Chapter 2 #2
Heather’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, her breath hitching at the man’s sheer size.
He was but a shadow in the space, but he loomed large.
Before taking a position on Bow Street and beginning her training, Heather might have found such a man intimidating.
Now, however, she knew at least seven ways in which to fell him should he attempt to do her harm.
At the moment, all she felt was eagerness and desire.
The shutters surrounding the gazebo were closed, creating a private circular space bordered by a bench that appeared to be covered with pillows. An ideal place for a tryst.
Oh, hell. Am I really doing this?
The man’s breath still came fast, a clear sign of his excitement, and her core gave a responding throb. She wanted this.
“We haven’t much time,” she said, her voice husky and entirely foreign to her ears.
He nodded once and tore his coat from his shoulders, then went to work on his waistcoat buttons and cravat. Heather followed his lead and removed her gloves, then went to work on her feathered costume.
“Allow me,” he said hoarsely.
She turned her back to him, and he nimbly unbuttoned the black frock, helped her step from it, and draped it carefully over the edge of the circular bench. He reached for the ties of her corset, but she stayed him.
“We needn’t bother with those.” In the interest of saving time, keeping layers on was paramount.
Additionally, she felt absurdly conscious of her naked body being on display for this unknown man.
While she was by no means uncomfortable with her size or weight—no matter what her aunt and cousins said—the thought of such vulnerability, in a moment when she wished to be strong, rankled.
This was a moment she was taking for herself.
He gave a sharp nod and pulled his shirt over his head, careful not to dislodge his silk domino mask. And she gasped, long and loud in the small space. While he was still in shadow, her eyes had adjusted enough for her to discern his marvellous—and utterly fascinating—body.
From his narrow waist, up his muscular abdomen and broad chest, and down his thick arms, the man was almost entirely covered with images.
The expanse of his chest was covered with a large image of an anchor with rope woven around it, and surrounding it were images of swallows in flight.
She couldn’t discern their colours, or the images that graced his arms, but that anchor… Blimey.
Almost instantly, a wave of uncertainty tightened his muscles and thinned his lips. Drat. She’d been staring too long. If she had more time, she would dedicate it to thoughtfully exploring every inch of his torso. But she had an elderly earl to return to before he came in search of her.
So, before the mysterious man could turn away, she reached out. “May I touch you?” she whispered.
His throat bobbed before he said gutturally, “Christ, yes.”
With a small smile and her stomach abuzz with nerves, she pressed her hands firmly to his abdomen.
His skin was hot to the touch, but also markedly soft.
She palmed a path over his broad chest and shoulders and down his muscular arms. Law, but the man was afire, his body both hard and soft simultaneously.
With that touch, the moment changed. He dipped to take her lips with his. Their masks bumped, and Heather relished the restriction, the mystery.
His tongue flicked erotically over hers, each movement eliciting tingles of excitement throughout her body. A moan escaped her, and she clutched his shoulders tighter as he ground his hips against hers. The hard ridge of his erection rubbed deliciously against her cleft.
Something about the man was comforting—familiar—as though her body had known the touch of him before. It was impossible, of course, but the feeling calmed what few nerves she had about the encounter.
“I want you,” she breathed.
He groaned and broke their kiss to trail his lips along the side of her neck, his arms coming around her waist and pulling her against him.
“I have but one stipulation,” she continued on a whisper.
Body stilling, he drew back to look her in the eyes. “Of course.”
Heather hesitated, a blush creeping over her cheeks.
She’d heard enough of her friends’ encounters—and had read a great deal on the subject—to know what she wanted.
But dare she confess her desire? She desperately wanted to remember this moment, to have it burned into her memory, sustaining her for the remainder of her life after she was removed from society. Yes. She must. “Don’t be gentle.”
A low, rumbling growl vibrated in his chest. “As you desire.”
