Chapter 21

Io deeply regretted it when Masterson opened his eyes and found her watching. She was unsurprised by his reaction—horror—and the immediate cessation of an activity that had, quite frankly, been one of the most erotic sights she had ever seen. Severe, reserved, gorgeously masculine Corbin Masterson stroking himself.

Io suspected the image would be branded into her brain for a long, long time.

Predictably, Masterson stood up straight and dropped his cock as if it were a burning coal, his face turning brick red.

"Lady Io." The words were a frigid contrast to the rest of him.

She didn't want to grin, but…

His jaw tightened and eyes narrowed. "Come here."

The words were all the more menacing—and exciting—for how quiet they were.

Io took one step, and then recalled the resolution she'd made before coming here today. If he wanted her, he would have to come prepared.

"I did not bring any—"

"We don't need a condom for what you are going to do."

The bolt of lust that struck her sex at his stern words almost drove her to her knees. Io scrambled to hide her arousal at this cool, commanding facet of his nature. She had already shown him the last time—and far too eagerly—how much she liked it.

Instead, she fluttered her eyelashes and adopted a vapid look. "Why, whatever do you mean, gentle sir?"

He ignored her attempt at levity. "Strip."

Io had been so entranced by the sight of him that she'd forgotten she was still completely dressed, her satchel slung over her shoulder.

She let the bag slide to the floor with a thunk and then pulled off her gloves, finger by finger.

His eyelids drooped and his nostrils flared as he watched her without speaking, without moving—like a predator cornering its prey, ready to pounce.

Io tossed her hat onto a nearby chair, her cloak joining it.

His eyes roamed down her body. For once, Io wondered what he thought about her adherence to dress reform—not that she would change anything to please him, but she was curious.

Liar. You wore this gown today just for him.

That was true, but she had not rushed out and bought a new gown; she'd already owned the teal velvet. It was an unusual, softer choice for her, far different from her usual grays or navy blues—and while it was cut along more romantic lines, it was still imminently practical.

If it hadn't been, she could not have stripped herself as quickly as she was doing—certainly not if she'd been garbed in one of the tightly laced, monstrously bustledgowns that were fashionable.

The rich velvet slid to the floor without a sound.

Beneath it, she wore only a single silk petticoat and a whisper-thin chemise without a corset.

Corbin's dark eyes lowered to her breasts and his chest swelled.

Io glanced down to see what he was staring at as she pulled the tape on her petticoat.

Her hard nipples were thrusting against the white silk chemise—luxurious undergarments were Io's one weakness when it came to clothing.

Once she'd dropped the petticoat, she stepped out of it, and kept walking until she'd closed the distance between them.

His jaw flexed, his eyes rampaging over her body. And then he reached out without a word and nudged one, and then the other strap off her shoulder, causing it to float to the floor.

He took his time inspecting her as she stood naked before him, his gaze a tangible caress as it stroked over her breasts, belly, and mound and then made its leisurely way back up.

Io's own jaw clenched at the tightly leashed desire she saw in his eyes.

He took a pillow off the chair and tossed it to the carpet at his feet. "On your knees."

***

A man would never be entirely sure where he stood with Lady Io Hale.

When Corbin ordered her to her knees, he would not have been surprised if she'd told him to go to Hell, laughed, or ordered him to his knees, first.

Her reaction—immediate compliance—was the one reaction that did surprise him.

Her full lips slackened and he felt the desire that ripped through her at his cold command.

Despite her loud protestations to the contrary, his lady liked this dominant side of him—a side Corbin had always kept firmly in check—and she responded to it as if she had been specially created just for him.

She sank to her knees with an eagerness that gutted him. His urge to master her—which had flared to life when he'd opened his eyes and found her watching him take his private pleasure—softened at her willingness to yield to him.

His prick, however, only became harder.

Corbin was in the same boat he'd been in when he'd decided to masturbate—worse, even—because there was no way he could acquit himself with Io kneeling at his feet and looking up at him with such sweet submission, waiting for his next command.

He reached for her face, turned up toward him like a flower, and a low groan slipped from his clenched jaws when she rubbed her satiny cheek against his palm, her ridiculously lush eyelashes like two black fans against her flushed pink skin.

Corbin slid his fingers into her short dusky curls and exerted the slightest of pressure. "Take me in your mouth, Io."

She shivered slightly, her eyes never leaving his as she parted her lush lips and took him only as deeply as his crown, sending waves of erotic shock through his body—waves that grew even stronger when her low moan of pleasure vibrated up his shaft to his tortured balls.

