“Lie back on the table.”
She glanced behind her, skeptical that she could hop back up without looking ridiculous, given that she was both naked and short.
“I’ll help.” He didn’t wait for her to reply, but put his hands at her waist and lifted her effortlessly.
The green felt of the table tickled her skin. She glanced around, spotting the blanket he’d left folded on the chair. “I think we should put that down. I don’t want to have to cover this again.”
“Always practical,” he replied, a wry grin on his face. He unfolded the blanket, laying it on the table, then tucking it under her as she raised herself up on her arms.
“And now you,” she said, indicating he should join her.
He vaulted onto the table with ease, lying down as he rolled her on top of him. Every part of them was pressed together, skin to skin, his erection pressing into her body, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight.
“I’m not hurting you?” she asked.
“Only in the best way, Ivy.”
“So—what now?”
“What do you want to do?”
She liked that he asked her, even though obviously he was the more experienced with all of this. “I want to see what you taste like. I want to put your cock in my mouth.”
She felt him shudder as his eyes closed. “God, yes, Ivy.”
She raised herself up off his body, shifting down so she was right there. It was large, and long, and appeared to defy gravity by waving in the air. It did look rather funny, come to think of it.
Not that she’d tell him that.
She took it in her hand, wrapping her grip around him. He uttered a groan.
“Too tight?” she asked, relaxing her grip.
“No, tighter.”
Hm. Interesting. She tightened her grip, and then leaned forward to lick the top part with her tongue. Swirling it around the head of his cock as though it was an ice.
From the sounds he was making, he liked that a lot.
“Can you—can you take me inside your mouth?”
“I’ll try. You’re awfully big,” she replied.
He chuckled, which sounded more like another groan.
“Or my mouth is small.”
“I like the first option better,” he said, sounding strained.
She opened her mouth and guided his cock into it. It tasted musky, and she inhaled his scent as she continued to lick him.
“Yes. Like that. God, Ivy,” he said, his hand coming to rest on her head. She slid her mouth down as far as she could. “Slide your hand up and down, like this,” he said, putting his hand on hers. She followed his rhythm, moving her mouth in concert with her hand. She could feel him tremble and shudder, and she relished how powerful she felt.
She kept it up for a few minutes, until he squeezed her shoulder. “You should stop, it’s—I don’t want to spend before I get the chance to make you come.”
She didn’t understand entirely what he had said, but she understood the gist of it, so she drew her mouth off him. His cock was wet from her mouth.
He opened his eyes and looked at her as though he was dazed. She had done that. Ivy, Risk Taker and Business Owner, had brought Sebastian to this mindless state with her mouth and hand.
Excellent work, Ivy, she thought, leaning back on her heels.
He propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze slowly returning to one of sensual appraisal. “That was incredible,” he said, shaking his head. “And now let me show you what I can do.”
Within seconds, she was on her back and he was lying next to her, one leg slung over her body. He kissed her deeply, his hand sliding across her body, lingering on her hip, moving closer to there with each caress.
And then he was there, and she gasped against his mouth, her body arching up off the table.
His fingers stroked her, just where her body was clamoring for him. He broke the kiss, now moving so he could kiss her breast. Take the other nipple into his mouth.
It was nearly overwhelming, but she didn’t want it to stop. Ever.
“Do you like this, Ivy?” he murmured against her skin.
She made some inarticulate noise of approval, and he chuckled.
His fingers began a slow, rhythmic caress there. “Is that—what are you touching?”
He lifted his head to meet her gaze. “It’s your cunt, Ivy. Did you not know what to call it before?” The grin on his face was wicked. “Say it,” he urged.
“You’ve got your fingers in my cunt,” she replied, sounding breathless.
“I’ve got my fingers in your sweet cunt, Ivy,” he corrected. “And I know it’s sweet even though I haven’t tasted it yet.”
Her eyes widened; so it was something people did. Something he did.
“Does that idea intrigue you?” he asked softly. He kissed her breast again, then began to make his way down her body. “The thought of me kissing you there?”
“Mmph,” she replied, hardly able to think, much less speak.
He pressed a kiss against her belly, and then shifted so he was right there, his face right there, looking at her most intimate place.
