Something Reckless (14 page)

But the room wasn’t empty. On the bed were a man and a woman. The man reclined on his back, his stiff cock already hard as a naked woman, her bare back to the painting, rubbed it in her palm. With every firm stroke, the man arched his hips and let out a low groan of pleasure.

Penelope jolted back and nearly fell off the bench.

“What…?”

Jeremy placed a hand on her waist to steady her, and Penelope felt the touch through her clothing all the way to her skin.

“Shhh,”
he said softly. “Just watch.”

Although she wanted to turn away, to tell Jeremy no, to flee this place, Penelope was too drawn, too aroused by what she saw not to look into the other room again.

The naked woman’s mouth was on her lover’s aroused member now, just as the other woman Penelope had seen at the Cyprian ball. Her head bobbed up and down, dark hair dancing down her bare back as she lustily pleasured her lover. His hands flexed against the coverlet, fisting handfuls of fabric with every stroke of her lips.

Penelope watched in fascination at the way the man’s face tensed and twisted as his pleasure grew. Again, she thought of her own lover. She hadn’t done anything like this to him. She’d only allowed him to touch her. What would it feel like to draw him between her lips? Would he groan like that if she pleasured him?

“Turn around,” the man ordered, his voice strained.

The woman looked up at him briefly, but then repositioned herself. Penelope strained to get a look at her, but her dark hair fell around her face in a curtain as she moved to all fours in front of the man.

He got up on his knees behind her and began to rub his hard erection against her, stroking lazily over her backside and down around to her pussy. Penelope held her breath, waiting, waiting for the moment when he drove inside.

And finally, the moment came. With a loud moan, he thrust his hips forward and disappeared into his paramour’s welcoming, wet body. The woman’s back arched, her hands gripped at the sheets and she cried out a curse that didn’t often leave a woman’s lips.

It was clear the two had been lovers before, because the man had no hesitation. He didn’t explore, he simply took, slamming his body into hers with a fevered intensity that made his partner quake and quiver beneath him.

Penelope’s mouth went dry as she watch them couple furiously. Her fingers curled around the wooden mantel edge and she leaned in until her nose almost touched the canvas of the portrait.

The man slid his hand up the woman’s spine without losing a stroke in his powerful rhythm. Penelope watched as he tangled his fingers into her long hair and began to pull, arching her back up and turning her face.

Penelope stared as the woman’s thick hair fell away from her face.

“Oh my God,” she murmured, and this time not even Jeremy’s steady touch could keep her from staggering off the bench and backing away from the shocking view. “That is-that is Lady Turncroft.”

Jeremy stepped away from the scene and faced her. His face was unreadable. Stoic. “Yes.”

Penelope swallowed. “That was not her husband.”

“No.”

She covered her mouth as she paced the room restlessly, still aroused by what she’d seen and shocked by
who
she had seen involved in such illicit activities.

“B-But she is one of the most respected women in Society,” she stammered. “She runs a charity guild, for heaven’s sake. She approached me at a ball not two weeks ago and whispered to me how supportive she was of my ‘fight.’”

Jeremy arched a brow. “And yet here she is.”

Penelope stared at him. “You knew she would be in that room.” She folded her arms. “You knew she would be with that man.”

“Or some man.” He shrugged. “Or two.”

Penelope’s eyes went wide. “Two!”

“From time to time. She’s a woman of certain appetites.”

“Does she know that people can see her?” Penelope asked, clenching her hands behind her back. Even as she asked the questions, she still had a strange urge to look into the room again. To watch the end of the erotic scene. She fought to stay in place.

“She knows. Arabella does not give that room to anyone who doesn’t like to be watched.” Jeremy glanced toward the painting. “You would be surprised by how many requests there are for that room. And for this one. Seeing or being seen are popular fantasies.”

Penelope swallowed at that thought but ignored his statement, at least for the time being. “But she doesn’t wear a mask. Anyone in this room might recognize her as I did. Isn’t she afraid of being called out for her shocking behavior?”

Jeremy shrugged. “There are rules to this club that offer its members a level of protection. Anyone who talks about what they see here is banned for life. And if that wasn’t enough, the very essence of this place is protection in itself. After all, what would someone say if they wished to reveal her secret? They couldn’t very well say, ‘I was fucking my mistress while spying on someone and saw Lady Turncroft being taken from both ends by two strapping blokes.’”

