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4
Hestaredherdown, heart hammering, as the full ramifications of his discovery came crashing down around them. It should have squashed his desire, dampened the fire raging inside to take what she so freely offered, instead it only spurred him on.
The lotus blossom was begging to have her petals defiled, and he struggled to remember why he must deny them both.
Availing himself of an opera girl could be forgiven, enjoying the delights offered at a brothel were all but expected. Even bedding a young widow could be reconciled. But to relieve an upper class maiden of her virginity was unforgivable.
A mark on his honor that could never be removed.
There was no question about her reputation, he’d ruined her as surely as he’d brought her to her first petite mort. That didn’t mean he need join her on further exploits to satisfy her carnal curiosity. As she stared up at him with wide terrified eyes, a single question echoed in his brain, demanding answers. “Who are you?”
“No one of consequence.” She shook her head, voice quaking, mirroring the tremble shivering through her.
A brow raised as he huffed a humorless laugh. If she was no one of consequence, he was a vicar. The precipice he teetered on grew more precarious by the moment, the desire to walk away nothing compared with an unrelenting need to claim her. “Then why the mask?”
When she gave no answer, he scrubbed a hand over his face. Never had he thought himself a man of questionable integrity, but there he was facing the moral dilemma of his life. Balking at the obvious decision. The man he’d been an hour ago would rip the satin from her face, send her home, and they’d never speak of it again.
The man he’d become in that hour was somewhat less willing to end the evening so prematurely. He raked his gaze over her, mind spinning circles as he argued between what was right and what was easy. The longer he considered, the further from respectability he fell. It wasn’t about wanting her, it was about needing her, and the indisputable fact she was untouched only heightened that need.
She’d be his. Only his. In every meaningful way, his.
A prospect hardening his cock rather than calming it.
“Take. Off. The. Mask.” Each word was bit off, forced through clenched teeth as he demanded her identity. To take full stock of his choice before damning himself to hell. It wasn’t shyness driving her to maintain anonymity, it was their now mutual knowledge her virginity was worth more than any dowry she may possess.
“No.” Not once did her eyes waver from his, not even for a moment, but the response was a mere whisper between them.
The word scarcely crossed her lips when he gripped her wrists, pinning them to the mattress above her head once more. His lips crushed hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth when a surprised gasp gave it a chance. A punishing kiss, controlled, aggressive, and full of frightening intent. Because he’d made his choice, and he could only pray hers would save them both.
Damning himself to hell was one thing, burdening her with a lifetime of condemnation for a few moments of bliss was quite another. With her virtue still physically intact, no one would ever have to know what they’d done.
What he’d done.
Rather than pull away, she met his passion with her own. The initial shock giving way to the curiosity cursing them both. With tentative strokes, her own tongue met his, and her lithe body shifted against him, hips rolling in a sensual dance they had no right partaking in. She kissed him as deeply as he did her, matching aggression with aggression, driving him further out of his mind.
When a soft moan slipped from her mouth to his, he abruptly released her and pushed up, both panting as they stared across the chasm between them. “I don’t know what compelled you here tonight, but you’re damned lucky I found you.”
There were so many other men there. Men with inclinations toward violence, who would relish the thought of a virgin without a care or consideration for her pleasure. Or consent.
The thought of her ending up at their hands left a pit in his stomach that threatened to swallow him whole. The fertile bloom before him came in search of knowledge and experience, something he could provide her. He could provide that, and so much more.
Safety. Pleasure. Protection.
But she needed to be sure.
“You’re still unspoiled, darling. Untainted. If we stop now, no one ever has to know.” He traced her bottom lip with his thumb, tugging it from between her teeth, the urge to take it between his own once more threatening his already precarious grip on sanity. “If we continue, you’ll be ruined in the most literal sense.”
“I want to know everything. Experience everything.” The earnest plea stoked his desire to damn himself to eternal hell and take what wasn’t his. Her tongue darted out and swiped across that plump bottom lip, leaving it glistening and pleading to be captured between his teeth.
But he had no right to take her lips with his, to bite or tease. No right to imagine those decadent lips wrapped around the swollen head of his cock. She was an innocent, and already he’d been her guide down the path of true wickedness.
Before his eyes, the fear gave way to resolve, and she reached up for him. Breaths faster and harder as her fingertips delicately brushed over his arms. Flicking her eyes between his face and where her fingers brushed his skin, a boldness overtook her, and her feathered touch turned confident, exploring the lines and hollows of muscle.
A curious little kitten who played dirty in a game she had no business engaging in. Every bit of her had been brought into the dim candlelight, his mouth had explored her most sacred recesses, but still she refused to reveal her face.
There were so few women who would give themselves so completely while maintaining their anonymity so ardently. Such a woman, by all logic, never would have darkened Tristan’s doorstep. Wouldn’t have even known of the party. And yet, there she was. Virginal and young.
Which meant only one damning thing.
“Tell me who you are.” He pushed off the bed, morality making one last stand.
A defiant shake of her head as she followed him up, grazing her nose against his chest. Tentative fingers slipped around him and over his back as she inhaled, the newfound confidence surging straight to his cock.
“No.” Slowly, she went up on her knees and traced a featherlight touch up the side of his neck, until her nails raked through his hair and sent chills down to his heels. She was convincing, with those hazel eyes locked with his, a hard, desperate swallow the only betrayal to any lingering unease.
“Your virtue is worth something. To your future groom, your mama.” Him, mostly. His cock, not at all. The bloody fucker was rooting for her hymen to be obliterated. That bottom lip pulled back between her teeth, and as he reached to tug it free a groan escaped his own lips.
Morality didn’t stand a chance.
“If I was concerned about a future husband, I never would have stepped foot into Halcyon House in the first place, let alone climbed those stairs at your side.” A small smile played on her lips as she tugged his hair until he exposed his neck, her lips seeking him as his had sought her. “And my mama died a long time ago.”
They were both yearning to forsake everything they valued, and for no reason other than his heart was wanting and his cock was eager. She was just as sensual, just as eager, to plunge as far into the obsidian abyss as he. Her innocence was for want of opportunity, not a lack of willingness.
He disentangled her arms from his neck and stepped back, standing before her and staring down from his full height. A hard exhale left her when he tugged the tunic over his head, and he let her take her time. Eyes wandering from shoulders to waist and back. When she lifted her glassy eyes to his, luscious lips parted, he found a hunger rivaling his own.
If she wanted ruin, he’d gladly lay waste to every sacred part of her body.
