Shayla Black Page 12

  “Then not another word until I release you. Tonight, I will know every inch of you, how you like to be touched, where you are most easily aroused. Tonight, I will make you want to scream with pleasure.”

  Her silk-clad toes curled into the thick carpet. Dizzying need swirled through her. Maddie knew she should protest, but couldn’t find her voice.

  “I want to discover what makes you burn. And where your body needs special attention….” He circled behind her and stooped behind the sofa until his lips rested on the shell of her ear. “Will you be more aroused if I use my hands or my mouth...or both?”

  As Brock ran the tip of his tongue around her ear, his words made her dizzy. Arousal coiled tightly in her belly, between her legs. How could she answer that question coherently? Would he truly lick any part of her body he thought needed such a touch? The thought made her clutch the folds of her chemise in white-knuckled anticipation.

  Why had she not worn something more substantial? Would it have stopped him? Hearing the determined seduction in his tone, Maddie doubted it. He was driven to melt her until she married him.

  God give her the strength to resist.

  “Brock, please...” She reached up to lift away the scarf about her head.

  He looped his fingers about her wrists. No matter how gentle his grip, he meant to restrain her. His power, the edge of danger, surged passion to her every limb—into her very mind—with insidious insistence. She fell back against the sofa quietly.

  Telling herself that she had no choice would be a lie. She wanted this.

  His lips glided over the crook of her neck, lingering across her, tasting her. Maddie gasped. Still tingling and shuddering, he nipped with a playful bite. Then a shocking flick of his tongue over that same sensitized flesh made her gasp and burn. Moments later, that need settled between her legs.

  “Which do you like better, Maddie?” he breathed into her ear. “That or this?”

  He inched up until his teeth nibbled on her lobe and his hot breath filled her ear. The resulting tingles raced through her body, making her shiver. Though breathless, she managed to bite back a moan.

  “Which one?” he prodded, his palms now skating down her bare arms. “Tell me.”

  “I prefer the latter,” she lied, hoping to stave off the arousal climbing to undeniable heights.

  Brock laughed. Then he brushed his mouth over her neck again. Tingles screamed down across her skin, setting her aflame. Her nipples hardened into tight buds. Her sex ached, throbbing and clenching. He’d known the truth, damn him.

  Before she could gather her anger, he let his hands stir across her stomach, lazy fingers tracing circles down, down until he toyed at the edge of her slick mound.

  A fierce pounding pleasure wound through her. She arched off the sofa, but Brock anchored his arm about her waist and brought her back to his merciless mouth trailing fire down her shoulder, his teeth lifting away the sleeve of her chemise.

  When he tugged on the tie of her garment, Maddie held her breath. With excruciatingly gentle fingers, Brock swept the material aside. Cool night air caressed the breast he’d bared, tightening its tip even more. Then his hot hand closed over the nub, thumb teasing, toying in a slow, maddening sweep.

  A maelstrom of desire screamed inside her. She yearned for his mouth there now. The moan she’d desperately been holding back slipped out.

  “Yes. Moan for me, sweet girl. I love to hear that sound when I touch you,” he whispered.

  She shivered. “Brock, I—” Love it when you touch me, too. He made her feel what Colin never had, a writhing want she had never known possible. She could hardly catch her breath.

  “I can feel your arousal climbing,” he murmured. “It’s so delicious. Give me more.”

  Suddenly, his warmth disappeared. Then she felt him settle in front of her. Did he stand, kneel? Could he see her bared breast in the faint light? She swallowed thickly, her fingers biting into her thighs. Somehow, she had to stop the pleasure—before she lost herself to it.

  When she groped to find the edges of her chemise and cover herself, Brock restrained her wrists in warning, then laced her fingers with his own. The tender gesture was unexpected and melted what was left of her reticence.

  “I want to look at you. Every inch, every shadow. I want to see all of you, Maddie.”

  Desire coiled tighter in the pit of her belly. She had never had the urge to bare her body to Colin. In fact, she’d always sought to hide beneath the covers and her nightrail. But she wanted Brock’s hot gaze on all of her. She wanted to pursue this vivid want pulsing within her, wanted it so bad, she could feel her sex throbbing.

