Page 5 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl (Seven Deadly Sins #4)

H is talented lover having reached her completion, Wakefield ceased stroking her eager cunny.

His pulse pounded like a drum in his ears and he stood, determined to have some distance between himself and the fiery siren.

This sensuous beauty not only knew him but commanded his name and insisted on using it. It was as he’d sensed out there in the gaming hall floor when she’d been paraded across that stage—she’d wanted him all along.

Which meant…they’d given her his name, or she knew him well enough to know his given name.

That distasteful realization penetrated his desire and ushered in the first of too-belated reservations.

Towering over the four-poster bed, Wakefield contemplated the hot wanton sprawled upon the now rumpled red satin sheets. Her trim, lithe body flushed a delightful red from her release. Her chest heaved wildly from the force of her orgasm. Her cream white breasts—that modest flesh a tantalizing juxtaposition against the rest of her olive-hued skin, were high and proud, so delicate in size as to fit just perfectly into his palms.

But it was her slender, graceful lower limbs. Her sleek, supple legs, splayed as they were, left the downy thatch of curls between her thighs as an invitation.

Wakefield briefly closed his eyes.

He’d forever prided himself for his restraint, his self-control, and inability to be tempted or weakened the way every other peer in Polite Society was.

Now, with his celestial goddess beckoning, Wakefield at last had a taste of what brought men to their knees.

Staring at her intently as he did, his gaze caught and held on the slight but telltale shift of her hips. The lady did her best to conceal her movements, but her efforts were empty. She began to move. She rolled onto her side to hide that slight rock and sway of her supple hips. Then she began to reach between her legs.

His earlier resolve and suspicions flagged under the insurmountable weight of his lust. His shaft throbbed and ached.

“I didn’t please, my little love?” he teased, his voice husky.

His lover didn’t bring herself to face him. “No!”

Wakefield’s eyes flared.

“Yes!” His lusty partner swiftly corrected herself.

His lips twitched.

Only when he stood and removed his boots, tossing them aside, did the lady lift her incredibly long, tear-spiked blonde eyelashes and look at him.

“Do you want to pleasure yourself?” he asked, enflamed with the image that immediately slipped into his mind.

“No!”

“It’s fine if you do.” Wakefield lifted an elbow. “I’ll be all too happy to watch you as you do, sweet.”

The long, graceful line of her throat worked. “I feel those feelings again,” she whispered.

“Those feelings?”

Another delicate blush stained her high cheeks. “ You know .”

He chuckled. “Yes, I do.” His amusement faded. The blood in his veins thickened. “I want you to say what it is you want.”

She bit at her lower lip.

“Tell me,” he demanded sharply. “Tell me you want to come, love. Tell me it’s my cock and fingers you want stroking your quim.”

“I can’t say those things,” she whispered.

Wakefield tossed his head back and laughed. “God, you are delightful.” Returning to the bed, he followed his praise with several masterful strokes of her aching center.

Ever so grateful, the lively piece sent her hips flying up and shoved herself against his fingers. Like a benevolent master with his vassal, he stroked her tenderly, but at a pace that suited the agonized state of her desire.

“B-Benedict,” she panted, biting at her lower lip. “Please, don’t st— Ahh ,” she cried out when he ceased his movements.

His expression hardened. Her continued use of his given name called on his restraint.

“You are not to share that I was here tonight,” he said, delivering it as the icy warning he intended it to be.

The lady looked sadly at him; her raging desire dimmed, but it didn’t fade completely. “I would never.”

He smiled a cynical smile. She appeared positively hurt he’d suggest as much. “Mine wasn’t a question, sweet. It was a warning. If you mention any of what we’ve done here tonight, I’ll destroy you just the same.”

Sitting up, she brought her knees close in a protective pose. Her still hungry gaze turned sad. “Do you truly believe you’d be destroyed?” she asked softly, with a bitter insight that penetrated his reservations. “Come, my lord, we both know you and I would never be held to the same standards.”

Yes, that was true. The tension left him. There came a far greater risk were she to expose her good name to the sin they’d both taken part in this night.

“You sound resentful,” he noted, loosening his cravat.

His lover brought a blonde-brown eyebrow arcing up. “If our roles were reversed, wouldn’t you be?” she countered.