"Io," he whispered, his burning lungs reminding him to breathe.

Her lips curled slightly as she took him deeper, the smile lines at the corners of her eyes letting Corbin know that just because she was the one on her knees, did not mean he was the one in control.

Io Hale reveled in the power she had over him.

And Corbin would not have her any other way.

***

Io had always enjoyed pleasuring a man with her mouth, but never more than just then—when Corbin's mask of control began to crack, pieces of it falling away faster and faster as she used every weapon in her arsenal.

Unlike the last time she had done this, she was not trying to exert her will and manipulate him.

This time, she wanted only to please him.

His jaw was like stone as he stared down at her, the intensity in his gaze as arousing as the way his hips jerked even as he visibly struggled to control them.

Io doubted he was aware of the way his hands were guiding her to take him deeper, something that the rational, proper, controlled Corbin Masterson would never do to a lady.

He would castigate himself later for his behavior—for exhibiting his raw need—but right now… Right now, he was a creature of desire and she was the one thing in his world that mattered.

Io held him pinioned with her gaze as she took him deeper, her eyes watering at the length of him, her jaws all but unhinging.

But it was worth any discomfort when she swallowed around him.

He shouted something incomprehensible, hips thrusting hard as his spine arched sharply and his head dropped back.

Even as the first drop hit the back of her tongue, she felt his body jerk in awareness and begin to withdraw, to spare her.

Io sank her fingers into the tight weave of his muscular ass and pulled him closer, swallowing everything he gave her.

Only when he began to pull away, too sensitive for her touch to be pleasurable, did Io release him.

When she looked up, she wondered how long it would take for his Puritan guilt to begin assaulting him.

***

Corbin felt reality invade even though he tried to keep it at bay.

The events of the last moments replayed in his head like one of the flip-books Lizzy loved so much. The shame he felt at using a woman—a lady—so roughly spread through him like the rush of an incoming tide.

He forced himself to look down at Lady Io, who still knelt at his feet.

Naturally, she was waiting for him. "Please tell me you are not going to suffer a fit of the male vapors."

Her gibe and smirk forced a disbelieving huff from him. Corbin shook his head, at a loss for words, and extended his hand, grateful when she took it and allowed him to lift her to her feet.

Instead of stepping away, as he'd thought, she stepped closer, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing the length of her body against his, her hot naked skin and the springy curls of her sex reminding him that his softening cock was hanging out of his trousers like a surrendering soldier.

She pressed her face close to his, standing on her toes, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Are you?" she asked, and then lightly and with uncharacteristic tenderness, kissed him on the mouth before pulling back and waiting for his answer.

Corbin tasted himself on her tongue, a flavor he'd not experienced since he'd been a young, curious boy exploring the thrill of masturbation. He'd thought the taste would repulse him, but it only made him remember how tenderly and hungrily she had just serviced his need.

"No, I will not suffer a fit of the male vapors." It was only partially a lie. He ran his palms down her back until he cupped a soft buttock in each hand. "I hope you will give me an opportunity to acquit myself—in a short while," he added, kissing her as softly as she'd done him.

She chuckled wickedly. "I look forward to it."

Corbin reluctantly released her and gestured to the table in the adjacent sitting room. "I took the liberty of having champagne and some sustenance delivered before your arrival."

Her eyes brightened. "Oh, yes please. I'm peckish as I had no tea earlier."

Corbin was about to pull the counterpane from the bed to wrap her up against the cold when she said, "I brought my dressing gown with me."

He goggled and she laughed.

She gestured to her satchel, which she was never without, and pulled it open, extracting a whisp of silk.

Once she was garbed in a wrapper that resembled a peacock's tail—and after he'd tucked himself away—Corbin fed the fire with more coal and they sat on the settee near the small feast set out on the low table.

He opened the bottle with a soft pop and poured them both glasses of champagne.

"Mmm," she said, after taking her first sip. "I love the bubbles."

"Yes, I've noticed."

"You have?"

"Axbridge always brings you champagne," he said before he could stop himself.

"Have you been spying on me, Masterson?"

He snorted, refusing to indulge her teasing about a matter that made him so jealous he'd all but ground his teeth to stumps.

"I was very angry at you earlier today—in Zeus's office," she said after a moment.

"I could tell."

"Don't worry, I don't wish to argue about it."

