Chapter Eight
Colleen was putting the final figure down on the next month’s budget when she heard his footsteps on the stairs. She looked at her open office door, her heart pounding at the thought of seeing Max alone. It was a wonder that she even recognized his step when he usually walked so silently. He could move like smoke, his footsteps surprisingly light for such a large man. But something was different tonight. He trudged up the stairs like the weight of the world was yoked to his shoulders.
She half-stood, her body wanting to hurry to him, to ensure he was all right, before her better sense prevailed and she sat back down. He was a member of the nobility. Her employer. A man she had encouraged into indecent liberties. None of those factors were reason enough to justify such familiarity. Well, perhaps that last one. But she still couldn’t quite sort out how she felt about their moments in the carriage, much less wonder at how the baron’s feelings on their relationship might have changed.
Sliding her paperwork into a folder, she stacked it on the pile in the corner of her desk. When he appeared in the doorway, everything was neat and tidy, including her emotions.
She drank him in, relieved to see he appeared whole and hale if not a bit weary. His thick, dark hair was damp and his shoulders sagged, but nothing appeared amiss that a meal in front of a warm fire wouldn’t fix. “Good evening, my lord. Is there something I can do for you?” Colleen sat up straight, pleased with how professional she sounded to the man who made her feel anything but.
One side of Max’s lips curled up, a hint of a smile lighting his eyes, and Colleen ran those words through her head again. And flushed. Perhaps there had been something other than professional sounding about them, after all.
“For the club, I mean,” she stammered. “Is there anything you need me to do for the club?”
Sinking into the chair across from her, Max stretched out his long legs and stared at the ceiling. “I already know, if there’s something that needs to be done at The Black Rose, you’d have already thought of it.” He sighed.
Colleen fiddled with her pencil. She shouldn’t ask. She wanted to return to the business relationship they’d had before she’d botched everything up and that meant not asking personal questions. But he looked like he’d just lost a puppy. The words refused to stay put in her throat. “Are you all right, my lord? You look … sad.”
He lifted his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m neither sad nor happy. Just had a tiring day.”
“Oh.” Touching a hand to the knot at the back of her head, she made sure her hair was still in place. “Are you here …” She cleared her throat. “Would you like me to set up a room for you and one of our girls?” Please say no. “Several of the women are most eager to work with you again.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Work with me? Is that what you call it?” Stretching his arms to the ceiling, Max cracked his neck, linked his fingers together, and rested his hands on top of his head. “I assure you, Colleen, that playing with me is never a chore.”
She swallowed. Why did he have to call her Colleen? Her given name was for stolen moments in a carriage. Not for two people of business in an office. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“No.” Uncoiling from his seat, he prowled around the desk and cocked a hip against it. His thigh brushed her forearm, and with regret, she drew back. “No, I don’t suppose you did,” he said. He rested a palm on the back of her chair and bent close. “I would love to play with fire tonight. If any day needed to be burned from memory, today is that day.”
Her stomach knotted. He was going to touch another woman. Give her the pleasure he’d bestowed on Colleen only hours earlier. The back of her eyes burned, and she cursed herself. Why should she be upset? She’d made the decision to return to their professional relationship. She’d given herself one illicit moment that she could look back upon and treasure. One moment where she’d been impulsive and carefree. A woman in her position didn’t deserve more than that.
He traced the curve of her cheekbone with his index finger. “But I don’t want to play with just any woman. I want you.”
Her jaw dropped. The pounding of her heart sounded unnaturally loud to her ears. Surely, he could hear it. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.” He plucked the pins from her hair, one by one, laying each one on the desk in a neat row. Her hair fell in one thick coil down her back, and Max used both of his hands to shake it loose. Cradling her head in his palms, he drew her to a stand. “You don’t need to be scared. I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes slid half-shut, the feel of his strong fingers kneading her skull enough to put her in a trance. Each and every time Max had handled her had brought pleasure. Even when he’d dripped wax on her wrist. Especially then. That pinpoint of heat on her damp skin had been surprisingly delicious. A shiver rolled down her spine at the memory.
Another memory intruded, bringing with it the scent of burning wood. She’d been fascinated with that fire, too. The flames licking up the sides of her old home had been beautiful, entrancing in its destructive power when she’d thought all that burned was an empty building. The thought of harnessing fire for pleasure was a heady one. She understood Max’s attraction to fire all too well. But it was also terrifying. Her stomach churned. Some forces couldn’t be controlled.
“I don’t”—she shook her head—“I’m not that kind of woman.” How many times had she said that phrase before and meant something entirely different? When Lord Halliwell had asked her to play, and she’d sniffed in disdain, it was because she hadn’t wanted to be one of those women. Loose morals. No self-respect.
Tonight, the phrase had changed, the words filled with regret. She wasn’t the kind of woman who pushed her limits, stared down her fears. No matter how much she might wish she were.
“You can be any kind of woman you want.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath flashing hot against her cheek. “Please, Colleen. I need this. Need you. There’s no one else I want.”
