Secrets of Sin (17 page)

His breath pitched and she let her lips close over just his tip for now, sucking it slowly while her tongue continued to tease him. She heard him groan and she almost lost her strong hold on him. Bracing herself on her forearms, she saw he now lay there like an offering. He’d let his upper body drop to the ground, closed his eyes, arms at his sides.

Emiline quickly crawled up and straddled his calves, bending forward to resume licking and sucking him, worshipping all his length, distributing her kisses and nibbling with her lips at the soft skin spread tight over his hardness.

His breath came in shallow gasps and his hands twisted at his side, curling to fists and opening again. He’d always been so responsive to her ministrations, but he was even more sensitive today.

Her one hand found his sack again, and pulled and pushed and squeezed it gently while her other hand wrapped around the base of his erection, pumping him once before her mouth engulfed him and she immediately swallowed two thirds of him. Her tongue continued its teasing game as her lips and teeth ran over him, up and down…

She’d deliberately chosen a quick pace right from the start, hoping she could drive him insane with wanting, just as she’d desperately clung to her sanity before. It worked; his hips rolled up in frantic, choppy motions, seeking to sink even deeper into her mouth while his whole body tensed. He pressed his head into the ground, swallowing tiny gulps of air through his open mouth.

Emiline released him with a soft plopping sound and sat up. Instantly, his head snapped up and their gazes met. Hunger darkened his eyes.

Straightening her thighs and bracing herself on her hands, she crawled up his body, her eyes never leaving his. She lowered her hips over his just as she lowered her mouth over his. Grinding her core against his hard flesh, she thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, reaching down with one hand to lift him skyward.

Never breaking the kiss, she slowly sank down, moaning into his mouth when she felt his thickness impaling her. Simultaneously, he rolled his hips upward to drive his shaft deeper into her slickness.

At first, her hips moved in a slow, circling pace until he bucked against her. His teeth locked on her lower lip, biting down. She closed her eyes briefly as the pinprick pleasure in her lip went straight to her groin and had her gasp long and loud.

Opening her eyes again, she saw his calculating grin. He might have allowed her to take charge, but she couldn’t fool him, nor could she fool herself. She was doing what he wanted her to do, his gaze said, and realizing that changed something in her. All the gentle playfulness was forgotten. Like a volcano, passion erupted in her and had streams of molten lava run through her veins. His gaze and the message it conveyed had been the incentive she hadn’t known she’d needed to once again turn into a lust-crazed wanton.

She ground hard on his thick shaft, increasing the rhythm, and he responded, lifting his hips to meet her every stroke. Emiline went wild with the heat building up inside her and threw her head back, moaning her pleasure out loud.

His hands snaked up and fisted in her hair, urging her head back down for a smoldering kiss that sent her into a delicious frenzy. She was pumping hard against him, and harder still, wanting, craving, yearning for more.

He rolled her off him and effortlessly turned her on her side so quickly she didn’t realize it at first. His hands spread her thighs wide and he entered her with a quick, relentless thrust until his thighs pressed against the back of her legs. His fingers found her nub and rubbed it tenderly while he pumped into her harshly. The contradiction snatched a piece of her mind away with each stroke.

But then his motions slowed down more and more until he didn’t move at all. Emiline was twisting in his arms, one hand fisted in the blanket, one in his hair. Wild and crazy with passion, she didn’t want it to stop; she wanted more, so much more, and she wanted it to go on forever and ever.

“Relax and open for me.” His whisper didn’t make sense. She had already opened, she thought, sobbing as she felt him retreat completely.

Then his fingers were buried deep inside her for the fraction of an instant before she felt one of them pushing into her farther back again. She remembered what it was like. She remembered how delicious it felt, how intimate the touch was, and she welcomed the sensation once more, sticking her backside out for him and pushing against his hand. His finger was entering her slowly, and now she knew what he’d meant. She wanted more. With a groan, she twisted her upper body, bringing her lips closer to his. Her tongue snaked out to brush over his lips before she moaned, “More.”

She’d barely spoken the word when she saw that spark darken his eyes and she felt him spreading her wider, entering her with two fingers now. Emiline sucked in a ragged gasp of air when she felt him stretching her. She was so sensitive there. The sensation was delectable, tearing a low groan from her throat.

“More?”

His question was superfluous, she thought while pumping into his hand. Her body was asking, pleading, begging for more still and she was in no state of mind to think about it. Her breath pitched when she was being broadened even wider and she almost grunted in disappointment when he left her. But even though the feeling had been extraordinarily delicious, feeling his thickness in her core again made up for it.

But then he was gone again and his thick, rounded head pressed against her back there. Emiline’s eyes flew open as she fully understood what he’d meant earlier. It was too much, she thought, he was too thick, he’d hurt her. Did she really want this?

