Governess Gone Rogue

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  Inside, he began to shake, for the effort of holding back was becoming intolerable. “I hope I’m not dreaming,” he muttered instead. “Because I want you so badly, I can hardly breathe.”

  “Then why are we still standing here?”

  “I just need to be sure you know what you’re asking for.”

  “Why?” she asked, smiling against his mouth. “Are you afraid a knee will come between us at an inopportune moment?”

  Despite the agonizing uncertainty his body was in, that made him laugh. “In these particular circumstances, I’m willing to take the chance. But—”

  He broke off, deciding he had to be blunt. He grasped her wrists and pulled her arms down. “We’re talking about your virtue, Amanda. I think you know enough about the world to know what that means.”

  She tilted her head, studying his face for a moment, then she said, “I can see I shall have to disillusion you about me a little. Remember that day in the park when I told you I’d been in love once?”

  “Yes.”

  “It wasn’t a chaste love, Jamie.”

  The news took him back. “You’re not a virgin? Is that what you mean?”

  She nodded. “It was a mistake,” she went on. “One I bitterly regret, but it wasn’t until it was too late that I realized he wasn’t worthy of me. I hope . . .” She paused, looking at him in uncertainty. “I hope you don’t think less of me now.”

  “God, no.” He grasped her hands in his, entwining their fingers. “I told you how wild I was in my salad days. I chased anything in a skirt. I’ve no right to judge.”

  She gave a little laugh. “That doesn’t stop most people,” she whispered. “Women are expected to be chaste until their wedding day. But I thought I was in love with him, you see. And at the time, I was so, so lonely.”

  He knew all about loneliness, especially now because it was gone. He let go of her hands and cupped her face. “You’re not still in love with this man, are you?”

  “God, no.”

  “Then that’s all I need to know about him.”

  She smiled, a wide, radiant smile that took his breath away and sent his control slipping another notch.

  “Shall we, then?” she asked. “Or do I have to shamelessly fling myself at you again?”

  He didn’t need any more persuading. He wrapped one arm behind her back and bent to slide the other beneath her knees. “It’ll have to be my room,” he murmured, lifting her into his arms. “Yours is too close to the boys. They might hear us.”

  She nodded, and he turned, nodding to the lamp she’d taken from him earlier. “Grab the lamp,” he instructed, and when she did, he started down the darkened corridor and through the open doorway into his bedroom. There, he kicked the door shut and set her on her feet, then reached behind him to turn the key in the lock.

  Her hair gleamed raven black in the soft lamplight, and he lifted his hands to rake his fingers through it, smiling a little.

  “What are you smiling about?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking about that first day when you came swaggering into my study—”

  “Oh, I did not swagger!”

  “Oh yes, you did.” He twisted the strands in his fingers and tilted her head back. “Like you were the best person for the post and you knew it.”

  He kissed her before she could reply, and as her lips parted beneath his, it was a kiss so lush, so deep and ardent, that it sent all his senses reeling. But he wanted to look at her, see her face, as he undressed her, so he pulled back, his hands sliding down to the ribbon tie at her throat.

  Looking into those amazing eyes of hers, he tugged the bow apart, and the ribbon fell to the floor. He began unbuttoning her blouse and guiding her backward toward the bed, but the last button came undone before he got there. Unable to wait any longer to see her body, he paused beside the dressing table, pulled the edges of her blouse apart, and slid the garment off her shoulders, tugging it free of her skirt and letting it fall to the floor. Her skin gleamed like alabaster in the lamplight, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to the bare skin at her collarbone, relishing the way she shivered in response.

  Her soft, powdery scent was pristine, almost maidenly, and yet, it only seemed to deepen his own desire, harkening to his wild side. He breathed in fully, savoring the fragrance as he trailed kisses along her shoulder and continued to undress her.

  Striving to keep his desire in check, he removed her clothes with slow, painstaking care, for he wanted to heighten her anticipation as much as possible, and by the time he had her down to her chemise and drawers, he knew he was succeeding.

