by Sahara Kelly
He’d maneuvered himself from beneath her, tidied them both as best he could, and moved her to the couch. She’d barely stirred as he pulled a soft cover over her nude body.
Stomach grumbling, he’d gone in search of food and brought a tray back with him which he promptly consumed since Charis showed no signs of waking in spite of his murmured entreaties and the waving of a fine cheese under her nose.
Then he’d wandered outside to sit in the sunshine, letting the warmth blanket his bare shoulders as he stared over his friend George’s sprawling gardens. And lost himself in his thoughts.
This trip had been unplanned, as had the news his man of affairs had arranged a marriage. It was not what had Sinjun expected to hear so soon after he’d broached the topic. The loss of his first wife during childbirth had been unpleasant. Learning the child was not his hadn’t helped matters at all, even though he’d felt pity for the young man who confessed to being the father.
He’d closed the door behind the penitent youth and wished wholeheartedly he’d kept the information to himself, since it did little to soften Sinjun’s melancholy mood. He’d not loved Mirabelle, but she’d been a suitable bride. Or so he’d thought.
Upon hearing now, after all this time, that another “suitable” bride had been found—well, it wasn’t what he’d expected. Of course, neither was Charis. From what she’d told him, she was neither suitable nor a virgin, being—as she so picturesquely put it—ruined.
No, marriage hadn’t figured largely in Sinjun’s plans. In fact, there’d been little of anything in his plans. He had a vague notion that here, at George’s Hampshire hideaway, he would take a boat out onto the lake nearby, and perhaps spend some time following Louisa’s wise advice—considering whether he’d ever marry again.
For practical purposes, he knew he should—the Randall family coffers were nearly bare. And he was the only Randall left since his brother’s passing on the Continent. It had been two years since Sinjun had hugged Malcolm farewell. He would never hug him again.
Sinjun was very much alone, in spite of his renewed friendship with Cousin Owen and his fascinating wife. His small estates would have to go on the auction block. Perhaps, he mused, this was at the root of the predicament he found himself in with Charis. He was desperate for funds and his man of business had found a family desperate to rid themselves of a soiled daughter.
What a pair they were, him and Charis.
And what a woman she was.
Sinjun was struck with the notion that she reminded him of someone—and that someone was Louisa Lloyd-Jones, Owen’s wife. Louisa’s sensuality shone around her, a warmth that he swore he could feel when she hugged him. She’d made no secret of her belief that an orgasm a day kept her beautiful, whether Owen was sharing it or not.
Sinjun remembered blushing, nearly swallowing his own tongue, then laughing. She’d seemed unique to him at the time, but now—after meeting Charis—he wasn’t so sure. Through some miracle he’d met another woman who believed in her own right to sexual pleasures. He must have done something really good in a previous lifetime to be so blessed. Or perhaps Fate was making amends for his pretty abysmal past. Whatever it was, he was grateful for it, since it had ended with him sitting in the sunshine, naked to the waist, sexually sated and with a fully belly. All he had to do was drop his breeches and he’d be following Louisa’s instructions to the letter. However, since the flowers were in full bloom and surrounded by a good sized contingent of bees, risking his private parts probably wasn’t the wisest idea.
As Sinjun shook his head at his fanciful notions, a gentle breeze wafted around him, filling the air with the scent of early honeysuckle. It was heavy, almost thick, a sensual sweetness that reminded him of Charis when she was aroused.
He should go and see if she was awake. ‘Twas past noon already, he guessed. Of course, if she’d arisen before dawn and already trudged several miles when he’d found her, such exhaustion was unsurprising. And tossing in the sexual play—her breathlessly magnificent climax on his lap—yes, she had a right to her rest.
But not for too much longer.
A hunger began to gnaw in Sinjun’s gut that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with Charis. He wanted to fuck her—really fuck her—in a bed. He wanted to be deep inside her, staring into her blue eyes as she screamed and came around his cock.
