Uninhibited (Regency Erotica)

by Catherine Gayle

  Naomi couldn’t have made a bigger cake of herself if she’d tried.

  Lord knew Grey had never thought of Naomi the way he was thinking of her now. But if she wanted him to bed her, by gad, who was he to deny her? Particularly since her pert breasts were each a perfect handful, firm and smooth against his palms. Even now, with them covered by her arm and a scandalized look coursing through her eyes, he couldn’t stop the blood from racing straight to his already painfully engorged cock.

  If she didn’t answer him soon, he’d lose control.

  For long moments, she stood there trying to hide her perfection from him with her chest rising and falling with great heaving breaths. Her brow furrowed in consternation when she finally spoke. “Why would you bed me now, when you haven’t in all these years?”

  Because now he’d seen her? Somehow, Grey didn’t think that would be the appropriate response. Surely she knew how stunningly beautiful she was—how any man in possession of a functioning cock would gladly toss up her skirts at the slightest hint of her acceptance.

  He dragged a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. This time, he needed to tread carefully. Naomi was no lightskirt. “The last time I saw you, you were merely a hoydenish pixie, still in the schoolroom. I couldn’t very well tup you then.” Even he wasn’t so callow as to take a child to his bed, irrespective of the fact that she was his wife. Her father had been a poor excuse for a peer, to entrust his only daughter to a marriage with Grey, particularly when she was still so young. His own father hadn’t been much better, forcing him to agree to the contract.

  Those two men were the only ones who had seemingly profited from the whole bloody affair, and one of them was now dead. Grey hoped the racing horses were worth it.

  She eyed him shrewdly, revealing no distress over his use of common, vulgar language. “Surely Mr. Throckmorton informed you many years ago that I had finished with my schooling. Why was I so distasteful to you even then?”

  “Christ, Naomi. Yes, Throckmorton kept me well informed of your schooling.” The muscle in his jaw flexed, growing as tense as his rod. “I just couldn’t move past the image of you when we married. I couldn’t envision you as a woman and not a girl. If I’d been able to change the image of you in my head—”

  “That might have been easier, my lord, had you even once so much as paid a brief visit to check on your estate instead of sending your man of business to do it for you.” The blue in her eyes turned icy and she switched out the arm covering her globes from his gaze, lending him a slight peek of her dusky teats in the process. “Perhaps you were too busy entertaining other ladies in your bed to concern yourself with doing such a thing with me.”

  Ah. Now, finally, he was uncovering the truth of her concerns. “Are you jealous, Naomi?” he asked cautiously. No need to rile her further, after all. He hadn’t an inkling what she’d do in a fit of pique, save traipse halfway across England.

  “Jealous?” she scoffed.

  The vivid blue of her eyes sparked to flames again. That was more like it.

  Ever so gingerly, Grey moved closer to her. She didn’t back away from him, but the ire grew in her eyes with each closing inch. “Yes,” he murmured when only a half-step remained between them. “Jealous.”

  He stretched out a hand and peeled her fingers away from her breast. She didn’t resist him, but neither did she aid him in the process. Her eyes locked with his as he painstakingly placed her arms at her sides, a wary expression warring with her rage.

  With a single finger on each hand, he swirled a pattern on the outside of her breasts until she caught her breath. “You’ve wanted me in your bed—not in the bed of another woman.”

  “You’re my husband,” Naomi said, her shaky voice betraying the need building within her. “You ought to be in my bed.”

  Damn, if he didn’t want to be in her bed right now. A pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, then she worried her lower lip again with her teeth. That only gave him all manner of inappropriate ideas of things he’d enjoy doing with her tongue and teeth.

  “Well, why don’t we rectify the situation?” he asked, moving his fingers ever closer to her taut buds before flicking his thumbs over them.

  Naomi sucked in a sharp breath. “Right now?”

  God, yes. Now. Right now. Under the moon, in the garden. Hot and wet and wild.

  But then before he could respond to her, voices sounded—male and female both—coming from the door they’d exited through. Naomi’s eyes shot wide as cannon balls and she squeaked, frantically trying to recover her breasts.

  He’d always taken a devil-may-care approach to life, but clearly his wife did not share that attitude. If she didn’t quiet, she’d alert the interlopers to their presence and further disconcert herself. Grey slipped behind her, clapped a hand over her mouth to quiet her, used the other to haul her against him—making certain to collect a handful of tit in the bargain—and dragged her back into the darkness of the arbors, away from the lantern-lit path.

  Bracing himself against the trunk of an oak, he sank down to the ground and placed his wife on his lap, holding her still until the intruders passed them by, heading out further on the path than they’d gone.

  Holbrook’s hard length pressed indecently against her buttocks. Even though the voices had been gone for several moments, he still hadn’t released his hold on her mouth—or her breast. Finally, she thought he was going to liberate her, but instead he started to knead the mound in his hand. When he lightly pinched her nipple, it was as though he had tugged against some unknown place deep inside her and she let out an almost inhuman moan into his hand.

  “Yes,” he murmured against her ear, “you rather enjoy that, don’t you? I think right now would be perfect.” Then he placed a series of nibbles along the side of her neck, heading lower to her shoulder.