  Her skin was flushed a delicate pink, and her breathing had quickened. As he traced tiny circles over the skin of her shoulders and breastbone, he could feel the delicate tremors running through her, and when he lowered his gaze, he could see her hardened nipples jutting out against the thin muslin of her chemise, and the fire in his loins grew hotter and stronger, and he decided not to finish undressing her yet, for the sight of her naked might unravel any control he had left. Instead, he spread his arms wide. “It’s your turn, I think.”

  She stared up at him, her eyes wide, her breath coming as fast as his. “You want me to undress you?”

  “Turnabout’s fair play, darling. Unless,” he added as she hesitated, “you don’t want to?”

  Unexpectedly, she chuckled. “The question is if you want me to. Last time I valeted you, if you recall, it was rather a disaster.”

  “On the contrary.” Despite his rather vulnerable state at present, he couldn’t help a grin. “In hindsight, I have to say that finding out you were a woman ranks as one of the most smashing discoveries I’ve ever made.”

  That pleased her, he could tell, for she was smiling as she began to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. Once they were unfastened, she slipped it from his shoulders along with his jacket and let both garments fall to the floor behind him. As he unfastened his collar and cuff links, she set to work on his studs. She must have been nervous, though, for her fingers fumbled on the second one, and both slipped through her fingers to the floor. “Oh dear,” she murmured, laughing a little as one stud bounced along the carpet and the other rolled beneath the dressing table. “I’m not a very good valet, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ll do it,” he offered, dropping his cuff links on the table by the lamp. He tugged his shirt out of his trousers and pulled it off, but when he reached for his undershirt, she stopped him.

  “No, I want to do it.”

  “All right. Just—” He broke off as she pulled his undershirt off, waiting until it had joined his shirt on the floor before going on, “Just don’t take too long. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, to be honest.”

  “Indeed?” She slanted a mischievous look at him as she lifted her hands to the waistband of his trousers. “What, no willpower?”

  “Not much,” he admitted freely. “Not with you in my vicinity.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She began undoing the buttons of his trousers, and as she worked, her hands brushed teasingly against his groin. He inhaled sharply, tilted his head back, and endured the exquisite torture, but it seemed to take forever, and he realized just what she was doing.

  “Oh, you cheeky girl,” he murmured, giving an agonized laugh. “This is the game you want to play, is it?”

  Before she could answer, he grasped her wrists, and she gave a shriek of laughter as he lifted her arms overhead and turned their bodies toward the wall. “When you sow the wind, my sweet,” he said, pressing her to the wall, holding her wrists overhead with one hand as he bent his head, “you reap the whirlwind.”

  Her laughter ended in a gasp of shock as he bent his head and opened his mouth over one of her hardened nipples, dampening the fabric of her chemise as he flicked his tongue against it.

  She moaned as he used his tongue and the texture of the fabric to toy with her and arouse her. She arched into him with a moan that begged for more, and he was glad to comply. Keeping hold of
her wrists overhead, he suckled one breast as he slid his free hand underneath the hem of her chemise. And when he cupped her other breast in his hand, shaping it against his palm, he gave a groan of appreciation at the small, plump perfection of it.

  He toyed with her, shaping one breast and suckling the other until she was trembling all over and her breath was coming in soft, quick gasps.

  Amanda had never dreamed such delicious torture existed. She pulled, straining against Jamie’s hold, wanting to wrap her arms around him fully, freely, but he would not let her. Instead, he held her wrists above her head and suckled her harder, tearing deep moans of pleasure from her throat. Desperate, she did the only thing she could: she rocked her hips.

  He groaned, and so did she. The feel of him against her, hard and fully aroused, was exquisite, but it was also agony, for each time she surged her hips forward, he pulled back.

  “Jamie,” she cried, bucking her hips, demanding more.

  He laughed, the wretch, but he did not relent. Instead, keeping firm hold of her wrists, he suckled harder as his free hand lowered to the apex of her thighs, eased between them, and cupped her mound.