"Good. Because I only learned about what you were doing with your allowance five minutes before you came in, when Miss Barrymore interrupted us to tell Hastings." He did not admit that he had wanted to strangle the duke's fiancée for causing more strife.

She lifted an eyebrow.

"It is the truth," he said.

"Hmmph."

"Just out of curiosity, when were you going to tell me that Gordon was never your lover?"

"I thought I already had?"

"Not in so many words."

She shrugged. "You never asked."

Corbin tucked his annoyance away. Already the precious minutes were ticking past and he did not want to waste them bickering.

"By the way, the article I am writing for his magazine is about the various movements pursuing the expansion of the voting franchise back home," she said, her smile slight. "Nothing too inflammatory."

Again, Corbin might have disagreed, but he merely nodded.

She turned to face him fully, which brought her knee against his thigh. Even through two layers of clothing excitement arced from her touch. "Most of what I know about you has been collected second-hand." Her full lips flexed into a frown. "A great deal of it seems to have been promulgated by Edith. Will you tell me about your time in seminary?"

Corbin took a sip of his champagne to mask his surprise. "What do you want to know?" he asked warily.

"What made you go?"

His lips twitched.

"What? Why are you smiling like that?"

"How am I smiling?"

"Just tell me!"

"I was smiling because I was thinking about what a sanctimonious, humorless, and self-righteous prig I was at seventeen."

"Was?" she taunted.

Corbin rolled his eyes. "Very well, perhaps I am still a bit priggish."

"A bit?"

"You are relentless. Has anyone ever told you that?" he retorted, exasperated but amused.

"Everyone I have ever met," she admitted, looking proud rather than remorseful. "Why do you think you were so—"

"Devout?" he suggested wryly. "I suspect it had to do with the fact that I was conceived out of wedlock. My mother was a maid in my father's boyhood home," he said before she could ask.

Io's beautiful face hardened. "And did he—"

"My father did not force himself on her," Corbin assured her. "Although the outcome was no different. He was already betrothed at the time—to a woman from a very powerful and wealthy family—so there was never any possibility of him marrying my mother."

"You mean that he did not consider the possibility."

"No, nor did his mother and father," Corbin agreed. "In any event, my father married whom his parents wanted and spent the rest of his life with a woman who despised him."

"Did she despise him because she knew about your mother?" she asked.

"That was only the first of many reasons."

"Your father was a philanderer?"

Corbin could not help being amused at her direct question. "I am sure that his wife had a great deal to tolerate," he said, sidestepping her question.

"And what about your grandparents?"

"What about them?"

"Did they reconcile themselves to your existence?"

"To a degree. I never met them, but they paid for my upkeep and schooling. To be fair, they gave my mother enough money that she never needed to work again for the rest of her life, so they were generous."

"With their money," she said tartly.

"Yes. With their money," he agreed.

"And you met Zeus at boarding school?"

Corbin smiled fondly. "Yes. He came upon me fighting off four boys and flew to my assistance without a word. Even back then he was a figure of respect and his friendship spared me a great deal of misery. He told the boys they were fools to care about whether or not my parents were married. He said there were far better reasons to want to thrash somebody."

"That is wise for one so young."

"He has always been practical and deeply empathic."

"An admirable combination. So, tell me, then—why is he betrothed to that vindictive bitch? A woman who treats her own flesh and blood like a slave?"

Corbin met her fierce gaze. "If you want an answer to that question then you should ask His Grace. It is not my place to speculate." Even though he did so plenty in the privacy of his own mind.

"Fair enough," she said, surprising him with her mild acquiescence.

"You asked about seminary," he said, deciding to answer her question. "The truth is that even before I met Emma, I knew it was not the right place for me. I would have left after that first year. My departure was merely…hastened."

"How did you meet her?"

He cocked his head. "You really want to know?"

"What? Do you think I cannot talk about your former lover without becoming jealous?"

Corbin knew he could not talk about her former lovers without wanting to track them all down and hurt them, but he doubted she wanted to hear that.

He had never spoken of Emma to anyone before, not even Hastings. And yet now he found himself almost eager to share. "She was the daughter of a publican in the nearby town, his tavern was a place where seminary students congregated. She told me that she'd moved back to live with her parents because her husband had died. I did not find out until after I asked her father's permission to marry her that her husband was still very much alive."

Io's eyes bulged. "She did not tell you that?"

