Page 32 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

M urdoch heard the hall clock strike four as he slid his dressing gown on.

Emily’s party had broken up about two hours ago.

Following Lady Tompson’s accusations, one of the drunk dowagers had insisted on dancing with her tiny dog, which had gotten far too excited by all the attention and piddled on the floor.

Then some equally inebriated gentleman, previously a military officer—this one honestly drunk by his own design—had decided midnight croquet was what everyone should play, and so he had marshalled all the guests who were still able to stand into the garden and sorted everyone into teams. But he hadn’t reckoned on how the lack of light, various states of inebriation, and a prickle of hedgehogs’ natural nocturnal activity would result in lots of screams and tripping, not to mention frightened ladies and animals.

No hedgehogs came to harm during the croquet, thank goodness, but a few of the ladies suffered twisted ankles.

Murdoch had done what he could throughout, but there was only so much one could do to salvage such a variety of messes.

He heard a knock on the door and went to it swiftly—he’d hoped she would come to him, but he hadn’t wanted to presume after the night she’d had.

He opened it, and she immediately moved into his arms. He wrapped her in his embrace, shutting the door behind her.

Like him, she wore a dressing gown. Her hair was down, the first time he’d seen it like that. She looked younger, though not more vulnerable—he doubted she ever could look more vulnerable because of how capable she was.

“My God,” she murmured against him, “what a night.”

He nodded, then bent and picked her up, swinging her against his chest. She made a noise of surprise, then leaned her head against him. “This is nice,” she said.

He strode to the bed, placing her gently on the covers, then went around to the other side and got up next to her, immediately drawing her back into his arms.

She exhaled. “I have never had a debacle such as that in my entire life,” she said at last.

He kissed her hair. “At least it was a memorable party?”

She snorted, then turned to look up at him. “Indeed it was. I think Miss Emily had a good time. Mr. Venning arrived at last. He seems to like her very much.”

Murdoch nodded. “He does.”

He had been impressed with the young man himself, even if Mr. Venning asked questions Murdoch would’ve preferred not to answer.

But then again, most people did respond to questions like “How are you?” and “Are you enjoying yourself?” Questions that Murdoch supposed most people were fine with but that he felt uncomfortable having to contemplate.

“We don’t have to—” he began.

“Oh, but we do,” she said, cutting him off. “Unless you don’t—”

“No, I do.” His cock twitching to life under her body was proof of that.

“Oh good.” She sounded relieved. “I want to stop thinking, and I can’t imagine a better way to do that than to get thoroughly fucked by you.”

She smiled as she spoke, and he blinked. He was most definitely not accustomed to a woman speaking so bluntly and so charmingly about such subjects. He was most definitely not accustomed to a woman like her.

Which was why he had fallen so hard for her.

Why he loved her so much.

Why it was going to hurt so much when he had to leave.

But she was here now. There would be time to be sad later, when he was back in Scotland. Now, when she was here, in his arms, warm and soft and lush, was not the time.

“Well,” he began, tightening his hold on her, “where do you want to start?”

She gave him a surprised look. “I thought you’d have all that sorted, what with you being in charge and all.” Her cheeks had flushed a pretty pink, as though the idea excited her.

“I can certainly take care of that,” he replied, one of his palms going to cover her breast. She squirmed as he kneaded the soft, full flesh.

He put the fingers of his other hand on her hip, splaying them on her hip bone.

Her dressing gown gaped open temptingly, revealing an expanse of pale skin.

“But I wanted to see if there was anything particular you wanted.”

“I want you,” she said simply. She wriggled against his erection, and he groaned, making her lips curl into a wicked smile.

“Vixen.”

“Scottish ram.”

He flipped her over onto her back, then braced himself on his elbows on top of her, not allowing his full weight to touch her. His gown was open as well, and she put both palms to his chest, her eyes widening as she made slow circles with her hands.

“You’re like a bear,” she said. She sounded admiring, so he didn’t feel self-conscious, as he sometimes did.

“A bear with plenty of muscles.” She met his gaze, her eyebrows drawing together.

