Blood Secret (3 page)
Wide, nervous blue eyes gazed at him as he gently pressed a kiss to each knuckle. “There’s nothing to fear, you know, Lady Lucy,” he lied smoothly.
Her brow rose. “I’m giving up everything. That does tend to make a woman fearful.”
“No one has to know what has happened between us. Most English gentlemen are not very clever. I’m sure you could still convince one you are a virgin on your wedding night.” For the first time in his life, he felt a flicker of conscience. She was not going to have a wedding night, was she? Not after he did his duty and destroyed her.
She shook her head. “I will never marry.”
He jerked guiltily. But he had to play his part. Seducer, not dragon slayer. “You are a beautiful woman. Irresistible to most gentlemen, I should think.”
“N-no.”
He flicked out his tongue and touched the very tip of her index finger. She squeaked softly, like a startled mouse. “I think you liked that. Let me show you other places that will like to be kissed.”
“My lips?” She drew back. “Could we not do this without kisses?”
Sinjin blinked. Strange. Most women wanted the kisses. Most women hungered for kisses. They seemed to believe kisses were the proof of a man’s regard. “As you wish. No kisses on your lips. But you cannot deny me the pleasure of putting my mouth everywhere else.”
“Everywhere?” she gasped.
Lucy blinked. He could not mean
everywhere,
could he? Where else could a man kiss a woman but on her hand and her lips?
everywhere,
could he? Where else could a man kiss a woman but on her hand and her lips?
The duke bent to her and pressed his lips to her neck. The oddest jolt of fire leapt from there. It rushed through her veins like flames licking at the sky.
His long hair also tickled as he stroked his mouth along her throat and reached the rim of her ear. He brushed back her hair. Surprisingly, his breath was cool. Almost icy. She’d heard her maids speak of men blowing their breath by their ears—something that hadn’t sounded at all enticing—but the maids had described warm breath. The duke’s breath was cold.
Still, the brush of it did feel surprisingly ... good.
He nibbled her ear, making shivers tumble down her spine. “Where do you like to touch yourself that pleases you, Lady Lucy?”
“W-what on earth do you mean?”
“What parts are sensitive to your touch? Have you touched here?” He stroked the exposed skin at her collarbones. Goodness, how could it feel so hot—like a candle’s flame flickering close to her skin? But fear crawled back inside and nestled around her heart. This was wrong. Forbidden. She was supposed to do it, but not like it. She might be committing the sin of sex without marriage, but it was for necessity. Forgivable—as long as she didn’t behave like a wanton and actually like the sin.
But try as she might, she could not deny his caress made her ache inside. The sort of ache she’d known before Mr. Ferrars had attacked her and had frightened her so badly.
“Well, of course I have touched there,” Lucy said simply, embarrassed. “I would scratch it when I have an itch.”
The duke laughed. A low, rolling laugh that rumbled like thunder. “Have you ever scratched here?”
Sinjin tugged the sheets from her hands and slid them down enough to expose the swell of her breasts. His body tightened with arousal at the sight of the full, generous curves. His erection bucked against his stomach.
Tracing her full breasts with his lips, he heard Lady Lucy whimper. From fear? Or desire? He couldn’t be sure. She was tense beneath him. He waited for signs of resistance. But she stayed still. So he lowered the sheets lower, until it slipped below her nipples. Marvelous dark brown nipples. Applying the lightest pressure, he drew the left one to a hard peak. It plumped up beautifully in his mouth.
Bringing out his vampiric skill, he flicked her tongue around her nipple. She let out a soft groan. And he recognized it as a sound of pleasure. “Yes, Lady Lucy, you like that.” Pursing his mouth, he suckled. Beneath him, she squirmed. A smile played at his lips.
If things had been different ...
Hell, she was one of the family who had stolen his nephew. She was one of the clan of beasts who had mercilessly killed his family. Things could never be different. Yet still, he had to pleasure her.
