Regency Rogues Omnibus (79 page)

He backed up, and Joelle followed, speaking extraordinary and carnal things with her body until the back of his legs hit the settee by the fire. Transfixed, Saxon realized he’d never known a woman’s bare belly and hips could move with such overt and riveting male enslavement. He felt flushed and that almost embarrassed him, the part of him that could still think at all beneath the thralldom of Joelle’s lush and supple female body moving like sex.

Sex was the only way he could describe it. It was the most sexual thing he’d ever seen, and being in love with the woman performing it only exacerbated his seething inner reaction. Well, his visible outer reaction too. His cock was quite simply saluting the effort with hardened cheers. The buttons on his evening trousers were about to bust. It did not help matters that he’d been sexually denying himself for a long time.

So when Joelle stood two paces from him, shimming her breasts and belly, bangles ringing songs of lust into his ears, he only stood there, ogling her like a lecherous idiot, while she lifted the end of one scarf and placed it in his hand.

He noted that the scarf was crimson, and it had been covering the area between Joelle’s succulent thighs. But with his gaze so interested, he did not see Joelle’s hand raise to his chest. However, he felt the shove and unguardedly he fell, to end up sitting on the settee with the crimson scarf clutched into his fist, pulled free from Joelle’s scant attire.

His gaze filled with pussy, moving pussy, pussy eliciting erotic rhythms from the rolling and undulation of Joelle’s rounded hips. His heart literally pounded. He’d shaved Joelle’s pussy once at the forced behest of The Order. Be that as it may, all the dark luxurious curls had grown back. Now, he wanted to bury his face in her lavish muff. He wanted to find the crease with his tongue. Damnation, he wanted to plunge his fingers deep into her hot sheath, searing them with the juices she was effusing, readying for his cock. Saxon lifted his hook to his cravat and he tugged, pulling at it until the restrictive feeling around his throat eased, and it lay undone with his throat bare.

Joelle circled her hips, listening to the music of the bangles. She could slow it into seductive beckoning or hasten it into urgent tempos. Then she slowed, snaking her hips languidly as she lifted one bare foot to the arm rest of the settee, bending her knee as she surged her hips in slow motion. She had never done a dance this outwardly raw and sexual before, exposing her sex, even lifting her leg to reveal where the puffy lips could be seen.

She watched Saxon’s gaze attach to this display like a hunter. A sexual hunter. A mating stalker and exactly what she wanted! She could feel the excitement of attracting him thrum deep into her sex, building. After this extravagant overture, if Saxon did not grasp another scarf soon and start unwrapping her, she was going to
thwack
him. Just like her animated mother use to do to her, “full-of-life father,” to get his attention going into her prescribed direction.

Saxon appeared ensnared, with an aura of enormous restraint stretching him to the snapping point, but to her vexation, he did not snap. He looked like a proud and virile male predator, with his long mane of maple-colored hair flowing unbound down his back and his brown eyes showing mahogany tinted flames. She could see he lusted ... tremendously, and it tensed his body and stilled him to chiseled male. Yet, he would not leap, even as she turned her back to him and bent forward slightly shimming her barely concealed buttocks at him.

Spirits! He was
so
stubborn, nearly as stubborn as she was. “Saxon Hartley if you do not
take
another scarf off me this instant, I’m going to walk out of here and never return!” she threatened brashly, as she shook her head with emphasis. Her hair came tumbling down in front of her as she bent forward and looked over her shoulder at him.

Her words leaped the sparking fires in Saxon’s irises up to her gaze. She felt his restraint nearly snap and it seemed that he barely caught it back. The feeling of that bridled ardor flushed her arousal with poignant throbs building steadily in her sex.

“I will not take the chance of impregnating you! Not now. We cannot!” Saxon expelled through lips she could see were drawn tight.

At the same moment she exclaimed, “
This
is why you refuse to make love with me?” Joelle stopped her dance movements, straightening and turning to face Saxon with her hands braced on her hips. She might thwack him yet!

“I do not refuse you!” he said, in the first angry voice she could remember him using on her. That was besides the first time after they were initially kidnapped, and she’d basically raped him to destroy her virginity, which The Order coveted. “I deny
us
, as I think you would do also!”

That struck Joelle a little too close to sounding condescending and as if she was not intelligent enough to have thought about this. Truth was, she had not. However, she adamantly thought the cause was her lusty Gypsy blood, not her intelligence. Desire had simply distracted her.

How dare he! “Oh such a
great
master spy, and you cannot even figure out that we do not have to have intercourse to make love and fulfill each other!” she cried, with a touch of anger.

