He was completely at her mercy. He’d wanted to control her, but it was clear that she was the one in control. The irony was laughable, an experienced rake completely undone by the innocent ministrations of a virgin.
The warmth of her mouth enveloped him once again. He couldn’t bear it. “Take me deeper,” he begged, nearly shaking with the urge to thrust, “please.”
She willingly complied.
“Dear God,” he groaned. He’d died and gone to heaven.
His fantasies had done her an injustice. The sensation of her mouth on him was better than anything he could have imagined. Instinct was a mighty weapon. She used her tongue and the sweet suction of her lips with a skill that was inexplicable, were he even capable of rational thought.
Whether it was the combination of her own burgeoning sense of power or her natural inquisitiveness, he didn’t know, but soon, with the slimmest of instruction, she was doing things to him that only the most practiced whores had tried. As she took him deep into her mouth, he moved her hand to his bollocks, showing her how to hold him as she sucked, harder, deeper, faster.
He’d shocked her, though she’d managed to hide it.
Gina had never dreamt of such intimacies, though perhaps she should have. She remembered how her pleasure had heightened when he replaced his hands with his mouth on her breasts, sucking her nipples and driving her toward a shattering release. Would her mouth on his body do the same to him? She had to find out.
When her lips enfolded the velvety skin of his erection, the answer to her question was obvious. His guttural groan of ecstasy echoed in her ears, sending a sharp thrill through her, a fission of warmth spread between her thighs. The pure pleasure she was giving him could not be denied.
The act itself was strange, her mouth around his most private part, but Gina discovered that she liked it. She liked the wickedness. The hot, salty taste of him clung to her tongue. She’d surprised herself by her daring. It unleashed something inside her, something barely repressed. The bold adventuresome woman who wanted to learn the sensual arts of pleasure. Who wanted to keep pace with a rake.
She wrapped her tongue around his swollen head, tracing the bulging vein that ran down the long length of him. His size gave her pause. In truth, it frightened her. Despite his assurances, she was not convinced it would work.
She’d urged him further with her mouth. Pumping him with her lips and tongue, taking him deeper down her throat as he’d instructed. Her own body grew damp and clawing with need. His primal sounds intensified. His body shook with an urgency she did not understand. As if he was trying to contain something that could not be contained. She’d sucked harder, urging him to let go, challenging his control. Begging him with her mouth to let go.
He couldn’t stand it anymore; the urge to come deep in her throat was overwhelming. But he couldn’t. Not like this. Not for her first time. He wanted to be deep inside her, looking into her eyes when he spilled his seed. He lifted her to his lap, kissing her with all the agony and fury of a starving man.
Damn her. He tried to push her away, but she met him at every point. She wouldn’t run. Though in truth, he no longer wanted her to.
So he’d destroy her. If not today, then at some point in the future. The way he destroyed everything.
He broke the kiss for only long enough to spread his coat out behind them on the divan and remove his boots. There wouldn’t be much room. He was tempted to carry her up to his bedchamber, but two things prevented him. The servants and the delay.
By the time he’d finished, despite the intimacy of what they’d just shared, she was shivering with renewed nervousness. He pulled her into his arms and gently kissed her trepidation away, allowing her to grow accustomed to the sensation of her skin against his before he lifted her chemise over her head.
When he looked at her, his breath caught. He’d never seen anything more beautifully erotic. Reclining on the divan with her golden brown hair spread out behind her, wearing only her stockings, her gorgeous breasts still pink from his kiss, her legs gently parted… she was a goddess.
He wanted to tell her so, but he found himself strangely overcome, at a loss for words.
He slid off his trousers, enjoying the weight of her eyes on him. He bent over her, naked, every inch of his skin tingling, ready to slide against hers. He wanted to feel her nipples rake his chest as he moved inside her, feel her silken legs wrap around his buttocks, feel the press of her hips as she lifted to meet his thrust. He couldn’t wait much longer. He tested her with his fingers, finding her hot and deliciously wet. Next time he’d taste her and return the pleasure she’d given him. But right now, he had to make her his.
Her eyes closed as she gave herself over to his fingers.
His heart began to pound erratically as he realized how close she was. And how close he was to finally having her. “Tell me what you want, Gina,” he said softly.
She opened her eyes. “You.”
His heart hitched. She sounded as if she were asking for his soul. Or what remained of it. A gift he might willingly bestow. He shook the feeling away. He was being a fool. She was a virgin in the throes of passion. That was all.
He slid over her, positioning himself between her legs. Inch by glorious inch he pressed himself inside her. She was tight and hot and gripped him like a silken glove. His muscles tensed and sweat gathered on his brow as he strained against the impulse to thrust.
Her eyes were wide with pain as her body struggled to accommodate him. Never had he wished his cock smaller, but knowing the pain he would cause her, he did now.
A few more inches and he was halfway there. He couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m sorry,” he groaned. In one quick stroke he plunged through her innocence, covering her cries with his mouth.
Breathing deeply, he forced himself not to move, giving her time to stretch and soften around him. When he saw her expression and the tears shimmering in her eyes, an indescribable pain squeezed around his chest.