He gave a tug at her nipples. “No! Oh goodness, you can’t do that!” But he didn’t stop and her moans grew deep and throaty. He knew the dragon in her could take and enjoy a great deal of sensation. Her fists pressed against his shoulders as though she was trying to push him away. But she did it weakly, as though she was beginning to understand she didn’t want him to cease—she wanted more instead.
He suckled. God, she was delicious. And she was moving beneath him. She arched to press her breast to his mouth.
She was so damn delicious. Enough to make him want to forget who she was ...
No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t let himself forget what dragons like her had cost him. He couldn’t forget his mission—if he did, he could lose his nephew forever.
While he sucked each nipple in turn, he shoved down the sheets. Lady Lucy didn’t protest. She was lost to the sensation now—he could feel the emotions roiling in her. No doubt she was fighting her response, but at the same time, the pleasure would be flooding through her. She would hate herself for feeling this for him, a man she didn’t know, who held her in his power. Yet she would want more. Hunger for it. Do any wanton, naughty, sinful thing to get it.
He pushed the sheets to her thighs. She gasped in protest. He ignored it, and slid his hand along the smooth curve of her stomach. She had generous curves, Lady Lucy Drake. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what she looked like when she became a dragon. They were beautiful creatures—not the fearsome beasts of storybooks. Their scales glowed like pearl, their forms were graceful and strong, their eyes as brilliant as diamonds. It was almost possible to forget how vicious and deadly they were.
Crisp curls met his fingers. He stroked there, then lower, pushing his fingers between her nether lips, and he touched the hot, slick skin of her quim. His fingers coasted along her clit—she cried out at the contact.
“Good, is it?” He played with her until she quivered beneath him like a frothy dessert. Her eyes were shut tight. She was lusciously moist.
Her scent reached his nose. And hell, he was lost. Lost in wanting her. He rolled over her, coaxed her legs apart with his, and settled between, playing with her sweet cunny all the while.
Then he released her taut clit, grasped his cock, and he guided it to touch her. She moaned. Then gasped. Her hands flew up to push on his chest.
“I—Oh! I’m not ready. Please. Can we wait? Just a bit longer?”
He circled the tip of his finger on her clit and watched her squirm. Watched her cheeks turn pink, and her breaths turn to gusty gasps. “I thought you were in a hurry to be ravished, so you could get home.”
“I—I just need a moment. I thought I could. But I can’t—”
His senses drank in pure fear. She was terrified. Actually frightened out of her wits. “Why are you so afraid of me?” he murmured. “I’ve done nothing to hurt you.”
“It—It’s not you. I was ... my fiancé ... I can’t stop thinking about what it was like, when he attacked me. When I realized he was willing to
kill
me, that he was not going to hold back because he had asked me to marry him.” She shook with fear. Her dark blue eyes grew wide with remembered horror.
kill
me, that he was not going to hold back because he had asked me to marry him.” She shook with fear. Her dark blue eyes grew wide with remembered horror.
“I don’t understand, love. Your fiancé tried to kill you?”
“Oh goodness. It—I shouldn’t have said anything. It doesn’t matter.”
She was wounded, this dragon. He needed to seduce her to pry the information from her, but obviously he could not seduce her until her fear abated. “Shh,” Sinjin soothed. “It does matter. I don’t want you to be so afraid.” He lay beside her and drew the sheets up over them both, covering them in warmth.
“I can’t—”
“I’m just going to hold you, my dear. While you tell me what happened to you.”
3
Dragon
A
t first Sinjin thought Lady Lucy would keep her secrets to herself. As he cradled her to his chest and brushed soft kisses to her head, inhaling the rosy scent that clung to her silken hair, she whispered, “I should not have said anything. I—I’ve ruined everything.”
t first Sinjin thought Lady Lucy would keep her secrets to herself. As he cradled her to his chest and brushed soft kisses to her head, inhaling the rosy scent that clung to her silken hair, she whispered, “I should not have said anything. I—I’ve ruined everything.”
“You haven’t. Come, you can trust me. We’re lying here naked together. What did your fiancé do to you? Should I find the gentleman, and duel him at Chalk Farm for you?”
