She wanted to come, needed to come.
But she couldn’t.
She needed the pressure of his cock inside her.
“Come for me,” he said hoarsely against her ear, his warm breath sending shudders through her.
“I can’t,” she said between pants for breath.
“You women and your little games.” He stared at her, his expression fierce, his eyes bright with passion. “You will not withhold yourself from me. You will not play the hurt, self-denying little martyr—not here with me. You will admit that which we both know is true.”
He moved from the seat and knelt on the carriage floor.
She sucked in her breath at the sight of her fine gentleman kneeling on the carriage floor. He grasped her knees and parted her legs even wider. She released her breath in a gasp at the gentle violence of his motions. He put his head between her splayed thighs and she sucked in her breath all over again.
She had not thought about him doing this, not in the moving carriage. It added a whole new layer to the situation, an utter naughtiness to what was transpiring. A sinful wickedness of the most delightful kind.
He put his tongue to her wetness. Velvet, searing heat.
She moaned and lifted her hips, even whilst she grasped his head, pressing her need to his ministrations. New surges of wetness flowed from her core. He thrust two fingers inside her, sliding easily on that liquid heat.
Yet it wasn’t enough pressure, didn’t go deep enough.
She moaned in frustration, digging her nails into his scalp and arching herself into his mouth in wanton desperation.
He worked her avidly.
She strained to his efforts but to no avail. She collapsed weakly against the seat, with her heart thundering in her ears. Never had she been so aroused, never had she been so utterly frustrated at her inability to achieve release.
Again he growled, low.
The sound seemed to echo every bit of frustration that was pounding through her.
He lifted his head, a scowl engraved upon his elegant features, furrows carved into the smoothness of his broad forehead. He dragged his sleeve over his glistening mouth, and then, on another growl, he propelled himself away from her and crawled onto the seat—and rapped on the forward wall of the carriage. The vehicle rolled to a stop and he rose from the seat and left the carriage. A moment later he returned and the carriage started up again.
They rode in silence. Yet something dark and almost dangerous sparked between them.
A volatile mixture of anger and lust.
Her flesh clenched and throbbed, and need ached within her pelvis. Vicious, painful need, borne of all those weeks she’d been without him. Weeks. And now she must have all of him. Now. Inside her.
When the carriage stopped again, he reached out and took her hand. At that touch, the sparks between them reignited and suddenly he crushed his mouth down upon hers. Her nipples beaded and new surges of wetness flowed between her thighs.
He lifted his head and pulled on her hand. “Come.”
She let him assist her out of the carriage. They were at the boarding house where he kept his rooms.
And she understood why they were there.
Yet she still allowed him to pull her along as he walked swiftly up the stairs and down the corridor to his suite. She didn’t completely understand herself.
She was furious with him, yet as she watched him unlock the door, she was also trembling with desire.
Once inside, he pulled her into his arms, tight against his hard body, and kissed her with almost brutal passion. Every particle of her being came so vitally alive that she feared she would burst with it. There was nothing to be done with such intensity of feeling but to give it back to him by returning his kisses and caresses measure for measure. A coppery taste made her aware that she’d nicked him with her teeth, or he had her—she wasn’t sure which until he groaned and grasped the back of her hair.
He lifted his head, turned with her in his arms and pushed her against the wall. A few moments of shuffling and shifting with their clothes, and his bare cock pressed against her, throbbing with urgency.
He murmured something, then he cupped her buttocks and lifted her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist. His erection touched her entrance. She was so slick for him that he slid in on one thrust.
He groaned and twined his hand into her hair, pulling her head back and taking her lips again. He pressed her to the wall and thrust in and out of her, swift and hard. Her back slammed against the wall each time he went deep enough to send pleasure jarring through her. She didn’t care. Each stroke, each hot, wet slide of his flesh into hers, drove her deeper into madness and she gripped his shoulders with her hands and hugged his waist with her legs. She forgot that she was furious with him, forgot where they were, forgot even her own name in the wildness of their joining.
She came, crying out into his mouth as her inner walls contracted and contracted on his huge, hard cock. He jerked within her and his seed jetted hotly, triggering her second release, deeper and harder this time. He lifted his mouth and took deep gulps of air. Her whole body went weak and she sagged against him with her sex pulsing.
He still throbbed hard within her.
After a moment, he withdrew, picked her up and carried her into the bedchamber, and laid her down upon the bed. In the darkness, the quilts were cold beneath her, their iciness bleeding through her clothes. She didn’t care. She had heat aplenty as he covered her. His hard-muscled body pressed her down into the feather bed. Nothing had ever felt so right as his weight upon her. She sighed, lying passive as he pushed her skirts up to her waist.
He tensed and insinuated his leg between her stocking-clad thighs. The fine wool of his breeches tickled the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs as she parted for him. She wished they had taken the time to light even one candle, for she wanted to look into his face, his eyes.
He took her wrists in his firm grip.
Her heart fluttered and excitement sparked in her blood. He pulled her arms over her head and then held them pinned with one hand while he positioned himself to enter her again.
