Regency Rogues Omnibus (7 page)

Drummond turned his back to Gabriella abruptly, haphazardly trying rather desperately to collect himself. He had expected a literal wall from Gabriella. A barricade of maidenly modesty, indignation, embarrassment, and truthfully, stubbornness, but not this-this . . . It must be complete and painful honesty.

“Drummond, I have upset you. I should not have spoken.”

“No. It is not that.” Drummond turned too quick to see that Gabriella had moved so quietly that his clamorous thoughts had not captured it, and now she stood with her hand hovering near his upper chest. She yearned to touch him so badly that he could see the need of it shimmering in her violet eyes, however she was shy and confused, so near to toppling backward into the place that she just flowered from so recent . . . so unexpected. What an enormous capitulation this must be for her, what an enormous chance. He could not think clearly in this moment, but instinct would hold him. His instinct and profound hopefulness.

Drummond clasped Gabriella’s hand placing her slender fingers flat on the taut meat of his upper chest, watching her luscious cupid lips form a perfect O as her gaze dipped timorously beneath her inky black eyelashes. He was spellbound and still incredulous, yet not so far off his footing that his maleness did not react with instinct to her femininity as he moved her hand inexorably down his chest, feeling the light scratching of her long fingernails. Her palm was cool and soft to the heat of his skin and her lowered gaze seemed to be mesmerized, following her hand’s motion, propelled by his.

“You are so strong,” she whispered. “Shaped so perfectly . . . male.”

His physical build overturned her, Drummond realized in wonder. He felt the excitement of her other hand coming to his waist, pressing hesitantly until she must feel its entire lean structure.

“Take my trousers down,” he commanded huskily making Gabriella’s delicate hands tremor on his flesh.

“I ...” She was breathless and still would not turn her gaze up to him.

“I must insist, madame,” he ordered in a low tenor feeling as though he could be regaining himself a bit. “You want to,” he cajoled lightly, when she still hesitated.

Chapter Twelve

Oh yes, I want to
, Gabriella thought. If the rest of Drummond were anymore divine than his top portion, she was sure she would swoon! She had never felt like this before. She had never craved a thing as deeply as was her wish to view more of Drummond’s completely nude body. The craving was overriding her inherent modesty. The feel of him was crashing through her useless puritanical resolve, until she admitted to herself the need to let go. To be free to...

Boldly, she took hold of the top of Drummond’s pants and began to pull them downward. They stuck!

“There are buttons, kitten,” Drummond murmured near her ear as his strong fingers clasp hers and he showed her where they were. Her fingers brushed against a mysterious bulge of maleness underneath, while she nervously conquered each new button loop. The black satin material of his evening pants drooped open more with each released button as her knuckles skimmed a crown of knobbed hardness, then a rigid length. She could see his small cloth was not adequate to hide the striking beast that he carried beneath.

Drummond guided her hands to take off his pants, stepping each foot out, however left her with his brief small cloth and her hands hovering near. His hips were lean. His bare thighs were slopes of unyielding muscle and there was black and silver hair mixed in a thin patch below his navel.

Gabriella licked her lips anxiously. Dare she, her mind whispered? Dare she free herself? Give into her desire and this heightened curiosity that were inflaming her from head to toe.

“Carpe diem,” Gabriella whispered suddenly, and then she tugged Drummond’s small cloth downward gallantly.

What sprang free was fearless, a flesh-shod poker of iron muscle! Gabriella could remember feeling such as this between her thighs, entering her hurriedly in the pitched darkness of her bed chambers. However, her blinded imagination could not have predicted the reality of a man’s naked-. What should she call it?

“Cock,” Drummond murmured in a husky whispering.

Gabriella realized in surprise that she must have spoken her thoughts out loud.

“Tarse or member,” Drummond continued to say as he shifted his body and began to turn away. “A groin or phallus. However, you shall call mine, cock.”

Gabriella received a poignant view of the twin muscular hams of Drummond’s buttocks as he strode with rippling grace toward the fireplace, saying quite calmly, she thought.

