Page 26 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

Chapter eleven

October 4th, 1817

Sweetjasminemixedwithan exotic musk. Sensual. Intoxicating. Mesmerizing. Madalene Spencer smelled of sin. Stephen inhaled again. His resistance was pointless. He wanted to bury his nose in her hair. Hell. He wanted to sink every inch of himself deep inside her.

She whimpered.

What had caused her pleasure-filled utterance? Stephen tore his gaze from the fluttering pulse in her neck.

Damn! The woman splayed out on the bench in front of them resembled a nymph. Her hair, which had been in a neat chignon moments ago, now hung loose, the long blonde strands dragging on the ground beside her mob cap. Two plump mounds of flesh were visible above her bodice. The American suckled at one nipple as he pinched the other.

The maid undulated.

Madalene moaned.

“Shh. Or they will see us,” Stephen said.

If the siren liked to watch, who was he to stop her? Moreover, his throbbing cock indicated he was also enjoying the scene. Although, ’twas probably more that Madalene Spencer herself made him a mass of wonton inclinations.

The American trailed kisses down the maid’s torso.

Madalene pressed her back against Stephen’s front and his cock stabbed her through layers of fabric. Aching to kiss her, he brushed his lips over the soft creamy skin of her shoulders as he stared down the front of her dress at her heaving breasts.

Her voice hitched with her whisper. “Have you ever done that?” She pointed at the fountain.

It took effort to focus his lust-filled gaze on the couple. The maid’s skirts were lifted so high that her hips were exposed. Her drawers lay on the ground. The breeze tickled the coarse blonde curls covering her quim as the American pumped two fingers into her.

She writhed and cried out, “Yes.”

He slid to his knees, lowered his face between her thighs, and licked.

Madalene gasped. “Have you ever done that?” she asked again.

“Yes.” The adventurous widow Hemmingsworth was one of Stephen’s most treasured secrets. He rested his chin on Madalene’s shoulder, and they watched the show.

The maid must taste like heaven because John Gracey buried his nose, mouth, and tongue in those curls. The couple’s sounds of pleasure mingled as his head bobbled, every so often his tongue or her delicious pussy making an appearance.

Hell and the devil. Stephen was hungry. Nay, starving.

“Do you like doing that?” Madalene asked, her words sandwiched between breathy pants.

He swallowed. “Devouring a woman?”

Her raspy “Yes” was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

He would show her how much he loved lapping up a woman’s pleasure right after he tossed her onto the ground and lifted her skirts. He’d eat her until she screamed his name, and he wouldn’t stop until her insides were raw.

He turned her so they faced each other, then stared into her soul.

Beneath that bold confidence was a woman in pain. How had he not seen this before? As much as he wanted to, he would not toss her into the dirt and tup her as if he were a beast.

He lowered his chin. “Madalene, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

She stood on her tiptoes. “And you are the most beautiful man in the world.”

The maid now stood in front of John. She bent at the waist and her palms pressed into the bench as he slammed into her.

Stephen may have been a raging inferno of desire ready to explode, but he was not alone. Madalene’s body quivered and hummed with need.