Prelude to a Scandal (12 page)

Lord Winfield rolled his eyes. “Damn these women and their trinkets.” He heaved out an exhausted breath. “Give me a moment. I’ll have one of my servants fetch it out.”

Radcliff chuckled and tapped the man’s arm. “No, no. You don’t understand.”

Lord Winfield turned. “What? What do I not understand?”

“Give it to your wife. I believe she has earned it for recognizing quality. Good night.”

Men will always ardently seek to claim that which you must closely guard. And you’d best believe I am not referring to your little heart.
—
How to Avoid a Scandal, Author Unknown

The Bradford residence that same evening

RADCLIFF CLEARED HIS THROAT and tugged on the sleeves of his robe as he slowly made his way toward Justine’s bedchamber. He paused at her door and lingered for a moment, questioning if he was physically prepared to bed her. Blowing out a breath, he knocked.

“You don’t have to knock, Radcliff,” Justine offered in divinely warm and honeyed tones.

He wet his lips, assuring himself he was more than ready, turned the knob and edged into the room.

Justine lounged in the middle of her bed with a red leather-bound book. Meeting his gaze, she raised a brow and tossed the book off to the side of the bed with a thud.

She stared him down. “I want a tiger, not a lamb.”

More than encouraged by her erotic words, Radcliff slammed the door shut behind him and met her gaze as he untied the only thing left between them.

His robe.

He shrugged the robe from his shoulders, letting it slide off his naked body and pool around his bare feet. He stood there for a long moment, so she could get a good look. His cock grew heavy and thick at the thought of finally claiming her.

She gawked at him, her cheeks flushing to crimson. Her lips parted, as if she meant to say something, but not a single sound emerged.

With a few short strides he reached the bed. He settled down onto the mattress beside her, atop the coverlet she huddled beneath, and casually rolled toward her. He propped himself on his elbow and lifted a brow. “How does it feel to have your own statue of David?”

She giggled nervously, and gestured—though without looking—toward his exposed lower half which was pointing straight at her. “That appears to be three times the size of what David boasts.”

He grinned. “I’m so thrilled you noticed.”

Grabbing hold of her hand, he brought it down onto his cock, guiding her fingers to close around its soft tip. A woman’s touch, her touch, had never felt so good or so satisfying. He had never genuinely wanted a woman this much for himself, in his heart or his loins.

She sucked in a breath. “By God. I never—”

He grabbed her waist and yanked her body flat onto the mattress beside him. He sat atop her thighs, pinning her firmly into place. “Is there anything you wanted to discuss before we begin?”

She gawked up at him. “Pardon?”

He leaned toward her, brushing the soft strands of long, undone hair from her smooth, flushed cheeks. “Do you have concerns?”

“I…” Her hazel eyes observed him with a tangle of adoration and uncertainty. “Is it me you really want in this moment, Radcliff?” she whispered up at him. “Or is it your obsession that wants me?”

“I want you.” He lowered his head to her soft neck, which was scented with achingly sweet rose water. He touched his lips to the side of her warm throat, repeatedly kissing its length as tenderly as he knew how. Although he wanted to ravage her there and then, without pausing a moment longer, he had every intention of waiting patiently for her natural instincts to take over, and prove to her that he had mastered his own body enough for them both to enjoy their night.

A SHAKY BREATH ESCAPED Justine as she shuddered beneath the length and width of Radcliff’s smooth muscled body. Her husband never ceased to astound her, and all she wanted was to revel in this tender moment he was offering. A moment before they plunged into the abyss of pleasure.

Radcliff slowly lifted his dark head from where it was buried against her neck and hovered above her, as if needing to look at her face.

She blinked back up at his rugged, scarred face which was already lightly dusted with evening stubble. His scar certainly suited him. For it spoke of his character and of his heart. One side perfect. And one side not.

