First Sinners (3 page)

She looked at him, her expression almost comical. “You are suggesting I was protecting myself?”

He drew out her chair and helped her sit down. “All I can repeat is that Miss Pelly has no reason to be embarrassed.”

He bowed, and took the seat the footman showed him to, opposite the divine Margaret. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been quite so forthright in his defense of the hapless Miss Pelly, but she’d looked mortified. He hated seeing anyone bullied.

Lord Pelly took his seat at the head of the table, and the footman brought around the soup, which was a dirty green color that clung to the contours of the porcelain bowl and congealed at the rim. The butler poured the wine, and that at least was excellent. Ian drank an entire glass of the rich burgundy before he could contemplate tasting the soup.

Miss Pelly slipped quietly into the seat on his right, and he took the opportunity to place her napkin on her knee.

“Is this
supposed
to be cold?”

She glanced up at him and then away. Interesting that she could be such an intelligent vibrant companion at one moment, and then so unsure. Her sister probably had a lot to answer for....

“The room or the soup?”

“Both, actually.” A hint of a smile appeared on her averted face and he felt ridiculously pleased.

“The kitchens are neither modern nor close to the dining room, which leads to many a culinary disaster.”

As the footman was occupied, he poured Miss Pelly a glass of wine.

“I was hoping you might allow me to accompany you on your customary walk tomorrow morning, Miss Pelly.”

“Who told you about that?”

“Your sister. Would it be too much of an imposition if I joined you?”

“I do tend to go very early in the morning.”

“That suits me perfectly.” He paused to refill his own glass. “Unless you would prefer to be alone.”

“I thought, like most rakes, you’d prefer to be tucked up in bed.”

He glanced at her. “I thought we were discussing our walk rather than that other matter we touched upon.”

Her color rose. “This is hardly the place to discuss . . .
that
.”

Under the cover of the table he put his hand on her thigh and spread his fingers wide. “Why ever not?” He squeezed her soft flesh. “In fact, I might go further, and suggest we should further explore those matters we touched upon.”

He grabbed hold of her left hand and placed it firmly over his satin-clad cock. She jumped so violently she choked on her wine.

Withdrawing his hand from over hers, he patted her discreetly on the back. To his delight she kept her fingers curved around his balls and shaft.

“Are you all right, Miss Pelly?” he asked, with great concern. “Was it the soup? It did taste a trifle salty.”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

The two footmen collected the soup plates and placed the main courses down the center of the long table. Ian’s cock twitched as Miss Pelly stroked her thumb along the smoothness of the satin.

“May I help you to some fish, Miss Pelly?” He’d spoonfeed her if it meant she kept caressing him like that.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him as he carefully placed some fish and other delicacies on her plate, and then served himself.

He noticed Miss Margaret was staring at him through the candelabra. Even though it was considered rude to talk across the table, he offered her a gracious smile. “The fish is excellent. I must commend your cook.”

“Oh, give Faith your compliments, my lord. She and my mother are the only ones who care about such things.”

“There is no shame in being mindful of one’s duties as a hostess, Margaret!” Lady Pelly interjected. She frowned at her younger daughter. “I’m sure Lord Westbrook would appreciate a wife who was attentive to his best interests at home.”

“Indeed.”

Or any woman who would surreptitiously caress his thickening cock at a family dinner party within five feet of her father. He should’ve known she would take up his challenge with a vengeance. Reluctantly, he removed her hand.

“Some more fish, Miss Pelly?”

She widened her eyes at him. “Is there nothing else on offer?”

“At this particular moment? Nothing that you haven’t already tried before. But perhaps we can find you something more to your taste in the next course, something sweet to suck on, perhaps?”

The minx licked her lips and considered him. “That sounds delightful.”

It was going to be impossible for him to rise from the table without everyone seeing how aroused he was. Did he care? Only to protect Miss Pelly from her sister’s all-too-knowing gaze.

