Page 11 of The Courtesan’s Protector (About An Earl #4)

CHAPTER 10

J ane’s mind had been tangled with fear all day as they traveled, but Ripley so easily changed that. He gave her the space and permission to relax, to let go. Perhaps it was because he never minimized her fear, he never threatened to use it against her, so she knew he would still be there when she picked it all back up again.

That wasn’t how it normally was with lightskirts. Gentlemen, even those who took a lady as their officially protector, often didn’t want to see or hear anything but the good. The rest had to be pushed down. She’d done so all her life.

Except with the man standing before her now, his mouth brushing hers. She could feel his wicked smile against her lips, like this could be fun. She needed fun right now.

With a smile, she pushed back out of his arms. He released her with only the arch of his scarred brow. One more thing that made him singular. He never forced or pushed, even though he was so much bigger than she was, he could have taken anything he wanted. But he never did. He never would.

Lifting her hands to the buttons along the bodice of her simple gown, she met his eyes. Slowly, she unfastened herself, carefully parting the fabric of her dress to reveal the chemise beneath little by little. He smiled as he realized what she was doing and shifted his weight, putting his hands behind his back.

She lowered the gown from one shoulder. “Why do you put your hands back there?”

His chuckle was low and smoky. “Because if I don’t, I might not be able to control myself. And I’m very much enjoying the show.”

“Ahhh.” She lowered the other side of the gown and let it bunch around her hips. “That’s a good idea, because for what I have in mind, I very much want to be in control. In fact…”

She shoved the dress away, gave him a brief moment to look her up and down in her chemise, and then came toward him. She touched the cravat tied lazily at his throat. “Do you mind if I use that for a much more interesting purpose?”

He tilted his head. “I can only imagine what that wicked mind of yours has planned. Certainly. But only if you remove it yourself.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She stepped up, giving him her best coquettish look. The one she had perfected after years of being the lover of many a man. His smile remained and it reached his eyes, making them sparkle. For a moment she faltered, because to be this close to him when he shone was…remarkable.

“Or do you need help?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m just enjoying every moment.”

He inclined his head as if to encourage her to continue. She pressed her hands against his stomach and unfastened the few buttons on his coat. She slid her fingers inside, tracing the muscles she could feel even beneath his waistcoat and shirt. He shifted and his playful smile fell, but he still didn’t stop her or take her power.

She flattened her hands and slid them up his chest, memorizing every twitch of his body, every line of him. When she reached the cravat, she tangled her fingers in the fabric and gave a gentle tug so that he bent slight to allow her access.

His mouth was close to hers now, but she didn’t kiss him. She teased him though as she unknotted the cravat without even looking at it. She let her lips brush but never fully meet his, she let them whisper along his jawline.

His breath increased when she did and he shifted again. She would wager if she looked at his hands behind his back now they would be clenched tightly, locked in a fight to keep himself from touching her.

She drew the cravat around and around until it fell away from him, then she wrapped the long length around her palms before she moved around behind him, brushing his body with hers.

As she suspected, his hands were locked together, his wrists close, just as she wanted them. Gently she touched them, giving him a hint of what she would do in case he wanted to refuse her. He didn’t, though when she wrapped the cravat around them once, he sucked in a shaky breath.

She wrapped the fabric a few more times, loosely enough that it wouldn’t hurt him, then knotted the loops into place before she pressed herself to his back and kissed his shoulder through the layers of his clothes. “And now you’re mine.”

“I could rip that cravat in half, you know,” he said, his voice dark now. Erotic.

“You could,” she said as she moved around him, keeping her body flush to his. “Easily, I’m sure. But you won’t. Because you want what I’m going to do. So you’ll be very good and let me.”

“You’re a wicked one,” he said.

“Just like you like me, I think.” She pushed the jacket wide and unfastened the waistcoat beneath, then the shirt so that half his chest was revealed.

“Didn’t think that through, did you?” he teased. “I’ll have half my clothes on at least.”