Corbin felt embarrassed for his dead lover, a reaction that was ridiculous. He tried to explain. "Emma was…a daydreamer." That was the kindest way to put it. He forced himself to hold Io's gaze. "She was also extremely lovely." He was not surprised when understanding dawned in her eyes, which were more brown than green today.

"You were only seventeen," she said after a moment, her words kinder than he deserved for falling in love with a woman who had a pretty face and very little substance.

He had been so proud when Emma—who had drawn the attention of every young man in the area—had settled on him as a suitor. He'd never seen such a beautiful woman, and at four-and-twenty—a whole seven years his senior—she had seemed worldly and sophisticated.

"I was a young fool," he said. "And Emma knew that. Of all the men chasing her, she picked me. Not because I was the most handsome or because she loved me, but because she believed she could convince an illegitimate man to marry her."

"Even though she was still married?"

He nodded. "She had hoped that we would run off and marry. When I approached her father for his permission, it was unbeknownst to her."

"So, he is the one who thrust a spoke in her wheel?"

"Yes. I set about finding her husband once I discovered Emma was with child. He was not hiding and it is possible I could have forced him to agree to a divorce, but then…"

"She died in childbed," Io finished for him, the sympathy in her gaze harder to take than scorn would have been. "That is a great deal of pain for a youth of seventeen to bear."

"I was an idiot."

"You were young. We've all done stupid things at one point or another."

Corbin wondered if she was referring to her mentor lover Lamar Jacobsen. He had no intention of inquiring. Indeed, he could not think of a subject he was less interested in knowing about. Or any of her other lovers, either.

She reached out to take a berry and dipped it in devon cream "You must have paid a fortune for these at this time of year."

He had, but he'd noticed how she liked them at breakfast this past autumn and thought the expense well worth it if it gave her pleasure.

She brought the cream-swathed berry not to her mouth, but his.

"They are for you," he said.

"I know. But I want to share with you. Take it…Corbin."

***

The only other man Io had met who could cloak his emotions so effectively was her brother Zeus. Perhaps that was part of their training at their expensive boarding school.

Only the slight flexing of his jaw told her how the use of his Christian name affected him.

When he opened his mouth, Io deliberately smeared some of the cream on his fuller bottom lip before setting it on his tongue.

He closed his mouth and began to chew, his smoky gaze never leaving her.

Io stood and then lowered onto the settee, putting one knee on either side of his hips. She was taller than him and enjoyed the rare opportunity to look at him from above before slowly lowering until her buttocks rested on his thighs. "Let me get this for you," she murmured, and then licked the bit of cream from his lip.

His nostrils flared as he swallowed, his hands closing around her waist.

Rather than pull her closer, he held her with one hand and then reached for the sash of her robe with the other, pulling it loose with a tug before pushing the thin silk from her shoulders.

His eyes were almost black as they swept over her breasts. He slid his hands behind her back to hold her cradled as he lowered his mouth over one peaked nipple.

Io moaned when he nipped her, her back arching when lips as soft as flower petals gently sucked the same spot. She surrendered to pure sensation as he alternated breasts, biting and soothing and laving.

"I need you inside me, Masterson," she said when she could take the teasing no longer.

He nipped her one last time and then looked up, his eyelids heavy. "Are you sure?"

Io gave an unladylike snort. "I think I should know my own body."

"Still, I should check to make sure that I have prepared you properly," he said, and then stroked a finger between her swollen lower lips, the warm pad circling her clitoris in a way that made her grit her teeth to stop a lustful growl. "No," he said, shaking his head, his expression thoughtful. "Not quite ready, I fear."

"Masterson!"

"Tsk, tsk. So hasty. I need to make sure you are nice and wet for me before I take you."

He was trying to kill her.

The next five minutes proved her suspicion as he teased her toward the brink of orgasm and then stopped just as her body began to shake and come apart.

When he started down the same road a third time, she grabbed a thick handful of blond hair.

"Ow!" He tried to flinch away, but Io held him in place.

"If you do that one more time, Masterson, I will take my revenge on you in a most diabolical way."

He appeared to consider that threat for a moment before saying, "Perhaps you are almost read—"

"I. Am. Ready." She released his hair. "If you check my satchel, you will find—"

"I don't need one of your condoms," Before she could tell him that he most certainly did need one, he said. "I brought my own today." He gave her a smug, haughty look. "In fact, I brought several."

And then her serious, stern lover winked.

Io laughed, delighted by both his preparedness and his playfulness. "Then what are we waiting for? Take me to bed, Mr. Masterson."