She bit her lip. His mouth was so close to hers, she only needed to tilt her head, move an inch, and she’d be there. A strand from his beard tickled her jaw, and she remembered how exciting it had been to burrow her fingers in deep and press her lips to his.
She bit back a whimper. She wanted this. Wanted him. But it couldn’t be right. Anything that she wanted as badly as this had to be a sin. Gripping the lapels of his coat, she clenched her fists tight.
He grazed his lips over her cheek. Angling her head, Max licked around the rim of her ear, his wet tongue burning a fiery path. The heat settled low, melting her core, making her wet with need. When he sucked her lobe between his lips, she gave up the fight. Decided to trust her body to Max’s care.
If this was a sin, it at least didn’t hurt anyone but herself. She nodded, barely moving, but Max felt it.
He raised his head and stared down at her. Tiny gold flecks in his eyes flashed in the lamplight, heating until his gaze looked like a forest on fire. “You’re sure?”
“Not hardly, but I want to do it regardless.” She shuffled closer, pressing her belly against the hard bulge fighting against his falls. She bit back a whimper. “We need to be careful, though. I can’t get with child. Not in my position.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Grabbing her under her bottom, he lifted, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. “I’ll take care of you.”
He strode around the desk and out the door. His thick length rubbed against her sex with each step he took, and Colleen rolled her hips, trying to increase the friction.
He growled, the reverberation thrumming from his chest, making her breasts ache. She expected him to take the back stairs down to one of the club’s rooms, but he turned into her personal chambers. Bending over the bed, he gently lowered her down.
Colleen kept her arms and legs wrapped around him, tight as a python.
He kissed her, hard, pressing her head into the mattress. “I need supplies. The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll be back.”
She ran her hands over his hard shoulders. “Can’t we just …” She jerked her chin at the bed.
“We’ll get there. Trust me.”
Colleen arched and chased his lips. He tasted of brandy and tobacco and something sweet she couldn’t identify. But it all mixed together to something unmistakably him.
He raised his head. “Let me loose.”
With a heavy sigh, she let her hands slip from his shoulders and relaxed her thighs. Only to jerk them tight in surprise as Max pressed his palm to the vee of her legs.
One corner of his mouth edged up as he rubbed circles through her skirts. “I know you’re needy, Colleen. Christ, I can feel how hot you are even through all these blasted clothes. I can’t wait to sink into that heat.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. “But let me do this my way. I need it tonight. I promise, you won’t regret it.”
He straightened and stepped back, his expression placid. If his hands weren’t clenched into balls, and his length hadn’t been jutting against his trousers, Colleen might have thought him indifferent.
“Take off your clothes,” he told her. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He strode from her room.
Colleen let her head flop back on the bed. How did a man walk away at that moment? He had more self-control than a saint. And she was wasting time. She scooted off the bed and attacked the buttons on her waistcoat. She pulled her shirt up, her head popping free from the high collar. Her skirt and petticoat quickly followed leaving her in only a thin shift. After only a moment’s hesitation, that, too, joined the pile of clothes on the floor.
She shifted on her boots, the cool air swirling around her bare skin. She’d never been ashamed of her body. It was functional, capable. But she’d never presented it as such to a man, either. Being fully unclothed felt a bit naughty.
Should she slip into her night rail? But then she wouldn’t be as wanton, and that was a condition she wanted to revel in tonight. Perhaps a compromise.
Scooping her clothes up, she tossed them on her dressing table’s chair. She lifted the coverlet of her bed, ready to jump under the sheets. The soft hiss of air behind her made her spin, the cover clutched to her chest.
Heat clawed up her face. Max stood in the doorway, several candles tucked under one arm. He held a bottle of liquor in his hand. His mouth was slightly parted, and his gaze raked her body.
“Don’t cover up on my account.” He stepped into the room and kicked the door closed with his heel. “I must admit that the view of you bending over the bed wearing nothing but kid boots stole my breath.” He looked down again and smiled. “Nice boots, by the way. I see you’ve finally conceded and are wearing the new ones.”
Crossing her legs at the ankles, Colleen leaned against the bed. Then stood up straight and uncrossed her legs. “Um, just the one pair. I don’t need anything else.”
He laid his bits and pieces on her bureau. “We’ll see.” He tugged at the coverlet in her iron grip, and after a slight battle, maneuvered it from her hands. “You don’t need a cover, Colleen. You’re beautiful.”
She didn’t know about all that, but under his appreciative gaze, she did feel pretty. She threw her shoulders back. “I’m not without flaws.” After seeing all the lovely young lady-birds traipsing around, bare as a babe, she’d come to see just how imperfect her body was in comparison. Not that such nonsense mattered.
Max strode to the banked fire and lit a thick ivory candle. He prowled towards her and held the candle up to her body, the small flame radiating only the faintest whisper of heat on her shoulder. Slowly, he moved the candle across her body, and inch by inch, that bead of heat bussed her skin. He drew his finger across her collarbone, following the path of the flickering light.
Circling around her, Max examined every inch of her bare flesh. “Where you see flaws, I see character.” He dropped to his haunches behind her, and his breath skittered across her bottom. She shuddered.
