Phaze Fantasies, Vol. 5

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Phaze Fantasies, Vol. 5 Page 15

by L. E. Bryce, Emma Wildes, Kate Burns


  "I would prefer to do it in bed.” He urged her back so she lay on the linens, and climbed in beside her lissome body, marveling at how his desire was elevated to a level he'd never felt before. He lightly ran his fingers down her arm and then back up to skim over the lower curve of her breast.

  Vanessa gasped but didn't pull away, which was a decided improvement.

  "Your beautiful breasts will someday nurture my children."

  The idea of her heavy with his child pleased him, but for the moment all he wanted her to think about was the way he touched her. He circled her nipple, pleased as it tightened in reaction. “They are also sensitive to stimulation and react to being touched and suckled during lovemaking. Let me demonstrate."

  Propped on one elbow next to her, he leaned over and lightly licked one pink crest before drawing it into his mouth. Her body quivered in reaction and she made a small sound. He cupped the other breast in his palm, lifting the luscious weight of it and doing his best to ignore his own rising need. With his mouth he brought her nipples to straining peaks, the jeweled buds high and wet from his ministrations and her breathing a bit uneven as he kissed his way down her stomach.

  It wasn't like he hadn't contemplated giving her oral gratification before, but he'd known she would be outraged at the idea of his mouth between her legs and perceive it as unnatural. However, he had a feeling this night was a turning point in their lives thanks to the meddling St. Claire and his damned painting, and Robert was willing to take a chance on her initial reaction if she could overcome her shocked sensibilities and just enjoy it. It was the easiest way he knew to bring a woman to climax, and he wanted more than anything to give her that joy.

  At least she was a little aroused he realized with triumph, the feminine fragrance unmistakable, and he grazed her soft pubic hair with his mouth in a very light caress.

  "Robert!” The expected shock was in her voice and she tried to twist away as he cradled her hips in his hands.

  "Don't panic, darling.” He shifted into the right position, his head poised between her slim thighs, which were currently clamped together like the gates of heaven locked against all sinners. “Are you interested in hearing more about how sexual enjoyment works for women, or did you display yourself to St. Claire for nothing?"

  Maybe it was a little unfair to play that card, but he had a lot at stake.

  "I just can't imagine what you are doing."

  He stroked her skin and gave a small chuckle. “I want to show you something marvelous. You have come this far, Vanessa, why not complete the journey? Let me explain. There is a certain spot between your legs that when properly stimulated will give you a sensation you have never imagined. It is impossible to fully explain sexual climax so let me show you. Put aside whatever puritanical inhibitions you have and just enjoy. Please trust me."

  "I do trust you, of course.” She relaxed a small fraction with obvious reluctance, all tumbled gold hair and soft, enticing beauty.

  Robert eased her legs apart. “You'll not only trust me afterwards,” he said with a wicked grin, pleased at how easily the protest was vanquished, “but I have the distinct feeling you'll thank me profusely."

  The fact she didn't protest further was like winning an important skirmish and he lowered his mouth to the warm paradise of her sex with the hope the entire war was swinging his way.

  He teased and tasted, tonguing her clitoris as he held open the perfect pink folds of her labia, using the expertise gained in the amorous pursuits of his bachelor days. The reward of her first low moan spiked to his already throbbing cock. When she voluntarily spread her legs wider and arched her spine, he felt a pure male inner satisfaction.

  When it came, her orgasm was accompanied by a wild scream and her slender body shook in both surprise and pleasure. He kept her there until she gave a small sob of surrender and went limp.

  It was like a miracle to see his delectable wife sprawled in the aftermath of her first climax, her skin blushed to a becoming rosy color by sexual culmination, her lashes shadowing her incredible eyes as she stared at him in undisguised amazement.

  Robert shifted, poised between her still open legs, and positioned his needy cock at her tight entrance. “I think,” he said between his teeth as he began to enter her exquisite wet warmth, “I am going to pay St. Claire twice his fee."