“N-no. He died.”
“At the hands of a member of your family?” Since he was her intended husband, this man must have been a dragon. Why would he attack? Strangely, for all he hated dragons, Sinjin felt his fists clench at the thought of one hurting Lady Lucy. There was something vulnerable about her—something he had never sensed in a dragon before.
“I caught him, you see.” She burrowed closer to him. In answer, he cuddled her tighter. Her full breasts were a soft cushion against him, her generous hips pressed to his. What a magnificently lush and beautiful woman she was.
“Caught him? What do—” Then he could guess. What would break a woman’s heart? “You caught him with another woman?”
“Y-yes,” she admitted shakily. “But it wasn’t ... he was forcing himself on her. She was a maid and she wasn’t willing. She was so terrified. And I—I was so
angry.
He was a brute, and I’d thought ... I was so stupid. I had thought he was wonderful, charming, a true gentleman.”
angry.
He was a brute, and I’d thought ... I was so stupid. I had thought he was wonderful, charming, a true gentleman.”
“What did you do? Try to stop him from raping this maid?”
Against his chest, she nodded her head.
Hell. “And he lashed out at you in return?”
“Yes. He threw me across the room. He slash—he hit me. I thought he was going to kill me. It didn’t seem to matter that I was engaged to marry him. He was enraged. He was wild. Like a madman. If my brother hadn’t come ... I couldn’t fight him, you see. I wasn’t strong enough.”
“You are a very brave woman. No wonder you are so afraid to come to my bed.” Sinjin tipped up her chin, and met her gaze. Hades, just touching her delicate chin made his cold blood heat and sizzle. “You have nothing to fear. I would never hurt you. And I see why you would come to your brother’s defense so admirably.” Though the woman was a silly little fool for offering something she was too afraid to give.
Large, fetching indigo eyes gazed up at him. “I suppose it would not convince you to forgive his vowels without ... without payment?”
“Now that I have you naked in my bed, pressing so delightfully against my naked body? My dear Lady Lucy, I hardly think so.”
With those words, Greystone rolled over her. Lucy struggled, but the duke had parted her legs with his, and he had her wrists pinned to the bed. She was his captive. And she didn’t like it.
“Trust me,” he murmured. “Your fiancé was a monster, my dear. You cannot judge all men by his vicious behavior. Even the scoundrels.”
With soft, relaxed lips, he kissed her. An openmouthed, hungry, shocking kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth, forcing her lips to part. Twining with her tongue. Exploring her mouth. She’d never had a kiss like this. It was so wet. So ... undeniably hot. Steam seemed to rise from her body, perspiration dampened the valley between her breasts. He lowered his body against hers. She felt him, the rock-hard length of him, the lean muscles, and the length of his erection pushing against her belly. Lucy panicked.
No ...
The duke bent to her nipple, his long golden hair spilling over her bare chest. She gouged her fingers into his arms, determined to push him away, even though she had promised him this. Even though she knew she had no choice. But he suckled her hard, dark nipple so tenderly. Heavens, it did feel good. It stole her strength. Her fingers softened against his hard muscles. His sucking made her body feel floating, lazy ... good. It made her feel as though melted chocolate ran through her veins.
She was so mixed up. Greystone was a rogue. He had ruined her brother. He was a
villain.
But he was kind to his maid, unlike Mr. Ferrars who had thought a servant was there for his taking, willing or not.
villain.
But he was kind to his maid, unlike Mr. Ferrars who had thought a servant was there for his taking, willing or not.
She had been so wrong about Mr. Ferrars. She had thought he was wonderful and perfect.
The duke’s large, long-fingered hand skimmed over her stomach. Then he stroked between her thighs again, touching her most private place, and she moaned,
“Yes.”
She had no idea she would feel the roughness of his fingers—that her skin would be so sensitive. She loved the scratch of them over her delicate flesh. Her skin there was so soft and his hands were so sensually rough.
“Yes.”