“This here.” He traced the inch-long pucker of pink skin on the back of her upper thigh. “How did you get this?”
“Fell on a saw.”
He circled around, his face coming level with her most intimate parts. He brought the flame close to her ribs. “And this one?”
She rubbed the small crescent-moon shaped scar. “I was kicked by a horse before I was married.” She remembered the pain of that one. The broken skin had been nothing compared to the broken rib.
“And these …?” His eyes shot up from the silvery lines that decorated her belly. “You’ve had a child.”
Those marks had hurt the worst of all. Reminders of all she’d lost. “I had two. Neither survived their first year. One died of fever. The other croup.”
He kissed the lines. “I’m sorry. There was nothing the doctors could do?”
Colleen huffed. “Those leeches? They didn’t bother to come until after my babies were cold.”
Max wrapped his arms around her waist, his beard tickling her lower abdomen. “And yet you endured your losses to become the incredible, resilient person you are. The take-no-prisoner’s woman of business.” He curved his lips against her belly. “Your scars show that you’re a survivor. There’s nothing more alluring than that.”
Her chest grew tight. Max spoke of a better woman than she. If he knew what she’d done, the respect in his voice would disappear, and that knowledge lashed her heart.
Her mind became crowded with regret, when all she wanted to do was feel. She stretched out her hand, and he filled it with his own. “Come,” she said, pulling him up. “Show me your fire.”
Setting the candle on her bedside table, Max trailed his fingers up and down her back. He skimmed up her sides, along the swell of her breasts, and up her neck.
She shuddered. His touch was so soft. Delicate. Max treated her differently than anyone else in her life had, and it made her stomach twist and her heart pound. She bit her lower lip. He made her feel revered. The emotion didn’t suit her. It was like her new boots. They were luxurious, but she didn’t quite feel at home in them.
He coiled a lock of her hair around his finger. “I love your hair. It reminds me of a fire deep into the evening, as it’s starting to cool. Years from now, when I’m sitting with a glass of whiskey and looking into the flames, I’ll remember your hair and how soft it is between my fingers.”
“I don’t need pretty words,” she whispered. But she couldn’t deny that they did warm her heart. “I’m not one of your Quality ladies that needs to be wooed.”
He just smiled. Leaning past her, he pulled a pillow from the head of the bed, plumped it between his hands, and placed it in the center of the mattress. “Lay face down, with your hips over the pillow.”
“My boots—”
“Can stay on.” His smile started small and built slowly. “You look quite tempting in them and nothing else. Now quit delaying, woman.”
A shiver of anticipation tickled her flesh. She climbed on the bed and crawled over the pillow, embarrassment and excitement dueling over the view she was presenting. Lowering onto the pillow, she rested her head on her forearms and crossed her ankles.
She heard bottles rattling and liquid sloshing. Craning her neck, she saw Max pouring the jug of water she kept on her bureau into her wash bowl and soaking a small towel. Using the flame from the white pillar, Max lit two more candles, one a dark blue, the other made of a deep crimson-colored wax.
He turned to the bed and tossed a thin leather string next to her hip. Running a palm up her calf and thigh, he said, “The sensations will be more intense if you close your eyes.”
“When you’re playing with fire?” she asked tartly. “I think not.”
He smirked. “Suit yourself. For your first experience, that’s probably wise. I’ll pull my blindfold out later.”
She narrowed her eyes at his jest then grew serious. “You will be careful?” she whispered.
He squeezed her shoulder. “There’s absolutely nothing I want to protect more than you.”
Colleen stilled. The sincerity in his voice hooked into her heart and tugged. She knew men said a lot of pretty things to women to get them in their beds, but Max actually believed it, if only for the night. He was a dear man, a better man than she deserved.
She released a long breath. She needed to relax. If she was going to lay aside her morals and her guilt for the night, she’d darn sure best enjoy herself while doing so. What was the point otherwise?
Max began undressing, and any second thoughts she had dissolved.
His coat he hung on the back of her dressing table chair. His top boots were neatly placed beneath. Silk rasped against linen as he drew his cravat from his crisp white shirt, the sound sending a ripple down her spine.
With one hand at the back of his shirt, Max pulled it over his head, and Colleen bit her lip. Good lord, but the man was impressive. As broad across the chest as a blacksmith. The muscles of his shoulders and arms were defined, and they twitched with every button he opened on his falls. He shoved the trousers an inch down his lean hips, exposing a thatch of dark curls.
Colleen’s breath caught in her throat. She fixed her gaze on that crop of coarse hair, eager to see what lay below. She’d seen her husband’s, of course. But she had a feeling that the differences between the two men would extend further than the color of their hair and the size of their chests.
She wasn’t disappointed. Max pushed his trousers and smallclothes down his legs, his long length rising free. He bent over, obscuring her view, as he pulled off the remainder of his clothes. When he stood, every delicious inch of him was exposed.