Suddenly, Saxon rose. One moment he was seated and the next he was in front of her. Her hands lifted from her hips as though she would steady herself in the same instant Saxon crushed her within his embrace. His lips descended, just as she lifted hers upward to exclaim at him. Their mouths collided. The kiss he wrought devastated her senses and magnified her desire. The kiss was not the gentle promise of more courting, but the lusty surety of sex.

Only now, she was angry and overturned and she pushed on his chest, tugging her lips from his. “No! I do not want this. I’m not sure!” Joelle even thought to herself that she sounded like a petulant child.

“Joelle, Joelle.” Saxon wrapped her weak struggles into his embrace as his hands smoothed warmly on the sides of her bare waist. “I have no excuse, but that I was trying to do the best for us.”

“Oh,” Joelle uttered with drawn out vowels of reluctant understanding, while worrying her nose and mouth over the base of Saxon’s throat. He was sincere. She knew he was. “We need to open up more. Talk more.” She pushed back and looked up into Saxon’s rich mahogany eyes.

“Yes we do, Firefly. This time I was just afraid to admit to myself my fears, until I looked closely.”

“Oh, Saxon, I did not even think of it, and you are right, I should have. We should have!”

“Well we complement each other, Lady Firefly, because I never thought of your, quite erotic might I add, solution.”

Joelle grinned with impish fire in her dark eyes. “What I want to know is if it is possible to do it to each other at the same time? There must be a... Oh!” Joelle squealed as Saxon lifted her upward, then with a sort of dancing tumble, they ended on the settee with her on the bottom and his strong body blanketing hers.

“We will have to experiment,” he said from above her. His arms held her arms clinched inward, which pressed her breasts together. Looking down, they looked like two big mounds ready to pop. There was her cleavage finally. Saxon looked down at it and purred a male sound of pure approval as he swayed from side to side moving her over-plump cleavage with him as he watched.

His long hair fell all around them. She certainly had his interest now. All masculine interest and he was going to culminate this time. Joelle could feel where Saxon’s very ridged cock lay, the impression from as far at the bottom of her sex as it could go, upward past her belly button. There ending where she was surprised to feel the head bared against her bare belly. It was hot and fat feeling, with something wet drizzling on her skin. It must be so hard and long, it had grown out of the waistband on Saxon’s trousers, she realized.

That set her to more sensual quivering as Saxon slid his body lower and with his teeth, he grasped the scarf over her right breast. Her mind was split with sensations. On one hand, she was aware of the head of Saxon’s exposed penis, now lowered into the crease of her sex, rubbing more arousing heat, and on the other hand, Saxon tugging free the scarf over her breast, baring it with his teeth. His lips followed closely on the removal of the scarf to kiss her breast, then nip, then lick.

“Ooh, love,” she moaned, arching her back to raise her breast into the heat of his mouth as she grasped his buttocks and used this leverage to grind her sex against the head of his cock.

She was not certain that she could last through Saxon’s determined and slow sensual tortures. She had withheld her desire for so long, along with bringing it to teasing peaks just in Saxon’s company so often without repletion, so that now, the urgency for release was consuming her body.

Saxon suckled Joelle’s nipple tip to a tight peak, feeling it prod against his tongue, as she moaned, “Please, Saxon, we will go as slow as dripping honey next time. This time I cannot wait. I cannot!”

Joelle’s nipple point left his mouth to stand turgid and wet as he raised his gaze to the dark urgent need in Joelle’s eyes. Then suddenly, she shoved on his chest, with a great amount of force for such a little package. He could have stalled his tumble, but he grinned instead, going with it, taking her with him as he landed on the floor on his back with her now on top of him.

One second later, Joelle had squirmed down his body and she had his engorged cock-head sunk into the heat of her mouth, snugging her lips tightly around it.

“Jesus!”

“Mm mm.” She licked eagerly on just the head, and he knew that she would never get the whole thing into her sweetly sucking mouth. He groaned, arching his hips and clutching masses of her hair, just the stimulation of her lips sucking rapidly over the head was so inducing that he felt the threat of ejaculation quickly rising in his cock. It was his enforced abstinence. It was his desire for Joelle. Whatever it was, he had trouble fighting it back and controlling it, when he rasped. “Turn around, Firefly love, let me taste your flame.”

Putting his mind on anything but Joelle’s lips drawing on the head of his penis, he was not certain she had heard him or understood what he wanted. However, he reached forward and bodily moved her where he wanted her. Joelle’s avidly drawing lips barely left their suctioning enthusiasm as he guided her to straddle his chest and he gazed at the luscious honey pot of her pussy. A cheer rose inside him as though he had scored the victory point in some sporting event. Hit the bull’s eye dead center.