He had to know. He felt drained of all his resistance. “Why, Gina?” His voice was ragged. “Why are you doing this?” He paused. “With me.”
She gave him a brave, wobbly smile. “Because I love you.”
His chest squeezed. He didn’t want to believe it. “Why?”
She framed his face lovingly with her hands. “You need me.”
He tensed, recalling his humiliation. “I don’t want your pity.”
“You don’t have it. You have my love.”
She couldn’t love him. Why was she doing this? Confusing him. Complicating everything.
Her words forced him to examine his own feelings, something that he didn’t want to do. He was too afraid of what he might find—the weakness that had nearly destroyed him.
He hated this feeling, like he was all twisted up in knots. Vulnerable at a time when he was supposed to be in control. He’d pushed her and pushed her, and still she spoke of love.
Damn her.
And damn himself for how much he wanted to believe her.
“Don’t,” he warned angrily. For so many reasons.
She leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “It’s too late.”
Coventry closed his eyes and tried to close out the pain. The hope. The realization of how much he wanted to believe her.
He fought to block out everything other than the sensation of being inside her. This is all he wanted to feel. He moved back and forth, plunging deep and hard.
The pleasure built even greater than he could have imagined. He knew he was being too rough, but he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted it hard and fast and furious. He wanted to hurt her as she did him. For tearing down the fortress of indifference he’d fought so hard to erect.
“You pretend not to feel anything,” she whispered in his ears. “But I know you care for me. I don’t think you are indifferent at all.”
Her words enraged him, shattering his veil of civility. He reacted the only way he knew how. By taking her in a storm of pas
sion and lust. She was wrong. He didn’t feel anything for her. He would prove to her how wrong she was, and perhaps in the process, he might even prove it to himself.
Gina lifted her hips to meet his thrust, the pain of penetration all but forgotten in the euphoric blast of pleasure overwhelming her senses with each furious stroke. Deeper and deeper, he plunged inside her. Filling her. Once again bringing her to the point of unfettered ecstasy.
He did not make love to her tenderly, but with a rage that needed to be purged from his soul. The emotions he’d kept bottled inside for so long had exploded. He was a man stripped of all his armor, fighting desperately to hold on to the detachment that they both knew he could no longer claim.
She responded to the savageness of his lovemaking just as she had to his earlier challenges. With trust, understanding, and love. She met him stroke for stroke, using her body and the force of her own passion to deny this final challenge as their time of reckoning drew near.
Gina would not allow him to push her away. So she held tighter, clutching him as he drove them on a relentless road to blessed oblivion.
She found the beauty in the savage, reveling in his need for her, understanding the ferocity with which he took her.
She’d confused him. First by refusing to be intimidated by his increasingly shocking requests and second by her unexpected declaration of love.
The declaration of love had been a surprise to her as well. But he’d looked so vulnerable and uncertain, somehow he’d shocked the words right out of her. Words that had been there hovering around the edge of her consciousness for a very long time.
Gina had fallen in love with a heartless rogue.
Except for one thing. She knew he wasn’t heartless at all. He was a man who felt too much. Too deeply. If only he would realize it as well.
But he was too angry. With himself. With his mother. Perhaps even with his dead wife. But mostly, right now he was angry with her for refusing to be intimidated by his shocking requests made in the misguided attempt to frighten her away.
Had he realized yet that she would do anything to prove how much she cared for him? And that his wicked requests had only empowered her? She might be an innocent virgin, but she was not stupid. She’d seen the way he watched her as she undressed. The way his eyes devoured her with a hunger that was nearly palpable. She’d felt the way he shivered and clenched under her touch. She relished the feeling of control as she wrapped him in her hand, her fingers unable to close around him because he was so magnificently hard for her.
He wanted her. Desperately. Perhaps more than he even knew.
Only once had he truly shocked her.
But rather than frighten her away, the wicked suggestion simply made her curious. And afterward, only pleased. He’d almost lost control. She’d felt the pulse of his impending release, tasted the drops of his pleasure, right before he pulled her mouth from him.
And then he was on her, his hot naked body pressed against hers, pushing himself inside her.
And she’d declared her love.
From the first moment he entered her, Gina knew that something cataclysmic was happening. Ironically, her moment of enlightenment was accompanied by the most excruciating pain she’d ever known. It seemed she was right to fear his size. From the heights of passion to the bitter bowels of agony in three seconds flat. Inch by excruciating inch, Gina felt as if she was slowly being torn apart, until the razor-sharp pinch signaling his entry became almost welcome.
The pain was a visceral reminder that she could never go back. A none too subtle demarcation between innocence and womanhood. She had given herself to him. Completely. With all of her heart.
Then slowly, magically, the pain subsided and his onslaught began.
And she’d responded, discovering that she couldn’t get enough of him. She found herself fascinated by the strength and power of his body. Her hands clutched his naked shoulders, wanting to possess every inch of him. As if by merely pressing her fingers into his fiery skin, she could stake her claim to him forever.
