Page 105 of The Rogue’s Embrace

Cece's insides roiled and bubbled and sparked with excess energy from the May Flowers meeting. She should have seen a split coming. She should have guessed that Lady Claudia wouldn't meekly go along with Henrietta's progressive agenda. That didn't stop her from bouncing back and forth between anger and inspiration as Rupert whisked her down the street, dodging men and women of all classes who were on their way either home or out for the night.

Rupert was the other thing that made her buzz as though she'd eaten something exotic and spicy. He'd witnessed the entire meeting, and not only had he not taken her to task, he seemed to embrace the new path she'd just started down.

"Marlowe House is the other way,"

she said, glancing sideways at him and hoping he would reveal where they were going.

"So it is,"

he replied with a mischievous grin.

A shiver of excitement zipped through Cece, centering in her heart, which beat wildly as he picked up his pace. She knew Mayfair well and couldn't imagine where they were going. Unless….

"Campbell House,"

she said, trying not to be disappointed.

"Exactly,"

Rupert answered, still grinning from ear to ear.

So much for whisking her off to an exotic rendezvous or an illicit evening at a hotel. The house she'd grown up in didn't inspire her with feelings of anticipation, but it did bring with it a certain sense of comfort.

At least, not until Rupert swept her through the front door—which he opened himself as none of the servants seemed to be on hand to open it for them—then drew her into his arms the moment the door clicked shut.

He kissed her with a mad passion that had her wanting to giggle and sigh at the same time.

His mouth was demanding against hers, but he also seemed to be worshiping her with his lips and tongue.

He pressed the length of his torso against her, sliding one hand up her side to cradle her breast through the stiff fabric of her dress and corset.

The sudden, breathless sensation had her feeling dizzy and aroused in a moment.

She slipped her arms around his waist, burrowing under his jacket to come as close to touching him as possible, and gave herself to his kiss.

A moment later, he broke their kiss and gazed longingly into her eyes. "You truly were brilliant this evening,"

he said in a voice like a purring cat about to pounce. "Like a general rousing the troops."

Cece grinned, shifting her arms to his shoulders so that she could run her fingers through his hair. "And you always have been a good soldier."

His grin matched hers, and he tugged her close for another commanding kiss. The swiftly-shifting dynamic of power between them left her pulsing and overheated and willing to do just about anything to get out of her dress, no matter how shocking and ill-advised it would be.

Again, Rupert stopped ravishing her and leaned back, but this time his expression was soberer. "If this is not a good time, I understand. Your May Flowers have just undergone an upheaval, and if you think it inappropriate to?—"

She silenced him by lifting to her toes and slanting her mouth over his in a way that brooked no further argument. She had never felt so energized, and even though the situation with the May Flowers was alarming, she had a mountain of excess energy and only one plan for how to burn it.

Rupert sighed deeply and tightened his arms around her. His tongue played with hers, teasing and tasting. Cece could just feel the press of his arousal against her belly through the damnable layers of her dress.

Rupert seemed to share her feelings about the impracticality of fashion. He slid his hand down her back only to encounter an enormous bustle. "Damn these ridiculous things,"

he said, humor and lust in his eyes as he leaned away from her. "How is a man supposed to enjoy the perfection of a woman's backside with these things?"

Cece sent him a mischievous smile. "We'll just have to remove it."

It was all the encouragement Rupert needed.

Bustle and all, he swept her into his arms—which made Cece yelp in surprise—and charged for the stairs.

A thrill shot through her at his strength and agility as he took the stairs two at a time, then veered off to the hall where his bedroom was.

Just like the night of the ball, she knew exactly what would happen when he shut the door behind them, set her on her feet, and slanted his mouth over hers once more, but this time she welcomed him with the eagerness of experience instead of the determination of innocence.

She fumbled with the buttons of his jacket, and when she undid them, pushed the whole garment off his shoulders.

Rupert managed to continue kissing her while shrugging and drawing his arms out of the sleeves, then tossing it aside.

He had less success keeping up with kisses as he toed off his shoes and kicked them aside, then unfastened his trousers.

Cece giggled at his enthusiasm in spite of the lust pouring through her.

"Clothes truly are a waste of time,"

she said breathlessly as she went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat.

"We should spend the rest of our lives naked so that we can be ready to enjoy each other at a moment's notice."

Cece laughed, full of so much joy that it made her dizzy. When Rupert stepped away to shed his waistcoat and shrug out of his suspenders, she reached behind her and did her best to undo the fastenings of her skirt. It was maddening, slow work, though, and long before she could do more than tug a few ties, Rupert had discarded all of his clothes and stood before her, naked and aroused.

She caught her breath at the sight of him and her fingers refused to work at all.

