Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

M arianne could barely think enough to answer Sebastian's plea as she stared down at him, perched between her legs so wickedly. He waited without pressing her and at last she found the ability to nod. Despite being dizzy with heated desire, she was unable to allow her modesty to override the momentum of this moment.

He pushed her gown and chemise up to her stomach and then he untied her drawers. They loosened and he tugged, sliding them from under her and tossing them away over his shoulder into the darkness.

Now she was bared to him, splayed like a reckless wanton, not a shy wallflower. But still, this didn't feel like she was parading around like someone she wasn't. No, this felt like glorious freedom and shocking fantasy rolled up in one.

He shook his head as he gently pressed his hands higher and his palms cupped her between the legs. This was wrong, so many people had said that to women over the years. Somehow it felt anything but. It felt hot, the pressure making her legs shake and her inner muscles squeeze against emptiness.

"I'm going to kiss you, Marianne," he whispered. "Just like I did your mouth. I'm going to kiss you right…" He leaned down, lewdly close to her spread body. "…here."

And then his mouth covered her in a place she had been taught to barely touch, in a place that had been preached as the property of some nameless, faceless future husband. But right now, with Sebastian's dark head between her legs, his fingers peeling her open wider, his tongue tracing her and tingles rushing through her entire body, she didn't feel like something to be owned. She felt like this magical man had opened her gilded cage and now she was flying.

She lifted into him on instinct, grinding up to find his firm tongue. He licked harder, grunting like it pleased him to taste every inch of her. He swirled across her entrance and past it, thrusting gently, then he withdrew and focused attention to some hidden, wonderful place that made her breath short.

"Oh, that feels good," she gasped out, gripping her hands against the edge of the bench seat.

"That's your clitoris," he murmured without lifting his mouth from her. His muffled voice reverberated through her and she hissed out pleasure. "And I want it to feel good. I want you to feel so good that you scream my name until you're hoarse. That you lose control of every part of your body. I want to feel your thighs grip my shoulders and your hands push my head in demand for more, Marianne."

She lolled her own head against the seat with every wicked word and the images they created, which merged with the sensation as he returned his full attention to that same place…clitoris, he'd called it. He swirled his tongue around it, lapping and licking a never-ceasing rhythm. Pleasure was mounting in her in a way she'd never experienced before. An excitement and a building pressure that bloomed between her legs. She dug a hand into his hair just as he'd told her he wanted, feeling his head bob against her as he chuckled against her.

"More," she moaned, no longer caring about propriety or wantonness or anything but his tongue on her flesh.

He didn't disappoint, for now he began to suck her, his tongue tapping as the pressure grew more and more. Her legs were no longer hers to control, she was only his marionette, and she danced in time to his ministrations until finally, in a burst of wetness and heat and unbelievable sensation, waves of pleasure rocked her.

She wailed because she could do nothing else, grinding in time to his endless torment as the pleasure edged out of control and her body quivered with sensations she'd never imagined were possible. His fingers dug into her thighs, his mouth moved faster against her and his panting breaths were hot against her as he forced every last drop of desire from her now-weak body.

Only when she went limp did he lift his face to look at her. The shadow of whiskers on his chin was damp with her juices, but it didn't seem to bother him. He licked his lips as he smiled up at her, triumphant as a cat who had caught himself a mouse and toyed with it until he was satisfied.

But after the briefest of moments, his smugness faded away. His expression drew down and she saw the same thing she'd seen on his face the previous night when he kissed her on the terrace: regret. The pain of it was worse for her this time because what they had shared was no mere kiss! This was something far more intimate and life-altering. Something that had changed her being down to her core.

"What is it?" she asked, shocked she could formulate words in a reasonably calm tone when her whole body was still tingling from pleasure.

He found her drawers and handed them over. Once she'd slid them on, he reached up and gently tugged her skirt back down to cover her, then got back to his feet and backed away. "Marianne, I am not a gentleman."

She wrinkled her brow as she sat up straighter. "Of course you are."

He stared up at the vaulted glass of the orangery ceiling and the stars that sparkled above them through it. "My actions aren't gentlemanly. My thoughts and designs when it comes to you are certainly not."

When it came to her . So she wasn't wrong. He didn't just want someone, anyone. Somehow, impossibly he wanted her .

In that moment, she felt a wave of emotion come over her just as the wave of pleasure had moments before. It was also just as revelatory because she knew, like a lightning bolt from the sky, that she was in love with him. She had always been in love with him, this man who had been like a star out of her reach for all the years she'd known him.

Tonight he'd come down from his orbit and she feared she would chase the feeling of his blinding light forever.

"Sebastian," she whispered.

He shook his head and his voice was rougher when he said, "Please. Your brother has only ever put one rule on our friendship. That I must never corrupt you."

Marianne rose to her feet in shock. "Phineas spoke to you about me in that fashion?" He hesitated and then nodded slowly. She stepped toward him and stopped when he tensed, his face twisting with more of that horrible regret. "Why would he ask that of you? Why would he ever think you'd want me?"