“Shh,” Reinier breathed soothingly into her ear. “Relax, Lily.”

His arm wrapped around her and his hand went straight to her core. Opening her folds, his clever fingers strummed her clit, and that was all she needed to let herself fall. Pleasure rippled through her body at the touch of his fingers; passion peaked as he slowly sank inside with seemingly no effort at all. He stopped there and didn’t move. Only his fingers tirelessly played with her sensitive button.

The soft pressure she felt against her tender walls as they stretched and loosened to take him in felt marvelous. He rolled his hips slowly to let her adjust to him, she supposed. Heat, thickness, and strength spread her. The sensation was unbelievable, the pleasure in his thorough conquest barring words.

She could hear his soft groans with every move he made, and those were the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard. They spiked her passion, heightened her ardor. She felt so close to him, connected in the most intimate way. It was breathtaking. A very special bond formed between them; Emiline could feel it. With each thrust she experienced, with each moan she uttered, with each groan she heard, that special bond grew more intense. They fed each other’s lust with heat and ecstasy.

His torso rolled against her back, his strong arm was still around her, his fingers strumming her center. It was so delighting; she shivered at each new, deep penetration.

“Feel me in you, Lily.”

His voice was a low purr, almost as erotic as the silken strokes of his cock. She obeyed, bringing her hand down, shoving two fingers deep into her sex. His hand left her, clamped down on her hip to hold her in place, but it didn’t matter. The heel of her own hand provided the pressure she needed just now, and her moans pitched as she felt him move in her through the soft tissue of her dam.

His thrusts became more urgent and Emiline felt her consciousness splinter—the fierce strokes of his big cock, his lips moving on the side of her neck, his teeth clamping down, pleasure spiraling through her, down to her center. Too much.

All too much.

She felt her secret muscles grip and convulse around her own fingers even tighter. Her fierce orgasm shook her, wrenching a sharp, ecstatic bellow from him as he also crested.

He rolled his hips some more, rocking gently against her while her body continued to ripple with ecstasy.

Then she went limp. And her mind went numb.

“N
o, don’t.” Reinier grasped Emiline’s hands, stopping her from piling her dark chocolate curls back up on her head. “Let it loose.” His tone was softly pleading. Her golden highlights were more intense when her hair was an untamed cascade down her back. Any restraints were, in Reinier’s opinion, absolutely unnecessary.

Turning around, Emiline blinked. “But it’s still wet.”

And, Reinier added to himself, recalling their recent bath in the sea, probably dotted with little bits of sand as well. Had their skins not started to shrivel like apples left in the sun, they’d still be there in the water doing what they’d been so reluctant to interrupt—or rather finish, yes, by now they would…

Clearing his throat, Reinier tried harder to close the fly of his breeches. When he was in his trousers, his shirt still untucked, he took a step closer to her to run his fingers through her glorious mane. “I like the way it curls even more when it’s still damp.”

He saw she mirrored his loving gaze and fell into his arms. While they clung to each other, he pressed the softest of kisses on the crown of her head. Her fingers dug deep into his back as if she desperately held on. Her head was on his shoulders, just where it always should be. He could stay like this forever.

“When did the sun begin to set?” Her words were muffled against his shirt.

With a heartfelt sigh, Reinier broke their embrace. “I don’t remember, but we should probably head back before people think I’ve done something unspeakable to you.”

Cheeks blushing, she tried to hide a giggle in her hands. “Reinier, you have done unspeakable things to me.”

At her mock reproach he gave a brief chuckle, fingers capturing her chin to lift her head. “We’ve done wonderful things together.”

Her answering nod was a little shy. Reinier kissed the tip of her nose and, leaning back, he fell into the depths of her aquamarine eyes, drinking in all the tender emotions and feelings they conveyed.

She was so beautiful, she robbed him of speech. He could look at her like that always and he’d never tire of it.

And if she always looked at him the way she did now, he could stay. Forever.

At the thought, the smile on his face crumbled and he quickly turned away to hide the change from her. He couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t go on with this heinous ruse he’d concocted. He’d stay if she let him.

But now was not the time for talking about any of that. They should talk over dinner. It was only fitting; it had all started at dinner, after all.

Thus resolved, Reinier tucked in his shirt and made himself presentable so the servants had no reason to gossip. Then he helped Emiline gather the ceramic bowls from the picnic and placed them back into the basket. They folded the blanket together. When they walked toward the gig, they didn’t just walk hand in hand but with their arms wrapped around each other.

Reinier became aware that it had been a very long time since he’d felt this kind of stillness in him. It had been a long time since he’d last felt this free. It had also been a long time since he’d felt this loved and could return that love from the bottom of his heart.

Helping her up into the gig, he quickly walked around it to take his seat, thankful that contrary to what the groom had predicted, the mare hadn’t bitten through the reins. Taking them in his hands, he clucked his tongue twice and they rocked into motion. Reinier put his arm around Emiline and she snuggled close. He let his chin rest on her head as they trotted back to the manor.