She shifted her thighs together, moisture pooling between her lower lips. Every bit of the man before her spoke of power. From the determined set of his full lips, to the bulging muscles of his arms, to the ruddy head of his cock straining against his flat stomach. Maximillian Atwood, Baron of Sutton, was a formidable man.
He crawled on the bed beside her, the mattress dipping, and gathered her hair in a mass at the nape of her neck. She rested her head back on her forearms. Separating the locks into three sections, he braided it down her back, his thick fingers nimbler than she would have expected.
Picking up the leather string, he wound it around the tail of her braid. “Anytime you work around fire, certain safety precautions must be taken. I like to make sure no loose hairs have a chance to be exposed to heat.”
Colleen’s shoulders sank into the mattress. The feel of a man’s fingers brushing through her hair was one of the more sensuous experiences she’d had.
“I also have a wet cloth nearby, so if anything is too hot for you, let me know, and I’ll place the towel on the area.” Tucking the braid up next to her head, he ran his fingers down her neck to her back, slowly rubbing away any tension.
“Isn’t this supposed to burn?” Colleen asked. “How will I know if it’s too hot?”
“Sting, yes. Some discomfort.” He dug his thumbs into her shoulder blades, and she let out a breathy sigh. “And depending on your tolerance for pain, it can hurt, if you’d like. But we won’t go that far tonight. If anything makes your eyes sting, let me know and I’ll ease off.”
Leaning over her body, Max picked up the midnight candle.
Colleen’s stomach fluttered, and she swore she could feel the air he displaced brush across her sensitive skin. Screwing her eyes shut, she waited for the splash of wax. The shocking heat that she remembered from her wrist.
Max smoothed a palm up her spine, and she flinched, expecting something else. The bastard had the nerve to chuckle. She opened her eyes, ready to shoot a glare over her shoulder, when the first spatter of liquid heat struck her skin.
She sucked in a gasp. Her brain scrambled, trying to interpret the sensation, figure out if it was pain or merely shock she felt. By the time she made up her mind, that it had been only a low-grade sting, another dollop landed on her shoulder.
He ran his hand soothingly up and down her side. “Too much?”
She considered. Her skin was sensitive where the wax had landed, starting to tighten as the wax dried. Her pulse raced. Her fingers tingled with the urge to touch him. And she still thought she was mad to agree to this.
But she felt alive. Exciting. Nothing like a decorous woman of business.
She shook her head. “More.”
The mattress shifted. Something velvety and warm dragged against her upraised bottom, and her core clenched, knowing just which part of Max it was.
The warmth of his cock was replaced by the heat of the wax. Gasping, she arched her back, the wax degrees more intense on the sensitive skin of her bum.
Max swirled the liquid heat around with his finger. “The blue wax looks striking against your fair skin. But this red wax … I think this is my favorite.”
Red, blue, white …. “Are you painting the Union Flag on my back?” From her perspective, the color of the wax didn’t matter. Just the heat.
He chuckled. “Nothing that patriotic. Or organized. Only a pattern that pleases my eye.” He trailed a line of wax over her bottom and down her upper thigh. She was starting to grow accustomed to the strange sensation. Her body welcomed the drizzled wax, instead of flinching away. She was content to let Max paint her any which way he wanted.
Becoming someone’s canvas held its appeal. In that moment, she was wiped clean, a blank slate for Max to fashion as he wished.
Max crawled off the bed, quickly returning. He placed the bowl of water with the towel soaking in it by her shoulder. “That is there only as a safety precaution. I want you to relax, but tell me immediately if anything feels too intense.”
Colleen licked her lips. “Um, what is it exactly you’re going to be doing?” The wax had been an easy introduction. But the image of fire racing up her skin was something she couldn’t fathom. Her heart pounded painfully behind her ribs. “I … I don’t want to burn.”
“I’ll only be touching your skin fleetingly with the flame.” Max kneaded the base of her skull with one hand. “It will be like when you put out a candle with your fingers. You don’t burn yourself when you do that, right?”
No, not when the contact was that quick. She was venturing into unknown waters. This went far past her comfort level. But she trusted the baron. Ever since the fire, he’d been there for her. A helping hand. She knew he felt responsible for her, and no other landlord would ever be so good to a tenant. Max didn’t understand how little responsibility he bore for her situation. But he was a good man. And he would never hurt her.
Flame hissed to life behind her, and Colleen slid her eyes shut, trying to keep her breathing even. Every inch of her skin tingled in anticipation. And anxiety. This was the moment when she did the most impractical thing ever. Where she let herself become a different person, if only for a night. “You’re certain I won’t be burned?” Why was she allowing this again?
“Positive.” He kissed her shoulder. “But I only want to do this if you want it. Tell me to stop and I will.”
And never know what she might be missing? She gathered her courage. “No, I want this.” She swallowed and nodded. “All right. I’m ready.”
Max didn’t waste time. Something soft and warm touched her spine, growing hot before flickering away. She eased out a breath. That wasn’t so bad. Barely warmer than when she held her hands in front of the fire.
The next vertebrae down received the same treatment. A tingling kiss. Growing heat. Dancing away a moment before it became painful.