Her cunt.
And then he licked her, and she yelped, banging her hands down on the table.
“Is this all right?” he asked. “Remember we can stop if this is too much.”
“It is,” she began, only to shake her head as he began to draw away. “It is too much, but I don’t want you to stop. Don’t stop, Sebastian,” she said in a pleading voice.
“Tell me what you don’t want me to stop,” he said. He kept his intense gaze locked with hers. “Tell me,” he said again, caressing her there.
“I don’t want you to stop kissing my—my cunt,” she answered, adding a moan as he immediately returned to kissing her there.
Oh God, and then it was just his mouth, and his fingers, and how it felt as though something was churning low and powerful in her belly, and she never wanted him to stop, and something was building, and she felt it everywhere—in her breasts, all over her skin, there where he was kissing her. And then—
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—aah,” she cried as the feeling hit its peak, and she rode the sensation for what felt like hours before finally returning to some sort of consciousness.
He was still gazing at her intently, a powerful look of satisfaction on his face. “You came, Ivy. How did it feel?”
“You know how it felt,” she replied.
“Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”
“It felt wonderful. As though I were gliding on a cloud being swept up into the sky.” She paused. “Is that how it feels for you?”
“It is. But I think that with you it will feel the best it ever has.”
He brought himself back up so he was face-to-face with her. His mouth was moist—from her. His hand rested on her breast, his fingers caressing it lightly.
“And now what?” she asked. She could feel his erection hard and hot against her leg. “And now will you put your cock in my cunt?”
His eyes fluttered closed, and she grinned. To be able to evoke that much of a response from him, he who had likely done this with many women before. But she knew it was different with her. She knew that, even though she didn’t know how she knew that.
“I want to,” he answered at last, opening his amber eyes. So beautiful, and so focused on her. “I want to assure you, though, that there will be no . . . consequences.”
She frowned in confusion for a moment, then felt herself blush. She hadn’t even thought of that when she’d been anticipating the evening. “Oh. Yes. Well. Proceed,” she said, lifting her hand in a vague directional manner.
“Proceed?” He sounded amused.
“I don’t know what one says in this situation.” Her tone was both exasperated and embarrassed.
“Stroke me again, like you were.”
She reached down between them to take hold of him, gripping him tightly as it seemed he liked. He throbbed against her fingers.
“Yes, like that,” he murmured. The top of him felt wet, the slickness making it easier to slide her hand up and down.
“Are you ready, Ivy?” he asked, placing his hand over hers. The two of them stroked his shaft, him biting his lip as he closed his eyes.
“I am. Now, Sebastian,” she ordered, making his lips curl up in a smile of acknowledgment.
“So bossy,” he said. He moved to position himself there, and she held her breath as she waited.
She felt something at her entrance, and then he began to push inside. It felt like too much, and she gasped.
“Should I stop?” he asked in a strained voice.
“No.” She shifted to widen her legs, reminding herself to breathe. And then he pushed in more, and it felt tight, so tight, and then he groaned and moved so he was entirely inside, his hips pressing against hers.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am fine. And you?” This conversation sounded more like one they would have over tea, not naked on a gaming table. She giggled at the thought.
“You’re laughing?” he asked.
“It’s—never mind, I’ll explain later. Just—just do whatever it is that happens next.”
“We might have to work on your words of seduction,” he replied dryly. But then he began to move, pulling out, and then pushing back in again. The first few times hurt, but then the hurt began to be accompanied by a pleasantly building pressure, and she moaned, wrapping her arms around him and putting her hands back on his deliciously firm arse.
“Like that,” he said. “Move with me.”
She did, and her movements seemed to unlock something inside him, and he moved faster and faster, his arms bracing his body above hers, his gaze locked down there where they were joined. She looked, too, and then she couldn’t take her eyes away, at the sight of his cock thrusting into her, at his flexing stomach muscles.
He performed a few more urgent thrusts, and then he withdrew entirely, flinging his head back as a warm liquid spilled on her belly. He held himself, giving a few more strokes, and then collapsed on top of her, panting.
“Well,” she said at last, when his breathing had returned to normal, “this is certainly going to change our employer/employee relationship.”
