Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

M arianne couldn't move as Sebastian's rough words washed over her like a caress. In the darkness of the parlor, in the shadows, his confession felt raw and powerful. It overwhelmed her because she felt not only his desire for her still pulsing beneath the surface, but something deeper. Something that called to the love she felt for him and gave her hope she knew would only lead to despair.

And it didn't matter. She couldn't do as he asked. She couldn't walk away and pretend this draw didn't exist and that it wasn't undeniable.

She shivered as she edged a little closer, hearing his breath catch in the dark when her body brushed his. She lifted up on her tiptoes slowly and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck to urge his lips to hers. There was a moment when he didn't move, but then he did, relaxing toward her. When they met, the kiss was so gentle that she nearly burst into tears right there.

She didn't want to do that, so she traced his lips with her tongue and he made a deep, guttural moan before his arms clasped around her and he molded her hard to his chest. He drove his tongue into her mouth, almost punishing, like he could make her run away with his passion if not with his request.

Of course that wasn't true. The passion only inspired her more. She lifted against him, desire washing over her the same way it had the night before. But now she knew what she wanted, she knew what would happen. There was no longer a rising, faceless fear when she touched him, but a wonderful anticipation of the wave that she knew would at some point sweep her into pleasure.

She wanted that. Nothing else mattered in that moment. At least not to her. But perhaps it did to him because he broke away from her at last, pressing his forehead to hers.

"This isn't fair," he whispered, and his voice cracked.

She wrinkled her brow. Did he mean for her? Or for himself? She traced his cheek with her palm and he turned his face into it to kiss the skin there, sending ripples of sensation through her entire body. "What isn't fair is wanting you so much, Sebastian. I want you so much. And I can feel you want me."

He let out a ragged breath before he tucked her a little closer and she did, indeed, feel the evidence of his desire pressed hard and heavy against her stomach. She ached for it and for him.

"It's private here," he murmured, she thought more to himself than to her. "No one knows we came to this room. No one saw."

She realized he was convincing himself and so she kept her mouth shut so she wouldn't disrupt him.

"It's dark," he continued. "Only shadow, almost not real. We could pretend we're not us, just two lovers who found each other and couldn't resist."

She shivered at that idea, even as she looked up into the dark shape of his face. "Sebastian, I could never pretend you aren't you. Never."

He hesitated a moment and she thought perhaps she'd brought him back to reality. That he would push her away and deny them both. But instead he bent his head again and his mouth found hers. His kiss was sweet, burning against her as their tongues tangled in the silence of the room. She was swept up in him, washed away and she knew, just as she knew her own name, that this would happen. He wouldn't deny her.

And she ached for what they were about to share. His hands found the buttons along the back of her gown, slipping them free even as he continued kissing her. She did the same on his jacket and the waistcoat beneath, pushing them both at once so she could get to bare skin faster.

He chuckled at her ardor and shrugged the fabric away before he tugged her dress forward and then traced the line of her throat with his tongue. The trail he made was like fire and she moaned at the pleasure of the sensation. She buried her fingers into his thick hair, arching against him as he sucked and licked.

She tugged down the straps of her chemise and then pulled his shirt from his trouser waist. When she'd unbuttoned enough buttons he released her long enough to yank the shirt off his head. They stared at each other. She was naked from the waist up. He was only in his trousers and boots, his hard cock pressing against the straining buttons of his fall front.

She kept the fleeting eye contact the darkness allowed as she reached out and flicked those buttons open too. The fabric fell to reveal him briefly in the shadowy moonlight.

He tugged her back into his arms, naked flesh against naked flesh now. He was hot as a fire, his hands roving over her back and hips even as he drew her toward the settee across the room. He fell back into a slouched, seated position there and she tumbled across him, her mouth seeking his with increasing desperation and heat. She ached for this, for him, and nothing else mattered now.