Her happy sigh made his heart jump. How would he begin? How could he make her talk about it at all? Should he wait until the main course was served? Which would be the right moment?

Suddenly, she wiggled out of his embrace. “Stop the chaise.”

Reinier gave her a look that must have shown all his bewilderment, because her eyes pleaded with him, yet the tone in her voice remained determined. “Stop the chaise, Reinier. Please.”

He did as she’d asked, tucking the reins under his thigh just as she grabbed his hands. She brought them up, raining kisses on them. Reinier could only watch as if he were merely an onlooker to his own body.

Straightening, she swallowed and licked her lips. “Reinier, we need to talk.” Her words were low. She lifted her head and they locked eyes. “This is…We…I mean…” She laughed and shook her head, then took a deep breath.

Her eyes radiated so much warmth; Reinier couldn’t help but smile back, although he must have looked very much like the besotted simpleton he felt at that moment. Was it possible? His heart beat heavy in his chest and hope had him thinking that maybe she felt the same, maybe she didn’t want to wait until dinner.

“Reinier, I l—”

Whatever she’d meant to say died on her lips and she leaned to the side, eyes narrowing past him at something in the direction of the harbor. Her face suddenly sobered like a slap had wiped her smile away. With a nerve-wracking slowness, she turned back to face him. Tipping her chin up, her hands left his.

“Whose ship is that?” Emiline’s voice was totally devoid of emotion.

Perplexed, Reinier drew his eyebrows together. There was his ship, the
Sirene
, but—

At the dark, callous glare in her eyes now, Reinier turned in his seat to see what she was talking about. He inhaled sharply. The cold, foul breath of doom skittered along Reinier’s back and something in him exploded with a deafening shatter until he could almost taste the bitter shards in his throat.

“The
Coraal
.” His whisper sounded loud to him in the quiet as his heart missed a beat. Molars grinding, he looked down. A sudden silence spread in him, like a snake coiling and waiting to strike. “That’s Connor’s ship.”

Emiline gasped and turned from him. Folding her arms around her body, she hunched, hiding her face in her hair.

Helpless at the unexpected change in her demeanor, Reinier could only stare at her, preoccupied with his own inner turmoil. When he finally showed the presence of mind to try and soothe her by placing his hand gently on her shoulder, she jolted as if a scorpion had stung her. Throwing her arms before her body like she wanted to ward him off, she hissed, “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare.”

Something hideous and dangerous formed in his gut at her rejection, a swirling black mass that rattled with a revolting snarl. Without another word, Reinier took the reins in his hand and let them crack, the sound splitting the warmth of the evening and causing sleepy birds to rise out of a nearby tree with indignant twitter. The mare spurred into motion again with a contemptuous whicker.

Reinier tried to find an explanation for her sudden change, for why at Connor’s arrival she’d turn from a playful, warm lover to…well, back to being his wife.

With a mental snort of derision, he stopped searching his mind for what made the fickle woman do what she did and tried to work out how he himself felt about Connor’s arrival. That at least promised to be a much more fruitful exercise than brooding over his wife’s moods.

Honestly, he’d forgotten all about Connor. He’d forgotten he’d made arrangements for him to come and assist in teaching his cuckolding wife a lesson or two.

In a way, he was glad to know Connor was here now. Reinier could slap himself for his tremendous stupidity. Not once or twice but a thousand times. How often had he told himself not to let himself feel something for her again? What had made him throw all his well-formed caution to the wind? He’d known he needed to pay close attention around her to save himself from another broken heart. The old scars were still too tender to survive another blow.

Now Reinier was certain he couldn’t wait to get off this rotten island. Connor’s presence helped him confirm that. He’d also help him with whatever disturbing contradictions churned in his belly.

His affection for Connor, Reinier knew, went beyond what was sane or sensible, but at least it was mutual. Reinier had never questioned it, nor had he ever had reason to. Connor was his friend, his only, best friend.

He was so much more than that if Reinier were completely honest with himself.

If Reinier were completely honest with himself now, was he truly happy that Connor was here?

The mare must have known the way instinctively because she halted right outside the mansion and stopped Reinier’s contemplation. Reinier jumped from the gig and held his hand up to help Emiline down without looking at her.

She walked into the manor ahead of him, not dignifying him with a look either. It seemed things had returned to the way they’d always been.

When Reinier entered the open foyer by his wife’s side, he saw Justine waiting for them. Apparently, she was just as unhappy about Connor’ arrival as her mistress, though she tried to conceal it. That was more than Reinier could say for his wife. Well, at least the maid had some manners.