  Maddie heard the rustle of clothes, then felt the brush of his sleeve against her outer thigh. She still could not see, but sensed that he knelt before her.

  His hands skimmed her thighs, her hips, her waist, palming her breasts... Only when he yanked the chemise over her head did she realize that he’d been lifting it with his caress. Now she lay completely naked, save her silky stockings with their frilled bows. He could see everything. No barriers, nothing to hide behind. Maddie trembled, feeling so exposed, panting with both arousal and apprehension. The fact that he remained fully clothed somehow added to her arousal.

  “Beautiful Maddie.” His voice shook.

  Before she could utter a word, Brock’s mouth claimed hers. He smothered her gasp, stealing it with a kiss so intimate, it shocked her. He demanded, and she gave, clinging to him as he ensnared her in his web.

  He lifted his lips, and she moaned in protest. Scarcely a moment later, he lifted her bare breast to his mouth and latched on to the sensitive crest with warm suction. Ah, heaven! His other hand drifted down the inside of her stocking-clad thigh. She shivered, holding her breath when he skimmed her calf, then gripped her ankle. He lifted that foot to his mouth and kissed her silk-clad instep. Maddie found the gesture so tender, her heart caught.

  Brock set the first foot at his side and repeated the process with the other. Boneless as hot wax, she sat quietly, waiting, yearning.

  He eased her back and returned his mouth to her breast, suckling, laving. His linen shirt grazed between her knees. She was utterly open and vulnerable to him. The thought terrified and thrilled her at once.

  “Brock—”

  “Shhh,” he soothed. “You look beautiful lying there.”

  Then he brushed her mouth with his thumb again, a short, tender gesture that had her lowering her guard even more.

  He fitted his palms around her hips and dragged her forward, until she nearly reclined against the sofa. The smooth warmth of his shirt grazed her sensitive inner thighs.

  Dear God, he’d wedged his shoulders between her legs.

  “So perfect,” he murmured, bending to rub his stubbled cheek against her leg.

  Maddie shivered. Surely, he wouldn’t do what her wanton mind had conjured up. Did people do that? She dug her fingers into his shoulders, tensing, despite the shameless thrill that shot through her at the possibility.

  She felt his hot exhalation low on her belly and held her breath.

  “So edible,” he whispered against her damp curls.

  With a gentle nudge of his hands, he spread her knees wider until he knelt squarely between her thighs. He touched her where she most wanted him with soft fingers. Then his thumbs spread her wide open to his gaze. Her heartbeat stopped. Would he really... Oh, no—

  Yes!

  Brock’s lips closed over her, his tongue dancing around the little bud of sensation. She gasped out a tangled groan. With a groan of satisfaction, he continued to lave her and suck her in carnal worship until she was nearly mindless.

  Rain fell hard, pounding on the roof in a roar—or was that her blood in her ears? She didn’t care; the pleasure was too intense, too compelling to resist. She merely grabbed his short hair in her fists as best she could and gave in.

  Brock never paused in his pursuit of her pleasure as his tongue twirled over her nub again and again. Shafts of lig
htning need skittered down her legs, coiled in her belly. Before she could stop herself, Maddie cried out and grasped handfuls of his hair in her desperate hands.

  “You taste so sweet,” he whispered against her. “I want to devour you. Give me everything.”

  He was in no apparent hurry, just content to lap at her in that maddening pace, though he was driving her well and truly mad. She bit her lip to keep in a scream of pleasure.

  “Would you like me to go slower? Faster? Softer?” he teased before flicking the tip of his tongue over her again.

  She could not find the breath to answer.

  As the ramp up of sensation nearly became overwhelming, he inserted two fingers deep inside her, teasing her in a seemingly relentless quest for her reaction. Maddie could no longer hold the scream in. The pleasure soared to exhilarating heights. Surely, she would soon explode or die from it. Her body could not withstand much more.

  Then he enveloped her entire bud of pleasure with his lips, sucking it into the heat of his mouth. He moaned long and low, deep in his chest.

