Seduce Me, If You Dare by Alyssa Clarke

Chapter Eight

Prue jumped onto her bed at the exit of her maid and slumped against the pillows, the voluminous nightgown frothing around her before settling down. She had done everything right, and her husband had still gone to his room, alone. Perhaps she had been too natural. Prue had decided the best foot forward was to be honest with him in all her interactions. She was miffed that Oscar had made no attempt to ravish her, and Prue was also a bit mortified she had appeared so wanton.

What must he think of her? Even if she had shocked him, there would be no changing of herself. The very idea of being false with him was abhorrent. If they were to form a sincere, loving attachment, they could only do that by being honest and genuine with each other. She had clearly enticed him, but something had caused his shutters to come down.

“I am a poor temptress. That is what I am,” she muttered into a pillow. “I’ll have to visit the club for some guidance.”

The connecting door was suddenly thrust opened. With a gasp, Prue launched to her feet, her hand pressing against her chest. Her husband framed the doorway, his feet bare, his cravat undone, and his shirt rolled to his elbows, showing arms roped with muscles. His hair was delightfully mussed and in his eyes glowed something almost feral.

Her nipples unexpectedly tightened, and heat flushed her body. “Oscar?”

He closed the door firmly behind him and leaned against it. Her husband seemed dangerous. They stood there staring at each other, his intensity almost frightening her.

“Wife…”

She took a single step closer to him. “Yes, husband?”

“How did you learn about the pleasure of a man eating a lady’s quim?”

Oh! There was a lengthy pause, and a thick silence fell over the bedchamber. Now she understood the lethal expression in his eyes. Instead of being wary, the signs of his possessiveness sent a dark thrill down her spine once more.

“Though I do not know about the pleasure a woman feels when her sex is licked, I am not as ignorant as you think, my lord.”

His eyes narrowed as he clearly mulled over her words. “I am going to kill the bounder who dared to teach you such things, slowly and painfully.”

Prue lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. “You can do so if you feel it necessary to murder a book. I hardly think it a crime. I, too, have never betrayed our vows. My knowledge is from wonderful, explicit, erotic literature.”

He closed his eyes and muttered something that she did not hear. Prue took another step closer. “Is that why you came to my chamber…to fulfill my desire?”

His eyes flew open, and he had straightened from the door. “A gentleman must not be overly base and passionate with his wife.”

“Why not?”

“It is just not done.”

“Says who?”

He stood very still, his eyes narrowed. “It is common knowledge, my lady. I am surprised this book did not detail this.”

“Perhaps it is common knowledge among fools.”

Something gleamed in his eyes as if her words amused him. Prue took another step closer. “So if not their wives, who do gentleman have a relation with like this?”

“Those lusts are reserved for a mistress or casual lovers.”

Prue stared at her husband. “I am astonished a man of your wit and intellect would say such nonsense.”

He blinked, then a slow smile curved his mouth. “Are you insulting me, countess?”

“Of course I am.” She folded her arms underneath her breasts, suddenly furious. Was this what men told themselves to keep mistresses? That ladies were too delicate to manage their lust. “The images I saw…men had their faces buried between women’s thighs. Women had men’s manhood in their mouths.”

He slapped a hand across his forehead as if tortured. “I beg you, woman, have mercy, say no more.”

Prue took another furious step forward. “Do you have desires like these, Oscar?”

“Yes,” he all but snarled.

“And you are to never experience them with me because…because I am too ladylike?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his silence was its own reply.

“What bacon-brained rubbish. All women are sensual creatures. A lady will not faint away at the sight of her husband’s desire!”

He rose a mocking brow, and Prue flushed at the memory of her faint. “Since you have these desires, how will you have them sated?”

“With a mistress, if I wish it,” he snapped, his eyes stormy with frustration.

“Did you not tell me earlier I should always believe in your fidelity?” With a wave of pained anger driving her, Prue slipped under his guard, hooking her right foot around his less dominant foot, and flipped him. Her husband went down, and she followed him, landing on his chest. Before he could gather his wits, she straddled his belly and leaned down so he could see the furious promise in her eyes.

“I landed you on your arse, husband, with ease,” Prue said, “Should you ever dare take a mistress, I will challenge you to a duel to defend my honor, and this is the least of what I shall do.”

He looked at her intently. “That, my dear, was my raw frustration talking. Forgive me.”

“No,” she snapped, hating that her lips wobbled. “You will have to work for it.”

“Very well.”

“I—”

Her husband grabbed her hips, dragged her with such strength over his stomach and chest. He slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her to his mouth. Prue wobbled, her knees instinctively bracketing his ears. What is happening? Mortification flushed through her. She was sitting on her husband’s face, her nightgown billowing over his head. She tried to move, and he clamped her into position. Then she felt the heat of his mouth as it teased the curls of her womanhood.

Oh, God! “Oscar, what—”

Her cry of shock tapered off into a wanton gasp as he stabbed his tongue between the slick folds of her sex. His lips covered the swollen bud of her clitoris, drawing it into his mouth. Prue screamed, her body arching at the pure shock of pleasure rushing through her system.

She whimpered, arching in a plea for more, as her husband licked her quim as she’d demanded. The pleasure was frightening and wonderful. Her thighs trembled fiercely, and she gripped the carpet as a piercing ache traveled from her clitoris, which he sucked and nibbled to her breasts. With each lick, a coil grew tighter and tighter, low in her belly until the sensation bordered on the knife-edge of pain. She did not understand the sensations crawling through her body. It was agonizing but also exquisite.