Penelope shut her eyes. Jeremy’s blunt terms should have put her off, but they didn’t. Instead, her treacherous nipples grew hard beneath the soft fabric of her gown.

“I suppose they couldn’t,” she conceded, trying to catch her breath. “But why did you show me this?”

He moved toward her and she started. She didn’t think she could take him touching her right now. She felt needy and hot
and on the edge. Ready to beg for something from Jeremy that she couldn’t demand. At least not without losing herself completely. She was already too close to doing that.

“You were so upset today, berating yourself for being a hypocrite,” he said softly. “I wanted you to see that there are many women of Society who have secrets. Secrets far more shocking than any of yours could ever be.”

Somehow that was cold comfort. After all, Jeremy wasn’t aware of just how shocking her own secret was.

“You mean, you were trying to show me that my enemy might very well have my own face,” she said softly.

He looked at her, clearly taken aback by that assessment. But he didn’t deny her claim, merely inclined his head in silent agreement.

Penelope shivered, though the low fire had warmed her room to a more than comfortable level. No, it wasn’t temperature that caused her tremor.

With a sigh, she sat down in one of the armchairs beside the fire. It was confusion that plagued her, nothing else. She had been feeling it since she and Jeremy went to Arabella and John Valentine’s Pleasure Palace earlier in the day.

Over and over, the images she had spied upon played in her head.

“Penelope?”

With a start, Penelope looked over to her chamber door. Fiona stood in the entryway, staring at her with concern plain on her pretty features.

“Yes?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

Fiona stepped inside with hesitance. “If there is nothing else, I will retire to my chamber for the night.”

Penelope smiled as kindly as she could when her mind was racing. It was almost midnight, and she knew her long night was only beginning. There would be little sleep for her tonight. Only more pleasure. More confusion.

“There is nothing else,” she said as she waved her maid toward the door. “Thank you.”

Fiona didn’t back out of the room as Penelope expected. Instead she frowned. “Are you certain, my lady? No tea? Perhaps some warm milk to calm you? Or something to eat? You barely ate anything for supper tonight.”

Penelope pushed to her feet with a shake of her head. “No, I’m fine.” When the former courtesan didn’t look any more convinced, Penelope crossed the room to her. “I truly am very well. Now, off to bed with you.”

Fiona opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then she shrugged and turned to the door. But before she stepped into the hallway, she said, “I am only concerned for you, Penelope. You have been…strange for the past few weeks. I know some of that has to do with Jeremy’s frequent visits here and some of it likely has to do with your secret admirer. But I worry for you.”

Then the young woman stepped from the room and shut the door behind her. Penelope sighed.

“I’m worried for me, as well,” she murmured as she scrubbed a hand over her eyes.

“As am I.”

Penelope spun around to face the rough, masculine voice that suddenly echoed from the window. Her heart staggered as she watched the dark shadow of her secret lover turn to latch the window behind him.

“I was almost caught when your maid came inside,” he said softly. “Thank goodness she was too caught up in confessing her concerns about your well-being to notice me standing on the window ledge, waiting to utterly debauch you.” He moved forward one long step. “You might want to lock that door, my lady.”

Penelope backed up and found herself against the very door he had ordered her to lock. Her heart pounded wildly as he came closer, step by step, until she could smell the masculine scent of sandalwood combined with clean skin. A hint of pine and a hearty dash of lust.

Her knees went weak even as she tried to remain unmoved.

“Oh, please,” she whispered, turning her face as he pressed one hand against the door next to her head. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

He chuckled, a low, feral sound that instantly turned her protests to moans that she bit back. Her body went wet as he trapped her in with his opposite arm, caging her.

“But you will,” he said softly as he dipped his head down to nuzzle her throat. “You
need
this. I can practically taste it on your skin.” His tongue darted out to sample her throat. “I smell it mixed with your perfume. So sweet.”

He nuzzled lower, his lips dancing along the scalloped edge of her gown’s neckline. Her breasts swelled, the nipples harden
ing with even this grazing, slight touch. She whimpered at her body’s betrayal. Her mind was no better. All her protests were lost as sensation took over.

“If you didn’t want me here,” the stranger continued as his fingers dropped down to the little row of buttons along her bodice. He began to loosen them with deft fingers. “You would not have put a lamp so close to the window. Your fire would be a blazing light, not a low one. You may not want to admit it, even to yourself, but you were waiting for me tonight.”