He thrust into her, a near violent entry.
She thrilled at the ferocity of the sensation, pushing herself up to meet his desperate thrusts. She heard herself uttering mindless, animal sounds, heard his answering grunts. She strained against his grasp and he held her firmly to the bed, giving her thrust after thrust until he fell against her, his harsh pants shaking her whole body.
Her throat was raw. Her body slick with sweat. She couldn’t catch her breath.
He felt so hard, so huge inside her, throbbing against her walls.
Joy filled her with an unbearable sweetness. She felt as though she might burst with it. Yet, tears were streaming down her face. “Please,” she said, her voice hoarse, breathless. She thrashed her head back and forth, lifting her lower body to press harder into his. “Please, please…”
He brought his mouth down on hers with crushing, bruising intensity.
Again she tasted blood. The taste thrilled her.
He drove into her again and again. She was pulled into the spiral of an even greater joy, white heat in the darkness of the room. White light exploded within her and in the dark of her mind like a thousand candles alighting of their own accord.
She woke to feel his lips on her forehead. “Alex.”
She couldn’t form the words to say more. He left her, the bed rocking as he did so. She listened to the sounds of him. Opening the curtains. Moonlight flooded the chamber. She listened to the sound of his boots on the carpet, listened to the thud of him positioning wood in the heart, the scrape of him lighting the flint then she watched the glowing light as the wood ignited.
She could wait no longer. She scrambled from the bed and found the chamber pot, and relieved herself.
But as soon as she had finished and was going to find some water to wash with, he grasped her about the waist.
With a low,
wicked laugh, he hauled her back to the bed and all but flung her upon it.
“Alex!” she cried.
He crawled on top of her and took the hem of her skirts and yanked them up, baring her to the waist.
She gasped as cool air assaulted her nakedness.
He held her to the feather bed, his eyes glittering as he stared down at her.
“I am sweat-soaked,” she protested, pushing against his body in vain.
“You smell like sex and sin and I love it.” He had lost the ribbon for his queue and his soft-as-silk hair brushed her cheek as he bent and reached behind her. She could feel the jerking motions as he unhooked the fastenings of her gown. Then with a fierce tub, he pulled her sleeves down.
She sensed threads breaking. Seams opening. A sad little gasp escaped her. Her beautiful gown…
He pressed kisses to her neck, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts.
She closed her eyes, sighing, as delight surged through her at his touch. She twined her hands into the silken strands of his hair, pulling on his head, urging him on with breathy, pleading little moans.
He tugged her stays down until her small breasts sprang free.
In the chilly air, her nipples went hard as pebbles.
“Bright and deeply pink as summer strawberries and far, far sweeter.” He ran a finger over one. “How I love these.”
He suckled her nipples then bit at them lightly, driving her mad with new, growing desire.
The heat of his cock touched her between her legs. She gasped.
“God, you get so wet.” He stroked the head of his cock along her cleft. “No one gets wet like you do.”
“You can do this again, so soon?”
He chuckled, the sound wicked and lush in her ears. “I haven’t been drinking tonight, my love. And you drive me insane. Oh, it might take me a little longer to come, this time.”
He stroked the head of his cock, wet from her own desire, over her throbbing nub. They were both almost completely clothed except for the parts he had bared. It made everything seem naughty, covert, forbidden.
She gasped again, arching her hips. He rubbed himself over her in slow, sensual circles. Her need grew and grew until she threw her head back, her pelvis straining to meet his every delicious stroke. Her flesh began to clench, her release close, so close.
Just as the first shudders of pleasure promised to burst within her, he stopped.
She shrieked her frustration at him.
He began rubbing her again, slow, tantalizing circles. “They tell me I am insatiable.”
She heard his words, vaguely, through the haze of her hunger. “Who does?” she asked, not really caring about anything but the touch of his heated velvet flesh on hers.
“The others.”
“Others?” Her question was almost a sigh.
“My other lovers.”
This time she heard him, loud and clear. Jealousy seethed in her blood, yet oddly it only fueled her need, so strongly that she clenched her teeth against the painful surge of hunger. “Your mistresses!”
“I have no mistresses. Only lovers.”
“Liar,” she gasped, panting as her flesh clenched with fresh hunger. “I am your mistress!”
“You still want to be my mistress?”
“I am your mistress, your only mistress.”
“My little mistress.” He laughed, softly, sensually. “Do you have any idea how much I have held back with you? Do you know that I crave things that would send you scrambling from my bed?”
Her heart fluttered then pounded hard, excitement and fear mingling in her belly. Her mouth went dry. She remembered the incredible heights he had sent her to the afternoon she had allowed him to spank her. And she was enticed by the idea that he had more to show her, more to share with her. “I would try anything that pleased you, at least once.” She gazed into his eyes, willing every bit of her passion into her gaze. “Anything.”
“Emily.” A low growl underlain his tone as he bent over her.
It vibrated in her bones, sending thrills coursing through her body. “I am your only mistress,” she said, unable to help the angry edge in her voice.