This was a man’s nirvana. He had never experienced it in this fashion before, so earthy and lustily straddled over each other. It hit him that this was what love and relationship brought. Carnal, exotic, full-bodied adventure. He was so aroused that he forgot to undo his hook for safety purposes, but he managed to think enough to keep it to the side, as he lifted his head and touched his tongue to Joelle’s already drenched sweet pussy lips.

“Oh! Mm. Oh! Oh,” Joelle commended him with eager moans around the head of his penis as her lovely small ass quivered.

Her outer pussy lips were flushed and puffy, spreading to reveal the deep coral within, soused with her excitement. The heat coming from her pussy was humid and sweet. The scent filled him, throbbing hard into his penis. He licked and kissed the outer lips, letting his tongue lave up the outside. Then, his tongue lapped back down the center, kissing and flicking as he went, until he rubbed against Joelle’s protruding clitoris.

“Oh!”

Her answering wriggling pressed this bud of ardor with enthusiasm onto his lashing tongue, as he lifted a finger to sink into the tunnel of her clenching heat. “Oh! Oh!”

Joelle’s ass rose upward as he followed with his tongue and more rapid lunging of his finger. Her mouth latched tighter over the head of his penis as her small hands climbed up and down the shaft. Her vigor bounced her tongue on the slit, sending shock-waves of bliss spiking through him. They curled inward toward each other. Their bodies seeking more divine pleasures as Joelle’s mouth lifted and lower over the top of his penis as fast as he coupled his finger inside her and played serious attentions to her clitoris.

He felt Joelle’s hair falling like feathered silk over his belly, his groin, and caressing his balls as he used the direction of his finger mating her clutching sheath to rock her clitoris against his swiftly frisking tongue. Her staccato cries grew shriller as her inner thighs clamped down around his head and he strained to hold back his ejaculation. He could feel the burn of intense pleasure moving up his shaft. He renewed his vigor on Joelle’s clitoris and vagina with sudden and needy inspiration proposing that he wrap his lips over Joelle’s clitoris and suck hard. Score!

Thank God, because he could no longer hold back, as Joelle writhed over him with her climax erupting. When he felt her juices leaching and her body contorting, with her pussy throbbing in his mouth, he relaxed the restraint he held on ejaculating. Then, he groaned with a suppressed roar into the sweet hot quivering lips of Joelle’s pussy.

Chapter Fourteen

Kit contained her teary and trembling reactions with wobbly restraint. It had not been easy to get away from Nick, to wrest herself from the hotel room and be on her way. The row she’d had with Nick, after Brynmore had deserted her, had been loud and abusive. However, she’d yelled as loud as Nick had, and finally managed to wrestle away. She felt certain after all the things she’d screamed at him that he would not be bothering her again. More likely, he would return home to lick his wounds and connive a way to declare her insane on paper or something equally as vile. Nothing was beyond Nick Ralston and his greed to get his hands on the Montoya fortune. If Clay was dead and her lawyer did not get the divorce through quickly, Nick just might manage it.

But she did not care! She would give away the entire fortune if she could find her brother alive. That is why, when she left the hotel, she did not try to follow Brynmore and Yojo, but went in the opposite direction. Instead, she was going to the chateaus where The Order had performed its evil ceremonies. A place where her suspicions and dread were leading her too, after hearing Yojo alluding to sacrifices and murders. She was spurred on by the question, why were all the men Brynmore was searching for still missing?

Those questions were why when she reined in her lathered horse outside the Chateaus; she did not stop to go inside, but asked directions to the property’s graveyard.

“
How
did I know?” Kit cried, kneeling before the fresh mound of a grave. She would never understand the strength of her suspicions knowing this fresh grave, or the others, would be there. Later, someone she would come to respect would tell her it was a logical assumption, but now it felt unearthly.

There was only one fresh grave with a marker that read some esteemed nobleman’s name. She did not let that stop her as she began to dig with her fingers, clawing at the freshly turned earth. It was morbid and disrespectful, but nothing would halt her, as tears streamed down her face, while she dug.

It took her only a moment to find the first bit of debris. It was a man’s gold ring that she had never seen before. Then, she found a cuff link, next a broken piece of a pocket watch, later the skeleton of a hand, but not attached. It was black with soot. Unnerved, she set it aside with her insides crawling, and her mind crying horrors. But she did not stop. No matter how gruesome it was, she kept digging.

Then.

“Oh my God, no!” Kit cried. “No! No!” she wailed, as she pulled out a gold cross on a long chain. It was the length a man would wear around his neck and the cross was lavishly embellished.