The black tips of his hair feathered her forehead as he lingered closer, gently pressing a large hand to the side of her face. “I have a confession to make,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing against her cheek. “I survived these past two weeks by pleasuring myself. Repeatedly. I didn’t want to, but I had to.”

Her cheeks burned at the admission, and she knew she needed to speak before all rational thoughts disappeared. She guided her fingers along his jaw. “I appreciate you telling me and am asking that from this night forth, there are no more amorous sessions with yourself. Not ever alone and most certainly not ever before a portrait or any object in this house.”

“Matilda’s portrait comes down tomorrow as soon as I wake.” He paused. “But the same would apply for you. You haven’t been pleasuring yourself these past two weeks without me, have you?”

She gurgled out a laugh. “I haven’t.”

“Good. Otherwise it wouldn’t be in the least bit fair.”

She swallowed. “So you promise?”

“Yes. I promise.”

She poked his bare, muscled shoulder. “You’d best swear it upon your honor and your soul, Radcliff. For how are we to create a genuine intimacy between us if you’re off with yourself and I’m off with myself?”

He chuckled. “I do believe I’m blushing.”

“I mean it, Radcliff. Swear it upon your honor and your soul. Swear to me you won’t ever pleasure yourself whilst you are alone. I am beginning to believe it’s important to our relationship.”

His features stilled and grew serious. “Then I swear it.” He leaned in closer. “Now kiss me and do not make me suffer a moment more.”

“I am yours from this night forth, Radcliff. Always.” She quickly lifted her head to close the distance between their lips. He instantly pressed his warm mouth against hers and slid his tongue between her lips, grazing her own tongue.

A groan escaped him as his hand left the side of her face and trailed the outside of her arms. Incredible shivers raced throughout her body as his hand traveled farther down to her waist, buried beneath the coverlet.

Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears as he tilted his body to one side, momentarily removing his weight from hers. Still kissing her, his thumb rubbed her midsection in a circular motion, moving its way down her belly. Down to where they both wanted him to be.

She sank into the pleasurable sensation of his hot touch, which burned straight through the thin muslin of her chemise.

The tip of his tongue slowly traced her upper lip, then her lower lip. His entire mouth was soon molded against hers, his tongue delving deeper, toward the back of her mouth, twining and flicking.

A moan escaped her as she gave in to him.

His lips pressed harder, forcing her tongue farther into the wetness of his mouth. She feverishly pushed her tongue against his.

His hands took hold of her wrists and dragged her arms above her head. He shifted against her. His thick arousal pushed into her lower thigh, causing her to arch toward him.

She was more than ready.

His hands pinned her tightly as he dug his hips hard into her. Rubbing. Then circling. The searing heat of his body became her own. She could no longer stay still. Her body writhed.

He released her wrists and her mouth. His fingers grabbed the fabric of her chemise and lifted. His broad muscled chest expanded with a deep tremble. The fabric pooled at her belly as his large hand gently trailed up her knee to the soft flesh of her thigh. Tickles mixed with an exploding waterfall of sensation possessed her entire body.

She panted, unable to fight the feelings. His fingers stopped between her thighs and he gently tapped her wet folds. Her legs widened, fully opening up her core to him. He slowly pushed one finger into her, rubbing his palm against her most sensitive place. She gasped and he slipped a second finger into her. Then a third. He stilled and rubbed his palm firmly against her mound, then pushed deeper.

Pressure welled within her. She was so full. So wide open for him. She moaned.

He pressed harder and an unexpected searing pain rippled through her flesh. Her eyes fluttered open in astonishment.

He hovered above her, watching her face as his fingers firmly rocked back and forth and from side to side. “I’m readying you to receive me,” he whispered. “Nothing more.”

She couldn’t even nod.

He instantly withdrew his fingers, trailing her moisture down her thigh. All the pressure vanished, and he slid down the length of her, his hot mouth sucking and licking her folds.

She drew in a shaky breath and watched in disbelief as his broad shoulders shifted and his dark head bobbed between her thighs, his tongue urgently lapping at her wetness. His fingers dug into her thighs as he spread her legs farther apart to make room for him.