Her body grew restless. “What is that?” she asked.
“I’ve fashioned a small torch by wrapping one end of a taper with a brandy-soaked cloth which I then set alight.” He ran his hand down her head and flicked the tail of her braid against her neck.
“And you’re actually pressing the flame against my skin? And I’m not getting burned?” She licked her lips, a wave of dizziness swamping her mind. Things were moving so quickly, faster than she could sort out.
A man was laying flame to her body. And she was letting him. She was mad.
“Have you never played snapdragon?” He touched the flame of the torch to the crease of her bottom. The heat on her skin was transitory, but the heat that started further south built. “When you stick your hand in the flaming bowl to grab a raisin, you don’t get burned then, do you?”
That snapped her back from the edge of fear. “Unlike some, I don’t spend my time playing parlor games.” She sniffed. “Some of us have to work.” Cautiously, she wiggled her bum, inviting him to play with her more. She nervously waited for the next hiss of fire meeting skin. The faint odor of brandy teased her nose, and she swore she could hear the flames of the candles around her flicker.
“No need to get testy.” He tapped her bottom with the fire in quick succession, each flash of heat ratcheting up her desire, like a tightening spring turned a gear. She rubbed her thighs together, squeezing her ankles tight. The tip of his torch found the crease at her upper thigh, lingered a moment, the sensation transforming from a prickle to an itch she couldn’t scratch. She whimpered.
Placing a palm at the base of her spine, Max stilled her rocking hips. “The fire should tickle, perhaps turn into a sting, but not burn. Some people enjoy pain, but I don’t want to leave a mark on your body aside from a fleeting red patch.” He shifted the flame to her other upper thigh. “Does that burn?”
“Oh God.” Warmth flooded her body, but nowhere near matching the heat on her thigh. The tips of her breasts scraped against the embroidery in the bed’s coverlet as she writhed, driving her wild. She didn’t know what it was she felt. There was a pinch of pain, yes. But it came and went so quickly, leaving in its place a lethargic ache. Her body missed the fire as soon as it was removed. “More. Please,” she added, remembering that no matter what liberties she allowed with her body, the man was still her employer. And a baron. He expected the niceties.
She didn’t want to insult him. Not if she wanted him to continue.
The gentleman he was, Max acceded to her demand. He set up a steady rhythm. Each tap of the torch was like a brush with a stinging nettle. And just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, she couldn’t wait for him to start again. Anticipation warred with a sweet lethargy. How could something feel so intense and make her muscles sag into the mattress at the same time?
Max played her body like a drum, the rhythmic pattern making her mind drift. The stresses of the day, her worry over her flower shop, they all floated away. All that remained was the heat, a startling awareness of every inch of her body, and the man kneeling beside her, giving her pleasure.
“You said you needed this.” Colleen cleared her throat then raised her voice above its drowsy murmur. “That you had a bad day. What happened?”
The drumbeat paused. “Nothing you need to hear about.”
Well, Colleen couldn’t have that. She looked over her shoulder, saw that the torch was well away from her body, and rolled. She positioned the pillow under her head and lay back, fixing him with a stern look. The wax on her back pulled at her skin and she shifted, restless. “I’m not some naïve green girl. I thought we’d already established that. I don’t need you trying to protect my innocence. It’s too late for that.”
Max’s gaze travelled from her face down her body. Cupping one heavy breast, he teased the nipple with the velvety pad of his thumb. Her skin puckered beneath his touch. “I know you’ve seen a lot,” he said. “Too much. I don’t want to add anymore filth to your head. And I don’t want to think about it. I just want to burn it from my mind tonight.”
Bending low, he licked her nipple with the flat of his tongue, his beard scratching her breast. Slowly, he lowered the torch, hovering it over her skin.
She stared at the flame, transfixed, her breath trapped in her throat. Her body wanted to arch into the heat, to bring the burn to herself, but she waited. Waited for Max to make his move.
He lowered the torch, bringing the flame to her damp skin with a whisper-light kiss. Colleen heard a faint sizzle, felt her nipple ache with pleasure, before he lifted the torch and sucked the tingling tip of her breast into his mouth. He pulled, hard, and she felt the tug all the way down to her sex.
His wet mouth did nothing to cool her fever. Digging her fingers into his beard, she held his head in place. Each suckle brought a whimper to her lips. He rolled his tongue and bit the soft underside of her breast.
Max was right. The time for conversation was over.
She looked down his body, saw he was as ready as she was. Tentatively, she trailed her hand down his stomach, grazed his length with just the tips of her fingers. Soft heat. Like the torch. Only Max pulsed beneath her touch.
She licked her bottom lip. “Have you burned away enough bad memories for the night? There are other ways I can help you forget.” Running her middle finger down the path of one thick vein, she reached the base of his cock and changed direction, skimming his skin until she reached his crown.
His eyes burned hotter than the flames. “I’ve wanted to feel you come around my cock all damn day.” He dunked the torch into the bowl of water, and it hissed out of life. He tossed the bowl on the nightstand, half the water sloshing out onto the floor.
