"You do not eat, Rowena," he said. "Please do so. You must be hungry."
Rowena turned to her food, but found that the bite of pastry she placed in her mouth had no taste. She shifted nervously.
"Do not close your thighs," said Alaric. "I enjoy the view."
Rowena's chin rose and she gave him a fierce look. He did not respond, and returned to his meal, all the while gazing at her, his eyes resting lightly on her breasts and thighs. She did not know quite what he was playing at, but she decided that it was a game that more than one could participate in. She reached for her wineglass and raised it to her lips, at the same time very deliberately moving her thighs farther apart. She noted a momentary spark of surprised pleasure light Alaric's eyes. His eyes went to her face.
Rowena's little pink tongue came out of her mouth and licked delicately at the rim of her wineglass. She took another sip of wine, and held it in her mouth for a moment, allowing herself to taste its delicate flavor before she swallowed it. She lowered the wineglass until it was between her breasts and then rubbed it lightly against the tip of one, enjoying the sudden sensation of the smooth, cool glass against her heated skin. Alaric took another bite of chicken, but Rowena could sense the sudden tension in him, like a coiled spring.
She put the wineglass on the table and leaned towards the grapes that sat in an elegant silver bowl. As she reached for them, one delicate white breast came to rest against the dark wood of the table. She sat back in the chair, holding a small bunch of grapes between her delicate fingers, her shoulders pressed against the high back, her thighs still spread. She selected a grape with a great deal of care and then placed it between her lips, enjoying the smooth roundness of it. With a gentle sucking noise she pulled it into her mouth, crunching down on it with her small white teeth. She glanced up at Alaric and saw that he had put down his fork and was watching her, fascination on his face. She smiled gently.
"What are you doing, Rowena?" he asked. His voice was deep with excitement.
She remembered his earlier instructions. "Yes, my lord," she murmured, a mischievous look on her face.
"You may answer me," commanded Alaric roughly.
Rowena put the grapes down and placed her hands on her shoulders, then ran them, palms down, over her breasts. She stopped and cupped them in her hands, their rosy tips pointing towards Alaric.
"Simply making myself comfortable, my lord."
Her hands continued down her body, sliding past her ribcage and hips and then between her legs, just touching the cluster of curls that nestled there. They eased along her thighs, and she felt the gentle tingling of her flesh and the dampness growing between her legs. Her fingers came to rest on her knees and she pushed them all the way apart and leaned forward, her back arching so that her breasts jutted out, her head thrown back. She felt very free and very wicked. The tiny seat of pleasure between her legs came to rest against the wool covering of the chair and she started as a flash of excitement shot through her. She ground lightly against the chair, seeking greater stimulation. A moan escaped her lips.
She heard Alaric bite out an oath, and then he stood up, reaching her side in one step. He snatched her up from the chair, crushing her body to his in a fierce embrace. The feel of his clothing against her naked skin, the cold round buttons and the rough cloth of his coat was unbearably exciting. She wriggled slightly and put her hands behind his head, seeking to bring his lips to hers.
"No, madam," said Alaric. "We will do this my way."
He carried across the room, and stood for a moment, looking into her wildly aroused eyes. Rowena expected him to lay her down on the settee, and was surprised when instead he placed her on her feet and seated himself in an armchair facing her. She stared at him, curious.
"Undo my trousers," he said.
She moved closer and kneeled down next to the chair, her hands clumsy in their eagerness as she unbuttoned his pants. His engorged erection sprang free, curving up tautly. She reached for it eagerly, but he stayed her hand.
"Stand up," he ordered. "Go back to where you were."
Slowly Rowena stood, trembling slightly with need, and backed up a few steps, a slowly spiking craving shooting through her body. She gazed at him, his elegant coat molded to his body, his perfectly tied cravat snowy white against his dark hair, his dark breeches perfectly pressed, with only his rampant penis showing that he was anything but a perfectly bored gentleman sitting in a lady’s morning room.