She felt him start to laugh, and she joined in, both of them giving full expression to their joy.
She would miss this, miss him, when he was gone.
Not that she could think about that now. Now was the time for laughter, for enjoying the passion they’d just shared.
But still. She knew she would never be the same, and it wasn’t just because she was no longer a virgin.
“Well,” Sebastian said when he could catch his breath. “That was tremendous.”
He felt her nod. “It was. And we didn’t use the ribbons,” she observed.
“Next time,” he promised.
He shifted off her, wincing as his knees dragged along the table. If he were going to keep this up, he’d have to invest in some knee-padding.
And then he laughed again.
Had he ever laughed so much with a sexual partner before? He knew the answer to that. He’d seldom engaged in much conversation with any of his partners, to be honest, so he knew he certainly hadn’t laughed a lot with them.
“Let me clean you up,” he said, leaning off the table to snag his neckcloth from the floor.
“Don’t fall!” she said, grabbing his backside.
He turned and grinned at her. “Is that just an excuse to touch me again? Because you don’t need one.” He wanted to feel her hands all over him. He liked how it made him feel, knowing she admired and desired his body.
“You’re quite vain, Your Grace,” she said, slapping his arse playfully.
He drew the neckcloth over her belly, tenderly wiping away the evidence of their coupling. “I’m not vain, it is all true. I am the best lover you’ve ever had—”
“You’re the only one I’ve ever had,” she interrupted in an amused tone.
“And I am handsome and witty and charming. You cannot deny it. Why else would you be lying naked with me on this somewhat uncomfortable table?”
“And I am famished. Who knew the activity would render one starving?”
“Starving for more of my kisses?” he teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course, but you’re going to have to hear my stomach rumbling if we go much longer without food.”
She wriggled off the table as he kept his gaze on her. Lush, luscious, and utterly naked. He never wanted her to put clothing on again, not now that he knew what she looked like underneath.
He felt his cock stir. Already? He’d just finished, and here he was, wanting to go again, to bury himself in her plush softness. Perhaps bring her to climax when he was inside her this time.
“Let’s see what Mac has in the kitchen,” she said. She had picked up his shirt, and was pulling it over her head, her delighted face grinning at him as the shirt dropped to midthigh.
He arched a brow at her, then took her shift, which was hanging off the other end of the table, and put it on. The armholes were tight, but otherwise, it fit like one of his nightshirts. It hung to his knees, and he smoothed the fabric down, glancing up to meet her appreciative gaze.
“That is—well, I never realized how sheer that is,” she commented, her expression one of frank appraisal.
He looked down, noting the bump in the fabric where his semierect cock was. “Or we could just remove all this and do it again,” he said in what he hoped was a persuasive tone.
She shook her head. “Too hungry.”
So much for his much-vaunted charm.
“Lead the way,” he replied, holding his arm out toward the kitchen at the back. She walked ahead, and he kept his eyes on her round arse as it swayed from side to side under his shirt.
They reached the kitchen, Ivy peering around the room before beckoning him inside. “Nobody’s here.”
“It’s a bit late to worry about that, isn’t it, given what we just—?” he asked.
She swatted him on the arm. “Hush.” Her cheeks were flushed. From passion or embarrassment?
“Now that you mention it, I am hungry, as well.” The sooner they were fed, the sooner they might be able to return to fucking.
And one always needed nourishment for important tasks.
“Mac usually keeps some supplies over here.” She examined the cupboards, catching her lip with her teeth as she looked.
She was adorable. And eminently fuckable. Sebastian began to conduct his own examination, trying to figure out the most forgiving surface for his knees.
“Bread!” She held up a loaf in triumph. “And he should have some cheese and butter in the larder.” She put the bread down on the large table in the middle of the room, walking over to the small room at the side of the kitchen, reappearing within minutes holding a plate in each hand. One plate held a block of butter, and the other held cheese. She deposited the plates on the table next to the bread.
“We just need a knife,” she said, looking thoughtful. “I believe he keeps his—oh, here,” she said, opening a drawer and withdrawing a knife. She looked at him with an amused expression. “I don’t suppose you would care for some tea?”
He grimaced exaggeratedly. “I am thirsty,” he admitted.