  Gracious. Until they’d been come upon in the garden, she had been prepared to go with him to his chamber and let him do as he would. But here? Outside, where anyone could find them?

  She’d never dreamed of doing anything so wicked, yet her body seemed to have other ideas in mind. When he moved his attentions to her other breast, Naomi pressed her hips back into him further, rubbing against him in a thoroughly wanton manner.

  He bit lightly against the lobe of her ear. “I want to use both my hands on you. If I release your mouth, will you call out?”

  With a whimper when he pinched her other nipple, she shook her head, leaning back to look him in the eyes. Dear Lord. What was she doing?

  As soon as his hand left her mouth, his lips replaced it. Holbrook’s tongue thrust inside, spearing her as his hands worked in conjunction to drive her to the brink of madness with their attentiveness to her breasts.

  Still kissing her, his fingers trailed along her back, undoing the rows of tiny buttons with a skill few lady’s maids possessed. In moments, her gown was loose and he’d somehow lifted her from his lap and pulled it free of her body, resituating her so that she was draped sideways over his lap and faced him better than before. He made quick work of removing her chemise, drawers, and stockings, until she sat facing him without a stitch on her body, shivering slightly in the cool night air even though she was hot enough to burn a candle.

  With firm pressure, he slid a hand over first one of her thighs, first one, then the other, and back again, each time moving nearer to the inside, closer to the curls at the apex, until he was almost touching her there.

  Naomi’s pulse tripped at a fevered, sporadic pace through her veins, increasing with each small movement he made.

  “Move your legs apart for me,” he whispered next to her ear.

  Without a thought in the world, she complied. As soon as he found some space, he pressed his hand up between her legs and to her most intimate place, using his fingers to spread her wide. When he trailed a finger along that line, almost from her buttocks to her curls, and at the same time moved his mouth to suckle one of her breasts, she shuddered in his arms.

 
; “Mmm, yes,” he mumbled without ever raising his head. “Already so wet. So responsive.” The vibration of his voice against her overly sensitive nipple was almost more than she could bear.

  He moved his efforts to the other breast and a breeze wafted over the first, sending delicious tingles of awareness out to the tips of Naomi’s fingers. One long, strong finger probed up inside her, and she nearly came off his lap.

  Holbrook chuckled against her bosom and bit down gently, with just enough pressure to leave her squirming—whether to get away or get closer, she couldn’t decide. The finger inside her moved in an out, around and around, stretching her and teasing her. Then he started a rhythm with it, thrusting it inside as he had done to her mouth with his tongue earlier, deeper each time.

  His thumb furrowed beneath her curls, on a quest for something she couldn’t fathom. But then he found it, pressing down and rubbing over and spreading heat and wetness all around until she was panting in wild desperation.

  The more he provoked this little spot, the more her hips drove up to meet his questing finger. The more he suckled on her nipples, the more she whimpered her desire.

  A second finger joined the first, and Naomi pressed her feet down on the grass beneath them, impelling him deeper, faster, harder. “Oh, God,” she cried out. “Please. Oh, my lord, please.” She didn’t know what she was begging him for, but at the moment it didn’t matter.

  He took up a frenzied pace, plunging into her over and over, faster, uninhibited, until a wave crashed over her and she collapsed against him.

  Naomi’s eyes had taken on that hazy, glazed, well-pleasured look that Grey knew so well, and he hadn’t even taken her properly yet. Shifting her weight with one hand, he undid the flap of his breeches and lowered them past his hips, along with his smallclothes. His cock jerked to attention almost at once.

  For a few moments, he masturbated himself, waiting for his wife to return to Earth from her little death. He wanted her to be fully aware of every moment of their coupling. All this nonsense about divorce and annulments needed to be driven from her mind, and what better way to accomplish that than through a sound, thorough fucking?

  Even just stroking his rod himself, however, almost sent him over the edge. He groaned for the gratification he was about to experience.

  Slowly, her eyes changed from glazed to wide with shock as she watched his movements.

  Grey stifled a chuckle. “Ready for more, my love?”

  Still, she said nothing, staring in wonderment at his well-hung, hard as rock member.

  At least she hadn’t denied him, however. Lifting her from his lap, he twisted her around, facing away from him. The sight of her rounded, little bum was a thing of beauty, a slice of heaven. He brought her down, spreading her legs so she was straddling him, not stopping until her knees were on the ground.

  “Wha—what are you doing?” Naomi stammered. She squirmed, but he kept a firm grip on her waist, keeping her in place.

  “You said you wanted me to bed you, didn’t you?” Grey would be damned if he could stop himself now. He couldn’t let her change her mind.

  “Yes, but—”

  “You can’t tell me you don’t want this. I’ve felt your tight, little pussy. You’re so wet with need for me.” He pressed down on her hips, lowering her until the head of his staff stroked against her wicket.

  She shuddered and let out a ragged moan.

  “If you enjoyed my fingers in you, I can promise my cock is better.”