  Sharp sensation shot through her, and she cried out, her knees caving beneath her. He released her wrists at once, wrapping his arm around her to keep her from falling. He turned her sideways, and she thought vaguely that he might be intending to pick her up and carry her to the bed as he had carried her up the stairs, but then he stopped, and she realized she’d been mistaken.

  He moved to stand behind her, and when she felt his hard erection brush against her buttock, she felt a stab of disappointment. Was he intending to take her right here, from behind, over a dressing table?

  She stirred, uneasy, wanting to turn around. “Jamie?”

  “It’s all right, I promise,” he murmured, his hand moving up along her ribs in a slow caress, his head lowering to kiss her bare shoulder. “Open your eyes.”

  She complied, and when she saw her own reflection and his in the mirror, she caught her breath, realizing his true intent. When he cupped her breasts, the view of his hands on her was every bit as exciting as his touch.

  The dim lamplight shot gold through his brown hair and seemed to enhance the hard muscles of his chest and shoulders, sculpting them with shadow and light. The view of his naked chest surprised her, for though she wasn’t an innocent woman, she’d never seen a man unclothed. Kenneth, she recalled dimly, had always made love to her in the dark.

  Jamie had no such reticence. “You’re lovely,” he murmured, seeming to relish the sight of them this way as much as she did. “So, so lovely.”

  Lost in a sensuous haze, Amanda watched as he caressed and toyed with her, and when he pinched her nipples lightly in his fingers, sharp sensation shot through her, so overwhelming that she cried out, her knees gave way again, and she understood why he had turned her toward the dressing table. She sagged forward, resting her forearms against the wood surface, a move that pressed her buttocks flush to his hips, and even through the fabric of her drawers and his trousers, the feel of his erection, full and turgid against her bum, was so exquisite that she moaned, and she was glad for the dressing table. If it hadn’t been there to support her, she feared she’d have melted into a puddle on the floor.

  She moved her hips up and down, savoring the feel of him against her, and instead of being disappointed by the idea of Jamie taking her in this position, she began to crave it.

  But he didn’t satisfy that craving. Instead, when she jerked her hips again, he groaned and pulled back, his hands sliding away.

  “Jamie,” she wailed in frustration, her fingers curling into fists on the dressing table, desire clawing at her.

  His palms, scorching hot, glided over her hips and up to her waist, and then his hands eased between her tummy and the dressing table, undoing the ribbon of her drawers. “Yes,” she gasped, wriggling her hips to urge him on, welcoming eagerly what had seemed so disappointing only moments ago. “Yes, yes.”

  But again, she was denied. Instead of pushing down her drawers and moving to unbutton his trousers, he knelt behind her, his hands sliding away.

  What on earth? She turned her head, but she couldn’t see him. He was no longer touching her. “Jamie?”

  “Lift your foot,” he said. “I need to take your shoes off.”

  She didn’t want to wait for that. “Damn my shoes,” she muttered, panting.

  For some reason, he laughed. “Patience, sweetheart.”

  Patience? She had no patience. She had only need, the driving, desperate need for completion.

  Thankfully, he was quick, removing her shoes, stockings, and drawers in only a few seconds, and when he stood up again, she spread her legs, bracing herself against the dresser, sure he would take her now.

  He didn’t. Instead, he eased his hand beneath her bum and between her thighs, and when the tip of his finger touched the seam of her sex, the pleasure was so great, she cried out, her hips jerking.

  He shifted his position at once, flattening his free hand on the dressing table to brace his weight and leaning his hip against her buttock to anchor her in place.

  His other hand between her thighs, he began to caress her, his fingertip sliding slowly back and forth along the seam of her sex. Desperate, hungry with need, she tried to jerk her hips, but her range of motion was limited by his superior weight, and she could only stand there, pinned, helpless, moaning with need as his knowing fingers teased and tormented her.