  Maddie bucked her hips against him, devastated by the razor edge of pleasure. She was so close to something she did not understand. She chanted his name, an entreaty, desperate for him to ease the ache. Still, he held back just enough, ruthlessly stalked her rapture with his lips and tongue, yet held satisfaction at bay.

  “Brock,” she gasped. “Please.”

  Small, tight moans escaped her. He began to nip the insides of her thighs while his fingers remained buried deep inside her, rasping, teasing. She arched into his hand.

  His body rose up over hers, and she felt the fine linen of his shirt rub in exquisite abrasion against her tight, tender nipples. Thunder ripped through the sky, mimicking the deep cry of her body.

  “We want each other, Maddie.”

  That low voice against her neck, in her ear, made her shiver. Blindly, she reached for his face and pulled him into a kiss of blistering heat.

  “Yes,” she moaned against his mouth, needing release from the unbearable pleasure he’d created.

  “I want to love you now, so thoroughly, so completely, you won’t be able to breathe for a week.”

  “Yes.” The word was more moan than whisper as his fingers worked in her, rubbing her to a tightening desperation. “Yes.”

  “I want you like this every day.”

  Maddie couldn’t respond to that. She wasn’t sure she would survive the next ten seconds of this erotic torment.

  “Every night.” He flicked a thumb over her hard, needy nipple. “All you have to do is say yes.”

  She squirmed and writhed, needing something, needing just a little more to send her over the edge, of what she didn’t know, but she wanted it desperately.

  “I said yes,” she protested on a groan. “Please. Please…”

  “You’ll be my wife, then?” he whispered against her mouth.

  Wife?

  The truth slapped her. He froze, and she mewled at the loss of stimulation. But ache tightened for a terrible moment, then the sensual fog she’d been under began diffusing, degree by degree. This must stop now. Aimee’s future and wellbeing were in her hands. Maddie couldn’t risk those simply to feel good.

  Though her body still throbbed with ardor, she twisted away from him and scrambled to her feet, ripping the scarf from her eyes. She shook her head, near tears, willing him to understand. “I cannot marry you.”

  Brock’s jaw tightened, his gaze drilled her. He stepped back, but he looked nowhere ready to concede defeat. Instead, he stalked to the far side of the room with a curse.

  Maddie stared at the taut expanse of his shoulders. Even now, just looking at him, Maddie ached to touch the man—his strength, his seductive power. Even his smile.

  Suddenly, he turned to face her. He met her gaze before his stare trailed down each inch of her naked body. He looked like he wanted to say something. Wide chest heaving, he finally said, “I must go.”

  He grabbed his greatcoat off the rack moments later, thrusting his arms in the sleeves, then reached for his gloves and headed toward the door.

  He could simply forget the pleasure and leave so easily? Her body ached fiercely, and she was loath to see him leave. But Maddie feared her reluctance to part ways wasn’t that simple.

  Deep down, she still cared for him. If she didn’t, she would never respond to his touch.

  “Be careful, Brock,” she said finally. “It-it’s raining.”

  His gaze swerved to hers, eyes pinning her in place. Maddie read a tangle of heat, disappointment, longing. “I will.” He swallowed. “Do the same.”

  His rough voice reached inside her and drudged up emotion she did not understand. Tears threatened, prickling her eyes. To hide them, she closed her eyes and nodded.

  A moment later, Maddie heard the slam of the door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Body aching from sleeplessness and unsatisfied desire, Maddie dragged herself from the bed a little after sunrise and trudged into the obnoxiously sunny breakfast room. She nearly groaned. England was known for its ever-present rain. Why could the weather not cooperate when she was in a foul mood?

  Plopping into a chair beside the table, she sighed. She had no way to earn her own money and rescue herself from debt, nor could she seem to seduce the cad holding her notes, though he clearly wanted her. She could not deny that she wanted him—was fascinated by him. Brock had learned his way around a woman’s body, knew exactly how to arouse her. While she...she realized she knew next to nothing about making him ache.

  “Good morning, dear,” Aunt Edith called from the front of the room, sporting a small hat with a blue bird on her head. Vema stood behind her, looking exotic yet muted, much as she always did.