Colleen didn’t mind a spot of cleaning, not if it sped things along. But when Max lowered his large body to hers, she pressed a palm to his chest, stopping him. “Shouldn’t we turn down the lamp?” It was nearly bright as day in her room. When Max was playing with fire on her body, making sure his vision was unimpeded only seemed prudent. But relations were meant to happen under the cover of darkness, as God intended. They’d already violated the unwritten rule of leaving as many clothes on between the bodies as possible. At least the lights had to be dimmed.
He drew his eyebrows together. “Why would we do that? I wouldn’t be able to see you?”
“There’s nothing important to see. It’s the same body parts as every other woman.” A little rounder than the girls of the club. Softer. Max didn’t need to see that bouncing under him.
He smiled darkly and bracketed her hips with his knees, her head with his palms. He was like a large cat, pinning its prey, about to go in for the kill.
Her nipples tingled.
“Darling, before this night is over, I’m going to know every single inch of you. Taste every inch of you. And if I had the stamina, I would fuck every inch of you that I could.” He lowered, his cock nestling into the vee of her thighs. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted his hips up and back, running his length lightly over the bundle of nerves at her apex. “But that might take two nights.”
Gripping his forearms, she dented his skin with her nails. His smile widened. All right then. She’d already broken most of the rules of propriety. One more hardly mattered.
The touch at her clit was feather-light. Insubstantial. She tried to widen her legs, give him better access, but his knees blocked her. She whimpered in frustration.
“In fact …” Lowering his head, Max scored her neck with his teeth, tugging at the soft flesh until she thought she would lose her senses. “In fact, I want you to see everything. Want you to see every hard inch of me sink into your sweet quim.” Sliding one hand under her neck and one under her back, he rolled, pulling her body across his.
She planted her hands and knees around his body, finding her balance. Colleen blinked. The roles had reversed. She now had him pinned. Like a kitten might pin a bull mastiff. She knew he could throw her off with one finger, but the position of dominance still made her feel powerful.
With one palm on her bottom and the other wrapped around the thick base of his length, Max prodded her into position.
She swiveled her hips, felt him dip into her channel an inch, and backed off. Max dug his fingers into her skin and groaned. She smiled, pleased that she had the ability to torture him, too.
He looked up at her from heavy-lidded eyes. “I want you to watch as you slide onto me. Watch my cock tunnel into your body. Watch as our bodies become one.” Anchoring a hand at her hip, he spread open her lower lips with his thumb, and flicked her nub. Her body jerked. She was so wet, she was surprised she wasn’t dripping onto his length. She was more eager to feel every inch of him fill her, but if Max wanted her to watch, she could do that, too.
Guiding him to her opening, she widened her knees and eased him inside. She tried to go quickly, wanting him now, but after a couple of inches, her body pinched.
“Easy.” He gripped both her hips, slowing her descent. He circled her clit with his thumb, and her head fell back. She stared at the chipped paint on the ceiling. She tried to sit down farther, but Max held her hips steady.
“I want you watching, remember?” His voice was hoarse. She looked down. His gaze was fixed on the point where they connected. His pupils were so wide, his eyes looked black.
She followed his gaze. His cock was purpling with blood, the tip disappearing into her body. She saw him twitch, felt the corresponding quiver in her sheath.
The hollow of her back grew damp with sweat. Resting her palms on his chest, she leaned forward and kept her eyes focused where he demanded as she slid down another inch. Both of their breaths caught.
She could understand his fascination. Watching her plump lips swallow him down was entrancing. The soft hair at her entrance glinted red in the light, glistening with her desire. With one hand, she slid two fingers between her lips and scissored them open, exposing her inner folds.
Max cursed, loudly and inventively. She smiled. She’d heard worse on her trips to the docks with her husband, but she liked knowing she brought out the uncivilized side in this man.
Max moved her fingers to her clit, then wrapped both his hands around her bottom. “Touch yourself,” he commanded. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”
Her cheeks heated. She didn’t know if from embarrassment or lust. She didn’t care. Not thinking it possible, Colleen grew slicker. With Max pulling her inexorably down, inch by inch she enveloped him. Whether from the position or because of Max, but she’d never felt so full. The pressure grew until she was sure she couldn’t hold anymore. Max had reached her limit. With a grunt, he thrust his hips up and jerked her down, taking those last two inches and stealing the air from her lungs.
She dug half-moons into his shoulders. She’d been wrong. Now he’d reached her limit. She hoped. She was so filled, all her nerve endings sparking, that she knew there could be no more.
Until he rolled his hips. It was like a thousand tiny lightning bolts shooting through her cunny at once, followed by a thousand tongues easing the sting. Colleen couldn’t stop the small moan that escaped from her lips. Then she knew. Max hadn’t even come close to reaching her limit. This pleasure was only the beginning.
***
Max told his fingers to ease their grip, but they wouldn’t listen. He knew he must be leaving bruises on her plump little arse, ten round marks that spoke of his need. Her body was already splashed with color from his wax. She didn’t need any more. But his body didn’t want to listen to reason.
