Damn her! He cursed the day he’d set eyes on Julienne La Coeur. His hands clenched into fists as he struggled to control the shaking of his body and the torment in his mind.
And then suddenly his cock was drenched in moist heat. Instinctively he tried to back away, but Julienne’s hands gripped the cheeks of his ass and kept him still. He looked down, his eyes wide with stunned amazement, as she took more of his shaft into her delectable mouth.
In all of his life, with all of the women he’d been with, in all of the positions and places he’d been, Lucien had never seen anything as erotic as Julienne sucking his cock on her knees in the grass, her breasts spilling over the top of her gown, her lush form turned to silver in the moonlight.
Her attentions were unschooled, innocent, and all the more effective because of it. Her tongue swirled around the head, her mouth pulsing with a gentle suction, her fingertips kneading the clenching cheeks of his buttocks. She pulled her head back and then pushed forward again, her mouth stretched wide to accommodate his size.
Julienne rode his erection with heartening enthusiasm, making soft little humming noises as she sucked on him, and her enjoyment increased his a hundredfold. Unfamiliar with the act, she took him with shallow strokes, but the pleasure was still intense, brought on as much by her selfless giving as the burning that spread from his groin and coursed through his veins.
Lucien threw his head back and growled deep in his throat, his hands drifting into the golden curls at her nape, directing her rhythm, taking care not to completely disrupt the stylish arrangement of her hair. His hips pumped in an unconscious tempo, gently fucking her mouth, as his body sought the relief it could find only with Julienne. Her tongue dipped into the tiny hole at the tip of his cock, and his sac tightened, his shaft swelled. “Pull away, sweet,” he gasped. “I’m close . . . I can’t . . .”
Julienne ignored his direction and sucked him harder, driving him mad, until he came in an orgasm so intense he swayed on his feet, his seed flooding her mouth, pouring out the depth of his lust and longing. Lucien cried out her name, grateful she held his hips so he didn’t fall to his knees and crush her. Blood roared in a raging torrent through his veins, making his ears ring and his eyesight fade to blackness.
He had never come so hard in his life, his cock jerking until he was emptied.
When Julienne rose to her feet, wiping her mouth with the palm of her glove, her lovely face was alight with satisfaction. Trembling, Lucien leaned against her in a weary embrace, sated to his very soul.
Chapter Six
Julienne held Lucien tightly to her, bearing his weight as best she could, her heart light and filled with joy that she had given him such pleasure. She licked her lips, tasting him, and felt a surge of female triumph at her accomplishment. The sensation was heady. Unable to contain it, Julienne laughed with delight.
“You find this to be funny?” he asked, his husky voice tinged with wry amusement. “You will be the death of me.”
She grinned. “I made you happy.”
Lucien pulled back. His handsome face was flushed, misty with sweat, his beautiful eyes glazed with bliss. And she had made him look like that. She laughed again.
“Julienne.” His voice was gruff but tender. “You’re happy to have made me happy?”
She gave him a quick, fierce hug. “Of course.” Pulling away, Julienne began to rearrange her dress, restoring her appearance. She watched as Lucien righted his own clothing. When he tried to reach for her, she sidestepped with a giggle. “Oh, no.”
His mouth curved with a heart-stopping smile. “It’s your turn, sweet.”
She ran up the wide, grassy steps toward the manse, but he caught her easily and dipped his head for a kiss. Julienne savored the heady taste of him for a moment before pulling away.
“No, Lucien,” she scolded, even as her heart raced at the seductive promise in his eyes. “You mustn’t touch me again tonight. With your reputation, it would not be amiss for you to return to the ballroom looking as you do now, but if I were to return looking that way, it would be a disaster.”
He ran his hand down her arm, grinning as he saw her shiver. “I shall feel like a selfish cad, sweetheart, if you don’t allow me to pleasure you in return.” Lucien bent his head to nuzzle her neck, but she backed away with a chastising wag of her finger.
“Now you see how I felt the other evening when you refused my touch.” Julienne turned away and neatly avoided his grasping arms. “Remain in the garden for a few moments. I’m certain my aunt must be frantic by now. You may call on me tomorrow at two. Aunt Eugenia has an appointment, and she’ll be gone for hours.”
“Where shall I meet you?”
“Come through the mews. I’ll find you.”
The light in his eyes dimmed. “You’re putting yourself at great risk to see me.”
“I know.”
Lucien was right, of course. But her reputation, so vital to the well-being of her family, stood no chance against her desire to steal whatever time she could with him. “But you’re quite impossible to resist.”
He grasped her elbow when she tried to move away. “You shouldn’t like me, Julienne. I’m not good for you.”
“Oh, Lucien.” She sighed. She brushed his damp hair back from his face and watched his eyes close with pleasure at her touch. How she adored him, this beautiful, wicked man, with his carefully hidden honor. “You act as if I have more control over this than you.”
She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to his with a soft moan. “Come tomorrow. Or not. The choice is yours.” Turning quickly, Julienne left him in the garden.
“You look . . . respectable,” Marchant said, with wide eyes. “What’s the occasion?”
Lucien ignored him. “Did you compile the list I requested?”
“Prospective suitors for Lady Julienne? Of course.” Marchant slid the file across the desk.
Scanning through it, Lucien grumbled, “Why is Fontaine at the top?”
Marchant arched a brow. “Besides being an extremely handsome marquess with seventeen estates, hundreds of servants, unlimited funds, and considered the catch of the Season by the entirety of the Beau Monde?”
Lucien snorted. “What about his personal life?”
“He’s a known womanizer, but he doesn’t gamble or drink to excess. I was unable to find any evidence of his siring any bastards.”
“And socially?”
“He maintains his seat in the Lords, and he’s held in high esteem by the peerage.”
Lucien dropped the folder. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, remembering the sight of Julienne kissing Fontaine.
From that recollection came unbidden images—Fontaine holding Julienne and caressing her luscious breasts. Fontaine riding between her thighs, plunging into the silken heat of her, as Lucien could not. Sick with jealousy, he clenched his teeth until his jaw ached.
Julienne was a lady to the core. Lucien knew he could do nothing but ruin her, nothing but cause her to be ostracized by her peers, shaming her, until her spirit was crushed and the affection in her eyes faded to bitter resentment.
“Mr. Remington? Are you feeling unwell? You look feverish.”
Lucien opened his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Perhaps you should rest a bit. You’ve been working too hard lately.”
Lucien stood and collected the folder. “No, I have an appointment.”
“With whom? I see nothing on your schedule.”