Wolfsgate Page 26

  “Are you sure?” A wicked smile tipped his lips.

  Georgina’s words from the ball rushed into her brain: “Give him something different.”

  The heat of his hungry gaze made her entire body seize. She licked at her dry lips and slid from his lap to the floor. His eyes widened over her. She released his rigid cock from his breeches and wrapped her hand around its stiff length as she rose to her knees before him.

  Brandon’s breathing became jagged, his pulse banged in his head. He brushed his thumb over her lips, and her tongue swiped at it, then she took it in her fantastic little mouth all the while stroking his cock up and down, as her other hand found his balls.

  “Bloody hell, Justine…”

  Heaven help him. No, wait. He didn’t want saving. He wanted to suffer this glorious torment. She glanced up at him, her dusky eyes innocent yet knowing, playful. Fucking mischievous. Oh yes, he was ready for death now, he was sure of it. Her mouth released his wet thumb, and she bent her head and licked at the tip of his cock, then dragged her tongue up and down the rigid shaft. St. Peter are you waiting for me at the gates? He would certainly die the happiest of men.

  He let out a low groan and shifted his hips. At that, she took him in her mouth fully and sucked on him slowly while her other hand continued stroking him. His brain drained of all logic, all sense. His mouth hung open just taking in the sight of her at work over him. The wet suction of her hot, little mouth made his eyes roll back in his head. With a slight moan, she took him deeper. He dug his hands into her hair cupping her head.

  “Jus, damn.” He shuddered. His eyes were locked on Justine on her knees in between his legs, her gorgeous shiny lips wrapped around his cock. He was utterly at her mercy; he was her slave. Dammit, if he didn’t stop her now, he was going to make a mess all over her, and he didn’t want to. What he desperately wanted was to pound into her sweet quim and maybe tonight in their bed she could resume this…

  This…

  Look at her.

  His mouth went dry. What if that bloody parlor maid came in now to chat about dusting or Molly shuffled in with a tray of refreshments? Poor woman would surely have an apoplectic fit.

  Another moan erupted from Justine’s throat.

  Holy mother of…

  Detonations went off all over his tight flesh. Her hand squeezed around the base of his cock, and he grit his teeth. “Jus, stop. For the love of all that is holy, please.”

  His wet and heavy cock slipped out of her glistening, swollen lips with a popping sound. Her skin was flushed, her eyes round. “You didn’t like it?”

  “It was fantastic. You’re fantastic. But I want to finish inside you, with you.”

  She let out a whimper and rose immediately to straddle his lap.

  Oh, there’s my girl.

  He wrenched her skirts high and ran his fingers over her bare thighs. Justine moaned as he explored her wet heat. She moved over him, against him, her body demanding friction, demanding to feel more, more, more. He pressed the soft globes of her rear closer to him and nipped her lower lip with his teeth.

  “Tell me what you want, Jus,” he rasped. “I want to hear you say it.”

  A hazy smile stole over her lips. “I want you to fill me with your cock right here on this desk,” she whispered against his blazing skin.

  Hell, he was a lucky bastard.

  “Fill you I will,” he breathed.

  He propped her up on the desk and wrenched her skirts up around her waist. She let out a tiny yelp and kicked off her shoes with a grin. His fingers dragged over her stockinged legs, hooking them around his hips.

  “Vixen.” He planted his hands on either side of her and impaled her with his length as he watched her. Justine let out a sob. Her silky insides drummed around his throbbing length, sucking him in. His cock was so, so very happy, the happiest cock in all of England.

  “Jus.” He inhaled a gust of air trying to regain a slip of his sanity. “You’re pure bloody velvet.” She cried out with his every slamming stroke, her body jerking across the desk. “You mesmerize me over and over again,” he murmured. She twisted her hips into his, and that small movement made the violence of his hunger for her even fiercer. Certainly gone was his Mistress of Self-Control.

  She panted hard, her eyes shining, her skin flushed, that slow smile curling her lips again. A tight lash whipped straight through his chest. His entire body throbbed with the sensations of Justine unravelling around him.

