Читать книгу The Pleasure of His Bed - Donna Grant - Страница 7

“Psst! Captain Delacroix! Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Damon turned at the hedgerow that grew along the estate’s front lawn. Was it his imagination, or had someone whispered to get his attention? The tall bushes cast a large shadow by the light of the flickering street lamp, and he peered into the darkness. “Begging your pardon?” he asked in the same secretive tone.

“You didn’t finish your dessert, sir. I’ve come to deliver it.”

He wasn’t surprised when Lord Havisham’s serving girl stepped out of the shadows. When she removed her white cap, long, black hair fell in glistening waves below her shoulders. Even in her modest gray uniform, she was a saucy piece…ripe and lush and every bit as wicked as he’d guessed from her reflection in the mirror. Her skin glowed like a gypsy’s, while her smile promised delights far beyond any confection the cook could’ve served up.

“On the contrary,” he teased, “I’ve just enjoyed the most delicious meal I’ve eaten in weeks. Better than any I’ll likely have until I reach New York with the Havisham girls. I’m quite…full.”

“I can see that, sir!” She cocked her head and planted a fist on her ample hip. “Daphne and Trix would drive your sailors stark raving mad before you’ve left the harbor!” she insisted. “And because our subject was dessert…something sweet and tart and satisfying…we ought not mention the Havisham girls in the same breath.”

Caught up in her flirtatious game, Damon stepped toward her and then playfully looked all around. Her expressive eyebrows arched above bright, intelligent eyes that sparkled in the lamplight…signs of a woman who knew her power and went after what she wanted. And this minx was being anything but subtle about it! “Where’s your dish, then? If you brought my dessert, why don’t I see a bowl or a spoon or—”

“What I’m dishing up comes in its own bowl, Captain Delacroix.” She straightened her spine, thrusting her breasts at him. Her gaze flickered to his bulging buttons, and then she focused coyly on his face. “You look ravenous, sir. Take what you’re wanting—but please kiss me first! Best to sample and sip before…plunging in.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” he murmured, inching closer. “I’m a man of honor, pledged to deliver the goods your employer has entrusted to—”

“Would you like me to deliver my goods, captain? Or shall we circle each other like dogs in heat until someone comes from the house looking for me? They will, you know.”

Saucy little wench! He wove his fingers into her warm, black hair. “What’s your name, then? I couldn’t possibly kiss a woman to whom I’ve not been introduced.”

She was on him in the blink of an eye. Her lips parted as she raised on her toes. “Sofia,” she sighed.

And for the first time in many a moon, Damon Delacroix fell passionately in lust with someone he was fated to take and then leave behind. A woman well worth playing with, if only he had the time to savor her feminine assets.

Her lips sought his, and he moaned into the kiss—wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her soft, ample body against his own. Lord, but she was luscious! Not one bit afraid of what he’d do to her, nor one bit shy about dishing herself up, as she’d put it.

Sofia, her name was, and she tasted as exotic as it sounded. Dusky skin and raven hair and secretive perfume lured him until his lips opened hers and his tongue ventured into her mouth.

When she sucked him deeper, Damon gasped—but Sofia took advantage of that, too! He opened his eyes to find her gazing directly at him as though willing him to behave as she would direct. Willing him to drop his drawers and release himself fast and hard without sentimentality.

She knew the value of a good fucking without expecting love in return! He admired that in a woman! His hands slid lower to cup her hips and hold her firmly against his hardness as the kiss continued. His member felt ready to pop every button that stood between it and a slit that would be warm and wet and welcoming. He swore he caught a whiff of it…rubbed himself against her as she began to undulate, too.

“Too many clothes,” she rasped. “And if we sprawl on the lawn—”

Ah, but that brought wanton images to mind! Her body bared in the lamplight, and her clothing strewn in disarray as she spread her legs…

“—I’ll have grass stains announcing what we’ve been doing—”

“Can’t allow that.” He silenced her with another kiss that made them rock against each other, crazed with need. “So perhaps, gentleman that I am, I should stop now, before either of us regrets—”

“You’ll do no such thing, captain!” She fired a brazen, black-eyed gaze at him. “Any gentleman would see to his lady’s preference first before—”

“And what would that preference be?”

She cupped his cock between her hot hands. “I think I deserve a licking because I delivered your dessert without being asked.”

Desire surged through him. “Won’t the sound of my hand smacking your ass bring someone running from the house to—”

“On your knees, knave! For that remark, you’ll pay dearly!”

Damon bit back a laugh as Sofia led him deeper into the shadow of the hedgerow. Again he played along, kneeling obediently as she shoved his shoulders down.

