going her own way.
Devin had met her when he was eighteen and first came to London from his father's estate. The world had opened up to him then, the sophistication of the city replacing the stultifying life he had known at Darkwater. Instead of his father's prayers and moralizing, there had been gambling and boon companions and late nights spent in clubs and taverns. Instead of daily lessons, there had been hours of time to do with as he wanted. And instead of boring country misses, there had been... Leona.
He first saw her at a ball at Lady Atwater's. She had been wearing a dress made of gold tissue that clung to her every curve, and her skin had gleamed in the candlelight, her eyes reflecting the glitter of her dress. He had wanted her with a rush of lust he had never before experienced. She had played him like the green lad that he was. Looking back on it, Devin could see that, but, these years removed, the fact that she had done so only amused him. He had stumbled all over himself, trying to get her into his bed, but she had teased and eluded him for over a year, rejecting him until he was on the verge of giving up, then subtly sparking his desire into flame again with a look, an accidental brush of her bosom against his arm, a quick kiss in the garden.
His pursuit of the married Lady Vesey had been a scandal, of course—one of the many scandalous things he had done in Town that brought down his disapproving father's wrath, driving an ever-widening wedge between the two of them. But he had not cared for scandal. Most of the things he enjoyed in life, he found, were a scandal. As Leona had pointed out to him, he and she were not like other people.
"Hello, Dev," Leona said in her distinctive, throaty voice.
“Leona." Devin strolled over to her, his eyes roaming over her face and down her throat to her chest, where the full globes of her breasts swelled up over the neckline of her dress. Leona, like some of the other "wild" set of ladies, often dampened her thin dresses, so that they clung to her voluptuous body more tightly. Tonight he could see the dark circles of her nipples through the thin material of her virginally white muslin dress, and his loins tightened in response. Trust Leona to dress like a maiden making her debut, yet somehow manage to look like a wanton.
He bent and brushed his lips against hers. "You are looking lovely tonight."
It amazed him sometimes how well she had kept her looks. He did not know the hours and expense that were put into creams and cosmetics and hennas. Nor had he realized that in the past two or three years, he had almost never seen Leona in full daylight, their times together kept to evenings lit by softening candlelight.
He cupped his hand beneath her breast and trailed his thumb across her nipple, so that it hardened and pointed. "Did you wear this to a party?"
"Yes. Nearly caused a riot at Lady Blanchette's soiree—or at least one would think so, from the freezing way she talked to me. But the men all seemed to enjoy it."
"I am sure they did." He chuckled, and his hands dropped to her waist, pulling her to him for a kiss. He winced slightly as their lips touched, and Leona drew back.
She looked up into his face, her eyes going to his lip. "What happened? Does it hurt?"
He shrugged. "Some men jumped me, but I got away. It bled a little, but it's all right."
Leona's eyes darkened seductively, and she went up on tiptoe until her lips were only a breath away from his. "I never minded a little taste of blood," she murmured, and her tongue nicked out to run across his lips.
He pulled her hard against him and buried his mouth in hers. After a long, thorough kiss, he released her. Leona leaned back, looking seductively up into his face. "Mmm. I have a surprise for you tonight," she purred.
His loins tightened. "Do you?" Leona's surprises were always sensual delights, worth the teasing she usually insisted upon before revealing them. "A pleasant one, I hope."
"Most
Devin had met her when he was eighteen and first came to London from his father's estate. The world had opened up to him then, the sophistication of the city replacing the stultifying life he had known at Darkwater. Instead of his father's prayers and moralizing, there had been gambling and boon companions and late nights spent in clubs and taverns. Instead of daily lessons, there had been hours of time to do with as he wanted. And instead of boring country misses, there had been... Leona.
He first saw her at a ball at Lady Atwater's. She had been wearing a dress made of gold tissue that clung to her every curve, and her skin had gleamed in the candlelight, her eyes reflecting the glitter of her dress. He had wanted her with a rush of lust he had never before experienced. She had played him like the green lad that he was. Looking back on it, Devin could see that, but, these years removed, the fact that she had done so only amused him. He had stumbled all over himself, trying to get her into his bed, but she had teased and eluded him for over a year, rejecting him until he was on the verge of giving up, then subtly sparking his desire into flame again with a look, an accidental brush of her bosom against his arm, a quick kiss in the garden.
His pursuit of the married Lady Vesey had been a scandal, of course—one of the many scandalous things he had done in Town that brought down his disapproving father's wrath, driving an ever-widening wedge between the two of them. But he had not cared for scandal. Most of the things he enjoyed in life, he found, were a scandal. As Leona had pointed out to him, he and she were not like other people.
"Hello, Dev," Leona said in her distinctive, throaty voice.
“Leona." Devin strolled over to her, his eyes roaming over her face and down her throat to her chest, where the full globes of her breasts swelled up over the neckline of her dress. Leona, like some of the other "wild" set of ladies, often dampened her thin dresses, so that they clung to her voluptuous body more tightly. Tonight he could see the dark circles of her nipples through the thin material of her virginally white muslin dress, and his loins tightened in response. Trust Leona to dress like a maiden making her debut, yet somehow manage to look like a wanton.
He bent and brushed his lips against hers. "You are looking lovely tonight."
It amazed him sometimes how well she had kept her looks. He did not know the hours and expense that were put into creams and cosmetics and hennas. Nor had he realized that in the past two or three years, he had almost never seen Leona in full daylight, their times together kept to evenings lit by softening candlelight.
He cupped his hand beneath her breast and trailed his thumb across her nipple, so that it hardened and pointed. "Did you wear this to a party?"
"Yes. Nearly caused a riot at Lady Blanchette's soiree—or at least one would think so, from the freezing way she talked to me. But the men all seemed to enjoy it."
"I am sure they did." He chuckled, and his hands dropped to her waist, pulling her to him for a kiss. He winced slightly as their lips touched, and Leona drew back.
She looked up into his face, her eyes going to his lip. "What happened? Does it hurt?"
He shrugged. "Some men jumped me, but I got away. It bled a little, but it's all right."
Leona's eyes darkened seductively, and she went up on tiptoe until her lips were only a breath away from his. "I never minded a little taste of blood," she murmured, and her tongue nicked out to run across his lips.
He pulled her hard against him and buried his mouth in hers. After a long, thorough kiss, he released her. Leona leaned back, looking seductively up into his face. "Mmm. I have a surprise for you tonight," she purred.
His loins tightened. "Do you?" Leona's surprises were always sensual delights, worth the teasing she usually insisted upon before revealing them. "A pleasant one, I hope."
"Most
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