  Chapter Four

  The slanting sun across the floor gave the room a lovely warmth and Vanessa rolled over and sighed, coming awake very slowly and realizing a few startling facts as she registered the smell of the sheets and the unfamiliar surroundings.

  She was in Robert's room.

  In his huge bed.

  Naked.

  And it looked like it was fairly late in the morning. Her handsome husband was nowhere in sight.

  Disheveled and a little disoriented, she sat up and pushed her tangled hair out of her face as she recalled the events of the evening. He had done some very outrageous things to her, she remembered with chagrin and, if she was honest, she had loved every single one of them. If it wasn't bad enough he'd put his mouth there, she'd thought it was the most marvelous feeling in the world. Moreover, this time there had been no discomfort when he'd penetrated her—quite the opposite—and she hadn't been able to hide how she enjoyed that either and experienced that same wondrous peak of pleasure.

  She frowned, snatching the sheet up to cover her nudity and wanted to die when she remembered how she'd cried out without reserve, the sound most definitely unladylike.

  It was embarrassing.

  It was enlightening.

  For the first time she actually felt like a woman, like a wife, and the sticky residue on her thighs was evidence of the three times her husband had found his satisfaction. After the first time he hadn't even withdrawn but stayed between her legs and softly kissed and held her until he started to move again, his hardened shaft evidence of his renewed need. And just as the dawn blushed the sky he'd wakened her and they had come together once more in both passion and tenderness.

  Maybe, now that she was able to please him more in bed, he might actually fall in love with her.

  Her discarded robe was on the floor and she slid out to pick it up and hastily wrap it around her. Then she hurried back to her bedroom, only find her maid there already and a tray with a teapot and scones by the side of the neatly made bed that had obviously not been slept in.

  "Good morning, Your Grace.” The girl's face was impassive but her eyes held a knowing look.

  "Good morning.” Vanessa tried to look composed, but it was a bit disconcerting to realize everyone in the household would know what she and Robert had been doing the night before. This was the first time she had ever spent the night in his room. “I think I overslept."

  "The duke left instructions not to wake you. Shall I get you more hot tea? This might have gone cold."

  Oh Lord, did everyone in the household suspect her fatigue was because Robert had kept her up half the night? From the expression on the face of her maid, the answer was yes. Vanessa glanced at the clock, saw it was past noon, and shook her head. “Hot water, please. I have an appointment at one and would like to bathe."

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  She arrived at the studio a few minutes late and was a little amused at how she had rushed around to dress when the first thing she had to do upon arriving was disrobe and loosen her neatly pinned hair. Since the last thing she wanted was for anyone to suspect she was posing for anything but the formal portrait, she had not brought a maid and it took a few minutes for her unfasten her dress and remove the various layers of underclothing. When she did don the oversized robe provided and went into the studio, she found Nathaniel St. Claire staring out the window at an unkempt back garden below his flat, his expression abstracted.

  "I apologize for being a bit tardy.” She still felt self-conscious over the fact she was going to have to lie on the chaise in front of him naked, but it was a shadow of her mortification of the day before.

  "Quite
frankly, I have no idea what time it is, Duchess, as I rarely look at a clock. I've been up half the night, working on the background of the painting.” He turned. “I've contemplated...” His brows shot together as he trailed off speaking and he stared at her. “Viola! What is this?"

  "What is what?” Vanessa looked back at him with what she hoped was poise suitable to her aristocratic rank, but nothing could keep her cheeks from heating with predictable speed, and it was a little difficult to be dignified when standing in a robe in a somewhat shabby flat.

  "I think I can guess what happened last night.” St. Claire's dark eyes narrowed as he said with shrewd unnerving insight, “I take it you listened to me yesterday."

  He can tell just from looking at me?

  "Robert and I ... talked."