“And now for our chess game, madame.”

Chess,
Gabriella wanted to exclaim, how could she think of chess when she had a beautifully naked man presented before her and a passion pearl wedged provocatively between her thighs . . . stroking her innermost sanctuary to distraction? As a diversionary tactic, she smoothed down her silk skirts. Unnecessarily, trying to expand the moment to quiet her fluttering heart while Drummond sat, rather calmly, she thought in a padded wing chair before the chess game. His silver head came up, his gaze unreadable.

“White or black, madame, I shall allow you the first move.”

All Gabriella could think was that if Drummond could appear so calm, then she must strive for nonchalance also. He was so much worldlier than she was and she had no wish to be unsophisticated to his cosmopolitan. Perhaps, couples resided nude quite often, traversing their entire homes au natural . . . after they had given the servants a day off, of course. She had been sheltered in the country most of her life as her husband had preferred it, so she really did not know the brazenness of the ton, per say. This could very well be typical! With this ludicrous reasoning bolstering her, Gabriella sailed forward, finding it extremely prudent early on to gaze no lower than Drummond’s male nipples. And even those coppery-colored circlets with their taut nubs played havoc with her senses.

“Wine, madame?”

“W-Wine,” Gabriella stuttered back at him, having not been paying the least attention to anything but Drummond’s sinewy male calves, sprinkled with dark hair. Noting that even these were muscular! “Yes, please,” she finally thought to answer. Some dozen glasses, please!

The flex and draw of Drummond’s muscular biceps immediately held Gabriella’s gaze prisoner as he held forth a crystal glass of burgundy-shaded wine, which she caught precariously in her nerveless fingers. Then, she watched him unwind into the chair like a languid panther as her gaze drew downward to the edge of her wine glass. Only to capture in her sight the exciting views of Drummond’s poised cock!

The game, of course, was forgone . . . she would lose, and it was done quickly because of her mental dishabille. She could not say what she moved or where. It had to be little better than playing with a child, however, Drummond never complained. He appeared so natural, so relaxed that little by little, and with no small help from three glasses of wine, Gabriella relaxed somewhat also. In fact, to her dismay, she began to giggle when he checked her.

“Too much wine, kitten?” Drummond chuckled as he took her nearly empty fourth glass of wine and set it aside. “But I have won the prize,” he finished with a sensuous smile.

“My loins!” Gabriella exclaimed with an unladylike snort, rubbing her palms over the edges of the armrest. “To taste!”

Gabriella grinned a bit lopsided, feeling somehow as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off her shoulders, leaving her floating and delightfully unbalanced. She was twirling free. “I did not know people did such as taste each other.” She twirled the long red nail of her first finger on the armrest. “Naive,” she grumbled in a whisper. Then an entirely new thought occurred, lifting her mouth in another smile, as she asked, “Do they both taste, Drummond?”

Drummond’s return gaze to her was comical, making her giggle again. He looked stern, yet perplexed, and at the same time as though he were trying not to be amused, which barely lifted the corners of his sensuous mouth.

“You are drunk, madame,” he said sternly as he stood leaving her with an unrestricted view of a splendid piece of male anatomy. Certainly, Gabriella felt contrite over Drummond’s commanding sternness, as she chuckled and exclaimed, “You have a beautiful cock, Drummond-! Oh,” she squealed a second later, when Drummond unexpectedly lifted her up into his powerful arms.

“To bed,” he muttered, while she clasped her hands to his muscle-packed shoulders and rubbed the tip of her nose, and then her mouth along his bristly jaw.

“You never answer me, Drummond,” Gabriella pouted, feeling the swing of his powerful body as he carried her. “Two entire questions and not a peep from-.”

“Men,” he interrupted. “Do not peep, madame.”

Gabriella very industriously ran one of her long red fingernails around his ear, the masculine one with the twinkling ruby in its virile lobe. It must have tickled because he shook his head as if swishing away a fly. “And yes,” he continued succinctly, “Both men and women taste, lick, suckle, and enjoy each other’s loin’s with their mouths.”

