Pursued By The Viscount (10 page)

He tasted delicious, sweet and yet salty, with an underlying spice and heady musk.

Rachel lifted her head to watch as more juices bubbled from that slit at the top. Evidence of Lucien’s excitement and pleasure? She certainly hoped it was so.

Her fingers closed about that girth—as she had suspected, they did not meet about that thickness—as she parted her lips and took the fullness of that bulbous tip into her mouth.

Lucien’s groans of pleasure and the thrusting of his hips guided Rachel now. Her hand stroked along his length as her tongue first delved into the slitted tip, and then moved lower to stroke beneath that bulbous head. His hips bucked up toward her mouth, his cockhead hitting the back of her throat before she eased back and then slowly down again.

The feeling of satisfaction, of power, was exhilarating. Lucien began to thrust up harder and faster into the heat of her mouth, more and more fluid escaping from that cockhead as she pumped with her fingers and sucked greedily with her mouth.
 

Lucien’s groans became louder and more desperate, the thrusting of his hips erratic, his cock swelling and throbbing in her encircling and stroking fingers.

“I am going to release if you do not stop, Rachel,” he warned hoarsely.

She had no intention of stopping. Lucien had given her more pleasure in the short time she had known him than she had ever experienced before. She now wanted, burned, to give him that same satisfaction.

She renewed her efforts rather than ceasing them, taking as much of his cock as she could to the back of her throat. Dipping her tongue into that slit every time she rose. Her fingers tightened as she pumped the inches she could not get into her mouth.

His cock jerked, swelled even more as her other hand moved to cup the sac beneath, gently squeezing and rolling those taut orbs in her palm.

“Dear God…!” Lucien’s neck arched at this dual assault on his senses, and he thrust up his hips, cock hitting the back of Rachel’s throat as his release shot hotly along the length of his cock before pumping into the enveloping inferno of her mouth. Pump after pump, second after glorious second, in the longest, most pleasurable climax of Lucien’s life.

Rachel sucked and swallowed down every drop of his release until she had drained him dry.

“Rachel…” he murmured as lethargy overtook him.

She gave his cockhead one last lick before releasing him and sitting back on her heels, her face flushed, her expression one of pleasure and deep satisfaction.

Lucien pulled her up to once again sit on his knee. “You have my permission to do that again any time you wish.”

She arched a teasing brow. “Do I need your permission?”

He had awakened a tigress, Lucien acknowledged with admiration.
 

“You taste delicious,” she added with a lick of her lips.

He chuckled throatily. “As do you.”

A blush appeared on her cheeks. “I hope I have not ruined our plans for this evening?”

“I shall be fully recovered by then,” Lucien assured her.

“Oh good.” She smiled in anticipation.

A veritable tigress, Lucien noted again with satisfaction.

A tigress who, despite her refusal, was in need of his help to deal with Stanforth.

Lucien looked forward to that confrontation.

“I thought we would remain at either your home or my own this evening, my lord,” Rachel said softly later that evening as the two of them sat in the privacy of his theatre box.
 

“As I recall, I promised you suitable amusement,” he dismissed.

Yes, but she had thought… Had expected… Rachel bit back her disappointment. The theatre
was
suitable amusement. Of the more respectable kind she was used to, so how could she now complain she would have preferred something far more intimate?

She frowned as she spoke of her main concern. “Stanforth will get to hear of our presence at the theatre together.”

Lucien’s mouth thinned. “The Stanforth situation is well in hand.”

Rachel gave him a sharp glance. “What do you mean?”

He continued to watch the stage, but the tight set of his jaw revealed his displeasure. “I do not care what you have said previously on the subject of my involvement, we are lovers now. As such, you will leave that gentleman to me.”

Rachel felt a thrill course through her at the realization they were indeed lovers. She, Lady Rachel Shaw, had a lover. She had never thought that such a thing would be possible, after James’s treatment of her.

But Lucien was so unlike James. Lucien’s strength came from a confidence in himself rather than physical brutality. His ability to give as a lover as well as take. He was protective of her rather than bullying her into submission, as her husband had done.

But she could not bear it if anything were to happen to Lucien because of his association with her. “Stanforth—”

“Will not trouble you again.”

“What have you done?” She gasped her concern.

He shrugged broad shoulders. “I believe I have accompanied you to the theatre.”

“That is not what I meant at all, and you know it was not.”
 

Lucien’s eyes glittered a piercing blue as he turned to her. “Do you wish for me to spank your bottom again, right here and right now?”

“No!” The theatre was less formal than many Society entertainments, but even so, she doubted the other theatre patrons would overlook Viscount Brooketon putting Lady Rachel Shaw over his knee and spanking her.

He nodded. “Then let us both watch the play.” He gave her a reproving glance before turning his attention back to the stage.

Lucien did look so very distinguished tonight in his black evening clothes and snowy white linen. So much so that many women had eyed Rachel enviously as Lucien escorted her through the theatre to his private box. Thank goodness she was wearing her deep blue silk gown this evening, having wanted to look her best for Lucien, no matter what entertainment he had planned for them. Her only jewelry was a strand of creamy pearls about her throat, single pearls in her earlobes, and another strand entwined in her hair.
 

She was pleased she had made the effort once she realized their destination.

Rachel had only visited friends occupying private boxes before tonight. James had not enjoyed the theatre and saw no reason why he should spend money on such needless frivolity.

A private box was surprisingly…intimate, considering there were people sitting in more boxes on either side of them, and the theatre was full and brightly lit. Many people were talking through the performance, some so loudly it was enough to drown out the dialogue taking place on the stage.

