Page 67 of Making of a Scandal
Her thighs spread wider, the tension of her body melting and giving in to his presence. The down on his chest stimulated her nipples, the coarse hairs of this thighs abrading the sensitive skin of her own. He wasn’t only inside of her, but all around her, consuming her, bringing parts of her alive that she hadn’t realized existed until he touched them.
“You … you have to …”
He quaked in her arms, his lips parting and closing on words that wouldn’t come as easily as before. Gritting his teeth, he took a breath and tried again, tangling his fingers in her hair.
“Tell me if it’s too much … I don’t want to hurt you … but I can’t … it feels … too good, so good.”
He hooked her leg around his waist, rolling his hips and grinding against her, sending a sharp burst of pleasure spiraling through her core.
“There!” she cried, arching beneath him and seeking more.
He repeated the motion, and she pressed her mouth against his shoulder to quiet her moans.
“Like this?”
“Yes … oh, yes!”
He murmured unintelligibly against her ear, increasing his rhythm as she clutched him. She drank him in through her every sense, the hypnotizing ripple of his shoulder muscles as he moved over her, the feel of his sweat-slick skin against her, the musky scent of him, the sound of his groans, the taste of him as she kissed his neck, his shoulder, his cheek.
His hands slid beneath her, cupping her buttocks to lift her hips off the bed, and that somehow enabled him to stroke deeper, his thrusts gaining power and momentum with each passing second.
“Anni … my Anni … I … I love … love you.”
The words came tumbling out between labored breaths, and Calliope felt them echoing through her with every stroke of his cock, phantom ripples of euphoria picking up where each pang of ecstasy ended, until she was drowning. She could hardly breathe through the powerful culmination ripping through her, tearing her open and leaving her vulnerable in his arms, every nerve exposed and attuned to him.
She tightened her hold on him, her face buried in his neck as she gasped and sobbed, helpless against such an onslaught, surrendering to its overwhelming force.
“Yes, that’s it,” he rasped. “Come for me, goddess.”
She splintered, her vision fading to black as her climax consumed her. Nick groaned and ground out a string of oaths, pounding into her as she clenched and squeezed around him, drawing him in deep as he plunged one last time and gave in to his own release. Her Bengali name was a prayer on his lips, repeated with each jerk of his hips, each hot spurt of his seed inside her, each beat of his heart hammering against her breast.
They lay tangled with one another as they fell silent and still, panting breaths and sighs the only disruption to the calm following the storm.
Calliope lay limp beneath him, strands of hair sticking to her damp face, her sheath pulsing and sore around his cock—softened but still lodged within her. A little laugh bubbled up in her chest, elation and relief in the sound as she realized what Dominick had just given her. Not just his body or a fulfillment of her desires, but something far more precious. Turning her head to kiss his brow, she smiled at the soft sound of contentment he made in response, all he seemed capable of at the moment. It was enough.
Chapter 12
“Due to the house party taking place at his rural property in Surrey, talk of the nabob Viscount B has reemerged. It has been some years since anything of substance was circulated about the retired EIC officer who returned from Bengal with a half-caste daughter. It is also said that there is a hidden room inside his home, where he goes to kneel and worship the heathen gods of his wife. If I had been invited to his little gathering, I might have attended if for no other reason than to ferret out the truth about that!”
The London Gossip, September 25, 1819
Dominick awoke to the distinct quiet of night giving way to dawn, and Calliope laid in the curl of one arm. She faced away from him, long masses of her hair splayed over his chest. With consciousness came good sense, which told him he should leave before he was discovered. The other guests wouldn’t wake for hours yet, but the servants would be up and about, and might see him slinking through the corridors.
He told himself he only needed one minute more, but once that minute had passed, he let himself have another, and another. He ran his fingers through her silken hair, raising it to his lips.
As a courtesan, he ought to be annoyed with himself for his performance the night before. He’d been as overeager as a boy having his first taste of pleasure, unable to even reach for the filthy words that were a signature part of his repertoire. He’d lost his grip on skill and finesse, abandoning the tricks that had once made the most experienced of women scream their shocked delight. He’d found he could hardly think with her gripping him so tight, let alone employ any of the techniques that had earned him his reputation.
As a man in love, however, he could feel nothing but soul-deep satisfaction. His eyes had been opened and he realized that despite all his skill, his persona as a courtesan had been nothing more than a game of smoke and mirrors—a facade that allowed his keepers to see or feel nothing of the man himself. He had given Calliope his all in a moment of raw vulnerability, and found no shame in that. Not that he wouldn’t be averse to introducing her to a wider range of pleasures now that she was no longer an innocent.
He had scoffed at the other courtesans who’d fallen headlong into the supposed trap of love, thinking that choosing one woman meant missing out on all the others. It had never occurred to him that other women would cease to exist for him in the shadow of one. Forsaking all others seemed like something to aspire to rather than to be avoided.
Rolling onto his side, he wrapped his other arm around her. She sighed when he kissed her shoulder, his lips skimming over smooth, bronzed skin.
“Wake up, goddess. Come, kiss me good-bye.”
She groaned, turning to face him. “Don’t go.”
He gave her hair a gentle tug, turning her face up so he could kiss the tip of her nose. “It’s nearly dawn. If I don’t leave now, we’ll be discovered.”
