Owen: Regency Rockstars Page 13

  Jealousy, the green monster he had managed to avoid nearly all his life, sparked in his brain. He clenched his fists as his heart raced. Adrenaline and rage coursed through his veins. Antonio should be thanking all the saints that Owen did not have a pistol readily at hand.

  What was he to do?

  If he marched over and had firm words with her, he would cause a scene. By publicly embarrassing Diana, all he would achieve would be to kill their little affair stone dead. Doing it in front of Antonio would make it a double death, because Owen’s pride would not survive.

  He grabbed a brandy from a nearby footman and joined a group of other guests. He was Owen Morrison, and most of the ton knew him either by sight or reputation. While he stood and politely listened to a longwinded discussion about horse breeding bloodlines, he kept an eye on Diana and Antonio.

  The very second Antonio moved away, Owen gave a quick nod to the gentleman next to him and hurried over to Diana’s side.

  “Mrs. Smith,” he said, thinking a touch of formality might help smooth things over between them.

  She gave him a withering look, then went back to sipping her wine.

  “I can explain,” he ventured.

  “Save it for those foolish females who want to believe your lies, Lord Morrison. I am not one of them.” Her gaze was pointed in the direction of where Antonio had gone.

  He frowned. He wasn’t used to crawling to women. Having to explain himself wasn’t something he was comfortable with in the slightest. Falling into a rose bush from a great height held more appeal than offering up an apology.

  Say something or she is going to go and find Antonio.

  He cleared his throat, but the bitter taste of humble pie remained in his mouth. Like it or not, he was going to have to pander to this woman’s temper. “I am sorry. I didn’t seek that lady’s kiss; she initiated the contact.”

  She scoffed at his pathetic attempt to explain himself. “You didn’t make any effort to move away when she ran her hand over your backside. Oh, and I suppose you had something in your eye when you were batting your eyelids at those women while Lord Follett was singing. None of this was your fault. You poor man.”

  “No. I was . . .”

  “You were what?”

  This humble pie was not going down well. He was certain that someone had thrown sharp pieces of metal into the baking mix. There was nothing for it. A full, groveling apology was in order.

  “I was an ass. I made a promise to you and I broke it. All I can say is that I am deeply sorry, and it will not happen again,” he said.

  She faced him and when their gazes met, Diana held his without blinking. “You struggle with the whole concept of fidelity don’t you, Owen? To think of limiting yourself to just one woman is so incomprehensible a notion that it may as well be written in some long forgotten ancient language.”

  There wasn’t a lot he could say to that. No way to deny the truth. Adultery was second nature to him.

  And yet tonight, he had felt the hot sting of jealousy watching Antonio and Diana together.

  “Fidelity is a two-way street Diana. If I am to be true to you, then you have to be true to me. I won’t stand for you to be with another man. Especially not Antonio Calvino,” he replied.

  Her face softened at his words. “Yes, being part of a couple takes commitment on both sides. I have a husband who has abandoned me; and I cannot begin to tell you how much that pains me. Someday, Owen, you will take a wife, and I hope that when that day comes you remember this conversation.”

  That someday was coming soon. He dreaded to think what Diana would say if she knew. An unexpected prick of guilt pierced him. He wanted Diana to commit to their relationship but at the same time, he was knowingly lying to her. At some point, his two worlds would collide, and she would learn the depth of his deception.

  But not today. I will take whatever you are prepared to offer me for as long as I can get it.

  “So, we forgive one another for our trespasses?” he offered.

  “Yes. The lesson for tonight is over. But before I take my leave, I want you to remember this.” She reached out and, placing a hand under his chin, gifted his mouth with the most tender and heartbreaking kiss he had ever known. When she pulled away, she whispered, “This is your last chance.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Owen folded up the note and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He had to hand it to Diana; she was keeping him on a tight leash. It was now four days since their altercation at the mansion in Duke Street. It had taken four days for her to finally send word that they were to meet once more in Hyde Park at five o’clock.

  Her timing wasn’t great. The Noble Lords were due to play their biggest concert the following night and Kendal had insisted that they rehearse this evening. But the thought of getting his hands on her bare skin was too strong a temptation to cry off meeting her. By Owen’s reckoning, he had enough time to meet with Diana and still make it home and be ready for the practice session.

  At four thirty, he headed over to Hyde Park and waited. At ten minutes to five, a black coach drove in through Grosvenor Gate and pulled up to one side of the road. A maid alighted from the carriage shortly thereafter, and after tying a red scarf around the door handle, she and the driver of the coach walked back toward Tyburn Lane.

  Owen gave it a respectable five minutes before coming out from the seclusion of a nearby bush and knocking gently on the coach door. Diana’s face appeared at the window and the door was unlatched.

  As soon as he got inside the coach, she pulled him to her. Their mouths met in a furious kiss. Lust and aching need enveloped them as tongues, teeth and lips meshed together.

  “Oh God, I have missed you. Every waking moment without you is torture,” he said.

  The touch of Owen’s hands on her body sent shivers of exhilaration through Amy. The layers of clothing between them meant nothing. Just knowing that he was here, and they were alone together, set her soul on fire.

