Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1) (24 page)

With his knees braced between her thighs, she had no hope
of preventing his parry. He leaned over her and whole-heartedly kissed her
mouth, his tongue and lips making suggestions her female counterparts ached to
know.

Astra rested her hands on his ribs, then moved to caress
the long muscles in his back. She returned his kiss in kind, even leaning up,
her tongue greedily searching for his when he would pull away.

“You have a wonderful mouth,” he whispered against her
neck. “You make me think of things that I should not.” His kisses drifted over
her collar bone, passed each nipple, grazing, searching, seeking lower.

Astra gasped and arched against his marauding mouth.
His
bravado was definitely not false.

He reached her quivering belly, and nibbled the skin over
her hip bones. His hands came round her thighs, and he spread her, then lowered
himself to his stomach. She jumped at the long fingers he pressed against her
swollen sex. The first quick dart of his tongue caused her to cry out.

Birds flew overhead in alarm, but her shriek only
encouraged James. He licked her wet center, the bundle of nerves at the top.
His attentions focused, sucking, licking then dropped down again. Astra tilted
her pelvis, shamelessly pressing against him. She needed to writhe, to thrust
her hips. She raised her head and saw a blur of green, a shimmer of pond,
James’s bent head.

He slipped a second finger inside her while he used his
tongue on her most sensitive spot. Astra gasped and clenched around him, her
body stiffening. The release was so swift, so intense that Astra saw stars
behind her tightly closed eyes.

When her shuddering subsided, she opened her eyes to find
James poised above her. “Objective secured,” he said and kissed her. His lips
were wet and she could taste her own juices in a tangy erotic flavor that mixed
with wine and James. She rubbed her hand over his back. His kiss was gentle,
and he pulled away and stretched beside her.

“And what of other objectives? You have not even removed
your boots, much less your breeches.”

“This is not my day, it’s yours.”

Confused, she worked her hand to feel between his legs.
His erection strained the material. She ran her hands over the hard ridge. He
leaned his head against her shoulder and remained unmoving.

She turned to her side to reach him better. Loosening a
few buttons allowed her into the opening of his breeches. She rubbed her palm
over his hard cock. He moaned in her ear, compliant, submissive. His wet heat
coated her palm.

“So you are mine for the day to do what I will with you?”

His eyes opened, his blue gaze intense. “Anything you
wish, my lady.”

“Stand and remove your clothes. I have need of your
services,” she said in her coolest voice.

But her tone only ignited the heat in his gaze as he
slowly got to his feet. A beautiful animal of taut skin and sinewy muscle. He
held her gaze as he slowly undid the buttons of his breeches. His head was
lowered, but not in a submissive gesture, more like a wild beast that spotted
its prey and was sizing it up for attack.

His breeches undone, his cock flagrantly jutted through
the opening. He leaned down and pulled off his boots. Taking his time, his
muscles flexed as he peeled off his stockings, then his other boot. A sheen
spread across his skin, a muscle stretched across his ribs jumped, quickly
followed by his straining erection. Astra dropped her gaze and saw how full,
how tight his skin had become, how aroused. He was enjoying exposing himself to
her gaze. Teasing her while feasting on her reaction to his body.

“You’ve taken long enough. Take off your breeches and
mount me.” Astra uttered the shocking words, hoping for his equally stunned
reaction. Hoping to make his eyes widen and return to the teasing banter where
she too held the power, the bravado. Instead, her words only fueled his ever
increasing internal inferno. He straightened, his jaw tightened, his eyes
glowed.

“As you wish,” he said without any hint of his usual
mischievous smile. He was completely serious, completely enthralled by his
game. “But your back? My weight will aggravate your injury. I have another idea.”
His tone was flat as he reached out his hand to her.

She blinked and took it. He pulled her to her feet. Kissed
her. Molding her to him, pressing his hot erection against her soft stomach. He
deepened the kiss and she was happy to let him lead again.

He broke the contact, then gazed down at her with his
confident blue gaze. “On your stomach, my lady,” he said.

She hesitated, and he gripped her wrist and guided her
down, kneeling beside her.

“Or on your hands and knees if you wish,” his steady gaze
told her that was the thing to do and what he wished.

