The Many Sins of Lord Cameron

Below them, Prario wound to the top of the aria, his voice clear and true as he scaled the notes. He reached the top one and held it, and Cameron broke.

Cam snatched a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it over himself, Ainsley moving her hand away just in time. Cameron’s seed spilled in an ecstasy of feeling and music, joy in the heat of Ainsley pressed against him.

“I want to be doing this inside you,” he said savagely into her ear. “I want to feel you taking me, knowing that you’re mine.”

“I’d like that too,” she whispered.

Cameron rode out his climax as Prario’s voice slid downward in glissando. At the end, Prario threw out his arms and bellowed his last, loud note.

The crowd roared its appreciation, and Phyllida leaned to Ainsley, eyes shining. “Didn’t I say he was wonderful?”

“Indeed,” Ainsley said calmly as Phyllida sprang to her feet. Ainsley pulled on her gloves and rose to join the ovation, leaving Cameron to hastily refasten his trousers in the dark.

As soon as the door closed behind them in the townhouse, Cameron said to the footman, “Leave us.”

Well trained, the footman turned down the last gaslight and discreetly faded away. Ainsley’s heart fluttered in excitement. Cameron had refused Phyllida’s invitation to a grand soiree after the performance and had nearly shoved Ainsley into his town coach, telling the coachman to get them quickly home.

Now Cameron pressed Ainsley into the paneled wall in the dark, pinning her wrists above her head. He kissed her without a word, not letting her speak or ask questions. He was taking, lifting Ainsley up the wall until their faces were level.

His kisses were brutal, burning. Cameron might have kept his wanting dammed after she’d played with him in the theatre, but now he let the dam burst.

“Vixen,” he whispered. “Unmanning me in public.”

Ainsley licked across his mouth. “I enjoyed it. I believe you did as well.”

His voice went soft but savage as he used words that should offend her but instead excited her beyond measure. He told her what he wanted to do to her, and what pet names he’d call her. No lady should listen to such things, but, as Cameron had pointed out weeks ago, Ainsley wasn’t quite a lady.

He kissed her bosom, diamonds catching in his teeth. His hands went to the clasps on the back of her bodice, and he made a grunt of frustration as he tugged.

“Tear it open,” she whispered. “I don’t care.”

She didn’t. Why stop this sensation when a simple needle and thread would repair the damage?

Cameron smiled a feral smile, and he ceased being gentle. He yanked wide her bodice, kissing and licking her flesh as the fabric came away. The cool of the panel pressed into her back, the hot hardness of Cameron into her front. Ainsley felt dizzy, decadent, wicked.

He disrobed her, a layer at a time, right there in hall beneath the curve of the spiral stairs. So many layers a lady had to wear, and Cameron kissed her and touched her as each one came off.

Ainsley didn’t protest until he tugged open his trousers, not even bothering to remove his coat.

“We’re in the front hall,” she said.

“We were in a box in the theatre. You didn’t worry about propriety then.”

“It was dark.”

“It’s dark here, and my servants know damn well better than to disturb me.”

While Cameron spoke, he lifted Ainsley against the wall, cushioning its hard surface with his arms. He supported her hips, and by now she knew how to wrap her legs around him as Cameron entered her in one smooth stroke.

The erotic feeling of him awakened her, excited her. His words died to whispered breaths, and his strength kept Ainsley from falling.

Nothing existed at that moment but herself and him. The raw sensuality of Cameron, the smooth lip of the paneling, the sounds in his throat as he loved her.

Hot, hard, sensation. Ainsley arched against her lover, the feel of his coat exciting against her bare skin. Cameron caught the sounds of her aching need in his mouth.

They rocked into the paneling, and then his eyes went dark, his pupils spreading, and she felt him release inside her. Cameron kept thrusting, his kisses hotter but more relaxed, the frenzy dying into warmth.

Cameron carried Ainsley upstairs, where the coal fire heated her bedchamber, and laid her on the chaise while he quickly got out of his clothes. Ainsley’s clothes they’d left all over the hall. She started to protest that they should retrieve them, but he silenced her with a kiss. That’s what he’d hired the damn servants for, he growled.

Cameron wanted loving, not talking. The armless chaise was perfect for having Ainsley on top of him, and soon, Cameron was buried inside her again, Ainsley sighing in pleasure.

Damn, but she was beautiful. Ainsley’s br**sts moved while she rode him, ni**les dusky pink against her Scots- pale skin. Her hair was still piled on top of her head, some of the little curls dripping down her neck.

When Ainsley gave him a little smile, her eyes half closed, Cameron knew that no woman would ever be more beautiful than Ainsley. The softness of her body, even the fading, snaking scars on her belly, made her so, so lovely. She belonged to him, always, forever.

He’d loved her squeezing him with her hand, but being inside her was ten times better. She was tight, damned tight. He loved it. He loved her.

The last thought made Cameron lose all control. He rocked against her, hands on her thighs, her hands splayed on his chest as she swayed. She made sweet noises in her climax, but Cameron’s coming was raw. He held on to her, tight, tight, and his Oh, f**k! rang through the room.