She had no idea she would feel the roughness of his fingers—that her skin would be so sensitive. She loved the scratch of them over her delicate flesh. Her skin there was so soft and his hands were so sensually rough.
Dimly, she wondered how his hands could be so rough when he was a duke.
Oh goodness, he had flicked that most sensitive place—the little bump that lay between her nether lips, and she almost rolled her eyes back into her head at the pleasure. Her hips arched up. As if he could read her thoughts, he stroked her a little harder, as if he had known the rocking of her hips was a wordless signal that meant:
I’m begging you for more.
I’m begging you for more.
How had the duke done this? How had he made her want, when she’d thought she would never feel desire ever again? How could she want
him,
when she knew nothing about him, other than he wanted to ruin her brother? But she sensed he had been serious of his offer to kill Allan Ferrars at Chalk Farm. She had believed him when he had gazed deeply into her eyes and called her
brave.
him,
when she knew nothing about him, other than he wanted to ruin her brother? But she sensed he had been serious of his offer to kill Allan Ferrars at Chalk Farm. She had believed him when he had gazed deeply into her eyes and called her
brave.
It was only one word, yet it had made her heart quiver more than any of Mr. Ferrars’s many compliments.
Oh goodness, Greystone was kneading her breasts now, his touch firm. She felt as though she was in the middle of a fireworks display, with things exploding around her everywhere.
Then he slid his finger inside her. Between her nether lips, parting them gently. Goodness, he was
inside
her. She was doing the most intimate thing possible. With a man she did not like, did not know, and should not want.
inside
her. She was doing the most intimate thing possible. With a man she did not like, did not know, and should not want.
“Open your eyes.”
As if he commanded her, she did it and the first things she saw were thick, velvet-soft black lashes and gorgeous green eyes. Eyes that glittered at her in the firelight. “Is it good?” he asked. Greystone looked truly concerned.
Then his finger slid deep inside her, and she gasped at the sudden sensations—an intense quiver that rushed through her. Lucy heard a shocking wet, sucking sound as his finger thrust in and out. It was the sound of her arousal.
“Good?” he coaxed.
Biting her lower lip, she nodded. She didn’t want to speak. This was wrong. Sinful. Naughty. But she wanted it, and the best way to deal with the war in her heart and her head was to do it quickly, not say a word, and never, ever think of it after it happened.
His hand moved and he stopped stroking the little nub that vibrated with such intense feeling. She gasped in frustration.
He wrapped his hand around the shaft of his erection—she could feel the brush of his fingers against her stomach as he took hold of himself. Then, with his hand tight around it, he stroked the head of his erection against her nether lips. They had stuck together, resisting him, but he gently eased them apart.
Her arms were splayed on the bed, pressing hard into the soft mattress. Her hands were clenched in tight fists. Her toes curled. But she bit her lip so she couldn’t possibly let a “no” slip out from between them.
His hips arched forward in slow, easy strokes as he pushed his penis inside her. For the first time, she knew what it was like to have a man’s thickness inside. He didn’t go in far. Just enough that shock turned to need, and tension melted like ice beneath a flame. Just like his mouth on her nipples, this was good.
“You are a brave woman,” Greystone said gently. “Very brave to face fears to save your brother.” He rocked his hips as he spoke and the movement was as soft and relaxed as his words. It pushed him further inside her. Astonishing sensations ... squishiness, warmth, wetness, pleasure ... her fingers tightened on his arms. Her hips lifted.
His face came to life in great detail. Blond hair fell across his brow, glinting with strands of pale gold. His eyes truly sparkled. They were large, beautiful eyes, green and flecked with silvery-gray—so much, they shone. Astonishing, unusual eyes. Lines framed his mouth, lines of strain, which seemed to come out when he showed desire.
He drew back, withdrawing until she felt just the tip of his erection touching her and she moaned. Now, she just wanted him deep in her. “Perhaps I am brave and foolhardy?” Her voice was husky, hoarse, as though she hadn’t spoken for years.