“No, God, oh please,
no
,” she sobbed, holding it up to the sunlight. “Clay!” she screamed...

My Lady Gambled Book Two

By Shirl Anders

Chapter One

Drummond caressed his wife Gabriella’s soft belly. They lay sprawled nude on their linen-tumbled bed after a rambunctious bout of ardent lovemaking. He was just breathing evenly, while his wife hummed small purrs with something obviously on her mind. Blast! Women were so energetic after sex, as if it infused them with life’s vital élan, while men’s very bone structure fell limp and their minds turned to mush. He knew, of course, what was likely on his lovely wife’s enterprising mind.

He supposed in the end he’d played his reluctance for all it was worth, while receiving the many varieties of his wife’s sexual favors as she tried to influence him. Not that their normal sexual intimacies were lacking at all, however Gabriella became very creative with sex when she wanted something.

Drummond smiled into the pillow. She always got it, too. Nevertheless, far be it from him to inform her that he could deny her very little. Drummond opened one eye like a lazy cat and looked at Gabriella’s plump white breasts as she lay, still entirely naked, on her back beside him. She was playing one of her long painted fingernails around her lips and he could just see her mind whirling. Hmm, he thought, never before had discussing his intended spying mission been so visually enjoyable. He could get use to this.

“Uh mm, Drummond, amour.”

“Mm, yes, love,” Drummond responded with a slow drawl.

“Chloe spoke to me again and I have finally been able to read between the lines.”

Drummond rose up on his elbow and moved to lean over Gabriella, looking down at her. “Really?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I could tell you if I were involved,” she hinted.

“As I see it, Orchid, you are already thoroughly enmeshed despite my misgivings,” he said, as his hand gently cupped the underside of her breast and he caressed it gently.

“Drummond, I know you are worried over safety issues. It will be dangerous. However, I am quite certain your superb mind can overcome most of that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere and from what I have heard all the Archangels wives and lovers have been flattering their men to distraction, until we are all left as puddles at your collective feet.”

“
Oh
, Drummond,” Gabriella exclaimed. “You will not regret letting us help you destroy The Order! And as far as danger, each of us now married and in love, worry over each of you as much as you worry over us. How you dealt with things such as this in the past needs to be revised, though. It is time now, with all the changes in our lives. I believe this wholeheartedly.”

“Then we come back to Harrison,” Drummond said. “You know we all had to kill, but he performed cold-hearted assassinations.”

Gabriella pressed her fingers to his lips stopping his words. “I know, my amour, but you can see how that would destroy him now. Really, it would any one of you.”

“Yes, I felt certain that was what was troubling, Harrison. And, Chloe, confirmed that I take it?” Gabriella nodded. “Yes, Gabriella, we have moved beyond war where outright assassinations appeared more acceptable.”

“I know, but I also know that you can find a different way, Drummond. I have faith in that extraordinary mind of yours.”

Gabriella patted both his cheeks with encouragement. He was going to need encouraging if he were to devise a plan to destroy The Order of the Satyr, while trying to keep everyone safe. Even more so with the women involved, and do it all while allowing no outright assassinations. Of course, he could not order assassinations anymore. This was not war and he was no longer a spy for England. If he did it now, they could charge him with murder. Be that as it may, he’d already been thinking quite extensively.

“I have called, Brynmore, back from St. Petersburg. He has found Incubus, who is basically remaining low-key, hiding and cowering.”

“So it begins soon?” Gabriella asked, rubbing his chest.

“Yes, love. The first step does. We need to infiltrate the new cult that The Order has resurrected and moved outside of London.”

Chapter Two

“Mrs. Birmingham, I certainly appreciate your answering my questions.” Kit looked at the pleasing, rotund lady sitting next to her in the tasteful front parlor of her home in London.

“Of course, my dear, and you must call me, Maddie. Your father was a great friend of ours. My husband, George, always regales me with tales of visiting your father in America those many years ago. Then I turn George’s ear right back with tales of the visits your father made here to London. Of course by then, George and I were married and George was right here with us, but still we love telling them.”

Lady Maddie Birmingham sighed with an over-fond light in her eyes. “We will miss him greatly. Your father, Rolston Montoya, was an extraordinary man, so different from any of the English men I’ve ever known.”

Kit was a bit surprised. If she were younger and less experienced than she was now, she might have missed the undercurrent. Yet it was obvious to her that Lady Birmingham had, had a crush on her robust father. Kit quelled the urge to discover if it were more. That was not her purpose for coming here. It was odd to think about one’s parents in that way. Kit shook off the odd feeling and turned the conversation back to her interests.