It was also exceedingly warm with such a crush of bodies in so confined a space, causing Rachel to use her fan often in order to elicit a movement of air. She would imagine that Lucien was somewhat uncomfortable in his tailored jacket and high-necked shirt—

She gave a muted squeak as she felt Lucien’s hand on her knee, glancing down to see he had left her gown draped in such a way that no one sitting close to them would be able to see where he had his hand.

His
questing
hand, as it slid slowly up her thigh and now lightly gripped the bareness of her flesh above her stocking, dangerously close to the apex of her drawers.

Rachel gave Lucien a quick glance, but for all intents and purposes, his attention was fully on watching the performance on the stage below.

Except she knew it was not. How could it be, when his fingers were now delving inside the slit of her drawers, his palm resting on her mound, pressing against her swollen nubbin as those long fingers stroked along the dampness of her cleft.

The smile on her face became fixed as she turned back to the stage, the movement of her fan increasing in speed, heat suffusing her body as her arousal deepened.

“You did not really think I brought you to the theatre to watch the play?” Lucien mused as he continued to look down at the stage, but all too well aware of the wild fluttering of Rachel’s fan as her agitation deepened along with the gush of juices now wetting his fingers between her thighs.

Her breathing was erratic, a deep flush rising to her cheeks. “We cannot do this here!”

“Who is to stop us?”

“I shall scream as I did earlier, when I—when I—”

“Climax? Yes, I believe you would.” He nodded unconcernedly, already able to feel the wild pulsing of her clitoris against his stroking fingers. “Then we shall have to ensure you do not climax until we are alone together.” He ceased the stimulation of her nubbin to slowly thrust two fingers inside the slickness of her channel, smiling his satisfaction as her muscles contracted in an attempt to pull his fingers in deeper still. “
Hamlet
is such a long play,” he murmured with satisfaction.

Rachel was frustrated and totally out of sorts by the time they left the theatre and entered Brooketon’s carriage three long hours later. He had played with and aroused her for the majority of that time, without once giving her completion, even though she squirmed and bucked against those fingers without success. Her only respite from those arousing fingers had been during the interval, when they were joined in the box by several acquaintances, the Duke and Duchess of Blackmoor amongst them.

Rachel sensed Thea’s curious gaze on her no doubt flushed face and feverish eyes, and her lack of inclusion in the conversation. But it was neither the time nor the place for Rachel to answer that curiosity.

Lucien’s hand returned beneath her gown as soon as they were alone again and the play on the stage resumed. Rachel was only aware of
his
play. Fingers stroking. Soft and then hard. Thrusting inside her. Slowly and then faster.

Lucien had stimulated and aroused her time and time again to the point of breaking, before abruptly ceasing those caresses, allowing her climax to fade before once again resuming that pleasurable physical onslaught.

“Did you enjoy the play?”

Rachel narrowed her eyes as she looked across the carriage at him. “Which
play
are you referring to?”

Lucien held back a grin at Rachel’s obvious disgruntlement caused by her physical frustration. He had very much enjoyed arousing her, time and time again, without giving her release. But his reasons for doing so were not to torture her, as she so obviously thought they were. It had been his prime reason, admittedly, but he had also wished to divert her from the worry of Stanforth’s blackmail. To pleasure her until she could think of nothing else but that arousal. He believed he had succeeded.

“Both,” he acknowledged. “If it is any comfort, I have suffered the same hours of physical frustration.” It was a discomfort added to by the constant waft of the perfume of her arousal. He could smell her still, her juices having dried on his fingers.
 

“Good,” she came back crossly, her gloved hands clutched tightly together in her lap, her back rigid as she sat forward on the seat.

He chuckled at her vehemence, realizing he might have succeeded a little
too
well in diverting Rachel from thinking of Stanforth.

“I am pleased you are so amused, my lord,” she spoke with obvious insincerity. “Because as far as I am concerned, you can continue to suffer!”

Yes, he had possibly gone a little too far. “There is no reason why we cannot rectify that situation now.”

“There is every reason, my lord,” she answered with that same false sweetness. “We now have only a short distance to travel to my home, and I do not intend to invite you inside.”

“That is a little harsh, pet.”

Not nearly harsh enough, in Rachel’s opinion. Impossible man! Torturer! Devil! “I am quite calm again now, my lord,” she dismissed as the carriage drew to a halt outside Shaw House. “Thank you for a most entertaining evening.”

“Devil take it—” He broke off as the groom opened the door for Rachel to alight.

“I will wish you a good night, my lord.” Rachel gave him one last insincere smile before stepping down from the carriage and hurrying up the front steps of the house, to be admitted inside by the attentive Alder.

Chapter 10

“I had no idea that you and Brooketon were…friends?”

Rachel finished pouring the tea into two cups before handing one to Thea Remington, the Duchess of Blackmoor. The other woman was one of Rachel’s closest friends, but even so, she felt discomfort in discussing her relationship with Lucien with her. “I would not say we are friends exactly.” She grimaced as she recalled the abruptness of their parting the previous evening.

Deservedly so, as far as Rachel was concerned. Lucien had deliberately tortured her for hours with her own arousal. She accepted it would have been embarrassing for both of them if she had screamed at her moment of climax, but the obvious answer to that would have been to stop arousing her. Instead, Lucien had continued that onslaught, hour after pleasurable hour, until Rachel had felt as if she would scream from frustration rather than release.

Truth be told, despite his gentleness, Rachel felt a little sore when she woke up this morning, from the caress and thrust of those tormenting fingers. She still could not sit comfortably several hours later. Which was perhaps his intention? She did not believe Lucien to be above deliberately leaving her with this reminder of his caresses. As if her physical frustration had not been enough.