“Just how does an earl get so muscular? Most of the lords I know—” Then she got self-conscious, as though recalling just how she knew them. “Um—”

“Your English lords don’t work the same way Scottish ones do, lassie,” he said, exaggerating his accent.

“We have to walk the moors with a sheep over each shoulder or else we’ll be arrested.

” He didn’t care that she’d known those other lords as she had; what mattered was that she was here with him now.

She laughed, shaking her head. Her hands kept stroking him, and he longed for them to continue down, for her to wrap her fingers around his hard shaft.

But there would be time for that. For all of it.

They had the whole night. Drusilla had told everyone to sleep in tomorrow, given how busy they’d all been, so he didn’t expect anyone to be up until at least one o’clock.

For safety’s sake, she should be back in her room by noon, which gave them eight hours. It should be enough time for everything he wanted to do to her, and vice versa.

If they began now.

He lowered his mouth to hers, still keeping his weight from her body, his cock jutting between them, his inner thighs just touching the outside of her legs. Each part just barely grazing her, the slight contact making him nearly frantic with the urge for more.

But he had to be patient.

D ear God, was he going to torture her all night?

Drusilla’s nipples were hard peaks, and her whole body ached for him.

Her breathing was rapid, and she couldn’t think what she wanted to do first, or wanted him to do first—repeat his pleasuring of her core as he’d done before, or slide himself into her already-wet entrance?

Should she clasp his penis and see how he liked to be stroked before then?

Or save that until after, when the initial intensity had abated somewhat and they had time and energy to play?

Would he ask her to kneel in front of him as he had done for her and take him in her mouth?

She didn’t always enjoy doing that—most gentlemen took it as a right, not a gift—but she could imagine he would be very responsive and grateful for it.

And there was, frankly, nothing like the feeling of making a strong man lose his mind during climax.

The decision was taken from her, thankfully, when his fingers went to her clitoris and began to stroke her there.

“You’re wet already,” he murmured against her lips.

He slid his tongue inside her mouth, increasing the attack as he increased his rhythm below, and she couldn’t help but gasp, writhing beneath him.

She grasped his shoulders and yanked him down on top of her, relishing the feel of his weight on her.

“Are you certain?” he said, drawing away from the kiss for a moment.

“Absolutely,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I want you to subsume me, Ram. Possess me as thoroughly as you can.”

His eyes darkened, and his expression turned stern in a way that Drusilla found entirely erotic. As though he was about to issue some orders that could not be denied.

Who could have guessed she wanted to be told what to do?

If Joey knew, she would laugh her head off.

But there was something so seductive about letting go of control, if only for a little while, if only in this context, that made Drusilla feel cared for. Knowing he would have everything handled, even if she didn’t.

“First I am going to take you to the edge of pleasure.” His voice was ragged and hoarse. “But you cannot come. Not without me saying so.”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured.

“And then you are going to touch me and get me as hard as you can. Though that shouldn’t be that difficult.

You have that effect on me, Drusilla,” he said, with a wry smile.

He took her hand and put it on his cock, and she gasped.

He was the biggest man she’d been with, so large it felt almost as though she couldn’t entirely wrap her fingers around his width.

“I told you I was big all over, didn’t I?” he said, with a hint of—appropriately enough—cockiness.

“You didn’t mention it, but I should have guessed. Very satisfactory.”

“And then, and only then, am I going to take my fine Scottish cock and ram it home inside of your sweet pussy.”

“Oh,” she gasped, and she closed her eyes, letting his filthy words filter through her brain.

“Do you like that, Drusilla?”

“I do,” she said, giving a vigorous nod.

“Good girl,” he replied.

He kissed her again, even more savagely than before, his tongue assaulting her mouth, her tongue, her teeth.

He rolled slightly to one side so that he could access her clitoris, putting the base of his palm on her mound and applying firm pressure, letting his fingers stroke and rub her clitoris and her entrance.

Her hips began to move, to thrust and roll in unconscious rhythm, and she heard a deep rumble of laughter in his chest. She reached underneath the fabric of his dressing gown and gripped his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex with his every movement.

Then she moved further down, to his waist, and then further still, to his strong, tightly muscled arse, with its intriguing divots and rounded flesh.