“Oh no, I thought it through perfectly,” she insisted as she pushed him back toward the settee before the fire. “I want you to be undone, messy, wrinkled as you sprawl out on that settee.”

She shoved and he sat back, shifting to allow space for his tied hands. She grabbed for a pillow and dropped it between his feet on the rug.

“I want you to look down and see your cock in my mouth while you’re fully clothed.” She took to her knees on the cushion and pushed his thighs wider so that he was sprawled there. “There’s something so lewd about it, isn’t there? Something so wicked that you are almost proper except that you’re watching me do such a thing.”

She flicked the buttons on his fly front open and lowered it, letting his cock, which was already fully hard, bounce free. He grunted rather than answered her, his legs flexed as she reached out a finger and traced his length.

“Watch me, Cam,” she whispered, and smiled when he jolted. She liked that. She liked all of this. “Watch me take your control lick by lick, suck by suck.”

He nodded jerkily and stared as she lowered her mouth to him. She examined the fine cock displayed for her enjoyment. He truly was a specimen, and she already knew how much pleasure he could give. But how much could he take?

She darted out her tongue and gave the length of him a teasing lick. He bit out a breath and his body tensed. She smiled up at him. “I’d wager you want to rip that flimsy little cravat in half.”

He nodded wordlessly.

“But you won’t,” she taunted, and bent her head to lick him again, this time with more pressure. He tasted clean and a little salty. She licked again, and this time she held back a moan.

Oh, this was going to be as much a test of her own control as his. And she was more than ready to pass or fail. Either way, she’d get everything she wanted.

* * *

J ane swirled her tongue around the sensitive head of his cock and Ripley shuddered from the intense pleasure. Her mouth was so hot, so wet, and she was very good at what she was doing that he feared he might forget everything but this.

Only he didn’t like that she felt she had to force him to do her bidding. So as she sucked him, he worked at the knot behind his back. It wasn’t tied very tightly. She clearly hadn’t wanted to damage him, just keep him from forcing her hand.

But he had no intention of doing that.

When she gripped him, sliding her hand up and down his length while she rolled her tongue around him once more, he couldn’t hold back his moan. His fingers faltered in his work and pleasure streaked up his length, through his balls, his veins, dancing along his skin.

His reaction seemed to spur her on. She watched him, dark blue eyes locked with his as she licked and stroked, back and forth, her tongue leaving wetness for her hand to roll through so that the way was lubricated. He found himself lifting a little, meeting her strokes and finally her mouth as she took him inside and sucked.

Stars exploded in his vision, but he continued to loosen the knot. He freed it at last, but didn’t draw his hands from behind his back. He would prove he was capable of allowing her what she needed, whether that was giving or receiving pleasure.

She took him deeper into her throat, deeper still, until she had the full length of him in her mouth. Her tongue beat out a rhythm as she pumped over him, stroked over him, and built him, on and on, toward release.

“Fuck,” he moaned, knocking his head back on the settee cushion. “That feels so good, Janie.”

She moaned against him, the vibration adding to the sensation. She had built his pleasure brick by brick, lick by lick, but he was beginning to feel the edges of it fray. He would come soon, there would be no stopping it. And he so wanted to have it be after he watched her shatter around him.

He tried to focus. “I’m going to spend,” he said. “And if you want me to shatter and give you every drop, I will. But I want to be inside you, Jane. I want to bury deep into you while you moan and cry out my name. I want to feel you come and watch you go weak with pleasure.

She lifted her head from his cock and braced her hands on his thighs. “I-I want that, too,” she whispered. “I thought making you come would be enough, but I’m wild with you, Cam. Let me untie you.”

He pulled his hands from behind his back and held them up to show her they were already unbound. “No need.”

She rocked back a little. “Wait…you untied yourself? When?”