Her mind was a little unsure, but her body had begun to
throb. The buzz that still swarmed over her skin from her recent release
intensified and grew, gathering in her saturated womanly folds. A fierce
tightening in her sex urged her to her hands and knees. He knelt behind her.

His hands roamed over her hips, gripped her and adjusted
her. When he bent down and kissed her lower back, she stiffened.

“It appears I have you exactly where I wanted you despite
my best efforts to be selfless. Life is wonderful, isn’t it?” His soft laugh,
deep and lusty, made her shiver. He was like some satyr that had lured her into
the woods under the guise of her own pleasure, only to be his sexual snack.

She let her head drop, her shoulders roll, her back arch wanting
to prove his equal at least in this.

A soft groan escaped his throat and he dragged his finger
across her damp sex. She undulated her hips wanting more from him. He slipped
his finger inside. She bucked against him, rode his small offering. His thick
breathing told her she was driving them both a little mad.

“You know what I want,” she said demandingly.

He abruptly removed his finger and gripped her hips. He
kneaded her buttocks, spreading her. She braced herself for a forceful entry
but bucked when his lips touched her sex, his thumb pressed against her…

She gasped. “James,” she said outraged, and her cheeks
reddened, because her sex tightened and gushed at the forbidden, shameful
contact.

“Shh. Don’t object. Just feel.” He lightened the pressure
to a slight caress, but did not forgo the contact. He kissed her, an open-mouth
joining that forced a moan from Astra. Never had she felt more in his
possession, more a purely sexual creature that would allow him every access to
her soul and body.

Astra dropped to her elbows writhing under the unfair
onslaught of his attentions. He grazed, he licked, he kissed but he did not
penetrate or even attempt to ease the growing ache inside her.

“James,” she sobbed. “Please.”

He lifted his head, removed his touch and she braced
herself for what new sexual torture he had in mind. Gripping her hips, he fit
the length of his erection in the wet crease of her body. He covered her,
kissed the side of her neck. He braced a hand near hers and used his other arm
to gather her against him. Once he had her in position, he cupped her breast
and rocked. The move was sexually teasing and surprisingly tender. His long
shaft rubbed against the pleasure point at the apex of her wet center, but the
sensation was agonizing when she needed him to fill her.

“I love—” he said breathlessly, as if the words were
pulled from him. “This. Do you?”

To Astra, he might as well have told her that he loved
her, because in this moment, nothing else mattered. She turned her head and
found his mouth. They kissed for a long, extended moment, Astra’s body
throbbing with need, his fierce erection snugly between her legs.

With a deep growl, he broke the kiss. He released the arm
he had wrapped under her belly, and gripped her waist. He pulled back his hips,
then slid into her with liquid ease.

A pleasurable sigh, her own, sounded in Astra’s ears. With
each thrust, she met him, surprised with the freedom of movement the new
position offered. At first, he was gentle, testing, but quickly grew faster,
more fierce and rhythmic. She met each of his thrusts, gritting her teeth
against the pure pleasure of him moving over her, inside her. She forced her
eyes to remain open. The hazy afternoon sun gilded the pond, the fat green
leaves on drooping tree limbs, illuminating everything with its powerful
presence. James’s breathing was heavy in her ears. His slick chest pressed
against her back.

Abruptly, he surged into her, and the tenseness in his
muscles warned her that he teetered on the brink of release, inside her. He dropped
one hand and pressed his palm tightly against the mound of her sex and rotated,
rubbing her. Astra’s response was immediate and fierce. Her pleasure clenched,
forcing her to close her eyes and bite her lip as once again stars exploded
behind her eyelids.

He was moving again before her wracking spasms ceased. His
thrusts were short and serious, punctuated by breathy moans. He pulled out on
an abrupt gasp, and fell over her, hands braced over hers, entwining their
fingers tightly.

The hot evidence of his release shot across her back and
his chest pressed snuggly against her. He kissed her neck, her hair, as
shudders wracked his body. She wanted to take him in her arms, but remained
poised beneath him. As the intensity of his spasm eased, he wrapped an arm
beneath her breasts and rolled them both over to their sides.

