siren.
“Come,” he whispered.
He wanted to rub his cock against her.
But this wasn’t for him.
Her hips arched up, shaking, splashing more water onto the marble floor in a wave.
She froze for a moment like that, moaning softly as he worked her through her bliss.
Then she sagged against him, limp and sated, her lips bitten red.
He lifted her, urgent, a bit clumsy. He was in danger of spending before he could breach her. He’d outsmarted himself by waiting so long as she twisted sensuously against him.
But she raised her head, lifting her hips for him as she looked him in the eye. He held his cock in one hand until he found her wet, hot, welcoming softness.
And then he thrust.
She moaned as he entered her, parting those folds, sinking into her, but not far enough. Only the head of his prick penetrated her.
Jesus.
He needed more. It was agonizingly frustrating.
He wanted to claim her, bury himself in her and make her his.
She rode him carefully, sheathing him and unsheathing his head, again and again, far too slowly.
Driving him mad.
Every muscle in his body shook as he held himself still.
“Gideon,” she slurred, teasing him with her cunt. “Oh God, Gideon.”
He wanted…
“Deeper,” he gasped. “Take me deeper.”
She shook her head.
He thought he might die.
She opened her mouth over his, hot and wet, as she ground herself against him. Her nipples brushed his chest and he wasn’t sure he could take any more.
Then slowly, almost lazily, she took his prick inch by inch inside her.
God. Her heat. Her tightness.
His tilted his head back and groaned, his cock pulsing. His come was pulled from him in almost painful ecstasy as he filled her.
As he marked her as his.
But he knew even then in his extremity: it was she who had claimed him.
* * *
Three days later Messalina placed her hand in Gideon’s broad palm and stepped down from their carriage. She shook out her skirts as Gideon turned to help Lucretia. Then she looked up.
Windemere House was alight with torches and lanterns as carriages delivered the cream of society to its front steps.
Messalina assessed the attendance. There would be more people in town in another month. She’d have to prepare for a larger assembly when she threw a ball for Gideon.
She realized suddenly that she was planning to stay with Gideon.
The thought made her smile tremulously.
“How do I look?” Lucretia asked, drawing her attention.
Messalina turned to contemplate her sister. Lucretia wore a shimmering ice-blue frock with white lace spilling from the elbow-length sleeves. Her bodice was embroidered with yellow and red flowers, and the edges of the dress were trimmed in silver lace all along the front. Lucretia’s glossy black hair was pulled back from her face and knotted at her crown, with pearls threaded through the locks.
If not for the fear in her eyes, she’d be perfect.
“You’re lovely,” Messalina said with sincerity. “Every gentleman at the ball will fall at your feet, and every lady will turn green with envy.”
“Oh, good,” Lucretia replied with a nervous pat to her hair. “That was what I was aiming for.”
Gideon snorted and held out his arms. “If you’re ready, ladies.”
Messalina caught her breath at his smile, feeling herself blush. The last few days had been full of lovemaking—tender lovemaking—and she was both more comfortable with her husband and shyer. Which really didn’t make sense, but there it was. Gideon had held her all last night, his nude skin against hers in their bed, and it had felt so warm and cozy and right. As if they were married in more than just name.
Maybe they were.
But if she stayed…Her gaze went to Lucretia as she took Gideon’s arm.
If she remained with Gideon and had a real marriage with him, Lucretia would be in danger. Unless Julian could somehow take her away?
Then Messalina could enjoy a life she’d never expected to be granted.
Her heart squeezed at the thought of living far away from Lucretia. Perhaps Gideon and his men could be protection enough for her sister. Perhaps they could live together in London, happy and content. And if Messalina didn’t use her dowry portion to escape, then…
She had a vision of Sam’s eager face. Of other boys like Sam.
Her future held exciting new possibilities, precious and fragile like the skin of a newborn.
Right now, though, they had to run Uncle Augustus’s gauntlet. Messalina squared her shoulders and made sure her smile was in place. Gideon wore one of his new suits—hastily put together at a truly exorbitant price by Mr. Underwood