The final course arrived, and he had to watch Miss Pelly take a Chantilly cream custard and slowly and thoroughly lick her spoon clean with the tip of her tongue. Whatever happened, he was going to have that mouth on him later, sucking and licking him, he was resolved on it.

To take his mind off his surprisingly alluring dining companion, he considered his fellow guests. Robin Pelly and his brother, Michael, were both clearly enamored of Miss Margaret, the former more obviously than the latter. It was also clear she would have none of them. The elderly retired general seemed to be a favorite candidate of Lady Pelly, who mentioned at least five times that his lands ran parallel to theirs. That left the two other beaus from London. He knew neither of them, as they were a good deal younger than he was. They seemed what they were—young, silly, and idle, and more than willing to form a court around the latest beauty without seriously considering marriage.

None of the men struck him as having the potential to spy for the French. In fact, if he were a wagering man, he’d say that Miss Pelly was the most avid French sympathizer in the room. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that his opponent could be a woman, even a woman he desired. And he did desire her. Perhaps the thought that Miss Pelly would soon be on her knees pleasuring his cock added a new level of danger to his current interest. Or maybe being intimate with her would make her tell her secrets more easily. . . .

He realized the ladies were withdrawing, leaving the men to their port, and he managed to stand and bow, his napkin deployed to cover his lap. The time spent with the gentlemen of the party would help him refine his thoughts on each potential suspect, and hopefully dampen his desire until a more suitable moment arose for satisfaction.

 

 

Faith handed round tea to her mother, sister, and the various spinsters who lived with General Hardy in his crumbling manor house. The general’s first wife had died a year ago, and it was obvious he was on the hunt for another. It was a slight dent to her pride that even such a decrepit individual as the general wanted Margaret more than he wanted her imminently more suitable and practical older sister. Not that either of them would have him anyway. She shuddered at the thought.

“Are you cold, Faith?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She smiled at her mother. “Would you like some more tea?”

“Yes, please dear.” Lady Pelly patted the seat beside her. “Come and sit beside me. Your father was telling me that Lord Westbrook wanted to ask you a few questions about the books you discovered for him in the library.”

“Oh? I’m glad he found them of interest.” Faith put the teapot down carefully on the tray. “I’d be more than happy to talk to him about them.”

“Of
course
you would, Faith.”

She looked across at Margaret and raised her eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just remember, men don’t marry bluestockings.”

“I’m not quite sure how you made that leap, Margaret. I am merely offering to answer some questions for the man.”

“I know what you are doing, and it won’t work. He isn’t the marrying kind.”

“Lord Westbrook?” Lady Pelly frowned. “He certainly won’t be marrying you, Margaret, if you treat him with such disdain. A man needs to be flattered and courted and made to feel as if he is the font of all knowledge.”

Faith and Margaret looked at each other and started to laugh.

“Oh, Mama!” Margaret gurgled. “You do say the most ridiculous things. I know how to get a husband. I also know when a man isn’t interested in me, and Lord Westbrook is not a serious contender for my hand. I suspect he came down here to avoid something in London rather than actually court me.”

“I suspect you are right.” Faith said.

“And Faith would know, Mama, she spends far more time talking to the man than I do.”

“
Faith
is doing her duty.”

“And secretly hoping her scholarly charms will win her a man like Westbrook.”

“Margaret!”

Lady Pelly spoke so sharply that the assorted spinsters looked up from their card game and twittered like a disturbed clutch of hens.

Before Faith could even attempt to defend herself, the door opened, and the gentlemen appeared. She jumped to her feet and began to dispense tea to the smiling men and make sure they found congenial company. At last, she took a cup to the Earl of Westbrook, who had remained on the periphery of the group behind the couch where her mother sat. He was wearing a dark blue coat, a gray waistcoat, and immaculate white linen above skintight pantaloons. A silver pin glinted within the folds of his cravat.

His gaze was fixed on hers as he accepted the cup.