His brow wrinkled, as if he'd never considered that question before. "My reputation, I suppose."

She shook her head. "He couldn't have ever thought I was truly in danger from you."

"I think tonight proves otherwise."

"Oh, please. You aren't corrupting?—"

"I am, I have !" His voice broke slightly and his expression became pained. "What I just did can be seen as nothing less. What is worse, I'll go even further if I'm given a chance. I won't be able to stop myself, just as I didn't stop myself tonight."

Her lips parted. It seemed her life was to be one surprise after another. "You mean you would…would…" She searched for a word and finally found it. "You would fuck me?"

He closed his eyes and swayed slightly at the very word he'd taught her weeks ago slipped from her lips. "Yes. I would most definitely fuck you, my lady. Until we were both spent and weak. Until you were ruined beyond repair. Until I was more of a cad than even my reputation would label me."

She shivered at the idea, still somewhat vague in her mind, but becoming clearer every time he touched her. She wanted what he suggested.

"But that would be between you and me, Sebastian," she whispered, stepping closer to him, feeling him tense when she took his hand and cupped it between her own. "No one's business but our own."

He stared down at her for a moment and she saw the waver in him. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "I cannot continue this," he said gently.

She tugged her hand away, disappointment marring the pleasure and the love and the warmth he had surrounded her in just a few moments before. "I see. Because of Finn."

"Yes." He ran a hand through his hair. "My family situation was so painful, Marianne."

"You think I don't know that?" she asked. "I was there just as he was. I saw your father's cruelty when you were young, Sebastian. I saw his dismissal of you and I watched it break your heart."

"Yes, you did." He drew a ragged breath. "Your kindness was one of the few balms on my soul in those days, Marianne. I haven't forgotten it. But Delacourt… Finn …he was the brother I…I…" He turned away.

She wrinkled her brow because she didn't understand why he'd break that sentence off. The brother he'd never had was clearly what he meant to say, but for some reason he withdrew. She watched him as he paced to one of the flowering trees and stand there, his shoulders tight and his hands clenched at his sides.

"He's all I have left now that my uncle is gone," he finished. "My only family, Marianne. I can't lose him. So I have to let you go. And because I care for you, because you do mean so much to me, I hope you can see that it's for your sake as much as my own."

He turned to look at her and she caught her breath. She hadn't realized how often Sebastian wore a mask, but now she saw the depth of his pain in the half-dark. She wanted to rush to him and demand and confess her own heart and try to force him to forget his hesitations.

But instead she pushed her shoulders back. "I'd never want to cause you pain, Sebastian. You are too dear to me for that."

His lips parted and his eyes widened and she felt the heat fill her cheeks. That was as close to telling him her heart as she would ever get.

"I won't bother you with this again," she said. "When we see each other, I'll never act differently. And I'd never tell Finn. I understand what you two mean to each other. How much you fill a void for each other. Now I'll leave you."

She moved toward the door to the orangery, but there she stopped, her hand shaking as she rested it on the handle. "Sebastian?"

"Yes?" he said, facing her.

"What we did…I want you to know it was wonderful. I never had any expectation that life could have so much beautiful… color . But you gave me that, not just tonight but in the last few weeks. It likely means little to you, but it meant everything to me. So, thank you."

He stared at her, his hands flexing at his sides. When he didn't reply, she inclined her head. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said softly as she exited the orangery and fled across the garden back toward the gate where she'd snuck in and the horse that awaited her in the narrow lane behind his house.

It hadn't been the night she'd wanted, even though she couldn't exactly label what she'd hoped for when she brought herself to the man's window. But she'd recognized her heart and surrendered a part of her body. She'd gained something magnificent and lost something precious all the span of a heartbeat.

And she feared life could never, would never, be the same after that. Even if she had to pretend it was.

S ebastian reentered his house, his entire body shaking. What he had done with Marianne still lingered on every inch of his body. But what she'd said he feared would be a part of his thoughts for the rest of his life.

He'd spent his adult life in dissipation. Oh, he wasn't entirely irresponsible—he took care of those who needed his attention, like his servants and tenants. But he tried to studiously avoid any connection that would require he…try. Trying was terrifying. The idea that he could let someone down haunted him.

But Marianne had scrambled everything he thought of himself in a moment when she'd said she hadn't expected life to have color. That he had put that color into her world.

The idea that he could do that for her was…magical. It puffed up his chest, it made him want to find more ways to do it. It made him want to be different than the way he presented himself to those around him.

Which was reason enough to stop toying with Marianne, even without the added issue of Delacourt and his edict for Sebastian all those years ago. He couldn't be the color in Marianne's world. He would let her down if he tried. She would break and he would hate himself more than he already did. And so would her brother.

He had to forget her taste, forget the feel of her arching beneath him, moaning for more. He had to forget her kindness and sweetness and the way she looked at him like he could pull the moon down and give it to her. Like she could make him want to.

He had to forget it all and then he would survive, as he'd always fought to survive.