  Images from a thousand years ago burned through his brain. Her trembling little girl hand in his when she had been lost in the meadow for hours, and he had found her with a tear-stained face, sheep chasing her. Her anxious smile when he had lifted her up onto the saddle of his horse for the first time, and afterwards her tight embrace and nervous giggle when she thanked him for that first ride on Midnight.

  Finding her hiding in the prospect room in the tower crouched in a corner hiccuping on tears after they’d brought Annie’s lifeless body back to the house. They had sat there in the dust for a long while until she had fallen asleep in his arms, then he had carried her back to her bed. The rose petals tangled in her mop of hair the day he had left for the Indies. Her hushed goodbye in his ear as she hugged him quickly before darting back a few steps to stand next to Richard, her wet eyes averted, every inch the disciplined young lady.

  That was his Justine. The sincere, sweet girl of his childhood. What was Annie’s nickname for her? Tina. Now their Tina was the beautiful woman who was his wife. His wife. His.

  Brandon’s pulse roared in his ears. At this moment, right now, here on the desk, Justine clinging to him, writhing underneath him, giving herself over to her desire for him, he knew this was all he desired, this was where he wanted to be. He wanted to drink in what she offered him. Gulp it, drench himself in it. He surged over her, rooting himself deep inside her.

  “Tina!” ripped from his chest as he finally exploded within her. Her body stilled under him, her hands slowly retreated.

  Brandon let out a laugh and smoothed damp tendrils of hair from her eyes. He brushed her lips with his and withdrew himself gently from between her legs. He leaned against the desk breathing rapidly through the sensual fog that had pushed back the stinging in his veins. Justine shoved her skirts back down her legs and took in a gulp of air, her gaze pinned to the floor.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked. She shook her head, her breath choppy.

  His hand cupped the side of her face. “Did I hurt you?” She shook her head again and peeled his hand from her. “Something’s wrong. Tell me now, Justine.” He took her hands in his and tugged at her until she sat up on the desk.

  “Don’t—”

  His eyes searched hers. “Don’t what?”

  “That name, don’t ever use that name for me, ever again.”

  Brandon frowned. His brain struggled to catch up with her. “Ah, your nickname?” After Annie died, use of the nickname had died too. “I’m sorry. We were just talking about Annie and I remembered. Forgive me,” he whispered. His fingers tugged on a loose curl by her face. It sprang back against her neck. “It was in a moment of supreme affection for you.” His lips brushed her cheek.

  Justine’s face remained taut, her posture rigid. “No.”

  “No?” he asked. “I don’t understand.” She remained frozen in his arms, her gaze averted, the lines of her face drawn. “Justine, dammit, talk to me. I loved my cousin. I miss her too.”

  She dropped her face into his chest and rubbed her forehead against him. “Of course you do. I’m sorry, it’s childish. I just haven’t heard it in so long.”

  He sighed. “I know, love.” His fingers massaged her neck. “Don’t I know?” He pulled her closer and planted a kiss on the top of her head. Her arms tightened around his middle. “But right now, this very moment feels pretty damned wonderful, don’t you think?” She let out a heavy sigh but remained stiff in his arms. “Justine?” He cupped her face.

  She released the tension in
her shoulders, and her lips pushed up into a tight smile. She kissed his cheek and squeezed him extra tight for a moment then released her hold, the way she always used to as a child. His eyelids slid closed, and he buried his face in her fragrant hair. A rush of emotion and lavender passed through him, leaving him with a sensation of weightlessness.

  “You were right,” she whispered in his ear.

  “About what?”

  She bit her lip and glanced up at him. “That was much, much better than toffee.”

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  “THESE ROOMS HAVE A CERTAIN CHARM, but I can’t say I’ve missed them,” Georgina remarked.

  The village assembly rooms were packed with a great many finely dressed people laughing loudly, drinking plenty, and most of all dancing. Two long lines of eager gentlemen and gleeful ladies were whirling about in time with the buoyant music in the large central room. A myriad of candles illuminated the long and not very wide space with as much light as possible on this winter evening.

