Page 18 of Ruby in the Rough (Heiress #4)

Chapter

Eighteen

O h, hell no. He wasn’t letting Cordelia walk away from him that fast, or that easily.

Two quick strides brought him up behind her, still deep in the narrow passage at the back of the hunting lodge.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her pert backside pressed along his rigid length, the contact sending a sharp jolt of desire through his body. His free hand slid up, cupping just beneath her breast.

She gasped, but did not push him away as he expected. Instead, her fingers covered his, holding him there, as if she wanted him exactly where he stood.

He lowered his mouth to the nape of her neck, breathing her in before dragging his tongue along the warm curve of muscle to the delicate shell of her ear. “I want you so badly,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I am not myself around you, nor can I control what it is you make me feel.”

Her pert arse teased his cock, and he sucked in a startled breath.

“You cannot hold me like this, Your Grace, we will be caught, and then the wife you do not want will be a wife that you have.”

The idea of her marrying someone else sent panic to coil in his gut, even while the idea of marrying her himself caused the same response.

She was a duke's daughter, a lady, and he was a gentleman, he ought to know better.

Cordelia was not a woman to dally with, but right at this moment, he felt like no gentleman.

He felt like a man who was flailing, who did not know what he was doing, a man who wanted everything this woman could give him without the responsibilities that came with it.

Blast it all to hell, he was a bastard.

“I do not care.” And in truth, he did not. Would it be so bad to be married? Many others had accomplished the feat and survived. Even if his parents had barely tolerated each other, his father far from faithful and unwilling to hide his amours.

He was not the late duke, no matter if he’d spent the past eight years in society an echo of his sire, that did not mean things had to always be that way.

Cordelia reached behind him, her hand sliding over his hip and onto his buttocks, divesting all debate from his mind. He sucked in a startled breath, surprised by her boldness.

His cock ached, his balls were hard, and he longed for release. He wrenched away, needing to break the contact between them, from all the unwanted emotions she conjured in him before he did something reckless he could not take back.

She turned, eyes wide, and stared at him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“You should go. Truly, leave now.” He spied a door at his side, and without knowing where he was going, started for it. He stepped into the small space, a cloak room with several of his hunting jackets already hanging within along with hats, walking sticks, and boots.

He needed a moment to compose himself, to remind himself she was a debutante who wanted a husband.

Everything he did not, but before he could close the door, she slipped in there with him, shutting the door on the world beyond.

They were in darkness now, only the smallest light slithering underneath the door itself.

Cordelia did not speak but pushed against his chest. His back came up against the wall with a thud. “What are you doing?” There was laughter in his tone, although the circumstances were far from amusing. He should not encourage her, but nor could he deny her anything.

She did not reply and then he felt it. The feather-light brush of her mouth on his throat. He reached for the wall, his hands plastered flat against the surface, telling himself not to reach for her, not to touch her, not to do anything.

For if he did, the maid that she had walked into the cloak room as would be no longer.

“I'm kissing you.” Her lips brushed his neck, moved down to his chest. Her hands guided her way, and he knew if she continued to touch him as she was, it would be the end of him.

“You do not know what fire you are playing with, Cordelia.”

Her soft laugh was full of mischief and determination. “Oh, I think I do.” Her hand glided over his cock, a slow exploration at first, before she encircled his member and stroked. He fought to control his reactions, his every breath.

Hell, her touch felt wickedly good.

“I want to see you,” she whispered.

“We're in a cloakroom, Cordelia, you will not see much.”

“Then I want to feel you as much as I can.” She was undeterred and before he could stop her, she had unclipped the buttons on his falls and his cock sprung free.

She stroked him tentatively, learning, playing with his sex. “So silky and smooth and yet hard. What a marvelous thing our bodies are.”

Christian slumped against the wall and swallowed a moan. Knew he was not far from spending in her hand if she did not stop touching him as she was. Still, the cad he was did not try to stop her, did not reach down and remove her from her exploration.

