To Seduce a Sinner (Legend of the Four Soldiers #2)(89)

“No doubt,” he sighed against her throat.

He didn’t seem to mind or even feel her blows. He tore away the bit of lace at her neckline and lowered his mouth to the upper slopes of her breasts. “Tell me why, my sweet wife.”

“I have watched you,” she panted, “for years. I’ve seen you look at women—vapid, pretty women. I’ve seen you choose which ones you wanted. I’ve seen you stalk them, woo them, and seduce them. And I’ve seen when you grew tired of them, when your eyes would start to wander again.”

He tore at the laces to her bodice, loosening and pulling aside the fabric of her dress and stays until he reached her bare nipple. He palmed one breast and drew the other into his mouth, sucking strongly.

She cried out.

He lifted his head. “Tell me.”

She looked at him and felt her mouth twist in a grimace of rage. Of pain. “I saw you. I saw you take them aside, saw you whisper in their ear. Saw when you left with a particular woman and knew that you were taking her away to bed her.”

Her whole face was contorted, tears streaming down, scalding her cheeks, and still he looked at her. His expression was intent, his hands gentle as he thumbed her nipples.

She didn’t want his gentleness. The dam had broke, and all the emotion she’d suppressed for years was pouring forth. She held his shoulders, used them as leverage to reach up and bite him on the ear. He jerked his head back and, in a swift movement, swept her off her feet. She screamed, long and loud, as he threw her over his shoulder and bore her to the bed. He let her fall there, the impact cutting off her scream. He was upon her before she could move, his legs over hers, her wrists caught in one strong hand.

A pounding came at the door.

“Go away!” he shouted, his eyes never leaving her face.

“My lord! My lady!”

“No one opens that door, do you hear?”

“My lord—”

“Goddamnit! Leave us alone!”

They both listened as the footman’s steps left. Then Jasper leaned down and licked her neck. “Tell me.”

She arched up, but his legs held her down, and she couldn’t get purchase. “All those years . . .”

He pulled off his neck clo›ff anth and tied her wrists to the bed rails over her head. “All those years, what? Tell me, Melisande.”

“I saw you,” she panted. She looked over her head and yanked on the neck cloth. It didn’t give. “I watched you.”

“Stop struggling,” he ordered. “You’ll hurt yourself, sweet lady.”

“Hurt!” She laughed and it had an hysterical edge.

He took a knife from his pocket and began cutting away her clothes, each rip a sensuous tug against her oversensitive skin. “Tell me.”

“You bedded them, woman after woman.” She remembered the jealousy, the deep, cutting pain. He pulled the bodice entirely off her. “So many I couldn’t even keep track. Could you?”

“No,” he said softly.

He wrenched off her skirts and threw them to the floor. Taking off her shoes, he tossed them away as well. “I don’t even remember their names.”

“Damn you.” She was naked now, save for her stockings and garters. Her hands were bound above her, but her legs were free. She kicked at him and hit his thigh.

He fell on her heavily, his hips across hers. His mouth was on her breast again, his hand combing through the curls at the top of her thighs. “Tell me.”

“I watched you for years,” she whispered. The tears were drying on her cheeks, and heat was building within her. If he would just touch her. Touch her there. “I watched you and you never saw me.”

“I see you now,” he said, licking around a nipple. He trailed his tongue across her breast and to the other breast, circling the nipple there. Delicately. Tenderly.

Damn him.

“You didn’t even know my name.”

“I know it now.” He tested her flesh with his teeth.

Pleasure mixed with pain shot through her, straight from her nipple to where his hand still played. She arched, silently begging, and he relented, sucking the nipple strongly into his mouth.

“You . . .” She swallowed, trying to focus her thoughts. “You didn’t know I existed.”

“I do now.”

And he slid down her body, spreading her knees and draping her calves over his shoulders.

She bucked, trying to dislodge him, but she couldn’t budge him any more now than she could before.

He lowered his head and licked her sex.

Her belly contracted in shock, her bound hands fisted, and then she closed her eyes and simply felt. The wet stroke of his tongue, the fingers of one hand flexing on her hip bone, the other petting her mound. He licked and licked again, each stroke slow and intimate. Each stroke hitting her clitoris. She flexed her fingers, feeling the tension build. He moved his hands, spreading her folds, opening her and making her vulnerable.

She bit her lip, waiting, waiting.

And then he set his mouth directly on her bud and sucked. Nibbling, dragging, pulling on that bit of flesh until she couldn’t stand it anymore and broke. She arched, thrusting her pelvis into his face, feeling the heat flashing through her, hearing the pound of her heartbeat. He still licked and sucked, his hands heavy, holding her down. Another wave hit and she moaned, the sound loud in the quiet room. Some other time she might care, might feel embarrassed at the erotic sounds she was making, but right now . . .