Penelope pursed her lips together, biting her tongue to keep from crying out when he peeled her gown away. God, he was right. She
had
been waiting for him. Waiting for this.

“So pretty,” he purred as he thumbed the hard nipple that thrust against the thin fabric of her chemise.

Penelope’s back arched against the door as pleasure’s hot fingers tore through her in an out-of-control burst of sensation. She was vaguely aware of the stranger reaching around her and turning the key to lock her door. She lifted her hips to him helplessly, her wet body forcing her to behave in ways she had shunned so publicly and for so long.

He ignored her hips and kept his attention focused entirely on her breasts. As he continued to massage one aching mound, he pulled her chemise strap down and exposed the opposite breast. His hot lips latched around the nipple and he sucked, hard enough that Penelope jolted. Hard enough that the pleasure danced along the edge of pain, but didn’t quite fall over.

Penelope stopped fighting her desires. She let her fingers come up to tangle in his hair. She tugged him closer, moaning as he laved her nipple, nipped at it with just the edge of his teeth,
sucked her tender flesh until her knees trembled and her pussy pulsated wildly against emptiness.

He let out a low rumble of pleasure as he moved his mouth to her opposite breast. This time he lowered the chemise even slower, letting the soft fabric rasp across her sensitive skin while Penelope writhed helplessly against the door, her hands clenching at his hair, her back arching wantonly with every sinful touch.

He seemed to enjoy tormenting her as he cupped both breasts in his hands, lifting them, bringing the small mounds together so he could languidly lick one nipple, then repeat the touch on the other. Back and forth, little nips, gentle tugs and finally he stroked his hot tongue in the valley he had created between them.

Penelope’s eyes went wide. She felt the wet stroke of his tongue between her legs as if he had repeated the action there.

“Please,” she moaned, lifting her hips to him. “Please!”

He tilted her chin up so that their mouths almost touched. “Please what?” he murmured as he rubbed the rough stubble of his chin across her cheek.

She bit back a frustrated cry. She wanted to plead for him to fill her. To take her. She wanted to throw caution and her boundaries away and let him spread her legs wide and spear her with his cock. That was what she wanted and he knew it, the bastard. He
knew
he was testing her. He reveled in it.

But she couldn’t. It was too much.

So instead of asking for what she craved, she let her hands unclench from his hair and glide down. She stroked her fingers over his chest, feeling hard muscle contract beneath the linen shirt he wore. Lower to the scratchy woolen waistband of his trousers.
And lower still until her palm cupped the hard length of him through layers of heavy fabric.

Now it was his turn to gasp in pleasure and surprise as his body jolted into hers, forcing her fingers to wrap around him.

“Don’t start something you won’t finish,” he warned as he pushed into her again. This time his hard cock pushed through the cocoon of her fingers and pressed hard between her legs, nudging the fabric of her chemise against her clit and eliciting a yelp of pleasure from her lips.

Penelope hesitated. She had seen one way to bring a man pleasure without allowing him to breach her body. And she was so very curious about that forbidden act.

“Who says I won’t finish?” she murmured, shocked by the husky, tempting tone to her voice. She sounded like a wanton, a courtesan, a woman of pleasure.

And she liked it.

Without pausing to consider that fact, she began to work on removing her faceless partner’s shirt. It was hard to unhook each button in the dark, but she managed with shaking fingers. She caught her breath when she touched his bare skin. He was a very well-formed man, in every way. His skin was smooth, stretched over incredibly toned muscles and peppered with a light dash of curling hair. She clenched her fingers over his skin, loving how the muscles contracted with her touch.

He didn’t feel like a pampered member of the Upper Ten Thousand. Was he a laborer of some kind? If he was, how in the world had he seen her, chosen her as his conquest?

Thoughts of Jeremy Vaughn again invaded her mind as she pushed the other man’s shirt away to flutter to the floor. Jeremy
had a fine body and
he
was a duke. A woman would have to be blind to miss how lean and athletic he was. So perhaps this man was of a similar ilk.

She shut her eyes, even in the dark. She had to stop thinking of Jeremy. Especially while she touched another man. Let another man touch her. It was just wrong.