“Suck it.” The words whispered from his lips, an anguished command. He ought to be hung asking an innocent woman to do such a thing, and still, he could not regret the words. He did want her to suck him. He ached to feel her hot mouth about his cock.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, “get on your knees and put my cock in your mouth.” He held his breath, unsure if she would do as he said.

He was so going to hell after this.

Cordelia did not reply, was quiet a moment before, God help him, she dipped to her knees, her hand never leaving his person. “Is what you ask even possible?”

“Yes,” he all but moaned, feeling the breath of her words on his cock.

“You can take me into your mouth and suck my cock.” He waited with bated breath, wondering if she would do as he asked, and then, God help him, the feather-light touch of her lips at the tip of his manhood almost spiraled him out of his world.

Her tongue slipped along his sensitive flesh. He closed his eyes, praying he would survive this torment. Her untutored, yet wicked progression was too much.

“Yes, just like that.” He should not, but he reached for her, slipping his hand about her neck, guiding her onto him. She took him without question, her warm mouth working him with an expertise he’d not expected, and she soon fell into a wicked rhythm of pleasure.

“Oh, Cordelia, suck me hard.”

She made a moaning, murmuring sound of agreement. The tremors of her words threatened to tip him over the edge. “I'm going to come. I'm going to come, darling. You need to stop.” She pulled back and immediately he missed her touch.

“And if I do not want to?” she stated, her hand slipping down to clasp his balls.

Where had the Siren come from? How did she know what to do? He could only presume it was instinctual. “I don’t want to come in your mouth. It’s too much too soon.”

Although, in truth, he really wanted to.

He wanted to tup her sweet face. He wanted to haul her to her feet, bundle up her gown, and sheath himself deep inside her warm cunny, touch her sweet, engorged nubbin and until they shattered together, crying out each other's names without heed to whoever heard.

But he could not.

“What will happen if you do?”

He forgot how very innocent she was and how unaware of what happened to a man during climax.

How could he tell her the truth when it sounded so uncultured?

“There is a liquid…” he began, “that I expel during my release.” Shame washed through him, and he stopped his explanation. “I do not want that for you.”

She remained kneeled before him, quiet and contemplative. Her hand still wickedly stroking his cock. “I want you to spend in my mouth.”

Her words rushed through him like a physical blow. Christian closed his eyes, savoring her words, and yet he could not allow her to do that, not here and now. “It is too wicked,” he said. “We cannot.”

“But I want to.”

Before he could stop her, Cordelia’s lips pressed against his cock, her tongue guiding her to fully take him and he was lost. No matter how hard he tried, he could not tear himself away, could not push her back and stop this madness.

Instead, he slumped against the wall and allowed her way. She sucked him with a vigorousness that left him reeling. His balls tightened, he undulated a little into her mouth and there was no stopping what they both had started.

“Oh Cordelia,” he moaned, pumping his seed into her mouth.

She moaned as she took every last drop of his essence. He did not think such pleasure was possible, and yet, never had his orgasm ever been so overwhelming and consuming, spiraling his wits and threatening his composure.

She worked him until he was spent and unable to think straight. He wrenched her up into his arms, kissed her deep and long. Their mouths fused and he could taste himself on her. He'd marked her, and by God, he would mark her again.

It took several minutes for them to compose themselves and with his pulse still hammering in his ears he held her while he listened for anyone nearby.

Cordelia’s eyes were luminous in the dim light, her lips swollen from their many kisses. It took every shred of self-control not to pull her back into the world of bliss they had found with each other. Instead, he reached past her, opened the door a fraction, and glanced into the passage beyond.

The muffled clink of glasses and hum of conversation floated down from the dining room, close enough that discovery had been a heartbeat away.

He turned back to her. “We should return before someone notices we’ve gone,” he whispered.

Her gaze searched his, challenging, contemplating. “As though nothing has happened?”

He swallowed, forcing his voice steady. “As though nothing has happened…for now.”

She gave the faintest smile, but it held the promise of wanting more. Without another word, she slipped from the cloakroom, skirts swishing softly as she headed toward the sound of the others.

Christian lingered a moment longer, raking a hand through his hair before following her. God help him, he had just taken a step he knew he wouldn’t be able to undo, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.