  “I should have sent a note days ago. I was a fool to wait,” she murmured.

  He drew back and met her gaze. He looked deep into her eyes, searching for something.

  Amy looked away, afraid that he would see the truth of her. That he would know he affected her far more than she was willing to admit.

  “Why didn’t you send word? I have been haunting the steps of the Follett household staff for days, continually asking them if they had received a note for me,” he replied.

  She steadied her nerves as best she could. It was hard to hide her happiness at hearing that Owen thought often of her, but she forced herself to remember that his thoughts were not of her—they were of Diana Smith.

  Fortunately, she had considered the chance that Owen may ask her why she was holding him at bay. Lies were easier to tell if you had them well-rehearsed. “I may have forgiven you for flirting with those other women, but you still needed to be punished,” she replied.

  Treat him mean. Keep him keen.

  A flash of anger crossed his face. It was quickly replaced by a slow, salacious smile. His response was a not-so-delicate reminder that while she might be taking all of this with grave seriousness, to Owen this was just a game.

  Amy could have thanked him for the timely aide memoire.

  “Tell me, Diana, do you like to punish a man? Because I am a man who can be given correction when required,” he replied.

  He took hold of her hand and lifted it to his mouth. She flinched at the sting of his teeth as his gently nipped her fingertips. The color of his eyes turned from a pale blue to the shadowy hue of a night sea; passion lurked within their dark depths. This was a side of Owen she yearned to know better.

  She shivered. Her knowledge of the many layers of sexual connection was merely superficial. The sort of appetite that his words and teeth promised both thrilled and frightened her.

  Owen kissed her fingers, and the look of stormy desire cleared from his face. “I sometimes forget that while you are a married woman, you hav
e likely had little insight to the world where men and women are free to explore their darker sides. A world where trust is everything.”

  She shook her head. Perhaps one day she would be ready to trust a man enough to be willing to allow him to show her what lay beyond the simple act of congress. But much as Owen might want to be that man this afternoon, she knew she couldn’t risk it.

  It was time to steer the conversation back to the area of sex where she was most keen to learn more. Owen had been right when he’d said she had to get the basics of intimacy mastered; and Amy knew that included getting him to teach her how to pleasure a man.

  “As I said, my husband is not a man with much of an appetite in the bedroom. There are things that a married woman should already know, but I do not. I would like for you to teach me how to pleasure you with my mouth. Do you think you could do that?”

  The dirty, lust-filled chuckle which rumbled up from his chest gave her all the answer she would ever need to that question.

  “I think I could manage that. And afterwards, I shall give you a brush-up on your own lesson in reaching a mind-shattering orgasm,” he replied.

  He might well be an unashamed rake, but he was most certainly a gentleman when it came to taking care of a lady’s needs.

  Owen shrugged out of his jacket and lay it on the bench. After pulling his shirt free from his trousers, he worked to undo the cravat. The cravat soon joined the jacket.

  “You don’t waste a minute,” she noted.

  “I have rehearsals later. We haven’t got time to spend on a slow and steady seduction this evening. When next we meet, I promise we will take it at a more leisurely pace.”

  He held out his hand, and with a deep breath, Amy took it. She sat forward on the bench as Owen lay her hand on the placket of his trousers. The hardness of his arousal was firm against the fabric.

  Amy smiled as the memory of last spring resurfaced in her mind. Of taking a young man in hand and working to stroke him to climax. The early arrival home of the village priest at the parish house had put an end to any chance of matters going further.

  Here and now with Owen, there was no one to disturb them.

  “Can you feel it? Feel what being this close to you does to me?” he murmured.

  She nodded, then moved her fingers over the top button of his trousers and flicked it open. She held his gaze as she opened the second button. When the third button, the one in the middle, was released, his hardened cock sprang into her hand.

  Amy gave a start. “Ooh!”

  He quickly placed his hand over hers, keeping her grip on him. The shuddering breath he sucked in let her know that even the lightness of her touch had him at her mercy.

  “Just give me a minute. I have been dreaming of this moment for such a long time that discovering how much the reality exceeds my imagination is suddenly quite confronting. If you move your hand, this could all be over very quickly,” he said.

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Hold me while I take my shirt off,” he replied.

  He swallowed deep, causing his Adam’s apple to move up and down. Amy tightened her grip on his cock just a touch.

  He closed his eyes and took another labored breath. “You may well be the death of me.”

  He crossed his arms and lifted the sides of his shirt, pulling it over his head. He tossed the shirt on the pile of his clothes on the other bench.

  Amy sat staring at Owen’s bare chest. A light dusting of dark brown, almost black hair began from just below his neck, running all the way down to the top of his trousers.

  His body was beautiful, and she longed to run her fingers along the trail down to where she held his hardened cock. Given half a chance, she would learn his body so well that she wouldn’t need to even see. Her mind would have its own intimate map of Owen.

  But something else caught her attention. The series of tattoos on his shoulders and torso spoke of a life beyond the elegant ballrooms of London.