Nothing less would satisfy him, not with this woman. And then, of course, somehow or other he had to convince her that he wasn’t a lackwit and she should give the notion of marrying him more of a consideration since he was rapidly coming to the conclusion it was a rather good idea.
What a wife she’d be. Little more than a girl, she was ready to go and live with gypsies rather than be bullied onto a path she refused to consider. She knew horses—so did Sinjun. He’d bet anything they could establish a stable that would outrank other breeding houses within two years.
He blinked to himself as he reentered the house. He was thinking ahead. Into a future he’d not even anticipated in his wildest dreams. And it was all because of Charis—and some odd quirk of the universe, which had placed them in each other’s path.
And apparently sunk her into the arms of Morpheus, since she was snuffling a little, curled up in the coverlet. With a sigh, Sinjun picked her up and carried her upstairs. She was tall but slender, a slight burden he managed easily.
The bedroom was shadowed from the afternoon sunshine and she made hardly a sound as he pulled the quilt down and settled her on the pillows.
Sinjun found his body responding to the sight of her lying naked, her body dappled with sunlight and shadows. Unable to resist the temptation, he stripped and eased himself down beside her, fully intending to take a nap himself.
But she stirred, sleepily turning toward him and reaching out, her hand coming to rest on his hip as he bent his elbow and rested his head on his hand, watching her. She smiled, not quite awake yet not lost to sleep any more.
A sigh lifted her breasts slightly. Sinjun gently moved, capturing one globe in his hand and letting his thumb drift softly across the nipple. It budded, furling and hardening in response. The idea of a nap vanished completely with the fire that exploded in his cock at the sight, and Sinjun leaned over her, replacing his thumb with his lips and tongue.
He suckled, teasing the tiny nub with his mouth, licking the rosy flesh and inhaling the warm scent of her body. She answered him with gentle sounds of pleasure, her limbs relaxed and lying loosely, her eyes closed as he feasted on the delights she offered.
He slid down, paying minute attention to the dip of her navel, noting the goosebumps which appeared on her skin as he flicked his tongue over the indentation and ringed it playfully. Her legs moved beneath him, parting, spreading wide—an invitation he wasn’t about to refuse.
Was she aware of where he was headed? What he was about to do? He neither knew nor cared at this moment. There was one single need driving him—an intense and blinding desire to get his mouth on her, to taste her, to drink her juices. To suck her into an orgasm that would send her mind flying and her body trembling and shuddering around his. Charis had invaded his soul and conquered it without a check. And he was a more than willing prisoner of this woman.
She moaned and lifted her head from the pillow. “Sinjun? What—”
“Ssshh.” He stroked a silky thigh and dotted quick kisses on the delicate skin above her mound. “I’m playing. You’re dreaming.”
“Mmm.” She relaxed again. “I’ve never had a dream like this before.” Her voice was low, husky with sleep and arousal.
“Just enjoy it.”
Sinjun shifted his position down between her thighs, sliding his arms beneath her and lifting her legs to rest on his shoulders. He cupped her buttocks with his hands and raised her a little, settling himself and staring at the folds of her pussy.
She was plump and pink, shining with the liquids he’d coaxed from her, lushly ripe and ready for his mouth. Her sweet scent tickled his nostrils—s
pice and woman and sex. He wouldn’t trade it for the finest Oriental perfume or the sweetest rose blooming in the garden outside.
Deeper pink lips beckoned him, peering shyly from the shadows between her legs. With reverence, Sinjun dipped his head—and licked her. A long swipe of his tongue from the darkness to the very crest of her pussy.
She gasped, her body tightening as he repeated the action. When he delved into the moist folds, she whimpered. When he teased her clit from beneath its hood, she choked back a tiny cry.
And when he pressed his tongue into her body, he could hear her breath leave her lungs in the silence of the room.
She was so wet, her liquids soaking his face as he devoured her. No tiny inch of flesh was left untouched, he made sure of it. Alternating between delicate flicks and stronger touches, he played with her as he’d promised, pleasuring himself as much as he was pleasuring Charis. He enjoyed this act, considered it an essential part of lovemaking, and never missed an opportunity if one presented itself.