She would never grow tired of the lean lines of his torso, the strength in his chest and arms, and especially not of the bold thickness of his erection as it stood straight and tall with desire.

Scintillating memories of the way he felt in her hands and the way he moved inside of her left her smoldering and eager to feel it all again.

"I repeat,"

he said, stalking boldly closer to her. "Clothing is a bloody nuisance."

He tugged her close, but rather than kissing her once more, he lifted her into his arms and carried her a few steps to the desk against one wall. He sat her on the edge of the desk, then reached for the hem of her skirts.

"What are you doing?"

she laughed. "The fastenings are in the back and you have to—oh!"

He bunched the mountain of her skirts around her hips and managed to wedge himself between her legs as she spoke.

Her words were cut off entirely as he pushed aside the split in her drawers and buried himself deep inside of her.

The invasion was so sudden and so glorious that Cece was utterly carried away.

Rupert gripped her hips under the pile of her skirts and thrust into her with surprising strength and purpose.

The whole thing was so wild and mad and sudden and she was so primed and ready that she burst into throbbing orgasm before she could orient herself.

"Dear god, Rupert,"

she gasped, moaning as her body radiated with pleasure. She dug her fingers into his shoulders to keep herself from falling over as the surprising burst of pleasure climaxed and began to ebb.

She fully expected Rupert to come as well, but with what must have been a supreme effort of will, he pulled out, still as hard as marble, and balanced above her with his hands braced on the edge of the desk beside her. A look of utter focus pinched his face, as though he were willing his body into control.

At last, he stepped away from her, still erect, the head of his cock slick with moisture, but in command of himself. "What was I saying about clothes?"

he asked, panting.

"That they need to go,"

Cece answered, shivery and panting herself.

She hopped off the desk, her legs wobbling, and turned her back to him.

Working out how to undress her from the layers of restrictive clothing was exactly the thing to calm the intensity of his ardor to a smoldering fire ready to blaze again at any moment.

As soon as her skirts fell to the floor, she stepped out of them and closer to the bed.

When she wriggled out of her bodice, she dropped that to the ground and moved closer still to the bed.

Rupert worked the hooks of her corset free and tossed that aside, then lifted her onto the bed itself, laying her back so he could tug off her stockings and drawers while she shimmied out of her chemise.

"You're the most beautiful creature alive,"

he said at last, drinking in the sight of her naked body splayed across his bed. He dragged his eyes up to meet hers. "All joking aside,"

he began in serious tones. "Marry me. As soon as possible. I'm ready to forget whatever silly feud that has been keeping us apart. I'll even admit I was wrong in every way and that I'll dedicate the rest of my life to supporting you and making you writhe with pleasure every night if you'll say you'll marry me."

Cece's heart expanded and throbbed in a way that far eclipsed the pleasure of any orgasm he could give her. She loved him. She always had and she always would.

"On one condition,"

she said, propping herself on her elbows and raising one eyebrow.

"Anything,"

he said. "Anything at all."

"Shave that ridiculous moustache."

Rupert grinned, then straightened with a look of mock solemnity, like a man condemned. It was a dizzying contrast to the full erection he sported. With a resigned intake of breath, he stepped away from the bed and marched to his washstand, reaching for his shaving things.

"I didn't mean right now,"

Cece laughed, rolling to her side to watch him. "We're in the middle of something."

"No,"

he said solemnly, splashing his face and lathering his upper lip with shaving soap. "A promise is a promise. I must obey at once."

Cece shook her head and laughed, but there was something intriguing about watching him shave off the moustache she'd never liked. It was slow going, since he'd let it grow out so much, but his razor must have been sharp. Bit by bit, the hairy, offensive thing came away. At last, it was gone entirely. He splashed his face a few more times, then wiped it with the towel on the side of the stand. The face she had fallen in love with was back, and she loved it.

"Now,"

he said, swishing the razor in his washbowl then turning and pointing it at her. "It's your turn."

"I beg your pardon?"

Cece sat up, blinking at him.

He picked up the washbasin and shaving soap while still holding the razor and walked over to the bed. "If I have to shave, you have to shave."

A fluttery anticipation prickled her skin as he moved to set the basin on the bedside table. "But I don't have a moustache."

"I know,"

he said, the light of mischief growing in his eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for her to come closer. "That isn't what I'm planning to shave."

"But there isn't anything else for?—"

She gasped, both as realization hit her and as he reached for her. He managed to pull her close and roll her to her back, spreading her legs wide, with a few, deft movements. Before she could gather her thoughts, he rubbed the shaving soap in a lather and began to spread it through the curls between her legs.

"You can't,"

she gasped, tingling and aching at the thought. "It isn't done. It's…it's wicked."