Digging into her softness, he pulled her close again, matching the thrust of their hips, feeling the pleasure that slid over his cock flow through the rest of his body.
Colleen’s sex was the slickest, softest bit of heaven that he could ever remember fucking.
She raised up an inch, and his hands slammed her back down where she belonged. A long, slow glide of her sheath over his entire length, from root to tip, would feel fucking amazing. But her wet heat surrounding him, squeezing him, was about as much as he could take. More than he deserved.
Colleen clenched her internal muscles and ground her pelvis into his, biting into her lush lower lip. Max just about lost his ever-loving mind.
Who knew buttoned-up women of business could fuck like this?
He needed to see just how far she’d let herself go. “Slide your hands up your stomach and cup those pretty breasts.”
Eyes closed, Colleen sat back and followed his instruction. Her fingers glided over her ribs to her destination. She cradled her breasts, circling her thumbs over the nipples, and her sheath jerked around him.
Max rammed into her, wishing his cock was ten inches longer so he could pierce to the center of her. He needed more. Wanted all of her.
“Your nipples are so red and hard, like cherries just before they ripen. Pinch them for me.”
She did, and the sound of her moan echoed around the room.
His body demanded release. It had never been this hard to wait on a lady’s pleasure. Squeezing his fingers tight, he pulled her down. His nails dug into drops of wax, scraping them from her skin.
“You look so good, I need to taste you.” He surged into her. “Will you offer up your sweet breasts for me, love?”
And like she’d been trained as a serving girl, Colleen plumped her breasts and leaned down, presenting her bounty.
Max ran his nose around the velvet pucker, inhaling the dusky scent of heat and woman. He circled the beaded nipple with the tip of his tongue. With one hand planted firmly on her bottom, he skimmed the other up her spine. His fingers rolled over smooth streaks of wax, broken up by the silky heat of her skin. He rested his palm between her shoulder blades, pressing her lower, and sucked her nipple between his questing lips.
Colleen jerked her hips, her body searching for relief, and Max was right there with her. He knew he should take the time, slow things down, suckle her until she begged for him to end it. He wanted to nibble at her lower lips, drink from her sex. Taste every inch of her skin, caress her, take deep, long strokes into her body. And he would.
But not now.
Right now, he needed release. Needed to find it with this woman who’d helped him erase the filthy memories with fire and wax. Let him forget for a couple of hours just how depraved human nature could be. The horror of the man’s suicide was the faintest of memories. Max’s need was all-consuming.
Hands on her hips, he brought them together. Rough. Hard. Every jolt set her breasts to bouncing. Every slap of skin on skin made him burn. A tingling heat built in his groin. He tried to ignore it, wanting this to last forever. Each time he bottomed out, the cutest little squeak passed her lips, but it wasn’t enough.
He rolled, putting her to her back and staying between her thighs. Grabbing her hands, he pressed her palms flat against the headboard. “Hold on,” he growled. As much as he liked Colleen’s bouncing up and down on him, this was the position he liked best. A woman spread open below him. Taking what he gave her. Digging his knees into the mattress, he found his leverage and pounded home.
Her breasts still jiggled with each drive, and he filled his mouth with a soft globe. Her heartbeat pounded beneath his lips, her skin growing hotter. She wrapped her legs around his hips and arched into his touch. The heels of her boots dug into his arse.
So. Fucking. Good. Grabbing the top edge of the headboard, Max lifted his head, watching Colleen squirm beneath him.
“Oh, dear God,” she whispered. “Please, oh please, oh please …” Eyes wide, she implored him. “Faster,” she whispered.
He didn’t know if that was possible, but he would give it his all. Using the headboard as leverage, he slammed into her. His sweat dripped onto her left breast, and he licked it away. He tried to empty his mind of the picture of her, tried to stave off his impeding release. But even when he closed his eyes, Colleen swamped his senses. Her scent, her feel. He could see her as clearly behind his eyelids as he had with eyes wide open, so he gave in and looked his fill.
She thrashed her head from side to side, her sheath tightening around him like a velvet fist. If he could just hold on. One. Moment. More …
His grunts matched the rattle of the headboard against the wall. “Come now, love. You have to come now.” The need for completion bordered on pain.
Turning her face into the pillow, Colleen slid her finger between them. His next thrust bumped into the back of her hand, pressing it hard against her clit, and she went over with a cry.
Her muscles clamped down, sucking at his cock, triggering his release. With regret, he pulled out of her clutching heat and rocked against her belly. String after string of his sticky seed jetted from his cock, splashing across her softly-rounded stomach, and Max groaned at the exquisite relief.
He fell forwards, his nails clawing down the headboard as he collapsed onto the mattress. He turned slightly, keeping his weight off of Colleen, but keeping her body pressed close. He felt the slickness of her sweat, the stickiness of his release, smear across his stomach, and didn’t care. He was content to lay where he was.
Colleen, however, was not. After her chest stopped heaving, she wiggled out from under him and scooted to the side of the bed. Pulling the half-full bowl of water onto her lap, she took the cloth out, and wiped her body down, spending quick attention to the vee between her legs.