“You have another guest, mistress,” Justine spoke without acknowledging him. “I’ve escorted him to the sunroom and asked Cook to prepare a light tea service. The next tide is before dinner, so I assume he won’t be staying past tea.”

Forget about the maid having any manners, Reinier thought, his eyes narrowing.

Emiline’s answering smile of approval didn’t sit well either. “Thank you, Justine,” she drawled smoothly. “I’m sure you did the right thing.”

Reinier began to feel ganged up on. He’d be damned if he let these two vipers just run Connor off without having a say in it. Clenching his jaw, Reinier grasped Emiline’s arm and guided her into the sunroom in silence.

Before he could stop it, a tight smile flitted over his face when he spotted Connor looking completely relaxed and at ease, almost like a visit to Bougainvilla for tea was a common occurrence. Reinier’s jaw muscles jumped when he clenched his teeth even harder. Connor was, Thank God, oblivious to the tension his visit was causing between them. He was gazing out the window. To Reinier, it appeared that Connor’s mind was enraptured in the far distance that reached beyond the horizon, but then Connor blinked and turned to them, his typical easy smile in place.

Reinier felt the corners of his lips curl down. Connor had seen it, Reinier judged from the way his naturally dark eyes sparkled for a short moment. The Irishman acted as if he hadn’t noticed, though, and rose from his chair.

Keeping his own expression blank, Reinier firmly shook Connor’s proffered hand. “How nice of you to come, Connor. I hope you can stay for dinner at least.”

When he felt Emiline tense by his side, Reinier took irrationally devilish delight in it, letting his expression ease with the satisfaction he felt.

“I would be more than honored, of course,” Connor replied. Bowing to Emiline, he took her hand.

For an absurd moment, Reinier was almost shocked that she’d let him take her hand and brush a kiss to her knuckles, but just as quickly as she’d acquiesced, Emiline pulled away. She turned her back on them both and walked toward the window.

The knowing expression on Connor’s face made Reinier feel uncomfortable, and his teasing wink was even worse, but before he could scold the Irishman with a look of disapproval, Connor retrieved a small chest from beside the table and walked to Emiline.

Made from stained and polished cherrywood, it was adorned with vines bearing stylized roses and gold inlay in the form of leaves. The box was exquisite, a truly lavish gift, and Connor offered it to her with the words, “Madam, I hope you’ll accept this small gift as an apology for my intrusion on your hospitality.”

Without replying, without one small crack in her distant manner, Emiline took the chest and set it on the wide windowsill. When she opened it, Reinier saw that Connor’s superb taste and the lucrative nature of their business ventures were evident in the contents: finest silks in rich hues of aquamarine and gold, the former matching her eyes, the latter setting off her skin and emphasizing the light tresses in her hair, as well as the best and whitest of Belgian laces. It was, Reinier thought, a gift worthy of a queen. As regal as any empress, Emiline examined the silks and laces in great detail.

When she turned back to Connor, her eyes were filled with a frosty shimmer. “How wonderful! Really, it was very thoughtful of you.” Her smile and the peculiar pitch in her voice was too exaggerated to be genuine. “Thank you. Next time one of the servants needs a cap or an apron I’ll be sure to put these to good use.”

She shut the lid on the box with a loud snap, hooked it under her elbow, and looked Reinier straight in the eyes, daring him to comment. Her glare was full of disdain.

She’d dismissed Connor so rudely that Reinier was appalled and ashamed at the same time, but just as he took a deep breath to utter a reproach, she walked purposely toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the sun has given me quite a headache. I’m afraid you gentlemen will have to enjoy your tea alone, but I’m certain that won’t be a problem for either of you.”

She was almost at the door when Reinier’s fury snapped. That spiteful, overbearing woman, he roared mentally, restricting himself to bellowing, “Madam!” Stalking after her, he continued, “You will not—”

Connor was suddenly at his side, gripping his upper arm. Emiline was through the door, her skirts swishing aggressively against the frame.

“Come back here at once!” Reinier growled from between his teeth, struggling against Connor’s tightening grip.

“Reinier.” Connor’s forceful tone registered through the haze of his ire, and momentarily Reinier’s attempts to shake off the hand that held him back ceased. “Let her go. Come on, let’s enjoy our tea.”

With his eyes still narrowed at the top of the stairs where Emiline had just disappeared into her rooms, Reinier took a few calming breaths. Eventually, he felt he had himself under control again, and wrenching his arm free, he harrumphed and stalked back into the sunroom.

Emiline bolted the door shut to drown out Reinier’s angry bark. Stalking, she threw the tainted gift across the room, brushing a priceless Grand Siècle vase in the process. Breath held in horror, she watched the china depicting Louis XIV amidst nymphs and satyrs feeding him and groveling at his red-heeled shoes sway slightly. Round and round it rocked until it finally tipped and fell to the floor where it crashed into tiny bits of merely unremarkable colored porcelain.