He tongued from the top of her clitoris down to the slit of her sex. Then up again before sucking that bud into his mouth once more. Sweat beaded along Prue’s upper lip and slicked down her shoulder blades and spine. The nightgown, which had felt cool and free earlier, now felt suffocating.

The heat was everywhere, and it was simply too much.

Desperate for the coil in her belly to snap, she jerked her hips, hoping to escape his tormenting mouth. He gripped her buttocks even tighter. Prue was certain the globes of her derriere would show the indentations of his fingers in the morning. “Oscar, I—”

Her wail was suspended as he did something different with his mouth. The suck was wetter and more lascivious…as if he covered her entire quim and kissed it deeply. Blissful heat blossomed through Prue. Her body shattered, and her mind flew apart as she tumbled over the edge into ecstasy. Prue moaned and weakly leaned to the side to tumble off her husband’s face.

Oh, God, his face!

She was still shaking from the devastating pleasure when his shadow fell over her. His lips glistened, and she blushed.

“That was your first climax,” he murmured huskily and pleased.

She nodded, hated that she felt exposed and shy.

“I am so bloody torn,” he growled, his expression one of savage arousal. “I want to wring more from you with wild fucking but also sweet loving.”

Something wonderful clutched at her heart, and she slipped her hands around his nape. “Then give me both,” Prue whispered achingly. “I am your wife…with whom you should explore all your desires.”

“My wife,” he said gravely.

“Yes…your wife.”

Perhaps it was her whimsy, but she felt something invisible snap in place between them. She waited, barely breathing. Oscar kissed her, softly…tenderly…and her mouth trembled against his, and an ache rose up behind her eyes.

Do not cry, you ninny, she scolded herself, only for the thought to be drowned away under the onslaught of a much deeper and erotic kiss. She tasted herself on his mouth, and it only aroused her senses further. She’d hungered so many times for her earl to kiss her, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that his mouth would be so hot, his taste so wickedly carnal and delicious.

A kiss wasn’t just an act…a prelude to sexual intimacy. It was everything. Kisses bespoke hunger and cravings that would otherwise be impossible to communicate. Their tongues danced together in an evocative duel, one that was slow and sensuous. Somehow, he rolled with her until he whisked the nightgown over her head. The carpet prickled over her skin, for beneath it, she was gloriously naked. Prue fought the blush as his gaze devoured her entire body, and a delightful shiver of wanting ran through her. She was also inordinately grateful for the dim light in her bedchamber. His touch against her cheek was like soft petals. The tenderness brought a sweet ache to her chest, and she smiled up at him.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “I am a damn fool. What a treasure I’ve had right in front of me.”

Her heart staggered. Never had he looked at her with such reverent care. “I…” Prue did not know what to say, so she tugged his head down and joined their mouths.

She liked the way he kissed her. Slowly, yet so intensely as if he wanted to consume her. As if her body was a canvas he painted on, his hands coasted over her skin, touching, and caressing, and lingering everywhere. Every touch was a blaze of fire. A promise of pleasure. An echo of longing.

I missed you for these three years, Oscar. How I wished we had not waited…

Without releasing her mouth from his ravenous kisses, he thumbed her nipples between his fingers until they were so sensitive, she could scarcely bear the pressure. Lifting his mouth from hers, his lips seared a path down to her neck, her shoulders, and to the mounds of her quivering breasts. Then he wetted one tormented tip with his tongue while his hand continued down between her legs. Those fingers stroked over her sex, the caress almost unbearable in its tenderness, the very opposite of his mouth as he bit and kissed along her breast. Oscar used nimble fingers to pinch and circle her clitoris until she was mortifyingly wet and once again convulsing in his arms as bliss speared her.

The pleasure was too much.

“Our first time will not be on the bloody carpet,” he murmured, rolling from her body, and standing. He swept her, weightless, into his arms and turned to the connecting door with effortless strength. It was to his bed that Oscar took Prue and spread her in the large center before covering her like a sensual blanket. He pushed one muscular thigh between hers to make perfect space for his weight.

“I want to see you,” she said, tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

Oscar pushed from the bed and hurriedly undressed. Prue came up onto her elbows, her legs still wantonly splayed to observe her husband. A savage hunger burned in the gaze that never moved from her while he stripped. Her husband was a fine specimen, much more appealing than the figures shown in the erotic literature. With each layer of clothing removed, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his broad shoulders, his sculpted chest and abdomen, and hard thighs. He was beautifully formed. And…good heavens! The book lied. Her husband’s manhood was much larger and thicker than was portrayed.

Unexpected tension knotted her belly as she recalled this was supposed to hurt. Such rubbish, she reminded herself. Everything this far had been sublime, and she had been preparing by pricking the tip of her fingers with needles for three years.

Oscar pressed his thick length against her aching folds and inched forward. She clasped his shoulder at the tight, stretching sensation felt at his invasion. “Oscar?”

He paused, his body slightly trembling. “Yes.”

“Kiss me,” she said, her words trembled as anxiety warred with the promise of pleasure.

He caught her mouth in a kiss, one that was tender and almost apologetic, as his hips flexed and he thrust deep. The scream of shock exploded from her mouth, and he swallowed it, pressing quick kisses to her mouth, saying soothing nonsense she did not want to hear. A burning pain sizzled from where they were joined and bloomed up to her belly in a piercing cramp. She ripped her mouth from his, panting. He shifted, and Prue cried out as the pain worsened.

“Do not move,” she said on a sob, hating that her voice was rough with tears. Worse… “Oh dear,” she whispered, as darkness edged her vision and she fainted underneath her husband.