  “Such a lovely day!” Edith exclaimed. “Just look at the sun.” She pointed to the white-gold streams of light pouring into the room from the east-facing windows, overlooking the garden that needed tending.

  “Lovely,” she muttered in monotone.

  “Ah, out of sorts, I see. Was your outing with Mr. Taylor last night not to your liking?”

  “She is unsatisfied,” Vema answered before Maddie could.

  Maddie’s mouth fell open in shock. Surely Vema could not know how Brock had made her body throb, then left her needing more of him and his touch. She had told the ladies nothing of her wager with Brock, only that he took her out each evening. How could they know that she and Brock did much more than attend the season’s social events?

  Edith turned to her companion. “Unsatisfied?”

  Vema nodded her dark head, her strands of gray standing out in her thick mane. “She is tense, yet flushed. Past ready for his plucking.”

  Maddie worried her bottom lip with her teeth, eyes widening. Oh, God.

  “I’ve long wondered why Maddie put herself on a shelf at such a young age,” Edith said as if she weren’t there.

  “I have no wish to marry again,” she reminded them.

  “A shame, really. I found the marriage bed to be one of the most enjoyable aspects of my union with Mr. Bickham,” Edith twittered.

  Maddie felt her mouth drop open again. “Aunt Edith!”

  The older woman waved her scandalized expression away. “Pooh. You’re a widow with a child, as well as a man seeking your hand. You know what I speak of.”

  “Yes,” Maddie admitted with reluctance.

  “If you refuse to wed Mr. Taylor, why not enjoy whatever else the association might offer?”

  This time, Maddie’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped. “You, a proper woman, are suggesting an improper liaison?” Of course, hadn’t she suggested the same herself to Brock?

  Aunt Edith flounced into a chair and grabbed a slice of bread from a plate Vema had retrieved from the adjacent sideboard. “You would hardly be the first widow to take a lover, dear. Nor the last, I daresay.”

  Maddie could hardly believe her ears. Her own aunt condoned a lover, even sounding as if she might have taken one herself in the past.


  Drawing in a deep breath, Maddie doctored the cup of tea that Vema set in front of her. Stirring an absent spoon through her brew, she wondered if these two women, richer with life experience, could help her succeed in seducing Brock. Maddie needed to do more than merely interest him. She had to send him to the edge, as he had done to her last night, then push him farther. Could Brock’s restraint withstand such sensual torture? Sipping her tea, Maddie decided she could do no worse with Edith and Vema’s advice than without.

  “It is common enough for widows to take lovers,” she conceded. “But how does one go about such an affair?”

  Edith laughed. “Silly girl! You’re clever, so I’ve no doubt you will find just the way to tell him.”

  Maddie felt heat creeping up her cheeks. “Actually, I have told him. He wishes to wait for marriage. Wants to do the thing properly and all that.”

  “And you do not wish to wait. How delicious!” she rubbed her hands together. “Can we not help with that, Vema?”

  The two women cast a glance between them rich with mischief.

  “She needs the Kama Sutra,” declared Vema quietly.

  “The what?” Maddie questioned the uncommon phrase.

  “The Kama Sutra,” Vema repeated. “It is an old Hindu text, dating back over a thousand years, filled with descriptions to enhance one’s Kama, or sensual gratification.”

  Maddie resisted the urge to gape in shock again. Someone had written a book on bed sport over a thousand years ago?

  “It is also about achieving harmony in one’s soul through balancing the Dharma, your religious merit, and your Artha, your worldly wealth, with your Kama. According to its author, Vatsyayana, if you find that symmetry, you will succeed in everything, including finding a compatible life mate.”

  Her soul was not lacking balance, thank you, nor did she need a life mate. If marriage to the sullen Colin had been bad, she could not imagine marriage to a man as ruthless as Brock. He was likely to reject her wish for autonomy, but be able to control her body with his skilled lovemaking. However, if the text these ladies spoke of could prove useful in winning this blasted wager and easing her unsatisfied body, she wanted to read it.