"You look like you want something," he said. "Tell me what it is."
Rowena felt her vagina pulse with every word, spreading a treacherous heat through her body. "Please, my lord," she whispered.
"That’s not an answer. Do you want me to fuck you?"
Rowena’s eyes widened at the word, and she flushed and dropped her eyes, her desire building, the pulsing sensation between her legs throbbing ever harder.
"Look at me," he ordered.
She raised her head and returned his dispassionate gaze with one that was hazy with lust.
"I’ll ask you again," he said softly. "Do you want me to fuck you?"
The words made her gasp, as lascivious images leapt into her mind.
She nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "That. I want that." Her eyes fixed on his rod, and she watched as he reached down and took it in his hand. It grew larger, and she gasped.
"Do you think you’re ready for me?" he asked.
Frustration and a perverse desire to show him that she was not the only one with needs made her stare him squarely in the eye. "Shall I make sure?" she murmured. She raised her hands to her breasts and slowly stroked them, holding them up in her hands, the flesh spilling opulently out of her palms. Then she took her nipples in her fingers and squeezed them until they grew long and hard. She gave a tiny moan as a burning sensation shot from her nipples to her abdomen, and, almost without her knowledge, one hand snaked down her stomach to where her blonde curls had grown dark with her feminine fluids. Very slowly, she rubbed her hand over her mons, and then slipped one finger, then another, inside, seeking for some relief from the need that was bombarding her brain. She swayed slightly as she stroked back and forth, almost hypnotized by the carnal pleasure building inside her.
Alaric watched, his gaze fixed on her figure as her breasts swung slowly in time with the motions of her hand and a dreamy look grew on her face, her eyes glazed over with desire. He felt his rod harden further as he contemplated the delectable picture she presented.
"That’s enough," he said. "You’re here to pleasure me, not yourself. You may come nearer."
Rowena heard him only vaguely through the melting heat that was pounding through her veins, and she slowly took a few steps towards the chair, trembling on the brink of orgasm.
When she was near enough, Alaric reached out and pulled her hand out of her body, smiling as she gave a whimper of disappointment and running a finger through the pearly fluid on her hand. "I can give you something much better than that. Would you like this?" He ran his hand lightly over his penis, its veins throbbing, its head rearing up almost to his waist.
Rowena stared at it and licked her lips. "Yes, please," she said very quietly, as though he had offered her a sweet.
Alaric hand floated gently over her stomach and then, without any hesitation, he shoved three fingers into her sheath. She groaned and almost fell, and he wrapped his other arm around her waist, steadying her.
"You looked ready," he said quietly. "But I needed to be sure."
"I’m ready," she said, her voice trembling.
"I can tell you are." Alaric’s hand slid out of her slowly, drifting down her thigh, leaving a trail of her warm juices. "Come here and straddle me."
Rowena obeyed him, her need paramount in her mind. She climbed onto the chair, straddling him, and he grasped her waist, holding her above his penis for a moment. She squirmed, trying to lower herself onto him.
"Slowly, my pet. Let me look at you."
Because she wanted him desperately, she quiet
ed, holding very still. He held her just over his erection, barely touching her drenched labia with its tip. "Do you think I’ll fit in there?" he asked. "You’ve made me larger than ever. I wonder if you can take all of me."
"I can," she said fervently. She reached out and sank her fingers into his hair, leaning forward so her breasts nearly touched his face, aching for his touch.
"I will let you try, then," he said, and she gave a little sob at the words she had been desperate to hear. He lowered her very slowly onto his penis, stretching her and filling her until she gasped. Finally, when he was fully seated in her, he released her waist and took one breast in his hand, raising it to his lips. He sucked on it delicately as she ground against him, almost delirious. When he bit down on the nipple she gave a cry and gave in to her orgasm, her head flung back, her hands still tangled in his hair as her body shook with pleasure.
A moment or two passed, and then she heard Alaric’s voice.