He seemed to feel the same. He shifted her position roughly, pushing her skirt up around her hips and helping her straddle his lap. He rocked her against him as his kiss deepened. She felt the heat of him between her legs, nudging the slick entrance to her body as she ground down and felt the echo of the pleasure she knew would come if she let it.

There was no stopping it now. This was fated. She knew it as she shifted and reached between them to position him at her entrance. He grunted as she eased down, his cock sliding easily into her body. There was no discomfort this time, no confusion at the idea that he would claim her. There was only the thick, luscious stretch of his hard body into her softness.

"Oh my God," she moaned, gripping his bare shoulders.

He tugged her down, his tongue meeting hers as she began to grind against his lap in desperation, seeking pleasure without thought, connection without words. He slipped his hands beneath her skirt and cupped her backside, slowing her movements, drawing out the building pleasure.

She savored it, grinding in circles against him, gripping him as she used him. He let her, lifting gently, never taking over even though he could have at any moment. After that had gone on for what felt like a blissful eternity, she broke her mouth from his with a gasp. She tilted her head back over her shoulders, her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on the ripples of pleasure that had already begun.

She felt his breath against her nipple and then his tongue, and it was enough to push her over the edge. As he sucked hard, she fell, groaning while her hips rocked out of control against him.

"Don't stop," he growled against her skin. "I want all of it, Marianne."

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body clenching so tight that she feared she might hurt him. But when she managed to open her eyes, she didn't see pain on his face. Oh no, it was pure pleasure as he watched her at the height of her release. Like he was studying some beautiful painting and trying to memorize each brush stroke.

But at last the pleasure began to soften, fade, and she collapsed against him, her breath short, her forehead pressed to his. He continued to lift beneath her, his hands digging into her backside as he took her.

"I want to come inside of you," he whispered, the words somehow darker and more erotic when she couldn't fully see his face. "I want you to feel me dripping down your thighs while you're dancing with some other man later tonight."

She rocked against him at that wicked thought.

"But I can't," he said softly, and he pushed her back, sliding her off his cock and back onto his thighs before he came between them.

Without thinking, she reached between them, running her fingers through the evidence of his pleasure and then slipped her hands to her thighs, rubbing the essence of him there, sticky and hot.

"Now we'll both know," she whispered.

"Christ," he muttered, and then pulled her back hard to him and crushed his mouth to hers. "We'll just stay here. I'll fuck you all night. I'll leave your legs shaking so you can't ride for a fortnight."

She nodded against him, arching as he rolled her onto her back and covered her, his mouth desperate against hers. "Yes. All night. All day tomorrow. All week."

He moaned against her skin, his hands pressing to her flesh like he wanted to mark her in some way. She didn't know what would happen next. Despite the pleasures they had both experienced, she felt no cooling of his ardor, nor of her own. Perhaps they would have spent all night doing wicked things to each other, bringing pleasure until they were both wrung out from it.

But there was no chance to discover if that were true. Because the door to the chamber came open in that moment and Finn entered the room, with Bentley on his heels.

"No, I'm not certain where she went, she's?—"

Her brother cut himself off as he looked across the room to see Sebastian hurling himself in front of Marianne's half-naked body to block her from being seen so undone. She cowered behind him, turning her face into his back as she clawed to raise her chemise. She was shaking so hard, she could hardly keep the fabric in her hands.

Perhaps Finn wouldn't know it was her, perhaps the dark would offer her some protection. Perhaps he'd just think Sebastian had been imprudent with some other lady in attendance and would excuse himself without further inquiry. That had happened before, hadn't it? Neither of them was a monk and it seemed to never change their feelings toward each other.

But that wasn't meant to be. For a moment the chamber was deathly quiet and then she heard her brother's voice, shaking with rage, "Marianne?"

"Delacourt…" Sebastian began, his tone warning, pleading.

But Finn didn't allow him to finish whatever he'd say to try to excuse the shocking scene before them. He simply came across the room, eyes blazing, and punched Sebastian in the mouth, sending him tumbling off the settee onto the floor below.