He held her back tightly against his chest and she relaxed
into him.

“When you see me across the room, listening to some mother
blather on about her virtuous daughter’s attributes, this is what I will be
thinking of. The taste, the scent, the feel of you.” He cupped her breast.
“It’s all I can think about most of the time anyway.”

The resignation in his last statement made her smile. She
wrapped his hand in hers and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you,” she whispered.
And it was for so much more than just his declaration of devotion, or the day,
or his generous giving of his body. It was for making her know what it was like
to be a cherished woman. Allowing her to know what it felt like to be loved. If
not forever after, at least for now, and that was more than she had ever had,
or ever expected to have.

On the night of the ball, James had no idea how true his
declaration to Astra in the gazebo would be. An endless stream of fresh faces
blushed and curtsied, vying for his attention, while all he could think about
was Astra. Of course, he had cockily anticipated that his sexual musing would
be pleasurable, a forbidden diversion to distract him from the unpleasant task
of being paraded before Cornwall’s elite as some kind of prize-winning stud.
That his secret conquest would be gnawing at his gut with acid-tinged fangs was
a reversal he’d not expected. Astra belonged to him. The fact that he couldn’t
publicly lay claim to her worsened his mood by the minute.

“Ahem, my lord, I don’t mind saying that we are so pleased
to have you in residence at Eastlan,” Sir John Mophett gushed as he rocked back
and forth on his heels. “Bully to see the old girl lift up her skirts and show
some leg.”

James instantly dragged his gaze from across the obscenely
lit room where it lingered on Astra to blink at Sir John in confusion. He
didn’t want to know how many candles they were burning in those elaborate
holders that had been dragged from all over the house to illuminate Eastlan’s
first floor with the brightness of a summer afternoon.

Mrs. Mophett hit her husband on the shoulder with her fan.
“Excuse him, Lord Keane. The colonel cannot seem to remember that he is no
longer on the battlefield but in a ballroom.”

Sir John brushed away his wife’s comments with a wave of
his hand. “Just trying to tell the man it’s good to see the Keanes back on
their feet. And I hope we will still be receiving an appearance by Lady
Phillina. Now I’m not being too forward, as I have known Phillina since she was
a girl and used to call her Lady P cause her sire was a—”

“Please excuse me, Sir John,” James said the moment the
long-winded gentleman gasped for breath. “You have reminded me that I must see
to Lady Phillina’s entrance.” James bowed to Sir John and his wife, even tossed
a smile at the two Miss Mophetts that stood in their parents’ shadow with
sallow resignation. Poor girls. They didn’t enjoy being thrown out for troll
anymore than James enjoyed dodging hooks.

James swung in the direction he’d last seen Astra, Sir
John’s good wishes and invitations to visit their estate raining on his back.
Since Astra was never far from his mind, James paused to scan the crowd and
instantly found her.

She was speaking with a tall, dark haired man and his
small wife beside a flower lined refreshment table. Once she broke free of the
couple, she was waylaid by a single gentleman. Nothing tawdry could be
deciphered from the exchange, but James noticed how the other man’s gaze lingered.
The music began again in the other room and it was clear the man tried to
persuade Astra in that direction. James was tired of other men monopolizing
Astra. She was supposed to be by his side and at least figuratively, holding
his hand through this damned thing.

James saw a servant with a silver tray and grabbed a glass
of champagne. He took a large swig, the bubbles going straight up his nose,
forcing him to repress a sneeze. Damn it, but Astra was stopped by another man
on her way through the crowd. James had been introduced to him earlier and
recalled that he had a wife, who at the moment was nowhere to be seen. And
where in the hell had Astra found that dress?

He still remembered the moment he had been below stairs,
adjusting to the stiff material of his tails and snug satin breeches. If Astra
had not been adamant, they never would have persuaded him to dress in such
absurd attire. He glanced up and she descended the garland entwined staircase
in a dream. Her mother, Lady Seabrook, griped at her about something. All James
could do was stare in wonder. He had never before seen Astra in such a vibrant
shade. The green gown reminded him of the vines shading the gazebo washed in
the afternoon sun. And Astra writhing beneath him, her pale skin flushed with
erotic pleasure.