Much of the wax had scraped off on the coverlet, but streaks still covered her back in a medley of red, blues, and whites. He smiled. It rather did look like a Union Jack. He scratched at the largest patch, and the blue wax peeled off in one large, satisfying piece. “Rubbing you down is my job. Give me a chance to catch my breath, and I’ll lick you clean.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice was a harsh rasp.
Max pursed his lips. Rolling onto his hip, he wrapped an arm around her middle and pulled her around to face him. “What’s wrong? Was I too rough?”
Her face turned pink. “No. That part was fine.”
Max took the towel and bowl from her and set it next to the pillow. He might not be the world’s best lover, but usually a woman liked to cuddle up to him after sexual relations. A sigh of contentment never went amiss. And a word or two of praise was always appreciated. But Colleen was a working-class woman. Who knew how they reacted?
“Talk to me,” he said, his voice brusque. He cleared his throat and tried again. “If I did something wrong, I want to know.”
Her blush deepened, and her adorable freckles looked almost purple. Pulling her legs up to her chin, she wrapped her arms around her shins. The toes of her leather boots dug into the sheets. “You aren’t the one who did anything wrong.”
Max’s stomach clenched like a blow had landed. He took a deep breath. “You haven’t done anything wrong, either.”
“Haven’t I? My husband’s only been dead six months. I’m sorry, but this can’t happen again.” She rested her cheek on her knee. “I should still be in mourning, not traipsing around like a common Florence.”
Max ground his jaw. “There was nothing common about what we did. And nothing wrong with it.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t think so.” Rolling off the bed, Colleen hurried to her clothes and pulled her shift over her head. The threadbare cotton did little to hide her form.
Max planted his feet on the floor. “What the deuces do you mean by that?”
“You own and utilize a Venus club.” She arched one auburn eyebrow. “A little bed-bouncing would be of no account to you.” She crossed her arms, the hem of her shift riding the tops of her thighs. “I wasn’t brought up that way.”
Prowling towards her, Max grasped the tail of her braid. “And how were you brought up? To show the gentry little respect, act as though social classes have no distinctions, but then hide behind your working-class morality when it suits you? Is that what your mother taught you?”
“I have plenty of respect for my betters.”
She damn well didn’t and that was one of the things he liked about her. “So, it’s just me that you feel free to debate, to question? Every other gentleman you’d bow and scrape before?”
She opened her mouth, but Max cut her off. “You curtsy to no one.” Not sincerely leastways. He dropped to one knee. “And you’re magnificent for it.”
“Max, what are you doing?” She tugged at his shoulder.
Leaning forwards, he buried his face in her heat. Her regret spurred his anger, and he wanted to prove her wrong. Demonstrate that she was as weak when it came to matters of the flesh as he. She couldn’t just put him on the shelf when it suited her.
He pressed an open mouth kiss to her lower lips, tonguing the cotton, making it wet.
Colleen shifted. Her fingers gripped his shoulder so tightly she’d be leaving marks of her own. “We’re supposed to be fighting.”
Drawing back, he ran his finger over the seam between her legs. The wet cotton clung to her, molding around her cleft. “You feeling shame for what we did isn’t a fight we’re going to have.”
“You can’t control how I feel. Or what I’ll argue about.” Burrowing her fingers in his beard, she tugged his face up.
Max begged to disagree, and he played dirty. Ignoring the sting on his cheek, he lifted her shift, exposing her dewy curls. He ran his tongue between her folds, her musky sweetness exploding in his mouth.
“Max!”
“Is this something you want to give up?” He nibbled his way down one lip before swirling around her entrance. He lapped at her essence, not able to get enough of her flavor. “Will you let your notions of propriety take this away from you?”
“No,” she breathed.
He fucking thought not. “I can make you feel so good, Colleen. Better than any man ever has.” He sucked her clit into his mouth, swallowing thickly against the pain in the back of his throat. The only other man who would have tried would have been her husband. Max had taken Joseph Bonner’s life, and now he’d taken his wife, as well.
There would be a special place in hell waiting for Max. But until that time, he planned on redressing that wrong as best he could. To take care of all of Colleen’s needs. And kneeling before her in penitence seemed like a worthy start.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, he dragged her right leg up and over his shoulder.
She tugged again on his beard, this time holding him close. “Lord of mercy.” Her leg shook, and she wobbled in his arms.
Firming his grip, Max rose to his feet, Colleen half-sitting on his shoulders, and kept her pressed close to his mouth. She shrieked, her arms going around his head. Max couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he tossed her onto the bed.
He crawled over her, and spread her legs wide, keeping his palms pressed to her inner thighs. “Now, where were we?”
Colleen flopped back on the bed and moaned. Any façade of respectability had crumbled away.
He buried his head between her thighs and let himself enjoy her decadence. Tomorrow he’d delve back into London’s underworld, confront the worst of humanity. And remember the worst that existed within himself.
But tonight, he’d lose himself in bliss, fall into oblivion.
And drag Colleen over the edge right along with him.