With Charis—it was everything he loved and more. She answered his every move with an encouraging move of her own and when he felt her hands in his hair, gently touching his scalp, he soared beyond simple enjoyment into ecstasy.
How long he lay there with his tongue roaming her pussy, Sinjun had no idea. He caressed her with every ounce of skill he possessed, unwilling to take her to the final step before he’d tasted his fill.
But Charis, unskilled and unfamiliar with this kind of attention, could not hold back her body’s response. Before long, the thigh muscles resting on his shoulders tensed and he could feel her heels digging harder and harder into his back.
She was near, very near now. Wet, fragrant and swollen, her pussy lips gleamed at him, mutely begging him to continue, to take her to orgasm, to release the tension building up inside her.
He was pretty damn tense himself, his cock a rigidly uncomfortable length he was presently crushing into the mattress. But he was able to put thoughts of his own sensations aside, to push them away while he feasted on what he knew was his woman.
“Sinjun please…” Charis whispered the words into the silent air.
It was time. She couldn’t take any more and he wanted to hold the reins for her, to be there with her, to devour her release as he sucked down her moisture.
He tightened his grip on her buttocks, moving his hands so that his fingers could graze the crease between them and tease her higher. She shuddered as he brushed her tight little anal muscles and sucked in a harsh breath of air when he combined it with a renewed assault–by-tongue.
Rigid and breathless, it was almost as if he held her hovering above the bed, taut with desire, immobile and waiting for the wave to break.
Sinjun moved a hand, allowing a fingertip to push past the barrier into her arse. And then he pressed his mouth against her pussy and his tongue into her fire.
She croaked out something unintelligible, slammed her thighs together—nearly shattering his skull—and came, great spasms eating at his face, his tongue and his finger buried inside her. Her entire body shook as the contractions continued and she grasped handfuls of his hair to anchor herself against the whirlwind.
He could feel it, feel her every shudder, every trembling roll of release as it tore through her. He knew when it crested and knew when the aftereffects began to ripple more gently in its wake.
And when she finally sagged, limp in his grasp, he easily rolled her over onto her stomach.
“Forgive me. I’m not ready to take you yet. This must suffice.”
Her buttocks, the imprint of his fingers still reddening the round white flesh, called to him. He quickly moved so that his cock lay along the crack between them, holding his weight on his forearms and watching the engorged purple flesh as it lay against the white mounds.
Gritting his teeth, Sinjun moved, pressing himself down, letting her buttocks clasp his cock. A poor substitute for her pussy, but one he would take right now. It was either this or his hand. He would not come in her body until she was well aware of the consequences.
A few strokes, a few moments of rare delight when the heat of her arse seared his flesh—and he came, balls tight and shaking, spurting semen in creamy jets along her spine.
Lying still beneath him, Charis moved her head and tried to look back, then let her head fall into the pillow. “Oh, that feels so good…” Her buttocks flexed as he softened. Someday, perhaps, they would take this play a step further.
Sinjun smiled at the thought. Some day. There would be time, he knew. Time to explore the sensual depths that Charis probably didn’t know she possessed. But they were there. He knew. And he’d be more than happy to teach her.
“I’m glad.” He eased away and kissed her bare shoulder, reaching for the pitcher and ewer on the stand next to the bed. Gently he cleaned her, wiping his cum from her skin, massaging her back, stroking her just for the pleasure of the contact between them.
She made a purring noise, snuggled her hips more deeply into the mattress—and fell asleep again. This time, when Sinjun slid in beneath the covers, he was more than ready to join her and the sun sank lower in the sky, shedding its rays into a bedroom where the silence was broken only by the sound of two lovers’ breaths and the song of a sleepy bird.
*~~*~~*
Charis blinked herself awake to the strange sound of a buzzing next to her ear and a pressing need for a chamber pot. She was also momentarily confused to find herself in an unfamiliar bed with a delightful sensation of well-being suffusing her body.