“Set the kettle on,” she ordered, beginning to slice the bread.
He approached the stove gingerly, spotting the kettle on top of one of the burners. And paused. He had no idea how—
“You don’t know how to light the stove, do you, Your Grace?” she asked. She sounded far too amused.
“I am certain it is not that difficult,” he replied. “A stove requires fire and . . . something.” He glanced around, spotting a jar of matches to the right. “This!” he exclaimed, plucking one out.
“And then what, Your Grace?”
He was going to figure this out if it killed him. “Uh . . .” He bent down and opened the door to the oven, spotting some charred wood. “Wood. I need wood.”
“Over there,” she replied, pointing to a box filled with logs. He walked over and pulled one from the pile, then thrust it into the stove in triumph.
“And then it’s a simple matter of lighting it, you see.”
“I do see.” She was laughing at him. But he couldn’t blame her, given that he was wearing nothing but her shift and attempting to light a fire to make tea, his most loathed beverage.
The wood caught after a few tenuous moments, and he squatted back from the stove feeling inordinately proud of himself.
“Not bad, Your Grace. Here, I’ve cut some bread and cheese.”
She sat on a stool, her knees raised up, her elbows on the table as though she were a mannerless heathen. He grinned and joined her, mirroring her posture. The bread and cheese were cut in neat slices, arranged on a platter between them.
“You serve an excellent postcoital meal, my lady,” he said as he picked up a slice of bread and topped it with two slices of the cheese.
“I will take your praise, given that it is the first postcoital meal I’ve ever served,” she replied in a wicked tone of voice.
Would there be others? he wondered. He knew he wanted to do it again, next time preferably in a proper bed. Would she want to do it again? And what would it mean for their working relationship?
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, taking a bite of her own bread and cheese.
He couldn’t tell her. Not now, not when it was all so fresh. Not when he knew that if she told him never again that he would immediately try to seduce her, which wouldn’t be fair. But it would be him living up to his previous role as an unrepentant rake, something he didn’t think he was anymore, even if his cock would disagree.
“About how I might actually enjoy tea in this context.”
They both looked at the kettle, which was emitting a slim stream of steam.
“How do you—?” he began.
“When it whistles,” she answered, anticipating his question.
“I’ve learned so many useful things in my position,” he mused, putting his food down on the platter. “How to gauge when a customer is in need of another beverage—or not. How to decorate a room quickly and inexpensively. What to say to persuade someone to try their luck again, even if their luck seems to have run out.”
“You would never have learned any of that as a duke,” she pointed out.
The kettle began to whistle. She stayed him with her hand, getting up and making the tea far more efficiently than he thought he could ever do, regardless of how much practice he’d had.
Which, at this point in his tea-making career, was none.
“There’s no whiskey here,” she said as she placed the steaming cup in front of him.
He glared down at the clear brown liquid in the cup, then glanced up to meet her laughing eyes.
“This might be the most difficult thing I’ve had to adjust to,” he said.
She frowned. “What?”
He gestured toward the cup. “Not being able to wave my hand and have whatever I want brought to me. Because I certainly never asked for tea when I was a duke.”
“What did you ask for?”
Sebastian’s expression froze at her question, and she wondered what it was that was making him react so strongly. Should she not have posed the question? But no, that was ridiculous; they’d just engaged in a carnal act, or a few of them—she wasn’t certain how carnal acts were totaled up—so her asking a question shouldn’t be out of line. Because if it was, she was going to have to reevaluate the relative importance of what they’d just done.
“I didn’t usually have to ask. Things just . . . arrived.”
She arched her brow as she took a sip of her tea. “So at any given moment your door would open to reveal a phalanx of servants bearing whiskey, and deviled eggs, and cakes?”
“Is that your idea of what the nobility longs for? Whiskey and cake?” He tilted his head in thought. “I suppose that is not all that terrible a life.”
“I suppose it wasn’t.” She paused. “You miss being a duke, you said before. Because you’re a reasonable person,” she added with a snort. “But does it bother you, what you’re missing?”
He looked conflicted, and again she resisted the immediate impulse to apologize for her probing questions. Again, naked high jinks, so she was likely fine. She just had to remind herself of that. As though she would forget. She would never forget, for as long as she lived.