She found herself lying smoothly. It was a testament to the fact of how far she’d come and how serious she was. “There are several people my father spoke about that I would like to contact while I’m here. Unfortunately, London is so large.”

“Oh, just tell me their names, dear. I am certain I will know the names.” Maddie looked particularly proud and eager to showcase her London social standing, with her in-the-know knowledge.

Kit felt the tiny rush of moving forward in her goals, as she asked, “One is, Lord Brynmore Duneagan. Do you know of him?” Kit held her breath.

“Oh yes of course, dear, I know, Lord Duneagan. I will tell you at one time I thought my oldest daughter, Matilda, had Lord Duneagan’s eye. But the man will simply not give our society events enough chances. I lament that fact to him on the few times I see him attending.”

Kit could see that Lady Birmingham intended to relate the tale of the missed courtship, so she interjected quickly. “And, Lord Duneagan, has a residence here in London then?”

“Oh yes, some smaller bachelor’s place you know. Fashionable though. Only a few blocks from our famous Mayfair on Newburg Place. Really, Mayfair is the place to be in London,” Maddie informed Kit, while patting Kit’s hand.

Thirty minutes later, Kit stood outside a three-storied mansion on Mayfair not far from Lord Duneagan’s residence. With a surge of intuition, Kit felt certain that it was owned by the one she sought. She could have contacted Brynmore, but she did not trust that he wouldn’t try to turn her away again, as he had done so easily in Paris. Needless to say, she was a different woman now, even from such a short time ago. Revenge did that. It enraged determination. So, she was going to bypass Brynmore and go for the nameless friends that he’d spoken of. Although, it had not actually been hard to guess, once Lady Birmingham informed her that Lady Joelle Zurka was a guest at the home of Lord Duneagan’s longtime friend, the Duke of Kittridge.

“I could be wrong,” Kit muttered, approaching the mansion at a steady walk. She was arriving unasked and unannounced. Quite unacceptable and more so if she was mistaken. “But I’ve never met a Duke before.”

It seemed that the butler who answered the door was unperturbed that a lone woman should arrive upon the doorstep without a calling card or any invitation, asking to see the Duke of Kittridge. In fact, the butler solicitously invited her inside to wait in the foyer, while he went to inform his master of her presence. Kit knew all these actions were uncommon by London society’s strict rules of etiquette. It depicted the Duke to be perhaps relaxed and slightly more malleable. Much more like the society in America, Kit thought, where a single woman could move about by herself more freely without ravaging her reputation.

The butler returned shortly, his face nonplussed, with an invitation to the Duke’s study and Kit was feeling optimistic when she went through the opened doorway. The butler stood aside for her and waited for her to enter, then he closed the door behind her. Kit did not bother with digesting the decor of the room other than it appeared richly attired with a warm feeling. Her concentration centered entirely on the distinguished and quite handsome silver-haired gentleman that sat behind a large mahogany desk. The Duke had the look of a Duke, but more, he was a man’s man as her father use to say.

“Kit Montoya,” Lord Kittridge said. “I have been expecting you.”

Kit felt like rocking back on her heels in surprise, yet she managed not to, while she felt the satisfaction of having guessed right. This was the leader. His attractive arrogance showcased it admirably. She knew its presence from her father, who had the same quality.

Bull’s-eye,
as her American ranch hands would claim. “And you, Lord Kittridge, are exactly what I anticipated,” Kit said, walking further into the room.

Lord Kittridge nodded his head slightly at her parry. “You, however, can only be guessing,” he said. Then, before she could attempt a retort, he intervened, saying, “Please sit, my dear.”

When Kit came to one of the ornately tufted chairs before his desk, the Duke stood until she had seated herself. Once seated, she smoothed the brown silk skirts of her gown, peeking out from the edges of the cloak she still wore.

“As I was saying, Miss Montoya, I had decided, with recent private events spurring me on, that when you appeared I would not try to, shall we say, sidestep you. Your appearance here shows your determination and were I not to invite you into the fold, as it were, I can readily see stumbling over you at every inopportune moment.”

Kit nodded her head in agreement to Lord Kittridge’s statement. The excitement rising in her was a hardened one. The Duke was correct. She would continue to try to destroy The Order and its leaders with or without his, Brynmore’s, or their friends associations.

“The fold?” she asked, with leading keenness.

Lord Kittridge leaned his elbow on his desk, then two fingers to his fuller bottom lip as he gazed at her with piercing intent in his charcoal gray eyes. This was not a man to trifle with, Kit realized, stifling a shiver up her spine. There was an edge to him, once again of the type she’d seen in her father. She had better get used to it at any rate, because Lord Kittridge was the first of many dangerous people her goals would lead her to encounter.