WaltzofSeduction

by Natasha Blackthorne

He touched her nub with soft, teasing strokes. The ache there grew unbearable. A moan escaped her. He rubbed her more firmly, increasing the speed. Her hips rocked up and down in time with his hand. There was nothing she could do to still them. The room began to whirl and suddenly a pinwheel of pure pleasure sucked her breath away.

  When she came back to her senses, he was kissing her.

  He lifted his head and his eyes were like blue smoke.

  “What happened?” she asked, still dazed, her body still ticking deep inside.

  “You came.” He kissed her quickly.

  “You knew about this? I mean, before?”

  “Yes.” His look turned serious. “I am going to kiss you there.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Surely not.”

  “I am.” He moved smoothly down her body.

  His dark head dipped between her legs and she gasped. “Colin, it can’t be proper.”

  His answer was to press a quick kiss to her mons. His breath was warm against her and his tongue flicked against her nub. To her surprise, hunger flashed to life. He flicked again. And again.

  Flames of pleasure consumed her until she no longer cared if this was proper or not.

  She wanted it. Needed it.

  Why had he waited so long to show her this world of sensation?

  “Oh please, please,” she panted, her hips arching up to press his face. His tongue circled her nub, again and again, swirls of pleasure that were carrying her away. Then he sucked lightly. Her cunny clenched hard several times and waves of satisfaction swept through her, so strong she let out a shriek of joy.

  The waves were just starting to diminish when he growled low, leapt up and mounted her. His knee pushed her thighs wider. He kneeled between her legs, holding his cock in his hand. Then he put the head to her entrance. His hands touched her hips and then he thrust, strong and hard.

  After several quick strokes, he stopped. “Your legs.” He lifted them.

  “What?” she asked dreamily, her legs dangling at his waist where he held them.

  “Wrap them.” He thrust back and forth. “About me.”

  She complied and he drove deeper, touching some part of her she’d never even been aware of previously. Shock waves jolted through her and she gripped him tightly with her legs. His lips fastened on her neck, sucking. She was crying out with his every thrust as he moved faster, harder. The bed was rocking. She could hear the ropes creaking. His sweat dripped onto her breasts. The world exploded into white-hot bliss.

  * * * * *

  She awoke in her bed to the clock chiming.

  He was awake, standing naked at the window in the moonlight.

  “Colin?”

  He turned and came back to the bed. He smoothed the hair from her face and smiled but in the remaining lamp’s light, his eyes were grave.

  “I have denied you pleasure out of ignorance, but I assure you I had the best of intentions.” He leaned back on the headboard. “Growing up, I adored my sister. Worshiped her.”

  She sucked in her breath. No one ever spoke of Margaret. She knew from gossip that his sister had suffered a breakdown of nerves after her husband died from a fall down the stairs. She held herself quiet, waiting for him to continue.

  “When I was eleven, she married and moved away and I missed her very much. But she came back within a fortnight past her wedding trip. She was in quite a state and Father sent for the physician. The physician diagnosed it as a problem with her nerves, dosed her with laudanum and left. Worried, I visited her chamber and she told me that the marriage bed was too horrible to bear.

  “She made me promise when I got married I would never, ever treat my wife like a whore. She said ladies should not be expected to cater to the base lusts of their husbands. She had never been the type to dramatize before, so I took her words to heart.”

  She moved closer, wanting to be near him.

  “Wait,” he said.

  “You’re leaving already?”

  “I am just going to tend the fire. I shan’t leave unless you ask me to.” He got up.

  “I am always lonely after you leave.”

  Halfway to the hearth, he stopped and turned, his dark brows drawn tightly together. “You are?”

  “Yes, especially afterward we…we…”

  “Why have you never said anything?”

  “I shan’t like to be a demanding wife.”

  “No wife could be less demanding.” His frown deepened. “I want to make you happy, Sara.”

  “You needn’t be so kind. I-I know that you married me for my fortune.”

  Colin’s mouth dropped open. “You know this how?”

  “It is simple logic. Lord Bolderdash was courting me for my fortune as well. After I accepted you over him, he told me this.”

  “He knows nothing of my heart. He is not even a friend. Why would you trust him over your own husband?”

  “You spend so little time with me. Especially of late. Priscilla and Fran say their husbands visit their bed three or four times a week. In the first year of their marriage it was nearly every night.” Her voice became very small on the last few words.

  “You would want me in your bed every night?”

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  He forgot the fire and returned to the bed. “Answer me, Sara. Do you want me here in your bed, every night?”

  “Well, yes. Even if we didn’t…you know.”

  “I think for a time at least, if I am here, we will definitely make love.”

  “Then I shall welcome you here.”

  “God, Sara.” He lowered his head and kissed her. He couldn’t be gentle, his lips taking hers hungrily. His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them firmly. Desire pounded through him, animal and savage. He was about to shock her and he couldn’t help himself. He lifted his head. “Roll over and kneel for me.”

  Sara knelt for him. It couldn’t be the proper way. It felt wicked, forbidden. And utterly delicious. Her heart pounded in her chest while she waited to see what he would do.