“I’ve tried not to think about it, honestly. Mostly, I miss living with Ana Maria and not having to walk my dogs. Though then I would miss my conversations with your sister.”
She smiled.
“And I never realized just how privileged a position I had—it was just who I was, and then when I wasn’t, I realized there was so much I had taken for granted. If I were to return to that life, I wouldn’t take any of it for granted.”
“Though you might have a servant walk your dogs,” she replied in a teasing voice.
“Very possibly.”
He took a sip of tea, grimacing as he set down the cup. “I will need to think about it eventually.” He shrugged as he ran his hands through his hair. Leaving it looking perfectly disheveled, although his appearance was definitely at odds with what he was wearing.
“When it first happened, when I first arrived here, I was determined not to think about it so I wouldn’t long for it. It’s over and done, and there’s no point in bemoaning that. Or moping,” he added, his mouth curling up into a wry grin. “But with some distance, it is easier. My cousin and sister very much wish me to consider finding a place in their lives so we can be a family again.”
“Are you not a family because you’re not a duke? Surely your cousin isn’t so haughty.” And if he was, then maybe he would stay forever, after all?
She couldn’t think like that. She knew the reality of it.
He laughed as he shook his head. “No, Thaddeus is a firm believer in achieving your greatness through merit. He was in the army before having to—to take over.”
“So what is the impediment?” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. The sleeves of his shirt fell down her arm, nearly landing in the butter. She jumped and rolled the sleeves up over her elbows.
He grinned at her. “My shirt is most delightful on you.” He reached forward, putting his index finger in between the fabric and her skin, drawing the shirt out from her body and looking brazenly at her breasts.
She felt her breath catch at his expression. Of hunger, of desire, of admiration.
She’d never been looked at like that.
Of course, she’d never worn a gentleman’s shirt—and only a gentleman’s shirt—while cavorting with said gentleman.
“And my shift is—well,” she said, scrutinizing him, “it’s not the most flattering attire. But you look quite fetching.”
He rose, holding his arms out perpendicular to the floor, turning slowly around. The fabric fluttered around his back, around his hard, round arse. His legs were strong, the muscles shifting under his skin as he turned.
She wanted to lick him everywhere.
“What are you thinking about?” he said when he had turned in a complete circle and was facing her. One wicked eyebrow was raised, as though he knew perfectly well what she was thinking about.
“I like your body,” she replied.
He licked his lips, his eyelids drooping as he raked his gaze over her. “I can return the compliment.”
Her skin began to heat all over.
“You didn’t answer the question.” This was all too much, too intense. If she wasn’t careful, she would end up doing irreparable harm. To herself. She wasn’t naive enough to believe he would feel anything more than a passing fancy.
A duke, an unmarried handsome duke, likely knew perfectly well how to navigate a sexual relationship with a person he had no intention of marrying.
She should learn to do the same.
“Question?” he asked.
“Yes, what you were talking about,” she explained hastily. “The impediment to returning to your family.” The more she understood, the better prepared she’d be.
He sat back down on the stool, but not before giving her a glance full of regret. As though saying, We could have been doing something much more delightful than talking, although she could be speaking for herself.
“I didn’t want to be like my mother, compromising myself in order to stay in my preferred way of life. And then there is the pride, I suppose.” He snorted. “I wanted to prove that I could be on my own without anything, without any help. And to do that, I had to cut myself off from my family, or at least cut myself off from them providing substantive assistance. Ridiculous,” he added, after a moment.
“It’s not ridiculous,” she said softly. “It’s admirable.” She paused, not wanting to ask the next obvious question, but knowing she’d be a coward if she didn’t. “Have you proved it to your own satisfaction?” she asked.
Instead of replying, he stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it, allowing him to assist her off the stool.
“I think we should stop talking,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms, then bending down to sweep her up under her knees, raising her against his chest.
She glanced up at him, at the hungry, intense expression in his gaze, at how it felt to be in his arms.
“I suppose,” she said in a wry tone, “that this is a reasonable option if you don’t intend to answer my question.”
He chuckled as he carried her back into the gaming room.