She did nothing to close her legs and, in fact, let her knees fall farther to her sides as he covered every bit of her hair with lather and then some. She gasped and wriggled as he stroked her clitoris for good measure. "I'll look like a girl,"

she complained, or at least tried to. Her breath came in thready gasps that sounded more like mewling than protest as he reached for the razor.

"I'll make a deal with you,"

he said, his voice deep and sensual. "I'll keep mine shaved off if you do the same."

"How do I even know I'll like the feeling?"

she panted.

Pure devilishness filled his eyes. "You will,"

he said with such certainty that Cece throbbed with desire.

He didn't wait for her to say more. With a deft touch, he set to work with his razor, removing all of the hair that marked her as a grown woman. It was awkward and arousing and slightly terrifying. She'd never dreamed of such a thing. The feel of a shaving razor applied to such tender flesh worried her, but Rupert had a steady hand. The level of concentration in his gaze as he worked made her want to writhe with need, but the fear of being cut kept her frozen. She held her breath as he whisked the razor across the most intimate parts of her, and only when he was completely finished did she let out a breath and relax.

"There,"

he said in triumph, swishing the razor in the basin, then setting it aside. He rubbed the last of the soap away from her bare pussy with the damp towel, then leaned back to assess his work. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face and fire lit his eyes. "I've never seen a prettier sight."

Cece scooted back toward the center of the bed, lifting to her elbows to peek down at herself. She was as bare as a babe. The whisper of cool air across her skin was undeniably erotic. She couldn't help but shift so that she could reach one hand down to feel what was so familiar and so unfamiliar.

"I stand corrected,"

Rupert said, his voice rough with lust. "That's the prettiest sight I've ever seen."

"This?"

she asked, teasing him by teasing herself. It was shocking and dangerous for her to stroke herself with him watching her, but it also filled her with an undeniable sense of power. She could see full well the effect her self-pleasuring had on him. His eyes went dark with desire and his whole body tensed. His erection had never really gone away, but it seemed to stiffen and grow as he watched her.

"I told you that you would like it,"

he growled, shifting to surge toward her.

She tipped back as he kissed her. With her legs already spread, he fit easily against her. The heightened sensation of his flesh against hers, his hot thickness rubbing against her smooth cunny without entering her, was a revelation. She was too breathless and undone to kiss him back properly. All she wanted was to mate with him, to feel him throbbing inside of her as he strove for his release.

"I need to inspect my handiwork,"

he said at last, shifting to slide down the length of her body.

He paused along the way to tease her nipples into points with his tongue, but his objective was unmistakable. She gasped when he brushed his mouth over her shaved skin and couldn't even begin to catch her breath as he licked and teased her sensitive folds. The whole thing was amazing and intimate. The sensations were heightened in every way. Within moments, the swooping, tightening feeling of an orgasm about to crash over her began to gather. Sounds that she hadn't known she could make escaped from her, and Rupert groaned in answer.

It was his tongue that undid her in the end as he delved between her bare folds to tease her opening and circle around her clitoris. She arched toward him and cried out as her climax crashed over her. He sucked in a breath and shifted quickly over her, thrusting his thick cock into her and holding himself there for a moment as she squeezed around him.

As her throbbing began to subside, he moved within her, igniting her all over again. She cried out in time to his thrusts, which quickly went from slow and deep to demanding. She loved every moment of it, every mood his desire took on within the short space of time. She moved with him, working to give him as much pleasure as he could take and more while speeding toward another orgasm, hard on the heels of the last one.

She broke apart again with a sigh of triumph, and moments later, his whole body tensed as he spent himself inside of her. It was the most glorious feeling. The two of them were one being, one heart. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as they tumbled from the heights of passion into a much deeper pool of satiety and affection.

"I love you to distraction,"

she confessed as they lay tangled in each other, trying to catch their breath. "And there was never any doubt in my mind, not for one moment, that I would marry you."

"Thank you,"

he said, letting out a breath and relaxing into her. He embraced her as if his life and hers depended on it and as if nothing in the world made him happier. "I love you more than you could know."

She giggled, low and deep in her throat. "Good, because you'll have to love me that much when you tell my father why you need to marry me immediately."

Rupert tensed and muscled himself to stare down at her, eyes wide. "You're not with child already, are you?"

Cece shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"Then why do we have to marry immediately?" he asked.

She grinned from ear to ear. "Because nothing and no one will be able to keep me out of your bed on a nightly basis, now that we've made our no moustache pact. And I don't believe I have the power to hide just how well-loved I am when we're out in public together."

"Marriage it is, then,"

Rupert said, looking as though Christmas had come early.

He dipped down to kiss her. Cece opened herself to him in every way she could, digging her fingertips into his back as their bodies pressed together. He was hers to care for and protect as much as she was his. They might have teetered on the edge of uncertainty in a thousand ways, but together they could face anything.