“Yes,” Wakefield freely admitted. “It’s hardly f—” He stopped himself.

What in hell had brought him into a philosophical discussion with the game piece he was hungry to bed? This certainly marked a first in all his sexual encounters.

His lover reached for the sheets.

Wakefield fixed his hooded gaze on her. “Leave it.” He issued that silky directive as he removed his cravat. “I’m still going to fuck you the entire night through.” He hocked the white silk scrap to the floor.

His sensual actress called up a blush to rival the summer sunset.

He flared his eyes in false shame. “I’ve offended you with my words.”

She didn’t even bother trying to deny it.

Tossing his head back, Wakefield laughed. “God, you are good at your part, sweet,” he said, after he’d removed his lawn shirt. He caught the waistband of his trousers in both hands and shoved them down. He kicked the garment aside.

His enigmatic lover slid her gaze slowly down, lower and lower, until it landed on the long ridge of his enormous erection. “Oh…my.”

Her throaty whisper contained a level of hunger that nearly swallowed him with lust. “Is mine the first cock you’ve seen, little love?”

Her entire body went the same fiery shade as the lady’s cheeks. “Y-Yes.”

Wakefield repressed a grin, unwilling to be the player to break from the charade they played. He bowed his head in false penitence. “My apologies, sweet,” he murmured. Climbing onto the high four-poster bed, he crawled over to her. “I should not be so crude.” He whispered that self-chastisement against her lips.

They tangled with their mouths and tongues.

Her fingers were instantly reaching up to draw him down to join her.

The moment he came over and lowered his body over hers, she was instantly curling her legs around his thigh and rubbing herself against him.

“Please,” she moaned.

“Is this what you want, ma petite siren?” he purred and again palmed her already drenched, honeyed curls.

She panted and lifted her hips into his hand, spurring him on. “ Yes ! Please help me.”

Her pleas nearly undid his ironclad restraint. He gritted his teeth, and it was all he could do to keep from being the one to end their game of pretend and bury his cock deep inside her sweet quim.

Wakefield stared at her flushed face, gleaming with a delicate sheen. He’d not be the one to relinquish their show. This time, he slipped a single finger inside her sodden and surprisingly tight channel and gave her another taste of what she craved.

His lover moaned and rocked herself against that lone digit. He added another digit to her sheath.

He hissed. “God, you are so tight.” The force of his lust leant a harsh edge to his voice.

She answered with a desperate, plaintive cry.

“But this isn’t what you truly crave,” he purred. Wakefield continued to stroke her over and over, and she undulated her hips like one receiving benediction. “What you really want is my cock buried in your sweet, hot cunny.”

Her sweat-glistened, flushed cheeks pinkened all the more. Burying her head against his shoulder in the shy little way she did, she nodded. All the while, she continued to rock herself against him like the veritable wanton she was.

Amused by her commitment to the act, he smoothed away his smile. “Ah, that’s right. How can I forget? You are a virgin, are you not?” He teased her nub.

Panting, his siren thrashed her head back and forth wildly on the satin pillow. “Y-Yessss,” she hissed for days.

Enflamed, he continued to play with her clitoris. “I’m your first lover, then.”

“Yes, Benedict,” she keened. “There’s only been you.”

Sweat beaded at his hairline.

Now he understood the pull of The Devil’s Den’s latest show. He and his newfound partners would make a fortune in a week’s time once the world had a taste of the debauched play Wakefield had discovered this night. Never had his lust for a woman proven the first, foremost, and primary focus over his business operations—until Lady Aurum.

“Does my innocent girl want to feel my mouth on her?”

She gasped. “Yes!” His lover lifted her mouth to his and kissed him like she was drowning, and soon she’d sucked him into the same eddy of desire.

Drawing on the self-control he’d developed early on with past lovers, he made himself end the kiss. “Ah, but that’s not what I referred to, sweet.”

Confusion clouded her eyes as he began sliding slowly down her body, trailing his lips and tongue while he went. The light sheen of perspiration glistening on her body was a potent aphrodisiac that threatened to drive him out of his head with lust.

Wakefield stopped with his chin brushing the apex of her lean, shapely legs. He blew lightly upon her damp curls.