"Open your eyes," he said quietly.
She opened them and gazed at him, squirming slightly, thrilling at the hardness that still filled her.
"You shouldn’t have done that," he said. "I said that you were here to pleasure me."
"I’m sorry," she said tremulously, the need in her building again as she felt him surge inside her.
"I forgive you," he said. "And now, I will have my enjoyment."
Rowena gasped as he stood in one quick motion, his hands wrapped around her waist. Anxious not to lose the pleasure of her impalement on his staff, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he chuckled. Alaric strode across the room, every step driving him deeper inside her, filling her, touching the very top of her womb, as her legs spread wider. She gave herself up to his penetration into her hot, throbbing core.
Alaric pressed her up against the wall with its covering of chinoiserie silk, patterned with Chinese farm laborers who serenely watched their passion, and leaned into her, thrusting up as his hands bore down on her hips. He lifted her a few inches, her back sliding up the wall, and looked straight into her eyes.
"Tell me if you can feel this," he said, and thrust up again, rising up on the balls of his feet, pressing her down hard onto his rigid penis.
Rowena screamed and climaxed again, a series of tiny ripples flooding her as her world came apart in little bits, shredding before her closed eyes. She dimly heard Alaric laugh softly.
"I imagine they heard that in the kitchen," he said, and then thrust up into her one more time and finally allowed himself his release, his hot being pumping into hers. They both slid slowly down onto the floor, their bodies still joined together.
Chapter 32
There was a long moment of silence as they both sought to regain their breath and composure. Alaric slowly pulled himself free of Rowena’s body and she gave a tiny moan of disappointment.
"I meant to teach you a lesson, but I’m not sure exactly who did the tutoring," he said finally. "You are a surprising woman, Rowena."
"And you are nothing if not...enterprising, my lord," she answered, uncertain of what else to say. She looked up at him as he leaned over her, wondering if he was still angry with her. She thought that perhaps she saw a slight softening of his expression.
Alaric gazed down at her and fought the desire to pull her into his arms and hold her close. She was so desirable, so lovely, so tantalizing, and it tore at him to think that she had deceived him. How could he live knowing that he needed her but couldn’t trust her?
"Tell me what is wrong, Alaric," she said softly. "We must defeat what has come between us. I can’t live this way any longer."
"Nor can I," said Alaric. He stood up and rearranged his clothing and then lifted her gently, as though she was made of crystal, and deposited her on the sofa. He glanced at her dress as it lay discarded on the floor and then took off his coat and slipped it over her shoulders. The sight of his wife, her tiny frame engulfed in his coat, made him smile.
"What’s so funny?" she asked.
"Nothing. Sometimes I think that nothing will ever amuse me again." Alaric sat down in the chair across from her and looked at her thoughtfully.
"Alaric, I cannot go on this way," said Rowena. "I’m sorry I lied to you, but I did not mean to hurt you. If you cannot believe that, then I think that it is best that I go away. I inherited some of my mother’s lands; I have a home of my own in Yorkshire. If I went there you would not have to see me, and I would not have to watch you with...with other women. Perhaps that would be for the best. I could continue to pursue my father’s studies. He said I had the making of a scholar."
She looked up to find that Alaric was staring at her in amazement. Her offer had taken him completely off guard. He could never let her go far away, he knew, because his need for her was almost overpowering. But he also realized, with a sudden flash of insight, that if she left him she could not continue to pursue her revenge. Why was she offering to go away?
"Surely you do not mean to go into permanent retirement?" he asked.
Rowena shrugged. "There is nothing here in London for me. You no longer spend time with me, and if Malcolm is to be a life-long outcast I will be unable to see him, anyway. At least in Yorkshire I wouldn’t have to put up with the gossip and the pity."
"And what of me?" asked Alaric.
Rowena looked surprised. "I may have already conceived, and if I have not you may come to Yorkshire from time to time in order to--well, to--I am sure you understand me, Alaric."