“A while ago.” He caught her elbows and drew her up. She settled her legs on either side of him and together they shoved her chemise up around her stomach. She wore nothing beneath but her stockings and she gasped as he reached between them and stroked his cock along the already wet heat of her.

“You don’t have to force me,” he said, “in order to trust me, Jane. If you ask, I’ll always do as you need. As you wish. I promise.”

She blinked down at him, her gaze suddenly foggy and filled with emotion. She cupped his cheeks and leaned in to kiss him as her body opened to him and he slid inside gently. She groaned into his mouth and then whispered, “You may be the only man I’d ever believe that from.”

“Good.”

He caught her hips and helped her rock. She ground against him, her hands pressing into his shoulders, her legs gripping around his thighs through his trousers. And she was right. There was something lascivious about being spread out on this settee with all his clothes on, being ridden to the edge of madness. Something he never wanted to end, even though the sharp edge of release was right there.

It seemed it was for her too. Her strokes became wilder, faster. Her moans and groans began to echo on the air. She arched her back and her body began to grip his in harsh, rippling waves. She keened, tears coming down her cheeks, cries incoherent with pleasure.

His own pleasure was uncontainable now, streaking through his cock, burning through his veins, making him more animal than man. He shifted her onto her back, pulling her leg up over his thigh, and took her in long, heavy strokes as she continued to arch and wail beneath him. He held out as long as he could, savoring every moment, but at last it was too much and he withdrew. Her fingers tangled with his and together they pumped him to completion between them before he collapsed down over her, pressing his mouth to her neck and her shoulders, her cheeks and at last her lips. He never wanted to let her go.

And he refused to think about the moment when he’d be forced to do just that.

* * *

J ane had experienced a great deal of sex and yet what she shared with Ripley was entirely unique. It was, of course, what she’d feared from the first moment they met, when the connection had felt so raw and powerful. Friendship had pushed it aside—she’d ignored it rather than fallen into it.

But when his body was joined with hers? When their panting breaths merged and their sweat mingled? In those moments she knew that he felt different because he was . He was more. He was everything.

He lifted his head from her shoulder and smiled at her. “I’m famished.”

She laughed. “I would assume so. You worked up quite the appetite.”

He dropped his lips to hers and the kiss was gentle and brief. “Why don’t we go down for the famous supper spread Mr. Fergus couldn’t stop talking about?”

She stared up into his face in surprise. So often her interactions with men had been in secret. There were places where women like her belonged and it was rarely at a man’s table. Even a protector’s. So even though Ripley had pretended she was his wife, somehow she had expected he might put up that same wall between what was proper and what wasn’t.

“Are you in there, Jane?” he asked, his brow wrinkling. “Have I pleasured you to the loss of reason?”

“You are quite full of yourself, aren’t you? No, I have reason, just found myself woolgathering. I’d love to share supper.”

“Good.” He got up and quickly tucked himself back into place. It took him all of two minutes to look ready to go.

“I think it will take me a bit longer,” she said, rising and stretching muscles sore from pleasurable use.

“Then let me help.” He swept up her gown from where she’d discarded it on the floor and shook it out. She smoothed her wrinkled chemise and then gripped his forearm as she balanced herself to step in.

He was gentle as he helped her dress. Fastened the buttons he’d watched her strip for him earlier. When he touched her, it wasn’t meant to seduce, even though even the grazing glances did just that. This man drove her wild, that was all there was to it.

But at last she was dressed and she moved to sit at the dressing table. She laughed at her cock-eyed hair, messy from his fingers. “This won’t do. I think I lost some pins. Will you look for them?”

He gave her a mock salute and did that as she used her fingers to comb out the locks since she didn’t want to find her brush in the portmanteau she hadn’t bothered to open once they’d entered the room. He brought her a handful and watched as she swept her hair up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck.

“You’re very good at that.”

She smiled at him in the reflection of the mirror. “It comes with the trade, I think. A woman like me has to know how to fix herself with speed and efficiency.”

“I suppose that’s true. It certainly gives you advantage over ladies who need so much help.”