  “You have the most beautiful bottom.” His voice seemed unusually deep in the silence of the chamber.

  His large hand stroked her bottom, edging between into the crevice between her cheeks. Anticipatory tingles made her catch her breath. Her cunt clenched and she arched her back.

  His hand came down on her buttock, stinging lightly. She gasped and jumped. A thrill chased through her. She held her breath, waiting to see if he would do it again. He didn’t.

  “Do it again,” she whispered breathily.

  “You liked that?”

  “Please.”

  He smacked her buttock again. She moaned and arched her bottom higher, wetter than ever. He gave her five more playful smacks. Just enough to make her buttocks sting and tingle. He touched her. The petal soft folds were so wet his finger slid inside easily. Her channel clutched him tightly. She was dying to feel his cock inside her. Filling her, stretching her. She pushed backward, rocking her hips, trying to ease the ache.

  He withdrew his finger, leaving behind a devastating emptiness. She cried out in protest.

  The head of his cock touched her, velvet warmth. She tried to arch back, to impale herself on his hardness. But he held her hips firmly, stilling her. He eased inside slowly, inch by inch. She gripped fistfuls of the linen sheets, crying out in need. He refused to hurry. Once impaled to the hilt, when she felt his balls touch her mons, he withdrew. All the way out.

  “No, no!” she cried.

  He entered her again. Sliding slowly in. Holding her hips still, forcing her to take him at his pace. Making her wait, drawing things out until her need was like pain. Until she’d have promised him anything, anything at all if he’d only give her the speed and roughness she’d begun to crave with all her heart.

  “Please, please…please fuck me,” she said.

  She’d never even known she could utter such a word. Nor remember where she had learnt it. But she no longer cared about anything but getting relief.
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  He groaned, his powerful body bending over her. His warm breath blew over her neck a moment before his lips descended. He grabbed her hair, pulled her head back. His blue eyes were blazing in the glow of the dying fire. His lips came down on hers, harshly. On a moan, she opened to him and his tongue thrust deep, stroking hers in powerful sweeps that sucked her breath away. His cock moved within her in hard, urgent strokes.

  The intensity dizzied her and sent her whirling into a firestorm of sensation. Her channel contracted over and over. Deep in her throat, she screamed, the sound swallowed by his kiss. And then all was black.

  * * * * *

  Sara awoke sometime early, with the morning sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains. Her heart in her throat, she looked to the opposite pillow. Colin lay there, breathing deeply and rhythmically in his sleep. Dark stubble shadowed his cheeks and his hair was hopelessly mussed. She’d never seen him in that sort of disarray. The intimacy of it put a warm humming in her heart.

  He had not left her. They had made love all night and he had remained in her bed until morning. She felt well and truly married for the first time.

  Tentatively she moved closer to his large body, seeking his body in the chill of the early winter’s morning. He stirred, his eyelids came open and he gazed at her with sleepy blue eyes. A lazy smile spread over his handsome face and he reached and pulled her close. His lips touched her forehead and then she heard his breathing deepen again.

  Cozy and secure, she closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.

  * * * * *

  Colin had been out of the house on business all day and now they were alone for the first time since the morning. Sara couldn’t help her nervous shyness. It brought to mind their courting days, when she couldn’t even look at him without blushing and losing her tongue.

  He smiled at her and handed her a glass of wine. “You best have some of this, my lady, if we are to dance tonight.”

  She took the glass. “You are still serious about this?”

  “Very. I want the world to see us dancing together and know that you are mine and mine alone.”

  “But I am your wife, I daresay everyone knows I am yours.”

  “It is not quite the same thing, my love.” His blue eyes seemed to smolder with some emotion she couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the glitter of desire or the flare of anger. But something near a mix of the two.

  She sipped at her wine, puzzling over it, all too aware of his eyes upon her, watching her. Would he want to make love tonight as well? Four nights in a row? Her heart raced at the prospect. At this rate, she’d soon be with child. Surely, she would. Hope leapt high into her throat. She wanted to bear him a houseful of babies. All black haired and blue eyes like their sire.

  The clink of his glass on the sideboard made her jump.

  “Let’s dance now,” he said, holding his hand out to her. She put her glass down and took his hand. He touched the straps of her white lawn nightdress. “Remove this.”

  Flutters in her belly made her giddy. She giggled. “Remove it? But I thought we were going to dance?”

  “We are.” He undid the little pearl buttons. Soon the nightdress fell in a pool at her feet. She kicked it away and it landed on a nearby chair.

  He shed his banyan. For a moment, they appraised each other, she as avidly as he. Then, overcome with a wave of shyness, she turned away and giggled.

  He laughed, the deep and rich sound doing shameless things inside her lower belly. His large, warm hand grasped hers and held it firm. “Come now, let’s dance.”

  Their bodies came together, closer than would ever be proper in a ballroom. Her hand closed on his muscular shoulder and his hand touched her bare waist. He led her around the chamber and she followed without even having to think. It was as if they were one body, moving and twirling in graceful motion.

  But then the weight of his erection, pressing her belly, began to distract her. She couldn’t help but rock against him, enjoying the satin over steel feeling of him against her. Wetness flowed over the petals of her cunny and her legs grew weak, trembling with her desire.