In a blur of activity, the mysterious man had her sitting on the edge of the gazebo’s perimeter bench, pillows at her back. He threw one to the ground and shockingly lowered himself to his knees before her.
“I need to see you,” he growled.
With sure movements, he tugged at the low neckline of her chemise and popped one breast out above her corset. Another rumble came from his chest.
“So pert and pink.” Wrapping one arm between her back and the pillows, he held her close and took the nipple into his mouth.
A hot burst of pleasure swept her from head to foot as he teased. His tongue flicked, his teeth scraped, and—good God—the suckling! Her hands drifted to his hair, careful to not dislodge the ties of his domino as he lavished her breast with attention.
He swiftly exposed the other and repeated his attentions, garnering breathy moans from her.
She wanted this man without question.
Rather suddenly, he pulled back to bunch her skirts around her abdomen, his gaze locked on her exposed cunny.
Her stomach gave a swoop of giddy nerves.
His callused hands rubbed along her inner thighs, massaging the muscles, and her pulse skipped.
A delectable quivering began low in her belly, the sensation preceding a wanton throbbing through her core.
Then her mind was rendered entirely blank as his head disappeared between her legs and he licked her cleft. Pleasure shot through her, and a keening moan was pulled from her lips.
He grunted again, the heat of his breath against her cunny adding to her excitement. He laved in earnest, consuming her with erotic strokes of his tongue.
Unable to keep her hands to herself, she reached down to grip his hair in her fists as he worked, flicking over each sensitive nerve, and—oh, the gentle suction from his lips!
She knew of the “little death” from her friends and could recognize the impending rupture in the tightening of her muscles, the stuttering of her breath…and the utterly delectable tingling that rippled through her in ever-strengthening waves.
“My God,” she whimpered. “I’m going to—”
With a ragged gasp, he drew back. “I need to be inside you when you come,” he ground out.
Heather groaned, already missing his touch.
His lips quirked. “I haven’t any condoms. Have you taken precautions?”
Her mind awhirl with lust, Heather blinked at the man. Condom? Precautions? She’d never heard of the former, but she was not too lust-addled to mistake his meaning. He wished to know if she had any protection against pregnancy.
“No,” she blurted.
He nodded, and with a heated glance, he unfastened his breeches and slid them down in one smooth motion. She had a mere moment to take in his enormous, ruddy, jutting erection before he gripped it and slid the tip of himself against her.
Sparks danced behind her eyelids at the contact.
“Oh,” she breathed.
He used her damp arousal as a means to lubricate his member before he pressed himself inside. The muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed as he gripped her hips in his large hands and thrust hard, breaking through her maidenhead and filling her fully in one swift move.
She hid a grimace at the pinch of pain, and her husky gasp mingled with the mystery man’s panting. While the pain had been minimal, she felt so…full.
Then he began to move. Withdrawing, then thrusting deep inside her again and again, the build-up of pleasure mounted once more.
Widening her thighs, she shifted her pelvis until, with every thrust of his hips, he wrought the most delicious pleasure.
She traced her hands over every inch of his skin within her reach, relishing the quiver of his muscles beneath her touch.
“Christ,” he gasped. “You’re so…tight. You feel…so good.”
“As do you,” she replied truthfully.
Heat coiled around her once more, but there was something missing. Her climax was just out of her reach.
Groaning, he released one of her hips and pressed a thumb into her labia, swiftly finding the pearl of pleasure.
“Yes,” she urged.
He swirled his thumb around her cleft, the friction adding just what she needed to reach her—
Blinding light burst behind her eyelids. Back arching, her breath stuttered, and her body tensed in a paroxysm of ecstasy.
“Fuck,” the man cursed, his dark eyes hot on her through his domino.
His hips pumped feverishly, the friction only prolonging the torrent of her gratification.
All at once, he withdrew, his spine stiffened, his teeth bared themselves on a snarl, and his skin flushed as his seed spilled in hot spurts on her inner thigh.