Page 34 of How to Court a Rake
‘Mary,’ he growled her name in warning of his desire and in witness to it, as he lay back and drew her over him, her legs straddling his hips, his hands unerringly sliding beneath her skirts and resting on the warm, satin skin of her calves. His gaze was riveted on her, his eyes attuned to every detail of her face: the dusky sweep of lashes, the cream of her skin, the delicate length of her nose, the sensual bow of her mouth…the elegant column of her neck. He could not recall a time when the individual parts of a woman had roused him so thoroughly, fixated him so completely to the exclusion of all else. He raised a hand to her hair, pushing it back behind her ear. ‘I am no gentleman, Mary.’
‘I know. I would be disappointed if you decided to play one now.’ She licked her lips and wriggled against his groin. His desire spiked in evident ways. ‘I don’t want the gentleman, Caine. I want the rake.’
He gave a groan between gritted teeth. She could not be ignorant of his desire now. ‘I will ruin you.’
‘I am already ruined. What you and I do here on this blanket will not be worse than what society is already doing to me in their gossip columns and behind their fans. In fact, I am certain what we’ll do will be a whole lot better.’ Then she leaned low, her hair skimming his chest, her mouth finding his as she whispered the words that lit his body on fire. ‘Shatter me.’
‘Your wish is my fervent desire.’ He gave a rough, raw laugh and rolled her beneath him. ‘What would you like first, my queen? My mouth, my hands?’ He watched her eyes go wide and dark at the prospect, her desire a palpable thing that pulsed between them, hot and strong and wild.
‘Both,’ she breathed. ‘I want what I had in the carriage, I want that…again.’
‘Then you shall have it and more.’
Caine had his mouth on her, trailing kisses up her leg, his mouth a deliciously warm, wicked and wonderful contrast to the gentle evening breeze blowing against her bare skin. She had thought nothing could match the pleasure of Caine’s hand on her, his fingers within her, but what did she know? It was clear now that she’d simply had no bar for comparison. This was sheer heaven, this peaceful interlude that presaged the storm of pleasure to come. Her body tightened in anticipation of it, desire winding itself up hard and pulsing in the place between her legs, attuned and waiting for his arrival.
He pressed a soft kiss to the curls there and her body went wild, her blood thrummed, a moan of welcome purled up her throat. And then his mouth, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, went to work, putting the prior efforts of his fingers to shame as she arched into him, every nerve of her, every inch of her alive. His tongue gave a wicked lick at her seam, tracing the track his fingers had once followed, and she trembled with the delight of it, pleasure echoing through her.
He looked up, his gaze travelling the intimate distance of her to meet her gaze, a slow, sinful smile spreading on his face, his own breath ragged as he coached, ‘Be a good girl, Mary, this is for you, all for you. Reach for it, get lost in it, take what you want and let it takeyou.’
To take what she wanted, to take what this man offered?
Yes, and yes again. How heady, how glorious to take instead of always giving, and this time she knew how to take, how to let go. Her body was hungry for him, it craved the release that waited for her, called for her with every press of his mouth, every stroke of his tongue. He’d found her secret place once more, this time with the tip of that wicked tongue, and she gave a gasp, turning her face upwards, eyes wide open to the purpling sky.
She clutched at him, her hands buried in the depths of his dark waves, either in search of anchorage, or in the hopes of control, that somehow she could prolong the pleasure, hold it, hold this moment where she hovered on the precipice between pleasure denied and pleasure achieved for ever.
His hands tightened at her hips, a groan escaping him. The sound of his own pleasure racking him pushed her beyond the careful brink she’d wrought. She wanted to hover no more, she wanted the release, wanted to shatter against him, wanted to soar to the skies and she was not beyond begging. ‘Caine, Caine, Caine.’ His name became a plea, a prayer on her lips that she sent up into the firmaments and the gods of pleasure took pity on her. She fractured, the skies swallowing her cries while Caine collapsed against her, his head on her belly, her hands knotted in his hair.
It was worth it.This was the one thought that flitted through her mind as she spiralled back to consciousness, her soul falling slowly out of the purple sky as the moon rose in summer-gold splendour above her. Whatever happened next, this had been worth it. She would know the pleasure for ever—the feel of his touch at her most intimate places, the luxury of these floating, peaceful minutes that came afterwards. No one could take this from her. She had permitted this, given this to herself and she would dare a bit more before this was over.
‘Caine,’ she called his name softly.
He lifted his head from her belly, his dark eyes dreamy in the aftermath of desire. This was not a gaze Caine Parkhurst cultivated for public consumption. A warm heat stole through her at the thought that perhaps this look was for her alone. ‘What?’ Even that simple word was spoken as a seduction.
‘Can I give you something…ah…similar?’ For all of her newfound boldness she lacked a refined knowledge of what might be offered and how.
Caine crawled up her body and stole a kiss before rolling on to his side, head propped in his hand, wickedness returning to his eyes. ‘You can, if you like,’ he drawled, ‘but you are not required.’
‘I want to,’ she murmured. ‘I can use my teeth, my tongue, my hand?’
Caine growled. ‘Do you have any idea what those words do to a man?’
She laughed. ‘If they do anything close to what you just did to me, then, yes, I do.’ She lay down alongside him, her head in the pocket of his chest where shoulder met torso, revelling in the warmth of him, the security she felt lying in his arms. This was another revelation—how intimacy could be passion, hot and wild, while it could also be closeness and comfort in the stillness of a summer night. But Caine knew. Perhaps that was part of his charm: he knew seduction’s deep magic.
She sought him in the darkness, her hand reaching for him through his trousers and finding the length of him still aroused and hard against the fabric, against her hand. She let herself learn him, tracing him, marvelling at him. The hardness did not surprise her. She’d felt the press of him against her buttocks twice now, hard and hot and insistent. But the length, the size,thatwas a surprise. ‘You feel bigger than I thought.’
Caine gave a low chuckle. ‘I am not sure how to take that. I thought we’d discussed big men before.’
‘But that was about dancing, not about…this…’
‘Dancing is sex, didn’t you know? That’s why I like it so much,’ Caine teased in low, wicked tones.
‘You’re incorrigible.’ She laughed with him, wanting to be as bold as he. What freedom there was in boldness, to do and say what one wanted, when one wanted. To speak one’s mind instead of looking for delicate ways to say things. She continued her hand study of him, feeling the tip and then tracing his length back to the root, her fingers fascinated.
‘It’s more fascinating to see in person,’ he coaxed. ‘Undo my breeches. Take it out, give it a proper introduction.’
She bit her lip in anticipation as she worked his falls. This, too, was something she’d not anticipated—the playfulness, the togetherness of love games. This was not the formal, perfunctory activity her mother had alluded to on rare occasion, an activity to be endured, over and done in a few minutes. She had him free of his breeches, her eyes taking a moment to feast before her hand could not resist the urge to touch.
Caine’s hand closed about hers as they made a loose fist about his phallus, moving slowly up and down its length, then left her to find her own rhythm. She explored his tip, running her palm over it, finding the moisture there. She smiled as she spread it down his length.