His lips curved. “Not foolhardy.” He tipped his hips, going deeper inside her. Instinctively her arms slipped around his neck, her leg around his. She shouldn’t behave so intimately—she didn’t know him. He was a stranger to her. This was not about love. Yet she wanted it to be intimate. She wanted to feel close to him. To hold him. His body was so warm and strong in her grasp. She loved the weight of him against her. Her fingers touched hard muscle, velvet skin. Her leg lay against legs with muscles that felt as hard and solid as iron.
Deeper he went, and his penis stroked a place inside her that made explosions of light in front of her eyes. Then a twinge of pain rushed through her and she gasped in shock.
His fingers traced the curve of her cheek. “Shh,” he whispered. “Easy. It will hurt, I’m afraid, when I go past your maidenhead. I wish it didn’t, love. But after that it will be very, very good.”
“No—”
He thrust. She squealed. She clenched. She tightened. She wanted to back away. But she couldn’t vanish into the mattress. Nor could she push him off.
Greystone pressed against her, seating himself all the way inside, and he didn’t move. He stayed motionless, and he rained kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. It was hard to feel pain with such glorious kisses stealing her breath. And little by little, the stinging sensation ebbed.
She whispered, “It’s better... .” Then she saw his expression. He looked like a man in great pain. He looked raw, ravaged, tormented. His eyes were wild. His mouth was a slash, bracketed by harsh lines. He looked as though his control could snap in a heartbeat. “Are you ... all right?” she asked.
“You are tight, sweet, and perfect, my dear. So no, I am no longer all right.”
Lucy let her arms slip from his neck, but her legs were still wrapped around him, and his groin, hot and hard, was pressed tight against her. “What should I do?” she whispered.
“Have a screaming orgasm, Lady Lucy.”
He circled his hips as he said it, stroking his long shaft within her. Her private place throbbed with need, her body ached with yearning. Amazing she could feel so much. She could feel the stroke of the head, the slide of his rod against incredible, sensitive places. He planted one sweet, sensual kiss after another on her lips, which kept her gaze locked with his.
Lucy watched a smile touch Greystone’s full, handsome mouth. Then groans deepened the lines framing his lips. His eyes glowed as if they were on fire, and his deep, throaty moans ... she adored them.
Heavens, she was moving with him. Rising to meet his thrusts. Lifting to bang her pubis to his and take him deep inside. Each slick stroke rubbed the taut head along the sensitive places inside her. And he angled his hips, so each collision of their hips left her little nub tingling.
She was weak with pleasure, yet driven to rock with him. She clung to him, arching her hips, panting. Her nipples had hardened, and each thrust brushed them against his chest. Her lips tingled from kisses, her nipples throbbed from swift brushes, her quim pulsed ... and fire raged in her, hotter than any she’d ever breathed as a dragon.
Oh God. The flames burst in her, and she heard wild moaning, and she shouted, “Oh Your Grace! Your Grace!”
Her cries blended with a harsh masculine groan. She opened her eyes to see his wide with astonishment. His hips banged hard against hers and he shuddered against her.
Oh. Oh, why hadn’t she thought of this? This was what happened when men found release. She felt hot and wet inside, very wet, but too weak to move. Too weak from pleasure to say anything. She was clinging to him, and her body still rippled and throbbed around him.
His seed had gone inside her. She might ... she might become pregnant. Why had she not thought of this? The ramifications of what she had done might haunt her forever—
“My dear Lady Lucy, I’ve never lost control so quickly before.” He kissed her forehead. “I’d intended a much longer bout.”
She was shaky, now, and her fingers gripped his strong biceps. She stared down, letting his chest fill her vision, for she couldn’t face his eyes right now. Sweat glistened on his straight, wide shoulders and on his smooth chest. His skin was pale, and with his powerful, well-defined muscles, he looked as though he had been carved from marble.
Still staring below his face, she managed to ask, “Does that mean ... are you pleased?” Pleased enough to rip up vowels? For what she had given up, what she had risked, surely she would achieve her goal.
“It is an auspicious beginning.” He took a deep breath. “Our fortnight may exhaust me.”
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