As her fingers glided down bare flesh, her lover caught his breath. She smiled as she followed the trail of his chest hair and found the waistband of his trousers. She unfastened each hook with deliberate slowness, reveling in the way this man, who was obviously well versed in sex and pleasure, caught his breath. The way he leaned into her, as if to silently plea for more. The way he tensed as she hooked her thumbs around his pant waist and pushed the fabric away in a smooth motion.

Her palms traveled down his hips as the trousers fell away and both of them sucked in their breath. Penelope shivered. God, he was so hard everywhere. Like he was a granite statue, come to life to fulfill her every fantasy.

Every fantasy but one.

She shook away the thought and instead concentrated on touching him. She stroked the narrow expanse of his hips, her palms were tickled by the light curls on his hard thighs, and she stifled a nervous giggle as she let her fingers cup his backside.

“Remember what I said,” he growled, and this time his voice was less than playful. “Don’t start something you cannot finish, Penelope.”

She stared into the darkness, frustrated by the fact that she could only make out a ghost of this man’s features. She wanted to
see
her affect on him, not just hear it in his voice or feel it beneath
her skin. She wanted to meet his eyes while she touched him.

But that was impossible. Foolish. This was all she could have. Just a lover in the shadows.

But while she had him, she intended to make full use of him. Without saying a word, she dropped to her knees. The discarded clothing was a perfect cushion as she slid her hands up his legs and captured the hard thrust of his erection in her fingers a second time. But this time there was no fabric between them. Nothing but his hot skin on hers.

“Penelope…” His voice was a warning, but behind it was a tremor of anticipation.

And that was too much to resist. Penelope leaned forward and brushed her cheek against him. His flesh was so hot, so hard. It jumped against her skin, twitching out of control. She just wanted…more. So she pushed aside her racing thoughts, cleared her mind of troubling images and allowed herself pleasure.

Given and taken.

Jeremy’s knees buckled as Penelope brushed her lips back and forth across the exquisitely sensitive tip of his erect cock. Her breath was hot on his skin, her lips smooth and soft and just wet enough that he twitched with pleasure. Normally, he was in control. But at that moment, he was anything but. He wanted to drive into her mouth, he wanted to feel her tongue on him.

But more than that, he wanted to drag her up, pin her against the door with his weight, and plunge into her pussy. He wanted to have her, hard and hot and fast. Even though that went against his every plan.

She
was the one who was supposed to beg. Not him.

But he was ready to do just that when she parted her lips and
darted her tongue out with a light, teasing lick. Jeremy moaned and braced his arms on the door behind her.

The next lick wasn’t teasing. She glided her mouth around the head of his cock and sucked, drawing him inside her inch by inch, massaging him with her tongue, giving him gentle nips with her teeth. She took him as far as she could, holding tight to the base of his cock with every stroke.

It was utter madness.

No woman should be this talented at an act she’d only seen twice. But damn, she was. A natural at giving intense pleasure. A wanton at heart.

Jeremy shuddered as she withdrew, rubbing her palm over the wet path her mouth created as she pulled away from him.

“Christ,” he murmured, the word dragged from his mouth against his will as she sucked him back inside.

He tangled his fingers into her hair and felt her stiffen. She was thinking about what she’d watched earlier in the day. About seeing Lady Turncroft pleasuring her lover just as Penelope was doing now. Of the look of ecstasy on her face when that other man pulled her hair back.

Jeremy waited, his cock throbbing with pleasure, to see if Penelope would draw away. Perhaps even confess about what she’d seen. But after a brief few seconds, she returned to pleasuring him. If anything, her pace increased and he forgot all his plans for her. He forgot all the mixed up emotions she caused.

And he focused on pleasure.

Penelope smiled as her mysterious lover started to arch his hips against her mouth and the pressure of his fingers at the back of her hair increased. He was starting to lose control because of
what she was doing. Her mouth, her tongue, her hands…they had the ability to make him moan. To make him stiffen. To make him come.

And she had never felt so powerful in her entire life.

She
liked
feeling his cock grow harder in her mouth. She
liked
the way his breath caught. It aroused her. She was so wet, so ready, and every stroke of her mouth over him made her own desire sharper and more defined. She was right on the edge of orgasm when her faceless lover let out a guttural grunt and suddenly pulled his cock from her lips.

In the dark, she heard him groan in pleasure and she knew what he had done. She felt an odd sense of disappointment that he hadn’t found completion at her lips, though she realized it was a gentlemanly action to withdraw.