  It was an exquisite agony, this sensation of pleasure held just out of reach. She moved her hips back and forth the scant fraction he would allow, but he didn’t increase the pace, and soon, the tension within her became unbearable. A sob of frustration tore from her throat.

  He leaned down, his bare chest scorching hot against her back, his warm breath against her ear making her shiver. “Is there something you want?” he murmured. “Tell me.”

  Tell him what she wanted? Impossible. She couldn’t talk. She could hardly breathe. She pumped her hips again, insistent, hoping that was enough to urge him on, but instead of deepening the caress, he did the opposite, pulling back a fraction, his fingertip circling the nub of her pleasure, lightly, softly, barely touching her. “Tell me.”

  “More,” she ground out, her hips jerking again, her hot cheek pressed against smooth mahogany. “More, Jamie, more.”

  He complied, his fingers spreading the moisture of her arousal across her clitoris and just inside her opening as he began to caress her, and mercifully, he eased back, giving her freedom at last to enjoy it fully. Her arousal rose with each tender lash of his fingers, her hips working, her need rising higher and higher, until at last, she climaxed in a shattering rush of pleasure and collapsed, panting, against the dressing table.

  Smiling a little, Jamie leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, feeling her lips curve in a little smile against his. Then he drew back, relishing how she looked at this moment, beautiful and ravished even in profile, her skin flushed from her orgasm. He wished he could linger here, pleasure her more, but his years of self-imposed celibacy had taken their toll, and his body simply couldn’t endure waiting any longer. “I want you,” he said, pressing kisses along her cheek to her ear. “I want to be inside you.”

  “Yes,” she gasped, nodding in willing accord. “Oh yes, Jamie, yes.”

  He’d had vague thoughts of moving them to the bed, but when she spread her legs apart, positioning herself for him to take her, he simply couldn’t resist. He straightened, his hand sliding from between her legs so that he could unbutton his trousers. He shoved them down to his knees along with his linen, releasing his aching cock, then positioned himself directly behind her, his hands holding her hips.

  “I want to see your face, Amanda. Open your eyes, my love.”

  She did, lifting her head, and when her gaze locked with his in the mirror, he began to enter her. He wanted to go slowly, but she was so wet, so hot and inviting, that as the head of his pe
nis pushed between her warm, silken folds, he just couldn’t hold back, and he thrust into her hard and deep.

  She came almost at once. He felt it, her muscles clenching around him again and again, as her head tilted back, her eyes closed, and her body shuddered with pleasure. The sensations of her climax were just too much for his starved body to withstand. With a force he could no longer contain, he began to move in her, the dressing table thumping against the wall as he held her hips in his hands and thrust into her again and again and again, losing himself in the warmth and scent of her body.

  Despite the maelstrom, he kept his eyes open, for the sight of her flushed face in the mirror as he took her from behind was one of the most beautiful and erotic things he’d ever seen in his life. He could feel his climax coming, but he held it back as best he could, waiting for her, and when at last she came again, sobbing his name, he came as well, an orgasm so intense, it nearly blinded him in a white-hot flash of sensation.

  He closed his eyes then, savoring the shudders of pleasure that rocked his body and hers. Sated at last, he collapsed against her in complete release, and they both sank against the dressing table, his forearms resting on either side of hers, his chest against her back, his labored breaths mingling with hers in the glorious aftermath. He kissed her cheek, her hair, the side of her neck, murmuring her name.

  She didn’t answer, and he looked at her in the mirror, his body still locked with hers. “Amanda, are you all right?”

  “Oh God,” she whispered, her eyes opening to meet his, wide with wonder. “I never knew it could be like this, Jamie.”

  At those words, he felt a wave of satisfaction that was better than any orgasm he’d ever had. Joy filled his chest, squeezed his heart, flooded through his veins, and he savored the feeling.

  In his wildest dreams he never thought he’d fall in love again. But as he gathered Amanda against him, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and looked at her beautiful face in the mirror, his love for her overwhelmed him and awed him, and for the first time in three long, lonely years, he felt as if life was worth living.