He flicked his tongue over and over in the area that affected her most, making pleasure rise in the pit of her stomach with each pulsing touch.

How was she going to ever deny him again, knowing what he was capable of? Her breath hitched in her throat as she grabbed hold of his thick, soft hair and held him firmly, almost savagely, against her.

He moaned and blindly reached down and gave his erection several quick jerks, causing it to stick further out.

Every moment she was brought closer and closer to a glittering haven of utter bliss.

Her fingers blindly found the soft texture of his scar on the side of his face. A scar she had always wanted to touch but was afraid to until now. She rubbed it intimately, up and down, up and down, just as he was doing to her with his tongue, and inwardly wished she could melt that scar away beneath her fingers. Along with whatever else brought him pain.

His tongue stopped and with it her promise of heaven. “You make a man want scars all over his body,” he growled against her.

She smiled.

Radcliff rose, letting cool air bathe her hot folds. Grabbing hold of her chemise, he yanked her up for a moment, and then jerking the cloth over her head and arms, he whipped it aside, sending it floating off the bed.

Justine panicked for a brief moment, realizing that she was stark naked beneath him. But the warmth of his velvet body, which had lowered back onto hers, covered her panic with assurance.

He licked her lips hard, leaving a sweet saltiness behind. “Taste yourself,” he said in a low, rumbling tone.

It was something she would have never thought to do, but coming from him, it was oddly erotic. She feverishly ran her hands up and down the length of his firm, muscled back and grabbed for his buttocks, squeezing them. Enjoying their solid mass.

He slid his mouth lower and sucked in the nipple of her left breast, spreading gooseflesh across her entire body.

She arched against him, wanting him to suckle more. “Harder.”

He chuckled against her. “You didn’t like that before.”

“I do now.” Her pulse soared as his body ground against hers, and he pulled more of her breast into his mouth. His hand pushed down between them, and his fingers flicked at that wildly sensitive spot yet again.

“I vow to be gentle,” he softly promised.

“I know you will,” she panted. She held on to him, waiting for him to claim her entire body, heart and soul once and for all.

RADCLIFF GUIDED HIS SOLID cock into her and moaned in disbelief as he edged inside her hot, tight wetness.

He pressed farther into her. Slowly. She tensed beneath him, her core clamping down on his hard shaft. Ripples of ecstasy shot to his buttocks, and he choked. With one swift, solid jerk, he pushed past the last resistance of her maidenhead and buried himself deep within her.

Although his body demanded he thrust deeper, he gritted his teeth and waited, trying to protect her from the pain. From himself.

He swallowed and brushed a hand over the top of her head, memorizing the feel of everything belonging to her. “How is the pain?” he managed.

Her body gradually relaxed beneath him. “It was short-lived.”

He swallowed, his body urging him to keep thrusting. He fought against it. “I will wait,” he insisted hoarsely.

She slipped her small hands beneath his arms and gripped his waist. Hard. “Do not wait. Take your pleasure. And give me mine.”

As if he needed to be told twice.

He slid himself out, then slid his full length back into her tightness. He did it painfully slow, in and out, trying to control himself, even as the explosive downpour of sensations threatened to take away the last of his reason.

Her tightness against his throbbing shaft was unbearable. All he really wanted to do was pound against her. Like an animal. “Justine,” he hissed out, forcing himself not to move, lest he lose control. “It has been far too long. Let me finish you and then I shall finish myself with my hand. We will try again tomorrow.”

She held him tighter against herself, practically clinging to him. “No more self-pleasuring. Not ever again. Do what you will and be true to what you want from me. I wish it.”

Oh, God. He had to. He had to fuck the way his body wanted to. He jerked out of her wetness and after an agonizing pause, slammed himself completely into her, sending all those much needed sensations throughout his entire body.

A gasping breath escaped her, as her nails dug into his skin.