  Naomi nodded, ever so slightly, and that was all the permission he needed. Grey placed both hands on her hips, guiding her down onto his rise and stretching her sheath to accommodate him. Since she was so wet, it was easy to move inside her even though she was inexperienced in lovemaking. Her head fell back against his shoulder, her fingernails dug into his thighs, and she gasped before he even reached her maidenhead.

  Holding her hips in place, he gritted his teeth and allowed her a moment to adjust to his size. When her breathing returned to a somewhat normal pattern, he lifted her up and then drove her back down on his rod, prodding her to accept more of him than before. After a few strokes, she used her legs to lift and lower herself, allowing him to explore her body some more with his hands.

  He tweaked her tits and flicked her button, and played her body like a finely tuned instrument. Before long, she was back to a frenzy of need. Grey had been there for quite some time without relief.

  Time to pick her lock, he supposed.

  Grasping Naomi’s hips firmly in both hands, he pulled her off his length again, and then drove her down fully.

  She called out, whether in pleasure, pain, or shock. She might just draw an audience, if she wasn’t careful. He hadn’t heard the other couple moving past them again.

  Once completely inside her, he held her still, murmuring soft words in her ear until she could adjust to the new sensations.

  Naomi ground her hips back against him them, renewing her movements.

  “You’re ready?” he asked her quietly.

  She bit down on her lip and threw her head back, then started to raise and lower herself over him again. He’d take that as a yes.

  Lifting his hips in time with her, they picked up a consistent pace. He pinched his fingers against her button in time with each thrust, until she was moaning and calling out as she bounced over him. For a moment, he wished she was facing him so he could watch the mounds of her breasts jiggle from her exertions.

  But only for a moment.

  A twig snapped beside him, and Grey turned to see who had come upon them. Lord Tucker Flynn stood there with his wife—his hands reaching around her from behind and squeezing her bared tits as they both watched, enthralled. Naomi seemed oblivious to them having an audience and kept bobbing over his rod.

  Grey caught Lord Tucker’s eye and lifted a brow in question. The younger man leaned down and whispered something to his wife. She flushed, but then bent at the waist, stretching down until her hands nearly touched the ground. She lifted her head to watch Grey and Naomi as her husband flipped her skirts over her, undid his breeches flap, and impaled her from behind.

  Naomi moaned in ecstasy as she rode over Holbrook’s length. His hands never stopped moving over her, inciting her to higher and higher states of lust at every moment. Just when she thought she would crash over that edge again, into whatever form of rapture that was, her husband gripped her hair and turned her head.

  Good Lord! There was another couple there, involved in coitus just as they were, watching their every movement. Naomi tried to cover herself, but Holbrook pulled her hands down to her sides and forced his hips up into her higher and faster.

  “Watch,” he commanded. “I want you to let them watch you.”

  So she watched, as immoral and licentious as such a thing may be. The woman was standing, bent over at the waist with her gown covering only the top half of her body. She had moved it so she could stare out at them from beneath as the man with her drove into her from behind.

  Around the time the other woman started to cry out, Holbrook had reached down to Naomi’s private place again and was rubbing against her nubbin as though his life depended upon it. She couldn’t stop herself from shouting into the night. She quaked all over and then she felt as though she’d shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. A chorus of shouts followed hers, and Holbrook stilled within her as a series of warm spurts filled her womb.

  He held her, her back against his chest, for long minutes there while she recovered, each of them gasping for air. Then the other couple straightened and set their clothes to rights. They shared a deep, sensuous kiss as the man ran his hands over the woman’s backside, pressing her as close as they could go without being joined.

  When they started to walk away, the man nodded to her husband. “Holbrook.”

  “Flynn,” he replied.

  Then they were gone.

  Once Naomi had regained the ability to breathe, her husband nudged her gently. His hands trailed up and do
wn her arms, soothing her muscles even as he stoked her desire again. “Any more thoughts of divorce?” he whispered in her ear.

  Why did he have to return to that already? She squirmed, trying to separate herself from him so she could focus.

  He held her in a vise-like grip, though, keeping them joined.

  Naomi huffed. “Are we to return to life as it has been, then, my lord? I’ll go to Hampshire, and you’ll go to wherever your next paramour happens to be?”

  He stilled, and said nothing so long she thought he might have fallen asleep.

  “Grey,” he murmured so softly she barely heard him.

  “Pardon? What did you say?”

  With one arm, he drew her back against him again. “My name is Grey. You should begin calling me that since we’ll be spending so much time together now.”

  Spending so much time together? What could he mean by that? Naomi gaped at him, dumbfounded.

  “I assume you’ve brought a carriage?” he asked.

  She nodded, still unable to put three words together to form a coherent thought.

  “We’ll leave for Heatherfield Park first thing tomorrow.”

  “We?” she spluttered. He couldn’t mean to come home with her.

  Could he?

  “Yes,” Grey replied. “I think it’s high time I spent a bit more time sampling your wares. Now that I’ve done a bit of it, I don’t think I’ll get enough any time soon. Probably not ever. And I suppose we ought to prepare a nursery.”

  “A nursery,” she repeated, turning her head to look at him. He had to be joking with her.

  He lifted a brow. “I rather think one will be necessary with how much I intend to bed you. Don’t you?”