“My little mistress. My rebellious, fire-spitting little mistress.”
The amusement in his voice enraged her, fuelled her desire higher. She pressed her loins more firmly to his. “Your only mistress.”
He groaned as he put his mouth to hers. His lips crushed hers, his tongue swept into her mouth, the hunger in his kiss taking her breath. All the while he stroked the length of her slick cleft with his shaft.
Just when she was gasping, desperate to breathe, he lifted his head.
She gulped air.
“Do you know what I dream of?” he asked.
“What do you dream of?” she asked, still breathless.
“Endless fucking.”
His frank words sent heat flaming into her blood. “Endless?” she asked, his words lighting the spark of vivid images in her mind.
Alex pressing her to the bed, thrusting into her over and over and over until she was utterly exhausted.
Alex giving her all of himself, all of the time.
Alex holding back nothing.
Nothing between them but love…
Again he stroked his shaft against the length of her slit and slid it along the wetness. “I dream of one woman, one who would provide me with endless fucking, one who would satisfy every whim and need I could ever imagine.”
Sparks of pleasure ignited fire shot up through her pelvis, fire spreading through her blood, tingles from head to foot, shivers of pure desire, waves and waves of pure joyful anticipation. Hunger to be taken by him. She thrust her hips up at him, pressing hard against his flesh. “I could be that woman for you,” she said, panting. “I can take whatever you wish to give me.”
“Can you?” There was amusement in his voice. “I tell you that I have gone easy on you.”
“Well, you needn’t. I can take anything you can give me.”
“Indeed?”
“I would beg you for more.”
She felt him tense.
“Beg you,” she said, breathless with the stridence of her emotion.
His flesh jerked violently against hers, his cock leaking a rush of hot fluid against her. The sensation excited her, drove her on. She tried to rise up but he captured her wrists then held her tight to the bed.
A flash of anger at being restrained added to her passion. “I would beg and plead for more. I would demand more.” She paused to pant for breath. “I would exhaust you!”
“God,” he said, the hard edge of a groan in his voice. He transferred her wrists to one large hand, then shifted to slide the head of his cock to her entrance and pressed.
She arched her hips to meet him, and she moaned his name.
He thrust into her on one hungry, swift stroke, filling her, stretching her. Nothing had ever felt so damned good to her in her entire life. She arched her back, curled her toes and shrieked with joy.
He held still, his thick rod throbbing inside her, his body shaking against hers. The spicy-musky scent of his male sweat filled the air, mingling with the odors of their sex.
She bucked her hips against his. “Please, please, please!”
“Tell me.”
“Tell you…” She took a gulping breath. “What?”
“That you missed me,” he demanded in a harsh, jaw-clenched tone, rolling his hips against hers, teasing her with the promise of what he could give her. “That you missed this.”
“Yes, yes, oh God, yes, I did.” Hunger trembled through her and she caught her breath. “I did.”
He pulled back, then thrust into her with passion and force, sending delight rocking through her. She moaned with the wave of desire. “You need me.” He thrust into her again. “You need me for this.”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly.
He gave her more thrusts, each one harder, stronger than the last, rocking her to her very bones. When he st
opped, her world was spinning with the intensity of sensation.
“You need me, only me, only my cock.”
“Yes, yes…” She writhed with the incredible pleasure coursing through her veins and tossed her head back.
He moved within her in long strokes, nearly withdrawing then sliding slowly back in. Her body reacted with desperate hunger, her hips arching up to meet him, her channel drenching him in wetness. Each thrust of his cock pressed her inner pleasure point and rammed the very depths of her in a way that sent waves of bliss up her womb and down her thighs. Even the soles of her feet tingled with it.
Her nub was swollen, achingly erect, and her hips arched harder, straining to meet that sensitive part of herself with his pelvis on his every downward stroke.
She needed to come.
She was dying to come—
Yet he held back, fucking her slowly when she craved for him to drive her swiftly to completion.
She struggled against his hold, and he used both hands to pin her arms flat to the bed on either side of her head. She begged him and he laughed, a low, dark sound.
“Now you know how it feels for me…wanting you…needing you…craving you so desperately and having no control over it.”
“Please, please, please… Oh God, please.” She moaned the litany over and over.
“Tell me,” he said.
“I want you.” She breathed. “I need you.”
“No, tell me,” he said, more demandingly, his voice hoarser now. It held a strangely vulnerable note.
“Tell you…what?” she panted.
“You know what.” Something in the fierce way he said it, struck her deep, deep in her heart.
Her chest pounded with the knowing, the urgency to tell him what he wanted to hear, to fulfill his fiercely stated need.
“I love you.” She arched up, trying to drive his cock as deep inside her as it would go, trying to press against his pelvis, desperate to merge with him as closely as possible. Desperate to stimulate her own climax. Her need for him was driving her insane.
“Again,” he said, his voice full of hunger.
“I love you. I love you.” She gulped for breath. “I love you.”
Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle Page 82