  “I don’t suppose your husband has any ink on his body,” he said.

  Amy gave the merest shake of her head. She was mesmerized by the intricate pictures that had been created on his skin. The large red dragon which appeared to be climbing the left side of his torso had her spellbound.

  “I have never seen a tattoo before, other than in picture books of native men. I didn’t even know you could have them in color. Will you tell me the story of them someday?” she asked.

  “There are as many stories as there are tattoos on me. My back and shoulders are also covered in them,” he replied.

  An earl with a body covered in artwork was not something she had ever imagined possible. Just when she thought she was beginning to understand Owen, he showed yet another side to himself. He was an intriguing man. His lure was almost irresistible.

  She was finding it increasingly difficult to resist him.

  You are magnificent. I wish I could have your love.

  “Now, where were we? Ah, yes. You were going to learn to suck my cock,” he said.

  Owen’s coarse words stirred Amy from her romantic musing. His language was truly shocking at times. Heat raced to her cheeks. She could only hope that in time she would learn not to blush when a man spoke so openly about his manhood and sex.

  “If it is comfortable for you, I would have you on your knees before me,” he said.

  Amy immediately understood why the position would make things better for him. The fact that a woman would be on her knees before a man who considered himself a king among men was also not lost on her.

  Releasing her grip on his cock, she lifted her skirts and then settled onto the floor. Owen sat forward on the bench and, holding his hardened member in his hand, drew close to her face.

  “Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he instructed.

  Amy licked her lips, and after several tentative attempts, she took the head of his cock into her mouth. The skin was surprisingly soft and smooth. Not that she had put much thought into how she imagined a man’s penis would feel in her mouth, but she didn’t find it displeasing.

  “Now hold onto the base and stroke up and down,” he said.

  He held his hand over hers, helping her to get a sense of the right rhythm before letting go and allowing her to minister to him on her own. She worked her mouth over the head of his cock, licking and sucking.

  Owen’s hand settled gently on the top of her hair. When Amy hit the ridge under the head of his penis, his grip tightened. His hand guided her, indicating how deep he wanted her to take him.

  “Oh God, Diana, that is so good. You are a natural goddess at this; you have no idea,” he said.

  She had remembered enough snippets of details she had overhead from other young women over the years to have a basic grasp on what she should be doing. His words of praise encouraged her to put those memories to good use.

  She leaned forward and took him as deep into her mouth as she could without gagging then, sucking in her cheeks, she drew back.

  “Oh fuck,” he groaned.

  She did it a second time, receiving the same foulmouthed words of appreciation from Owen. His fingers speared hard into her hair, and he gripped tight.

  Amy sensed he was close to something. She took him deep once more, then sucked the length of him. She came back again faster this time. On and on, she drove him harder. With a final shout of “Ooooooh,’ he came, his hips bucking. His essence filled her mouth. Amy held her lips to him and then swallowed.

  Owen collapsed back onto the bench, his fingers releasing their hard hold on her hair. Amy sat and stared up at him. He was utterly decimated. And it had all been due to her handiwork.

  As a young unmarried woman, she knew she should be ashamed of what she had just done to him. Instead she was rather proud of herself.

  Strong arms lifted her up and onto his lap. Soft kisses were rained down on her face.

  “Thank you. That was superb,” he said.

  “I am glad you liked it. It was good to be able to bring
you pleasure.” She brushed his hair back from his face. It was funny how her taste in men normally ran to a good short haircut, but Owen’s long, dark tresses stirred something within her. The first time she had seen him, she had wanted to cut his hair; now she couldn’t imagine him any other way.

  When his hand dove beneath her skirts and up her leg, Amy shifted, giving Owen easy access to her body. She wrapped one arm around his waist and lay her head against the tattoo of a military insignia on his left shoulder. It was a lion and a crown.

  She closed her eyes as Owen slipped his thumb into her wet, heated core. He stroked her gently at first, then as her sobs of need increased, he worked her harder. Thrusting in deeper, then drawing out to drag his thumb over her sensitive clit, Owen soon brought her to a shattering climax.

  She buried her face into his hot, sweaty body and cried out his name as she came. “Owen.”

  In the gathering dark, they settled together. After putting his shirt back on, Owen drew his jacket over them. He placed a soft kiss on Amy’s forehead.

  “Sleep, my sweet. I will wake you before your maid returns.”

  Amy’s eyes closed and she fell into a deep slumber. Her dream was full of colorful dragons and golden lions.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  With a sleeping Diana held in his arms, Owen sat back on the bench and pondered the situation.

  This was far from being his first affair with a married woman, but he knew he was walking a new path with Diana. Lust had been the impetus for pursuing her—lust, and a touch of revenge against Antonio. But even in the short time that they had spent together, he sensed his need to be with her was coming from a different place.

  On a sexual level, this relationship was not a long way from the many other illicit liaisons he had been a party to over the years. Sex was all about sating needs. Once the lovers had found their release, there was little else. He rarely spent time talking to women post-coital, and most were more than happy for him to put his shirt back on rather than have his tattoos on display.