  Justine let out a dry laugh. “It may not be London, G. However, country charm has its own divinity.”

  “Divinity, indeed!” Georgina let out a laugh. “Are you referring to rustic farm hands, their eyes glistening with divine vitality from all that activity out in the fresh, invigorating air?”

  “Ah, such vivid poetry,” Justine said putting her hand on her friends’ arm. “I think I should come for a visit to yours sooner rather than later. I can’t say I’ve noticed any farm hands to be so full of the divine in our parts.”

  “You, my dear, have the divinity of Lord Graven in your bed. What do you care for farm hands?”

  Justine’s cheeks heated. Georgina laughed and handed her a fresh glass of punch from a passing servant. “Drink, you lucky girl.” Justine drank. “So, tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “My suggestions to you at the dinner party? You did implement them, I hope? You promised a report, Justine. My own future depends on it.”

  Justine pulled Georgia by a pillar away from the giggling young girls that had gathered near them. She sipped on her drink. “I did offer him something different the other day.”

  “Oh? Yes?” Georgina’s eyes sparkled.

  “It had a very, very…hmm…positive effect.”

  “Positive?”

  “He was rather taken aback and most enthusiastic.”

  “Ah.”

  Justine leaned in closer to her friend. “In fact, I do believe the experience will stay locked in his memory for quite some time. He has been very attentive as of late. In all aspects.”

  “Bloody brilliant.”

  “Georgie, shh!”

  “I’m so pleased!” Georgina clamped her hand over Justine’s wrist. “Now will you trust my advice from here on?”

  Justine rolled her eyes. “You mean your sister’s advice, don’t you?”

  “No darling. That bit was my idea.”

  Justine let out a laugh. “Well then, yes, I will be more open to your suggestions in future.”

  “Very good. Where is your husband anyhow?”

  “Probably avoiding Amanda,” Justine whispered.

  “Ah, yes, another divine creature among us.”

  “Not so divine, really.”

  Georgina’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

  “Tonight might prove to be a disappointment for Amanda, yet somehow I do not think she will easily accept defeat.”

  “That sounds like fun—Amanda rejected! Amanda shocked! Let’s find them.”

  “Wait,” Justine said. “I don’t want to be the hovering wife.”

  “J, you need to know what the devil is going on in order to protect your own interests. Always.” Georgina leveled her gaze at her friend. “Never be naive and never let your guard down. These are rules to live by both in town and country. Come. Be quick.”

  Justine took a final sip of the sweet punch and left her glass on a nearby table. Georgina navigated them through the long, very loud room, smiling and stopping to greet acquaintances. She was extremely talented at quick, friendly chatter, a wisely honed skill. Justine’s back grew more rigid every time they were stopped in the name of civility, but there was no sign of Brandon nor anyone of their circle.

  “There you are!” Charles exclaimed, his face tense. He hooked his arm through hers and led her and Georgina to a grouping of tables and chairs where many of their party were seated, drinking and laughing with others. Amanda, her brow pinched together, a hand at her middle, her gaze averted, sat next to her husband. Georgina visibly bristled at the sight of Matthew whispering with two young ladies. Thomas leaned over a figure slumped in a chair at the end of the table. A chill spiked through Justine.

  “Damn me, don’t know what’s come over him,” Thomas said casting a quick glance at William. “He’s not answering, it’s as if he can’t even hear me. ‘Tis queer.”

  William’s cold eyes flicked over Justine. “No worries, his wife is here to clean up his mess.” He jutted his chin in Thomas’ direction, and Thomas shuffled out of the way. Brandon was slumped in a chair, his legs stretched out before him, his eyes wide and glassy. He blinked long and slow, mumbling indecipherable words. His head rolled back, and he smiled to himself.

  “Translate for us, Lady Justine, won’t you?” William asked. Everyone tittered with laughter.

  Brandon’s hand reached across the table for a glass of liquor that was at his side. He lifted it off the table, but it slipped from his lax grasp and crashed to the floor. The glass shattered, splintering everywhere. The smell of liquor wafted up and mingled with the collective exclamations of the ladies in the group and the sudden hush of passersby.