With a pain-filled moan, his responsive lover gripped the sheets on either side of her and clung like she was holding on for dear life.

“B-Benedict?”

The thready pitch to her sultry voice eased a primal smile of satisfaction from his lips. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured huskily.

God, she smelled of lust and salt and sin, and he’d never again have a restful night unless he tasted her. His lungs strained with the effort of control, but it was too much. She was too much.

Wakefield buried his face between her creamy white thighs, rested his chin atop the silky sandy-blonde curls shielding her mons, and rubbed.

“Wh-what are you doing, Benedict?” She sounded intrigued, hungry, and woefully shy, a perfect blend that propelled them deeper into their performance.

“You’ve never been kissed this way, have you?” he murmured soothingly. Wakefield dropped a kiss upon the satiny softness of her inner thigh.

He knew she shook her head in adamant denial by the way her entire body rocked in time to that motion.

Liar . Still, he was all too happy to keep the performance going—for now.

“I’m going to lick you here,” he said thickly. Then he darted his tongue along her slit.

Crying out, she jerked her hips up and then swiftly lowered them back into the mattress.

“I’m going to suck your folds like so.” He proceeded to demonstrate.

His magnificent lover jerked her cunny up to take what he only hinted at. He smiled against her curls. “I’m going to bury my tongue inside you.”

Then he proceeded to do just that. Wakefield stroked her once. Twice. Three times. Until he found himself incapable of stopping. He worshipped at her core with an almost violence he’d never before felt with any other woman—stroking his tongue within her hot channel with the same ferocity and desire he would his cock.

Forget half-mad. She’d utterly upended him. Scooping her under her taut buttocks, he brought her closer to his mouth so he could better feast.

This time, his lungs betrayed him. Her pleas peeled around the ceiling and his mind, driving him wild with her unrestrained ardor.

His breathing came in wild billows—every intake a struggle, every exhale a growl befitting a beast.

“Come for me, sweet.” That order scraped through his clenched teeth.

And at last, his lover did. Drenched in wanting, she came long and loudly, all slick, slippery molten heat that coated his tongue.

Drunk off the provocative musky taste of her, Wakefield devoured her. The sounds of sex and lust filled his ears, and his body’s temperature soared; his cock wept for the equally glorious state she’d achieved—or continued to achieve. She kept coming and coming in a tidal wave that seemed to continue on forever.

He’d prided himself on being a generous lover, but with her, here right now, witnessing the fierceness of her orgasm, he wanted his own more than he’d wanted anything—even his name repaired and his honor restored. Anything to have some relief from the primitive hunger within him.

She squeezed her legs around his head. “Don’t stop,” she implored.

And for a long while, he didn’t. He continued to service her, until his restraint began to fracture.

Wakefield moved up her body. His chest heaved, hungry for air and he was even hungrier for her.

“Christ,” Wakefield hissed, his mouth filled with her breast. “I’ve never been with anyone as responsive as you. You are magnificent.”

It was both startling and disconcerting at the same time. If he weren’t so burdened by an unflagging hunger, he’d have found some proper terror.

He reapplied the same efforts to bringing his lover the greatest pleasure. He pressed the heel of his palm against her throbbing center. This time, her climax came faster and just as hard.

Arching her neck, the lady tossed her head back and screamed his name. She drove her hips into his fingers; she gripped his head, keeping him at her breasts.

Sweat beaded on his body. Christ, if Wakefield didn’t feel like a green lad with his first whore.

Panting and gasping for breath, Cressida collapsed atop the folds of the mattress with Benedict still atop her.

He remained that way, continuing to worship her nipples with his lips and tongue, lazily grazing the overly sensitive tips with his teeth.

A shudder moved through her whole body, and he took that as his cue to stop.

Wakefield dropped a final kiss atop first one breast, and then the other, and came off of her. His cock throbbed painfully, and he gritted his teeth to keep from coming there and then, and from nothing more than having brought her pleasure.

What madness drove him. The illusion of her innocence proved so great that even after pleasuring the lusty wanton twice, her desire still took precedence before his own. Withdrawing his hand from between her legs, he rolled away from his paramour and worked to gather a second wind.

When he fucked her completely and thoroughly, then he’d find himself free of the spell she’d cast over him.

He was sure of it.