Gabriella found herself sitting on Drummond’s lap as he sat upon the bed. She snuggled closer to his wonderfully bare chest while her satin-covered bottom squirmed over the hard rigid of that loin he had just spoken about so poignantly.

“Gabriella?” Drummond clasped her hips in his wide hands, holding them disappointingly still, so she made do with tugging his silver-black chest hair, feeling the springiness sift through her fingers. However, then disappointingly, he caught the back of her hand holding it still also. “What is the second item, madame? This second question, which you say I have not answered?”

Gabriella sighed heavily, laying her cheek comforting to Drummond’s bare shoulder as she gave one last attempt to wiggle her fingers beneath his hand. “Am I a fallen woman now?” she asked softly, sighing again. “That was my question,” she murmured with a kittenish yawn, nuzzling his warm, muscled shoulder.

“Not yet,” Drummond murmured watching as Gabriella slowly fell asleep in his arms. What a prime opportunity he was allowing to slip quietly into slumber, Drummond reprimanded himself as he continued to hold Gabriella. She was so very beautiful with her small Grecian nose and her cupid, bow-shaped lips. Her lashes were dark chocolate brown, nearing black against the porcelain fineness of her cheek and her chin was perfect in a delicate shell shape. She was a dainty piece of femininity and she made him feel overpoweringly protective, not to mention fiercely possessive. Perhaps, Harrison was right, this did indeed feel quite painful.

Chapter Thirteen

Gabriella murmured softly in her sleep, barely finding wakefulness when a husky, roughened voice whispered in her ear.

“Do not move, my sensuous little kitten. You were restless  . . .  let me ease you.”

Gabriella could only mutter dreamily, not surprised at all in her sluggish drowsiness to hear Drummond’s voice or to feel the length of his warm body so close to hers. She wriggled her toes and stretched sinuously on her stomach, languidly feeling the tempting outline of steamy male lips nibbling on her bare shoulder. Drummond’s roomy hand sifted through her hair, lifting its weight off her nape as his provocative mouth followed, tracing her sensitive skin. The contour of solid masculine lips caressing her flesh brought an awakening shiver of desire, deep inside her, until she prayed that the exquisite sensations would never end.

“You taste warm and salty,” Drummond murmured through a lingering kiss of his lips that made Gabriella wish to cuddle back against him so that he would never stop. “At times my tongue catches the flavor of flowers and a succulent hint of orange . . . hm, I could feast on you,” Drummond whispered.

“Oh-mm,” Gabriella purred with a sensuous misty feeling as she curled her naked back, encouraging Drummond further in this dreamy midnight fantasy of hers. “It feels so wondrous,” she hummed.

“I am enchanted, madame.” One of Drummond’s spacious hands slipped around her shoulder to grasp the column of her throat lightly, while his other fingers tickled nimbly from her knee to her inner thigh. During the entire time his inquisitive mouth rained humid kisses down to the very small of her back. “Spread your knees apart for me, precious lover,” Drummond commanded in a husky murmur.

She should not.

She wanted to.

She . . . did.

“Ah, that’s it, my luscious kitten. Splay them wide, just for me.” Drummond’s hand roamed erotically across the opening crack of her bottom, dipping hotly into the crevice and stroking all the way to the exposed lips of her sex.

“Drummond,” Gabriella panted, breathless, feeling his muscular forearm wedge firm into the separated crease of her buttocks as his fingers slipped into the folds of her sex. Propelling her hips off the bed and pushing her bottom in the air as her hands frantically clutched the pillows above her head. The blunt end of Drummond’s finger stroked deeply and her behind arched more, anchored by his unyielding forearm as she moaned with vibrancy. His wet tongue began to swirl at the very top crease of her bottom presented to him so wantonly. His tongue dipped lightly, causing her to quake as his finger embedded deeper into her loins, abrading her roughly, causing her to feel prickling and intense jolts of pleasure.