  "Talked?” He looked amused. “You and your husband finally became lovers in the true sense of the word. The awakening is there. I see it in your eyes and way you hold yourself. A woman changes when she fulfills her sexuality. She knows her power, her inner soul, as it were.” He moved toward his precious easel, snapping up a brush. “I was getting fatigued from working for so long, but I am energized. Please, Your Grace, on the chaise. I must capture this."

  A little bemused at his perception, Vanessa shed the robe without thinking too much about it and went to lie down, trying to position herself like the day before. With a few instructions from St. Claire she achieved the right pose, knees bent and apart, her arms above her head, her hair spilling around her exposed and vulnerable body. As she let her lashes drift shut, she could almost feel Robert's light skillful touch skim her breasts, and between her open legs began a small throb in memory of how it felt as he moved deep with her and the incredible sensation as he spilled his seed against her womb.

  Tenderness, passion, and exquisite pleasure ... it had been almost perfect.

  Almost.

  Desire was a wonderful thing, she'd discovered that. However, she wanted more. She wanted to know Robert loved her and he had never said so. It was difficult to tell if the concept was even important to him, for he had never asked if she loved him either. In his world, suitable marriages meant matches made between families for the purpose of wealth and position. The fact he'd married her instead of a blue-blooded, well-bred lady from a prominent family boded well, but she was afraid his choice had been based on physical attraction more than emotional attachment. He already had a title, wealth, and could choose whom he wanted.

  Even when asked outright why he married her he had not said anything about love.

  It was a bit discouraging but St. Claire was right about one thing, she did feel a new sense of power. Her husband wanted her, and that was a very good start.

  * * * *

  The man across the table settled back in his chair, his long legs extended carelessly, booted feet crossed at the ankle. “That satisfied air bothers me, brother. All bachelors pale and want to hide when a married man walks around with a smile like yours on his face."

  Recalling the disquiet of the first two months of his marriage, Robert was in a very good mood in contrast. Vanessa had finally loosened her considerable inhibitions in bed, and the night before she'd been both responsive and enchanting in every way.

  He gave his younger brother an amused look. “I don't know why my satisfaction should alarm you. Surely it merely affirms taking a wife is not like giving oneself a prison sentence."

  "I was jesting naturally. I cannot see myself tied to one woman yet, but I am glad you're happy."

  Robert signaled to a waiter to bring them more claret. The club was busy in late afternoon with Parliament just adjourned, the murmur of voices set off by the clink of glass and the occasional raised voice in debate.

  He said as casually as possible, “Why wouldn't I be happy? I am married to a very lovely young woman, whom I happen to admire in every way."

  Gavin fingered the stem of his glass, a thoughtful look on his face. “Vanessa is a diamond of the first water, I agree. But I confess I was a bit surprised when I heard you were courting someone like her. The innocent daughter of a clergyman isn't at all what I expected you to choose, much less marry so impetuously. Your tastes have always run to sophisticated ladies with social polish and the pedigree to match. Poor Vanessa has had to make quite an adjustment, I would guess."

  "I suppose she has.” Robert hadn't really thought about the fact her abrupt change in lifestyle might bother her, mostly because he assumed anyone who moved up socially and financially would be delighted. But she was young—a decade younger than his twenty-nine years—and that very lack of sophistication had allowed him to so easily sweep her off her feet. Robert had known from the first time he met her what he wanted, but he had also sensed she was at a loss as how to deal with his attentions.

  "You suppose your wife might feel that way?” Gavin gave him a look of cynical amusement. “You are not the easiest person in the world to communicate with, Robert. I know, I know, all the ducal responsibilities settling on your shoulders when you were barely sixteen doesn't leave a lot of time for sitting around and examining your feelings on every matter, so you are out of practice, but sometimes you come off a bit cold and distant, to be truthful."

  Did he? He didn't think of himself that way, but considering the troubles of the first two months of his marriage, maybe his younger brother was right.

  "Did something specific bring on this lecture?” Robert poured himself wine with a lavish hand, his voice a little gruff.