  He kissed her and then they were moving backward. He stopped. She opened her eyes. They were in front of her oblong mahogany-framed mirror. Soft firelight bathed their naked bodies in a rosy glow. He held her in front of him, large hand splayed on her belly, so dark against her paleness.

  “Do you see how beautiful you are? Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me to withhold myself from you?”

  His hand moved up to cup her breast and his lips brushed the side of her neck, his warm breath sending raptures of longing through her. Against his tall, hard body, she looked so petite and pale. Fragile, feminine. She had never thought of herself in those terms. She looked…desirable.

  Maybe even beautiful.

  “Bend forward.” His tongue flicked her earlobe.

  She complied without thought, reaching back to steady herself by holding on to his waist.

  He lifted her left leg. His hardness touched her cunny, sliding along her slickness and slipping inside that first little bit.

  She gasped in surprise. They weren’t in the bed. Could they make love like this, standing here, in front of her mirror? The sheer wickedness of it swept through her in a dark wave of anticipation.

  His hands grasped her hips and he thrust into her. All the way inside. She looked into the mirror. His face was tightly drawn, his brows pulled fiercely together. He pulled back then pushed forward again. She saw her body rock with the hard thrust even as the satisfying stroke caressed her inner walls. He pumped into her with deep yet rapid thrusts, sending such an intense rush of sensation through her, she came quick and hard, her channel clamping down on him over and over.

  His whole body shook against hers with the furious strength of his impending orgasm. The hot jet of his come into her channel sent her quaking and quivering again, waves and waves of fiery joy consuming her body and forcing from her a series of shrieks.

  The sound echoed in the chamber while he supported her weak body. His breath was like a surf against her ear.

  After a time he picked her up, carried her to her dressing room and set her down on her feet. Her hipbath waited. His thoughtfulness made her smile. She sank down into the still warmish water with a sigh of pleasure.

  He left her but soon returned, dressed again in his dark blue velvet banyan. She arose from the tub. His eyes scanned her appreciatively and then he wrapped her in a linen towel and briskly dried her.

  “You mustn’t catch cold.” He pulled a flannel nightdress over her head. “You must be ready for our waltz at your birthday ball.”

  She pulled her arms into the nightgown, frowning. He really intended to make her do it. Her stomach lurched. It was one thing to dance with him alone here in their private chambers but to do so in front of all those people frightened her. All those faces. Just waiting for her to make the least misstep. But if this would please him, she wanted to do it.

  He pulled her into his arms. “It is going to be just fine. You shall see. And then you will never need to feel uncomfortable at a ball again.”

  Chapter Four

  It was the evening of Sara‘s birthday ball. Colin paced the front hall, waiting for her to come down.

  “My lord?”

  He stopped and turned. Pretty, blonde Flora stood there, her large, round cornflower eyes full of apprehension. She’d been nervous around him ever since the day he’d made clear in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t looking for a convenient crumpet in his household. But today, she was wringing her hands in that way she did when forced to impart bad news.

  He smiled to set her at ease. “Well, out with it.”

  “Lady Lockhart is indisposed.”

  “She’s not coming down?” he asked, incredulous.

  “Sorry my lord. No.”

  Disappointment crashed into him. Even after all the practice, she was still too scared to dance with him in public. After everything they had share
d, he had thought she could trust enough in him, in their bond, to gain courage and confidence to see this through. She didn’t believe in herself. But didn’t she know he believed in her?

  He paused. How could she? Had he ever told her?

  No, he hadn’t. It wasn’t done in his family. Good or bad, they didn’t speak of their feelings. It struck him this was another misconception. Of course he needed to tell his wife how much she meant to him, else she would never know.

  He took the stairs three at a time, then burst into her chamber, forgetting to even knock. She was standing at her mirror.

  “Sara.”

  She turned. He chuckled softly.

  “Oh!” She waved her fan furiously over her face. “Do you see?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said.

  She looked absolutely lovely in the claret-colored gown, with her shining honey-colored ringlets bobbing and her gray eyes lighting up at the sight of him. She was more than lovely. She was beautiful. Except for the angry red, raised splotches covering every inch of exposed skin.

  “I have ruined everything! Oh, I am such a failure.”

  He walked closer. “Shh,” he said, reaching out and taking her into his arms. “Calm yourself.”

  “But you’re bound to be disappointed in me. I can’t blame you. You’re going to leave me.”

  “I am not going anywhere.” He patted her back. “This same thing happened the day you were presented to the queen. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh heavens… How could I forget.”

  “Did I leave you then?”

  “No.”

  “I daresay no. I proudly presented my splotchy wife. And do you know why?”

  “Not really.”

  “Because I love you, Sara.”

  “You do?” She sounded so shocked that he winced. Had his love really been so elusive to her?

  “Yes, I am utterly besotted. I always have been. You are my own beautiful Sara.”

  “You aren’t just being kind?”

  “No, I am not just being kind.” He pulled away enough to look at her. “For God’s sake, my love, have I ever been capable of that kind of polite dishonesty?”

  “I suppose not.”