She laughed. “You should have seen Esme when she first left her old life. She was useless with gowns and brushes. I had to teach her how to take care of herself.”

“You did a fine job,” he said softly. The compliment warmed her more than it should.

“So did you.”

They stared at each other in the reflection for a moment. Until it became a little uncomfortable for Jane because it was far too close. She got up and faced him with a false smile. “I’m ready now.”

“Very good.”

He took her arm like he truly was her husband and together they went down to the dining hall where others were already seated. Staff brought out wine and food that smelled so good Jane’s stomach growled. It was all Scottish fare, probably because of the owner’s heritage, and she practically bounced at the idea of finely fried fish and potatoes.

Mr. Fergus waved to them after they were seated and Ripley returned the wave. He pushed back from the place he’d just taken and said, “I want to discuss something with the man. Give me a moment.”

She nodded and watched him as he crossed the room. She’d always loved to watch him move through a crowd. Ripley carried himself like a warrior, no matter how long it had been since he fought in a ring. He had a command of the room that everyone bowed to and people moved in his wake. Plus, now that she knew the exact arrangements of the glorious muscles beneath his clothes, she enjoyed watching them ripple all the more.

The two men talked for a moment and Fergus looked at her for a brief moment before he nodded and rushed away to do whatever Ripley had asked when it came to their horses or accommodations.

Ripley returned and settled into his place, draping his napkin across his lap. “He seems a decent fellow, even if he talks ceaselessly.”

“I suppose he’s in the right business for it,” Jane said with a laugh. “It’s always a trick to know when to speak and when to be silent when one is serving the needs of others.”

Before Ripley could answer a very pretty lady with dark hair and a round face with a wide smile approached them. “Oh, good evening Mr. and Mrs. Ripley,” she said.

Jane was startled by being called his wife again, even if she’d known it would happen. She kept her gaze away from Ripley’s so she wouldn’t see his reaction.

“Good evening,” he said in return.

“I’m Mrs. Fergus. I hope your finding your accommodations well?”

Now Jane did look at her. She had the same friendliness that her husband did and a bright joy that seemed to warm the room. “Very much.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. May I tell you what we’ve got on hand for the meal?”

“The fish smells divine,” Jane said. “I cannot think of having anything else.”

Mrs. Fergus’s expression lit up. “Very good. It’s also my favorite.”

“And I’ll do the same,” Ripley said.

“I’ll bring you ale in the interim.” The woman swept away.

“Would you like wine instead?” Ripley asked. “Or something stronger?”

“No, ale is fine,” she replied with a smile. “Always the gentlemen.”

“Never once,” he teased back.

But she knew better. Ripley was rough, but he was always the best of what she considered gentlemanly. It made him so hard to resist. That and a great deal else. She reached out to touch his hand and he spread his fingers so that hers interlocked with his.

At that moment, Mrs. Fergus returned and placed two mugs before them. “Ah, young love. I do adore seeing it. How long have you two been married?”

Jane stiffened at the idea she would have to concoct a backstory with the man before her. But Ripley seemed to have none of that hesitation. He held Jane’s stare evenly as he said, “I knew I was hers years ago. She marked me from the start.”

Jane’s mouth dropped open a bit and she couldn’t ignore the flutter her heart gave at that response and the intense look he gave her when he said it. Mrs. Fergus cooed with pleasure. “I do love a romantic tale. Let me know if you need anything before the food comes.”

When Mrs. Fergus left them, Jane slid her hand from his. “You’re laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “I’m telling the truth.”

“What?” She wrinkled her brow. “You said I marked you. How in the world could that be the truth?”

He hesitated a moment and then he lifted his hand and slid his fingertip across the harsh white mark of the scar through his eyebrow. Her hands began to shake and she shoved them under the table to steady them on her knees.

“Explain,” she managed to squeak out. “Please. Because I couldn’t be the cause of the famous scar.”