  "Let's just say the time I saw your bride at one of Mother's dreadful dinner affairs, she looked as if she wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole. You, on the other hand, spent a good deal of time chatting with the Prime Minister and left her quite abandoned to the questionable mercies of the other guests present."

  Yes, he remembered the night in question. She had been more quiet than usual on the ride home in the carriage, but he had assumed, of course, she was simply dreading him coming to her later. He hadn't bothered to ask because it stung his pride, but he hadn't gone to her room either. Until the night before, they had not shared a bed since.

  In short, he had been a buffoon in every way. She was the one who had changed her life for him; he had changed nothing and arrogantly assumed she would feel privileged to be his wife. She was the one at that very moment reclining naked in an artist's studio, and he had no illusions it was because she wanted to pose for the picture, but probably did it because she knew he wanted a portrait painted by Nathaniel St. Claire and it was the only way.

  The courage it took for her to approach his bedroom the night before moved him now in a completely different way. Yes, he was still delighted she wanted the sexual part of their union to become something more satisfying for them both, but he was also humbled and touched by the depths of her willingness to put into their marriage what he had not.

  He stood up so abruptly his chair wobbled. “I'm a damned fool."

  "We all are occasionally.” Gavin leaned back and gazed at him. “Are we still talking about your duchess?"

  "Yes."

  "Er ... can you be more specific?"

  Robert gave him a humorless smile. “Let's just say right now she is naked and with another man."

  "Vanessa? I don't believe it.” Gavin shook his head, his expression incredulous. “She is madly in love with you. Why would she ever do such a thing?"

  Madly in love...

  "To please me.” Robert gestured for his cloak. “I'll explain later. Please excuse me. I've got to go see my wife."

  * * * *

  Since he hated to be interrupted when working, Nathaniel ignored the knock, but it seemed the Duke of Caerleon was used to getting what he wanted. The man in question strode into the studio, and as Nathaniel tore his gaze reluctantly away from the canvas, he heard both the duchess's gasp and saw her husband stop dead as he took in her supplicant pose.

  "That is how you wish to paint her?” His voice sounded a little strangled, his stare riveted on the provocative and lan
guid position of his wife's slightly parted thighs and upraised breasts.

  "Don't move,” he instructed his subject and shot the duke a reproving look for his unannounced arrival. “Yes. Can you imagine a more appropriate way to portray sensuality and sexual allure, Your Grace?"

  "There is hardly anything appropriate about it, St. Claire.” For all his objection, Caerleon couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. “But as you've been working on it for several days and I agreed in the first place, I don't suppose I can change our bargain now. However, I need to speak with my wife for a moment."

  "As long as she doesn't move, please go ahead. We have another hour left in our session."

  "It's personal, I'm afraid."

  Nathaniel shrugged and went back to work. “Feel free to wait the hour and you may speak with her alone."

  It was clear from the look on the duke's handsome face he wasn't used to being told what to do, much less have someone dictate to him over something he considered to belong to him, but Nathaniel couldn't care less. What did matter was that the painting was evolving like magic and his inner excitement was building over the creation.

  It was going to be his finest work and would no doubt scandalize the art world, but also elevate his status from budding genius to master.

  The normally aloof duke seemed to resign himself to an audience and crossed the room to drop to his knees next to the chaise. With one hand he touched his wife's cheek, just a feather brush of his fingertips. “Vanessa, I love you. I believe I have waited too long to tell you."

  The softly said words seem to hang in the room.

  Though she obediently stayed in place, Vanessa Augustine had her eyes open, a delicate tint of color in her cheeks as she stared at her husband.

  My God, it was perfect.

  The final element snapped into place like a key flicking open a lock. The luminous joy in her gaze as the woman in front of him looked at her lover was the last thing Nathaniel needed to immortalize and capture to complete his vision.

  Both for his painting and for himself.

 

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