The buzzing was emanating from the throat of the man curled next to her—Sinjun. Memories flooded back even as she realized his heavy arm was resting on her belly and pressing hard against her bladder. Thus the sensation of well-being and the need to piss.
Lord, she had to find herself some relief. Glancing around she blessed whoever had set up the screen on the far side of the room. Behind it she knew she’d find what she needed.
As stealthily as possible, she slipped from Sinjun’s arms and scurried out of bed and across the bedroom. The sun must be setting since the light outside was golden red now—good heavens, how long had she slept?
A few moments later she emerged, much more comfortable, and feeling very hungry. As if in anticipation of her wants, a tray sat on one table, displaying a few slices of bread and some cheese. Charis gently drew a blanket from the bottom of the bed, wrapped it around herself and attacked the plate, washing her impromptu meal down with cold water from the pitcher. Tea would have been nice, but she was unfamiliar with the house.
Besides, she might wake Sinjun—
As if he heard her thoughts, he turned his head sleepily on the pillow and smiled at her. “Hello.”
She glanced guiltily at the food in her hand. “I was hungry. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He stretched and let out a groan of pleasure. “I put it there for you. I ate earlier.” His lips curved into a sensual grin.
Fascinated by the play of light on his muscles and the tiny tufts of hair in his armpits, Charis just gazed at him. He was rumpled from sleep, his eyelids heavy and his body relaxed. She could’ve looked at him for hours and not been bored.
“It’s late. I slept forever, it seems. And I dreamed, too. A wonderful dream. You were in it.” She found herself grinning back. “Am I ruined yet, do you think?” The grin widened as she asked the absurd question.
He shook his head. “No. I think we should work on that some more. Maybe make some of your other dreams come true.” He pulled down the side of the quilt. “Finish that bread and come over here. We’ll see if we can come up with a few new ideas.”
It said something about Charis’ emotions when she put down her food and immediately went to the bed. She trusted Sinjun, wanted his touch, wanted as much time being “ruined” by him as she could get. Just the sight of him was enough to make her mouth—and other parts—water.
She must truly be a terrible woman. The thought made her smile.
<
br /> “What’s that little smirk for?” He turned on one side and propped his head up on his bent arm.
“I was just realizing what a dreadfully wanton and wicked woman I am.” She tugged the covers up over her breasts and looked at him. “I think you’ve ruined me rather well, Sinjun.”
“Thank you. One aims to please.” He let his free hand drift to her shoulder, sliding his fingertips along her forearm then back up to trace a path down toward her breast. “But you’re hiding too much from me. A really wicked woman would be enticing me with her body at this point.”
“Ah.” Charis nodded sagely. “I see I shall need to practice my seduction skills.” Daringly she let the covers slip away. “Is this better?”
His swallow was answer enough, but he added a nod. “Yes. Er—yes. That works very well.”
“Good to know. I shall endeavor to remember it.”
She would endeavor to remember all these moments, Charis realized. Every expression that crossed Sinjun’s face, every flash of heat in his eyes as he looked at her. And yes—that particular moment—the one where his hand cupped her breast and weighed it in his hand. It seemed a perfect fit to her. As if she’d been designed to fill his palm.
She sighed a little at his touch. “I like that, Sinjun. I like when you caress my—my breasts…” Her cheeks heated even as she spoke.
He continued to play with her but leaned forward, his eyes lowering to her mouth. “Kiss me, Charis.”
Goodness. This was the first time she’d actually kissed him. Here they were, naked and in bed together, hands all over each other’s bodies and they’d apparently skipped a step on the way to ruination. “All right.”
The first kiss was everything she’d ever imagined a kiss could be. With the additional wondrous sensation of Sinjun’s body nude and pressed against hers. His mouth was warm and firm and his tongue seeking to learn her taste, her lips, her teeth—she opened for him, welcoming him inside, imitating the moves he made with little investigative flickers of her own.