gazing at each other than their physical activity.

But that—he tasted wonderfully fresh, but with a darker overtone she could find necessary to her soul. When she swept her tongue along as much of the flange under the head as she could manage, he closed his eyes and moaned, then opened them wide, as if forcing himself to continue to meet that sizzling current between them.

Unashamed, no,
proud
of what she was doing to him, she tried curling her tongue, cupping it around his cock, and watched his reaction. She could suck better that way, and he was close. He heated even more, then the base tightened, and because she had her hand around the shaft she felt the fluid surge up the column and into her mouth in a series of short, harsh spurts.

She swallowed, and swallowed again, but a dribble of liquid seeped out. She couldn’t take it all. When sure she absorbed all she could, taken every bit of him, she eased away.

He was still hard, but softening. She didn’t want to let go, but when he bent and put his hands under her arm to haul her into his lap, she had to. Dragging her close, he fastened his lips to hers and as she had done a moment ago, he discovered what he tasted like on her lips. Licking into her mouth, he made her feel ravished, even though they hadn’t taken the ultimate step. She wanted to, but when she put her hand down to feel his cock, he gently moved it.

After finishing the kiss, he opened his eyes and gazed into her face. “Not tonight, sweet one. I want us to celebrate this in the best possible way. Not fumbling and furtive in a stolen half hour. We shouldn’t have done this, but I couldn’t resist you. Can’t.” Reaching down, he put himself away, lifting his fall and fastening a couple of buttons. Then he set about putting her to rights. Gently he tucked her breasts back into her bodice, and gave the lace a tug. “Good as new.”

“You can be my lady’s maid from now on,” she told him, giving him a kiss of thanks.

He took the kiss and made it more, and she forgot everything but him. Every time their lips came together it happened, and she didn’t know how or if it would ever stop. Never wanted it to.

“Forever, if you wish it,” he murmured against her lips. He drew away slightly and watched her. “I meant to hold off, I intended to fight so hard to stop this from happening again, but when I saw you everything else went out of the window. You are all that matters to me now. From the moment I saw you I knew—” He shook his head, chuckling ruefully. “I’m sorry. I’ll get maudlin any minute.”

She laid her forehead against his. “I feel the same. Except that I was waiting for something and I never knew what it was. It was you.”

“We need to get away, and for that we need to be married. Will you marry me, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” She didn’t have to think about it. She’d been longing for him to ask her.

“Then I will get matters underway, with your permission. I can’t wait any longer.”

She gave an awkward laugh. “So businesslike!”

“We must be.” He paused. “Remember what I said? That I’d tell you everything?” She nodded. “I will. But not now. It can’t be rushed. I’ll visit your mother tomorrow and ask for permission to address you. Although it should be your brother. I wanted to wait until he came home.”

“I’m of age. He can’t stop me.” She could wait for the settlement.

He kissed her. “That’s not the point. By the way you talk about your brother, I know you love him. So I want you to be happy. If he objects, I want to discuss it with him.” He paused, gazed at her. “He’s part of the news I have for you.”

“You have his gift?” she exclaimed. Everything fell into place, as if the pieces of some picture she couldn’t yet see started coming together. An oil painter created his work in layers. First he did the landscape, then the people, then the details. She had a broad brush outline. Something he shared with her brother. Sometimes Edmund knew her better than she knew herself. “You have the same kind of gift?”

“Many,” he said, smiling. “What did you mean?”

“The way you can tell what I’m about to say. As if you understand me better than I do. My mother has it too, but that is because she is my mama and knows me better than anyone.”

The smile faded. “It’s part of it, yes. That can happen when you know someone well.” He rose, lifting her off his lap and set to straightening her skirts. “If your brother has a secret, it’s up to him to tell you. I can only tell you mine. But I may need to show you proof.” He pulled her hooped petticoat, stepped back and frowned. Then he glanced up at her face. “Good as new.”

Occasionally the idea had occurred to her, that her mother had more than a strong will on her side, but the notion had seemed so preposterous that she’d dismissed it. But now—she wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Think about this.” His expression softening, he drew her close once more and kissed her. She curved her hand around his neck and returned the favour.

“What we need,” he said with determination, moving her away, “is a bed and privacy. For at least a week. You are talented, beautiful, and I want you more than I can remember wanting anyone else.” He kissed her nose between each word. “Time, privacy and no clothes.”