She looked down at her hands. In a perverse way she hoped she was not pregnant; as long as Alaric needed a child he would still spend at least some time with her. She knew that she would be able to occupy her time in Yorkshire with her studies and duties on the estate, but she would miss Alaric dreadfully; he had become an integral part of her life. But perhaps it would be better if she gave him a son quickly. If he continued to come in and out of her life, each new separation would be renewed agony.
Alaric frowned. "What makes you think I wish to be separated from you?"
"You can hardly tell me that your recent behavior is designed to make me think you enjoy my company," said Rowena, some of her spirit returning. "I have been miserable this past week. I would prefer it if you would stop punishing me and let me go away."
Alaric shook his head. He had a sudden blinding vision of what his life would be like without Rowena. He would return to his collecting, which he now realized he had not thought about at all in the past two months. He had not added a single item to his collection since he had begun his pursuit of Rowena. He would return to his mistresses and his long nights at his club, or visit gambling dens with Charles, or attend prizefights. There would be no one to share his afternoons with, or to sleep with at night, and no one to frustrate him and drive him wild with desire. He glared at Rowena. How had she managed to insinuate herself so thoroughly into his life in such a short period of time?
"Believe me, Rowena, if I meant to punish you, it would be much more severe," he grated out.
"Well, it feels like punishment," said Rowena. "I can’t bear to be treated so coldly, to know that you think I have been lying to you, that you don’t believe my affection for you is honest. I miss the time we used to spend together, Alaric, and the fun we had."
"You think I’m fun?" said Alaric slowly. No one had ever suggested that before.
"Of course I do," said Rowena. "Why else would I have allowed you to spend so much time with me when we first met? I was bored to tears in London before I met you."
Alaric ran a hand through his hair. Rowena looked like some sort of nymph, sitting on the couch across from him, her nakedness covered only by his coat. With a sense of annoyance, he realized he was becoming aroused again.
"You cannot go away," he said abruptly.
Rowena looked startled. "Surely you don’t want to continue living this way," she answered softly. "Perhaps it is not as unpleasant for you as it is for me, but this cannot be the way you wish to conduct our lives."
"It is very unp
leasant for me," Alaric snapped. "But we are married and we shall live together."
"Alaric, I cannot," whispered Rowena. "Please let me go."
Alaric stood up. Her evident unhappiness tore at him. Did she want to leave because she hated him and knew he had won the little game she was playing? Or did she perhaps truly care for him and was hurt by his coldness?
"Rowena, why do you want to leave me?" he demanded. "Surely if you mean to pursue your aim of clearing Malcolm’s name, then you would need to remain in London."
"As long as you do not trust me, there is nothing I can do," cried Rowena. "I hoped to find the true criminal with your help, but you believe I wish to hurt you. What can I do? I would rather be far away, where I do not have to see how much you hate me."
"I don’t hate you," Alaric ground out.
Rowena looked up. "You don’t?"
"No, I don’t. I don’t know what I think anymore, thanks to you. You have completely turned my life upside down. I was once a very satisfied man, Rowena--or at least my life was ordered--and now I don’t know what to believe."
"But you don’t hate me," repeated Rowena.
"God help me, no." Alaric sat down again and stared at her.
Rowena reached out tentatively and laid a hand on his arm. "Do you think that you might come to trust me again?"
"Aren’t you asking a bit much?" said Alaric grimly.
"Alaric, I have never tried to hurt you. I promise that I was not plotting against you with Malcolm. You believed Lady Bingham instead, when you know that she will do anything to hurt our marriage. I know you are angry with me, but it hurts that you would take her word before mine. Please try to understand why I behaved as I did. If you would only agree to meet with Malcolm, and speak to him, perhaps the two of you could come to believe in each other’s innocence."
Alaric shook his head slowly. "No matter what conclusion I come to, Rowena, your brother will never believe that I am not a killer. He has hated me for years."
A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1) Page 29