When she raised her skirts and lifted one shapely leg to his shoulder, he was mere inches from a thicket of dark curls…the secretive scent of lips that demanded attention he was happy to give. Few women knew what a delectable treat this could be—for both of them!—because they were too repressed or too shy to let a man sample them. This wanton puss wasn’t wearing a thing in the way of drawers, either.

He smiled devilishly at her. “You want me to lick you?” he teased. “I thought you felt penitent—the need to be punished—for your naughty behavior in the hallway. Such eavesdropping could get you fired from—”

Sofia chortled. “I’m escorting the girls to America because the missus suspects naughty behavior below stairs. Lord Havisham’s going to miss me much more than she will!”

The thought of that barrel-bellied coot in the powdered wig nibbling this morsel made Damon harder still. And if she would be aboard the Lady Constance…he’d spend most of the voyage to America with more than his spyglass extended at full length. Daphne and Beatrix didn’t tempt him at all, but this vixen—

“For a man who knows his way around the likes of Blackbeard,” Sofia challenged, “you’re awfully hesitant about approaching my black beard. I’d never guessed you for a man who doesn’t like the taste of—”

As Damon pressed his mouth hungrily to her warm nether lips, the maid’s outcry gratified him. So responsive she was! So damned silky and wet and ready for bigger things—and his was growing despite the way his pants cramped it. He ran his tongue around the rim of her, nuzzling her soft curls with his nose.

Sofia panted his name. Her hips quivered, and his fingers closed more firmly around them as he lingered over her sweet, secret places…the opening that closed around his curious tongue and then the stiff little nubbin she rubbed insistently against him.

“Yes, please…right there!” she moaned. “Oh, captain, I can’t stop throbbing for want of—oh! Oh, I’m clenching and ready to—”

Damon rose quickly and turned her to face away from him. “Bend over,” he rasped as he unfastened his fly. “I’m coming in!”

When she flipped her skirts over her back and thrust her buttocks at him, Delacroix nearly shot all over her. What a pale, rounded moon shone before him, lit by the lamp and her playful passion! His finger found her wetness, and her desperation drove him wild. No gentleman in his right mind would leave a lass in such a state of uproar—not that he felt like a gentleman. Sofia had lit a wayward fire, and he wanted to ram himself inside her, ignoring her needs.

As if that could happen! The little tart thrust backward against him when his tip touched her moist flesh. She braced her hands on her knees, positioning herself to best advantage…pleasing herself with unbridled abandon.

He had no choice but to go along for the ride.

Damon gripped her rounded backside and gave her precisely what she wanted. He planted his thighs against hers and rocked in a steady rhythm…the in and out that would deliver the dessert they both craved. Saucy and sweet and warm she was, and if he’d ever had a woman so quickly possess him, well, he was too far gone to recall.

The urge closed in on him, and he surrendered, thrashed into her wetness until Sofia squeezed and held his cock captive. They surged and bucked and damn near toppled over with the force of their climax.

“Sweet Jesus,” he rasped. As his after-throbs subsided, the night slowly came into focus again; Sofia was breathing as heavily as he, gripping his hands. They stood in the shadow of the hedgerow, but good God—anyone walking by could’ve spotted them! Had anyone in the Havisham house gazed outside, they’d have seen the pale froth of Sofia’s petticoats raging like a storm at sea!

“We’d best be righting ourselves, in case—”

“I will never be right again, sir.” Carefully she disengaged so her skirts fell back over her exposed parts. She then tormented him with a dewy-eyed gaze that could’ve implied utter joy or utmost desolation—or anything between. “How can I ever look at another man, now that I’ve had you, Damon Delacroix?”

He held her gaze as he buttoned himself in—no small feat, considering he was still half stiff. The tone of her voice made his neck prickle. Where was the wayward wench who’d only wanted a fast fucking? Had she played him for a fool? Expected something more?

Damon reached into his pocket and pulled out twelve pieces of eight—all the money he had on him. “No doubt you’ll catch a better man’s fancy, Sofia, just as he’ll catch yours. I’ve no time before tomorrow to buy you—get yourself a remembrance of me! I’ve enjoyed our little ‘dessert’ immensely!”

When he closed her fist around the coins, he immediately regretted it: Sofia’s face clouded over, and it didn’t take a ship’s captain to recognize stormy seas. Her lips, still pink from their kisses, tightened into a line.

“How dare you pay me like a—a whore?” she growled. And before he could reply, Sofia stalked across the lawn—right out in the open moonlight, where anyone at a window could see her.

Damon sighed tiredly. He hadn’t intended to offend her, but perhaps it was best. No sense in having a hot-blooded wench cavorting in his wicked imagination during these weeks at sea. No sense in giving her any inkling that he’d leave his post—or relieve Sofia of hers—as they escorted the Havisham brides across the Atlantic.

Because he was the captain, and he said so, dammit!