Every inch of her body screamed with the need for release. He pushed her harder and faster and she met him with a frenzy that matched his own. He grabbed her hips and held her against him, grinding, forcing himself deeper and deeper, filling her to sweet completion. The sensations were too intense, she could no longer hold back. She gave herself over to the hungry demands of her body. She felt suspended in air, waiting. Wanting. Until a white-hot pleasure burst from deep inside her unlike anything she’d ever known, splintering into a thousand directions. Her womb contracted and the hot spasms rippled like a sparkling celestial wave through her shuddering body.
He smothered her cries with his mouth, kissing her with a tenderness that belied the ferocity of his own impending release. Until kissing proved too much and his body stiffened with an all-encompassing need.
“I can’t hold it anymore.” His face contorted in agony. “Oh God, sweetheart, I’m going to come.” He tossed his head back and groaned, thrusting his hips for one last time.
She murmured her encouragement as he exploded with a primal cry. Heat rushed through her as he spilled his seed deep inside her. She wanted to hold on to the moment forever, savoring the warmth and closeness.
Exhausted from the force of his release, he collapsed on top of her, skin to skin, chest to chest, and heart to heart. Perhaps realizing that he must be crushing her, he rolled over onto his side, deftly tucking her under his arm, cradling her gently against his body. Never had she felt so thoroughly contented. There was no need to say anything. Words seemed strangely inadequate for what had just happened. It was too beautiful. Too magical to put into simple words.
If only he hadn’t tried.
Le petite mort. The little death. The French had it all wrong. There was nothing little about it. Coventry felt spent, wrung out, as if the orgasm that had rocked his body had drained his soul. He felt bruised and beaten by the sheer force of emotion holding him in its viselike grip. She’d given herself to him in a way no woman had before. With no pretense and no shame. The harder he pushed, the wider she opened her arms.
It was too much to resist. She offered him something he thought could never be his. She made him believe it was possible.
Love.
There was no other explanation for what had just happened, for the unmistakable warmth glowing in his chest. He’d fallen in love with Lady Georgina Beauclerk.
He’d sworn to never be vulnerable to the inconstancy of a woman’s heart again. But she’d laid siege to his ironclad defenses, somehow finding a way through the impenetrable barriers that surrounded his heart.
He felt content. Happy.
What this meant, he did not know. The emotions were still too new, too fresh. Too terrifying.
The heat of pleasure seeped from his body, leaving a chill on his naked skin. The all too fleeting moment of happiness was replaced by a deep sense of shame for what he’d done. He’d rutted with her like a beast. He’d ravished where he should have cherished.
Unthinkingly, he spoke his thoughts aloud. “Dear God, what have I done?”
Gina’s heart skipped. There was no mistaking the regret and despair in his voice.
Her sense of peace was shattered by uncertainty when what she really needed was reassurance. Could she have been so horribly wrong? Did he not feel the same sense of joining? Of destiny?
She never had the opportunity to find out. The unmistakable sound of a carriage pulling up outside forced all other thoughts from her mind.
Leaping to his feet, Coventry pulled on his shirt and trousers and raced to the window. He swore. “Something must be wrong, they’ve returned.” He turned to glance at her on the divan. Genuine fear sparked in his eyes.
He doesn’t want to marry me, Gina thought dully. He doesn’t want them to find me here.
He raced into action, tossing her undergarments to her. “Put these on and be quick about it.” He took a long look at her stays. “There’s no time for this.” Sho
ving it under the divan, he said, “I’ll retrieve it later. If you have your pelisse on, perhaps no one will notice.”
Her maid might have a question or two. But she didn’t say anything. Embarrassment had overtaken her shock at the sudden change of circumstance. Gina realized that she had no desire to be discovered in flagrante delicto either.
They dressed quickly in shared silence. She had only just finished lacing up her boots when the door burst open and all hell broke loose.
But not because of them.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ash stormed into the room carrying a lifeless Augusta in his arms, a nearly hysterical Mrs. Persimmons trailed close behind.
The blood drained from Coventry’s face. “Augusta?” He sprang on Lord Ashley. “What happened?” Concern for Augusta had overridden his usual proclivity toward indifference. That he cared about his sister could not be denied. It showed on every inch of his handsome face.
Despite Gina’s immediate concern for Augusta, she couldn’t help the pang of jealousy. Would he ever look at her with such raw emotion?
Lord Ashley gave Gina a scathing look. “Lady Augusta was attacked.”
Gina recoiled at his fury, unconsciously taking a step closer to Coventry who stood motionless behind her, as if the shield of his broad chest would somehow protect her. She yearned to feel his arms wrap around her, and though she did not expect it, she could not help the twinge of disappointment when they did not.
Lord Ashley continued. “Mr. Carrington gave up waiting and decided to take matters into his own hands.”
“Mr. Carrington?” Gina echoed.
“I’ll kill him,” Coventry said at the same time as Gina asked, “But how?
Steely gray eyes bored into her. “By trying to force himself upon her,” Lord Ashley stated baldly. “How else could he assure that she would not refuse his suit? A suit that you encouraged.”
Lord Ashley turned back to Coventry whose concern had been tinged with a cold, deadly anger upon hearing what had befallen his sister. “Carrington is mine,” Lord Ashley stated. A silent understanding passed between the two men.