Chapter Fifteen

Juliette’s hands were less than steady at supper that night. She couldn’t prevent her mind from replaying her encounter with Ian again and again. Seeing him so uninhibited, so wild was thrilling. Realizing she was able to have him at her mercy and bring him to his knees was overwhelming.

Her untried mind had never before pondered what it would be like to take a man in her mouth, but she hadn’t been able to resist when confronted with the impressive beauty of Ian’s arousal. Something deep and primal within her knew she had to have him inside her; she was driven to return the pleasure he’d given to her.

And she had loved it.

It was a foreign act, but one she would not mind repeating—not when Ian praised her and so obviously cherished her efforts.

She wondered if this was the bloom of love…this desire to step out of one’s usual life and comfortability for the sake of another’s joy…to derive one’s joy and pleasure from that of another. The feeling was at once humbling and thrilling. It made her want more. And it was what drove her to decide that she would give herself fully to Ian that night.

She had not come to this decision lightly, but she’d be lying if she claimed she hadn’t considered the possibility since they had first made their arrangement. How could a woman not wonder what it would be like to be forever ruined by a man such as him?

The very thought made Juliette’s throat tight and her palms sweat.

He’d given her so many tastes of pleasure, but they had only whetted her appetite. She wanted Ian to claim her utterly and completely. Irrevocably. She could live a century, her brother could decide to throw open the doors and allow her into a world of endless suitors, and Juliette knew she would never meet another man like him.

And she loved him.

Despite his words that melted her body and soul; despite his care and worship of her body; despite his undeniable ability to listen to her and go out of his way to show her he thought of her, Juliette was keenly aware that he likely did not feel the same. Ian was an honorable man who had compromised those morals for her. She might have felt guilty about it had she not known they’d both derived so much pleasure from their time together.

She was still determined to hold up her part of the bargain. She’d promised Ian that their arrangement would be only temporary. It might break her, but she was determined to keep her word…after she experienced what it was to be skin-to-skin with this amazing, beautiful Scotsman.

Juliette smoothed the pleated skirt of her ice-blue gown and adjusted the strings of pearls and dangling aquamarines at her throat. The neckline was one of the more daring ones she’d commissioned just that Season. Normally, she opted for more comfortable, serviceable styles since she was so rarely in situations where she would require the extra flare and attention. She was glad she’d listened to that little voice in the back of her head a few months prior, however, when her modiste had presented her with the fashion plate and Juliette had instantly listened to her gut and daring gown was now hers.

The color had been chosen to highlight the brightness of her eyes and stand in even more striking contrast to the rest of her coloring. She felt ethereal. She felt unexpectedly confident. Perfect for a seduction and one scandalous night of passion.

∞∞∞

“I adore the theater,” Miss Finchley said shyly after a sip of her wine. Ian had been seated between the young lady and her mother, much to the delight of the matchmaking Mrs. Finchley.

The poor girl had leaned over as soon as her mother was occupied by an inquiry presented by Lord Leighton to her left and apologized to Ian for her mother’s rather tactless behavior. He’d instantly assured her that no apologies were necessary; he was quite used to these efforts and was unfazed by them. The young lady was quite pretty when she smiled. She had a pleasantly plump face and dark eyes that lit from within when she smiled. She was also a very interesting conversationalist when one or both of her parents weren’t talking over her. He sincerely hoped she would find herself a good match so she could be free of her parents; Ian, however, could not be that man. He’d cast a glance up the table where Juliette sat beside her brother, looking resplendent in a gown as blue as a crisp spring sky.

For now, he would enjoy Miss Finchley’s company and give the girl an evening of pleasant conversation without subtext or hidden agenda.

“Have you seen any recent productions?” Ian asked her. “I fear my schedule does not permit me to attend the theater as much as I would like, but I do enjoy hearing about it.”

This proved to be quite the right topic of conversation for the normally reserved Miss Finchley. She instantly launched into a description of Drury Lane Theatre’s most recent dramatic interpretation of Richard III .

“Edmund Keane is remarkable,” she breathed. “He has such a way of playing the despicable villain. He surely must be one of the most emotionally expressive actors of our time—aside from Garrett Frost, of course.”

“Frost?” Ian frowned as he sifted through his memory. “He is with The Mask she had dreamt about it. Nothing else had occupied her mind beyond imagining that moment when she found Ian standing there waiting for her.