  Brandon’s forehead wrinkled momentarily. He lapsed into languid laughter, his head rolling to the side. “Spectacular!” he said softly.

  “Well, that says it all, I should think,” William said, sliding an arm around Amanda’s shoulders. The others snickered.

  Justine extricated her arm from Charles’s grip and darted towards her husband. Her fingers stroked his cheek. “Brandon,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re not feeling well, let’s go home.”

  “Jus-tine?” Brandon smiled up at her, his facial muscles relaxed. His hands found her waist and traveled up her torso. She seized them, stopping them before they landed on her breasts. “Velvet,” he murmured.

  “We are leaving. Can you stand?”

  “Go-o? No, stay, stay with me-e. Stay…”

  “For God’s sake, help her, Mr. Montclare,” said Georgina. “Thomas!” Her eyes flashed at her brother.

  Charles put an arm around Brandon. “Let’s go, Graven.” His face snapped up in Thomas’ direction. “Get his other side.” Thomas smashed his lips together and put his arms around Brandon’s middle. They hoisted him up and held him until Brandon found a measure of balance on his own feet.

  “Tragic isn’t it, darling?” William’s voice sliced through them. Even though he addressed his wife, his voice was loud enough to be heard by all present. “My cousin always had a fondness for indulgences, but this must be an exotic sort he picked up in the Indies. God only knows what barbaric debaucheries he indulged in with the natives in those two long years on that island, eh?”

  Murmurs and whispers cascaded across the table. “Indeed,” Amanda remarked, her hands clasped in her lap.

  “Good thing he has his wife to clean up after him.” William glared at her as he drained his glass of its remnants.

  “Enough,” Justine said, her voice sharp. If she could have lit him on fire with just a look, she would have right then. Amanda glanced up at her for a moment then turned away once more.

  William planted a lingering kiss on his wife’s bare shoulder. “More wine here!” He gestured to a passing servant with his empty glass.

  “Love your scent, Jus.” Brandon’s soft voice floated in their candlelit bedroom.

  “Rest now, Brandon. Close your eyes.”

  “Hmm. Stay with me.”

  �
�I won’t leave you. Sleep now.” His head was in her lap, and she stroked his hair as his breathing finally evened out, his chest rising and falling deeply. He hadn’t closed his eyes at all in the past hour. He was in a trance, under a spell far from her reach. A shadow settled over her heart as her fingertips traced over his scars.

  He’d been in good form the past months taking lots of exercise, actively involved in the house, the estate. He had enjoyed his strength returning, his independence. She hadn’t seen any signs of a grave depression or the usual melancholies, no drowsiness or confusion. Not like before, at least. Just the occasional withdrawal here and there, but even those had been fleeting. Truly, no indication that he had been indulging again. Could she have been that blind and he so cunning?

  Justine gently rolled his upper body from her lap onto the pillows and tucked the thick covers over him. She removed her dress, her jewelry, and half-heartedly splashed water on her face. She turned back the covers and got into bed next to Brandon, wrapping an arm around his bare waist. Her forehead sank against his shoulder, but sleep would not come.

  She wiped at the tears that spilled from her eyes. The strong winds heaved over the house, and the heavy rain drummed against the glass as she listened in the dark. She was sure he would come this evening. Especially now. She took in a deep breath.

  The Graven wolf howled through the claps of thunder.

  Yes. Can you feel it too?

  “No! It’s no use, I tell you! Jump! Jump! Let go!”

  The following night the nightmares had returned with a vengeance.

  “Brandon, you’re dreaming. Wake up. I’m here with you.” Justine’s honeyed voice seeped through his consciousness.

  His eyes unsealed. He was covered in a sheen of perspiration, his one fist clenched a twist of bedlinen, his legs thrashing against the mattress. The fingers of his other hand gripped her throat. She clasped his wrist gasping. His stiff body slackened, and he let out a wheeze, his hand loosening around her. He retracted it immediately as if he had been burned by the contact with her skin.