“Thank you, Miss Pelly. I find myself quite parched.”

“As you mentioned, my lord, the fish was rather salty.”

He raised his voice slightly. “I was hoping to ask your opinion about one of the books you found for me in the library.”

Lady Pelly looked up and smiled at them both. “Please do not hesitate to help his lordship, Faith.”

“I am more than willing to aid him, Mama. If you allow me to accompany Lord Westbrook to the library, we can discuss the book in greater depth without boring the rest of your guests.”

“That’s perfectly acceptable, my love,” Lady Pelly tittered. “I’m sure we can depend on Lord Westbrook to behave himself.”

Faith allowed the earl to open the door into the library for her and waited until he closed it behind them.

“My mother obviously doesn’t know you very well, does she?”

“Not as well as I hope you will.” His smile was positively wolfish as he deliberately cradled his growing erection. “Are you willing to further your education?”

“In what way?” She sounded quite breathless and unlike herself. Her heart was thumping, and there was a curious sense of warmth low in her stomach and between her legs. She wanted to walk over to him and rub herself against his hard muscles like a feral cat.

“There is an image I’d like to share with you.”

“Where is it?”

He moved over to the desk and lit the candles. “In your ancestor’s papers.” He began to turn the pages in one of the sketchbooks. “Here it is. Come and look.”

She moved alongside him and studied the beautifully drawn image of a woman on her knees in front of a man. The woman’s hands were linked behind her back, and her mouth was . . .

“Oh.”

“I want you like that. On your knees, pleasuring my cock.”

“Until you spill your seed?”

“If you wish.” She swallowed and licked her lips and he groaned. “Yes, like that.”

“Why?” She looked up into his narrowed brown eyes.

“Because I desire it.” He held her gaze. “When I tried to sleep last night, all I could think about was you sucking my engorged shaft.”

“You thought about me?”

“Of course. Did you not think about me?”

“Well, naturally I did, but I never imagined—”

“That I’d think of you?” He bent down and brushed a kiss over her lips. “You underestimate your charms, Miss Pelly. Now, will you fulfill my desire, or not?”

She took a deep breath. “Did you lock the door?”

He smiled. “Yes. I’ll sit in this chair, and you can kneel in front of me.”

He sat down and slowly unbuttoned the straining placket of his pantaloons. “I’m already wet for you.” He pushed his undergarment aside to reveal the thick length of his shaft and ran a hand over himself. “Ah, God, I want to come for you.”

Faith slowly sank to her knees until she was level with his groin. “I’m not sure how much of you I’ll be able to
suck,
my lord. You appear rather too large to fit in my mouth.”

“I’ll teach you how to take all of me, but for now, just do your best.” His tone changed and became more demanding. “Put your hands behind your back and keep them there.”

She obeyed without thinking and looked up as best she could at him. He had one hand wrapped around the base of his shaft and was easing it away from his belly.

“Take me in your mouth.”

She leaned forward and tentatively licked the swollen crown, tasting the salty starchiness that reminded her of the sea.

“Take more.”

He pressed the head against her lips and she obligingly parted them, drawing him deeper until she couldn’t breathe.

“Ah, yes, that’s good. Now, suck me.”

It took her a moment to work out how to breathe through her nose while she sucked at his hot, pliant flesh. Her breasts brushed the inside of his thighs and she moaned. She felt his hand working on the laces at the back of her dress and shift and suddenly everything was loose. His hands moved down over her breasts, cupping and pinching her nipples until she was rocking into his demanding touch and taking more and more of his cock into her mouth.

“That’s—good, that’s—”

With a groan he shoved himself deep and came, catching Faith by surprise and making her choke down his seed in big, gulping waves. When she remembered how to breathe again, he’d removed his cock and her cheek was pressed against his inner thigh.

With a murmur of encouragement, he reversed their positions and seated her on the chair.

“Now it’s your turn.”