His head was tilted in a charmingly unsure way—as if she hadn’t been the one to invite him there, to have been the one to provide him with directions to where she awaited. She hooked a finger in his waistcoat and tugged him forward, closing the door behind him.

His breathing was shaky as she guided him further into the rose-colored room.

“What am I doing here, Juliette?” Ian rasped as she slipped her hands into his. Despite his words, he wove their fingers together. There was something so achingly sweet about it—a familiarity she’d never even considered and now realized she did not wish to live without.

“My education is lacking in one area,” Juliette began, hoping her voice was steadier than her stomach.

“Your note was well done.”

“I do not mean my Gaelic.” Ian’s mouth snapped shut; the knot in his throat bobbed. “I know there is more I do not know, and I wish to know all of it.”

“This is not something that can be undone.”

“Have I once shown any regret for anything we have done, Ian?” He averted his eyes and she knew his resolve was waning. She was winning. “I will not regret this either.”

“I am not the man—”

“You are exactly the man…the only man I want this with.” She brought his hand to her face and pressed a lingering kiss to the palm. His eyes shuttered and his lips parted. She could practically scent his desire on the air. “Unless you do not want this.”

Ian yanked her to him with a suddenness that made her gasp. His thick thumb traced her lower lip. “Lass. I’ve wanted nothing more in my life…and I’ve dreamt of nothing else since kissing this mouth of yours.”

She would have told him she hadn’t either, but his lips slanted over hers, his tongue sliding home to dance and tangle and claim her breath and her heart as his.

Juliette was suddenly grateful that, for once, Fanny had been so quick to help her prepare for bed because her nightdress provided little barrier to Ian’s heat. She could feel every one of the muscles in his chest and abdomen ripple as he worked to divest himself of his coat. His waistcoat and cravat followed soon after, tossed away to land on the floor, her desk, and a chair. She barely had time to examine the hard planes of his body before he crushed her to him once more. Both their hands caught and dragged, squeezed and caressed, memorized every curve and hollow, earning gasps of delight and moans of pleasure.

Soon, her nightdress was pulled high enough that Ian’s giant hands could palm the globes of her bottom. He gripped her tightly, pulling her closer while simultaneously grinding his pelvis against her. She recognized the thick, hard ridge of his arousal and her knees nearly buckled. It had been one thing to be in control when she touched him and kissed him there; it was another to surrender to him and completely give herself and her body to him. She longed for it, but it was also as frightening as it was exciting.

Ian lifted her in one easy movement, hiking her against his chest and pulling her thighs around his waist. Juliette’s head dropped back as he began to nip and nuzzle the length of her bare throat.

“You’ve no idea how long I've wanted to be between these long legs,” he panted against her skin, sending a shiver of appreciation through her body. “Tasting you was glorious, but feeling you wrapped ‘round me, squeezin’ me tight as I fill you…aye, that’ll be heaven.”

A whimper was ripped from her throat as he set her on the edge of the bed.

“ Tha thu bòidheach ,” he murmured while gazing down at her, his eyes skimming over her face, then the pale shoulder exposed by her slipping gown, the swells of her heaving breasts with their erect, dusky nipples pressing against the thin fabric. And she certainly felt as beautiful as he claimed her to be.

He knelt before her like an ancient warrior for his queen and slowly raised the hem of her nightshift higher to expose the tops of her creamy thighs and the thatch of dark hair protecting her sex. She might have been embarrassed had she not already known how much he enjoyed her body, the things he could do to her and the way he could make her feel.

Cheekily, she leaned back on her elbows to look down her body at his chestnut hair, burnished nearly fiery red in the dim candlelight, and spread her thighs wide. His gorgeous irises were nearly swallowed whole by their pupils as he surveyed her most secret of places with what could only be described as unabashed admiration.

“Perfection,” Ian groaned and spread her with his thumbs before dipping his head to lick the dew gathering in the folds of her sex.

Lips parted in a silent cry of joy, Juliette could only give in to the flames of desire and allow herself to be slowly consumed by them. Her hips jerked involuntarily, grinding her body against Ian’s wicked mouth and spurring him on.

