Free A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2) by Jess Michaels Page A

finer things in life, that was clear, even in his naughty bedroom décor. The plaster on the ceiling had been carved in a series of bawdy images. Men and women were laid out above him, entangled in pleasures, their faces twisted in ultimate release.
    He stared at the faces, the positions, and swallowed hard as his errant mind took over. What would Celia look like in the same positions?
    He blinked at that thought. She was a lady —he shouldn’t lower her by thinking of her that way. He had no right. But when he was staring at an image of a man’s head buried between a woman’s legs while she arched in pleasure, it was difficult not to do just that.
    Celia would be sweet if he tasted her in the same way, he was certain of that. And probably hesitant if he touched her, for most ladies were not told of such things.
    But once he passed her resistance, once she relaxed into pleasure, as she had done when he kissed her on the terrace, he was certain she would be responsive to each and every brush of his hand. Each and every touch of his lips on her stomach, her hip, her thigh…her sex.
    He groaned at the thought and threw the bedclothes off. He slept naked and his cock was already at full mast. Release would help, he knew it would, so he took himself in hand and began to stroke.
    Another image carved above him was of a woman straddling a man, her legs locked around his waist. Once more, Clairemont pictured Celia sashaying toward him, a wicked smile on her pretty face. Celia, lifting her skirts, placing herself over him, around him.
    God, how he wanted her. To claim her, even though he had no right to do so. He didn’t exist, he wasn’t the man she thought he was, but that didn’t lessen the pulsing, driving need in his loins, the overwhelming desire to grind down into her warm and willing flesh until she shattered in orgasm and milked the same from him.
    His strokes increased in speed at that thought. His balls tightened to the exquisite sensation just between pleasure and pain. His entire body convulsed at last, and with a gasp, he spent, Celia’s name a breath on his lips.
    He flopped back against his pillows as his heart rate slowed to normal. When he could think rationally, he cursed once more at the untenable position he was in.
    He hardly knew this woman and she already inspired such dangerous, needy desires. If he were to enter this sham of a courtship, he could only image that would all get worse. Being close to her wouldn’t be easy.
    And he had to expect a great many nights spent just as he’d spent this one. Guilty, frustrated and alone.
     
     

Chapter Eight

     
     
    Celia laughed at something Tabitha had said and they watched as Lady Honora spun by in the arms of yet another young man she cared nothing for. Both women shook their heads.
    “Her inheritance makes her a favorite,” Tabitha mused. “But she has no interest in a one of them.”
    “Perhaps she’s holding out for love,” Celia replied, her mind turning momentarily to Lord Clairemont… Aiden . In her mind, she had begun to call him Aiden almost exclusively.
    In the two days since she’d last seen him, she had often found herself reliving his heated kiss on the terrace. His mouth had been so gentle, and yet so demanding. He’d drawn her into the kiss, taking her further than she’d ever gone before.
    She almost felt awakened by that touch, like she had been sleeping before it, and now she couldn’t go back to the way she saw the world before.
    “Love?” Tabitha said with a laugh, yanking Celia back to the present. “Oh, my dear, you are too influenced by your sister and her handsome husband.”
    Honora returned to them with a quick smile for her dance partner, who then drifted away into the crowd. Once he was gone, their friend rolled her eyes.
    “Sometimes they do not talk at all it is so discouraging. I feel like they think they are dancing with a bag of money rather than a person.” Honora shook her head. “Now, how is Celia