Page 21 of Surrender to Sin

His gut twisted, and he enveloped her in his arms, smoothing a hand over her hair as much to soothe himself as her. “What lady could resist such a thoroughly tempting offer?”

She looked away, but not before he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Once upon a time I did want a child. Badly. But the thought of him in my bed…of being trapped in a cold marriage again with someone I despise in every way, ruling me, lecturing and molding my sons and daughters, punishing us all for any perceived transgression… I can’t do it. I simply canno—”

A truly ear-murdering wail interrupted her, and Sin glanced sideways to see the red-faced visage of their hostess, a small army of appropriately outraged guests trailing behind her. “Ah, Lady Miles,” he teased. “What a becoming shade of pumpkin you are wearing. Contrasts perfectly with your tomato-esque cheeks.”

“Not one more word, sirrah, you…you despicable bounder! I see my husband’s tale was gospel truth. And Lady Carrington acting the slattern…the two of you treating my home like…like a brothel!”

“I wouldn’t say brothel,” said Grace, in a voice so sultry it made his spent cock throb.

“Nor I,” he added. “That is overly harsh, Lady Miles, not a penny has changed hands. Although if you’d like to negotiate a share as bawd, do let me know.”

Red became purple, and Sin’s lips quirked in alarm. Today it might be indeed possible to definitively answer whether a human head could implode.

“Get out,” screeched Lady Miles. “Get out, get out, get out!”

“Sebastian,” said Grace, not even looking at the woman. “Would you escort me back to my father and stepmother?”

“Be my pleasure, angel,” he replied, refastening his trousers, assisting her down from the window ledge and adjusting her gown.

Surely now they had achieved victory.

Surely.

…

The memory of Lady Miles’s scarlet-faced caterwauling would never cease to make her smile.

Mainly because after their false start last night, this could now be pinpointed as the day she managed to get rid of Lord Baxter forever. And again she’d been pleasured mindless by Sebastian. What he’d just done to and for her lifted her heart to the heavens, but she couldn’t even look at him as they strolled arm in arm back to the parlor, not when her pussy was still damp and thrumming from the relentless thrusting of his thick cock.

Oh God, not just his cock. His mouth, his fingers…the heated words he whispered in her ear, the way he moved between sweetly gentle and deliciously rough at any given moment.

“Darling,” his voice purred in her ear. “You’re making me blush.”

Grace blinked. “Excuse me?”

“The sheer lust on your face. Thinking about what I just did to you?”

“No,” she mumbled, cheeks blazing.

“Pity. I am. Every time your hand caresses my sleeve, every time the air delivers me light wafts of your rose soap and wet cunt, I want to find a bed to spread you across. The way you scream and grip my fingers or cock when you come is really quite addictive.”

“Stop it,” Grace hissed, almost stumbling at his blunt, erotic words. “I can’t focus when you talk like that, and I have one more audience with Lord Baxter to fulfill.”

Sebastian sighed. “You’re right. Plus, I’m hurting myself. Don’t be alarmed if I walk a step behind you, but I find myself in sincere need of your voluminous skirts. Or perhaps a pelisse I could carry?”

Her gaze darted down without thought, and she shivered at the growing bulge straining against his trousers. Oh sweet heaven. She’d just had that inside her, been soaked with his warm, salty-sweet come, and he was ready for a second bout.

“Grace! Where have you been? Lord Baxter here was worried sick!”

The militant tone of her stepmother, Edwina, yanked her back to reality. Swallowing hard, Grace forced herself to meet both the woman’s accusing glare and her fiancé’s ice-cold gaze. But before she could even begin the tale, a furious splutter sounded behind her.

“Where has your stepdaughter been?” Lady Miles snapped, in high temper. “Oh, I’ll tell you where she has been. Perched on a window ledge enjoying lecherous acts with that man!”

Gasps sounded from every corner of the parlor, but a quick glance around revealed almost as many looks of blatant envy, as shock or disgust. Sebastian’s reputation did indeed precede him everywhere.

“Rather surprised to see you here, St. John,” Lord Baxter eventually said, in a frigid tone. “Don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list approved for this private gathering.”

“It wasn’t!” squeaked Lady Miles, clenching and unclenching her hands in the folds of her orange gown. “I swear!”