“Aye. That’s it,” he mumbled into her body before doing something quite wicked with his tongue. “Use me for your pleasure. Is ann leatsa a tha mi .” I am yours. A shuddering sigh escaped her when he hauled her closer and propped his shoulders beneath her thighs; his tongue prodded deeply, swirling and tasting. Her legs clamped around his head, and she began to sob his name, her crisis building ever stronger within her, gathering speed and intensity as he continued his onslaught. She felt pulled taut and plucked to within a razor’s edge of snapping. Her body was no longer under her control; she had become a bundle of nerves and pulsating pleasure beneath the masterful ministrations of the man feasting upon her flesh. She knew he would not stop until she reached her pinnacle. The knowledge that he was wholly dedicated to her pleasure was what set her over that edge.

Every muscle in her body throbbed with her release, from the inside out. Stars shot across her vision and she was unable to catch her breath in between cries of ecstasy.

“Ian. Ian!” Juliette rode wave after wave of her orgasm, soaring so high she barely registered when he rose and, having released himself from his breeches, rubbed the broad head of his sex through her wetness and pressed forward.

She felt her body stretch and give as he nudged deeper with every clench and release of her inner muscles. Her climax melted away and, recognizing the intrusion, her body began to resist. Her hands flew to Ian’s arms braced on either side of her and she gripped him, unsure if she was urging him on or begging him to stop.

Ian’s eyes met hers. His chest, sprinkled with red-gold hair, heaved with the intensity of his restraint.

“I ken it’s uncomfortable,” he said, his voice slipping into a thicker Scottish accent than she’d heard before. “But this is necessary. It will no’ hurt so much after this. I promise.” The sincerity in his eyes comforted her, but it was the tautness of his features that made her decide to allow him to continue. He was desperate to continue, but he hated the fact that she was in pain and would stop if she asked him to; she knew it in her heart.

Juliette nodded and held onto Ian, trusting him as he continued to press forward until his thick length was fully seated inside, stretching her beyond what she thought was her limit.

They held still together then, two bodies merged and panting as one.

“Are you well?” Ian asked, voice more strained than she had thought possible.

Juliette nodded against his damp throat and he began to move. What started as short, gentle thrusts gradually increased as she acclimated to the foreign sensations he unleashed within her. Her muscles gradually began to melt, as did her core. She could feel the dripping moisture ease his way as each thrust was smoother than the last. He kissed her then, his tongue mimicking the gentle, deep thrusts of his manhood, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs falling wide to accept his hips.

“Better?”

“Yes,” she replied, then gasped as he angled himself differently. “Oh, yes.”

Ian’s head dipped lower to follow the neckline of her nightshift. Tugging it down, his mouth closed over her sensitive nipple and she cried out in surprise. Her hands flew to his hair and held him there, every flick of his tongue plucking a new string tied from that puckered bud to her center.

“Yes,” she moaned, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. She wanted more. More. “ Tuilleadh ,” she demanded. And he gladly obliged.

Releasing her nipple, Ian rose above her and braced his feet on the floor. Wrapping his arms around her legs, he tilted her just so and spread her open for both their pleasure. He increased the speed of his grinding thrusts, his soft sac gently slapping against her bottom in an unexpectedly tantalizing way. His thumb found that little nubbin at the crux of her sex and rubbed in the swirling rhythm he’d learned she favored.

Juliette closed her eyes and allowed herself to be carried away by her other senses. The room became humid with their panting breaths and sweat from exertion. The sound of gliding flesh and harsh inhalations filled her ears. She adored the feel of Ian’s muscles rippling beneath his skin, the thick fullness of him pounding between her thighs, and the moist glide of his fingers as he teased her. Her fingers clawed at the coverlet to keep herself grounded, but it was futile. Her vision blurred and she could tell it was not long before she soared once more. Her body trembled uncontrollably.

“Aye.” Ian continued thrusting. She unscrewed her eyes and decided the sight of his golden body with its hard planes and a light dusting of hair working over her and his eyes riveted on the spot where their bodies joined was the most erotic image in the world. “Good lass. Come again for me. I want to feel it.”

Juliette was a chess piece knocked from a table. She tumbled over that otherworldly precipice and would have screamed had Ian not covered her mouth with his to swallow her joyful cries. He thrust into her hard and jerkily several more times before spilling himself inside of her with hot ropes of ecstasy, his body convulsing over hers with guttural moans.

Juliette recovered first and kissed the salty sweat from Ian’s corded neck, stroking his damp back with languid fingers, and found herself wishing the moment would last forever. If only they could shut out the rest of the world and its complications and restrictions, if Ian felt the same way she did, Juliette believed in her soul that they could truly be happy.