by Alice Gaines
“And I you. Always.” She leaned into him and put her lips to his.
After all their kisses, he tasted like home—her welcome. The place where she belonged at the end of the day. Sighing, she leaned into him for more. And then, more and more. His lips moved against hers, and he cupped the back of her head to pull her even closer. Heat spiraled around them, the familiar lazy warmth that clouded her brain and readied her for the inevitable surrender. Her body to his. Her heart beating against his chest. Her soul joining his at the moment of perfection.
He pressed his mouth against her temple and moaned his pleasure into her ear. “How I’ve missed this.”
“It hasn’t been so long, really.”
“Forever.” Another tiny kiss to her jaw. “An eternity.”
“It does seem so, doesn’t it?” The moment she heard her own voice speak those words, the truth behind them hit her. Baby or no, she couldn’t have stayed away from this man. Without him, the most colorful sunset would seem only shades of gray. Music would lose its magic. The sweetest berries would taste like dust.
“I didn’t know where you were,” he said as he nibbled at her jaw and then dipped beneath to her neck. “What if I couldn’t find you?”
“I would have come back. I swear it.”
“Never leave me again.”
“I couldn’t.”
His mouth descended to the base of her throat and stopped at the modest neckline of her dress. He reached to the top button and then froze. “What am I doing?”
She took his face between her hands. “Undressing me, I hope.”
“Is it safe?” he said. “The baby…”
“It had better be safe. I don’t plan to abstain for the next seven months.”
“I don’t want to hurt you or our child.”
She brushed hair from his eyes and over his forehead. “You couldn’t if you tried.”
He got to his feet and then bent to scoop her up. Before she knew it, he held her cradled against his chest.
“I’m heavy, you silly man,” she said.
“Light as a feather. Which way to your bed?”
She pointed. Laughing, he crossed the threshold into her bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him. Late afternoon sunlight spilled at an angle through the window, landing on the dusty rose carpet and bedclothes to create a warm glow. She’d entered this room at this time of day several times now and had never noticed the illusion before. Nor had she heard how the song of birds came loud enough to penetrate the glass windowpane. He seemed as oblivious to all the beauty around them as she had been, as he hadn’t moved his gaze from her face the whole time he’d carried her in here. He kept staring at her and smiling as he set her feet onto the floor and started in on the buttons of her dress. He took his time, stretching out the moment. She wouldn’t hurry him but savored the anticipation. When he had them open, he bunched the dress in his fists and let her help him lift it off her. That done, he pushed her petticoats over her hips to the floor.
“No corset,” he said. “Good. I don’t want one of those things cramping my child.”
“I’ll lose my girlish figure.”
“You’ll be even more beautiful than you are now.” From there, he removed each bit of small clothes—one scrap of fabric at a time—and covered her now bare skin with kisses. At her shoulder, over her collarbone, to the tops of her breasts. Now, he kneeled to slip her shoes off her feet and strip down her stockings. After he helped her out of her drawers, he pulled her to him and covered her belly with tiny caresses.
“The baby doesn’t know you’re there,” she said.
“Of course, he does. Or, she does.”
“Preposterous man.”
“I plan to dote on both of you, starting right now.”
“Would you mind doting on my pussy for a while? It’s missed you.”
“Wicked woman. My marchioness would never talk like that.” He grinned up at her. “Except in my bed.”
“We’ll have to use my bed right now.”
“That we will.” He rose and picked her up again. “God’s blood, you’re beautiful.”
“I can walk, you know.”
“Later.” He lowered her onto the bed. It felt like floating as he settled her against the covers. Then, he stripped out of his own clothing. She’d watched him do that many times now, but she never got used to the grace of his movements or the marvels of his naked body. Broad shoulders, smooth chest, finely muscled legs. Of course, that one particular part of his anatomy captured her real interest. It was just as beautiful as she remembered and every bit as big.
She slid over to make room for him beside her. Stretching out on his side, he propped himself up on an elbow and gazed down at her. He stroked her face with the backs of his fingers and then trailed them over her neck to her shoulder and chest.
“Your breasts seem fuller now,” he said.
“They are, and more sensitive.”
“Let’s see.” He cupped one gently and brushed his thumb over the nipple.
She tensed with the shock of so much unexpected pleasure, her back arching. “Oh, yes. So good.”
“I love the way you respond.”
“Oh, David!”
He reached to the other breast and squeezed it gently. This time, she whimpered and closed her eyes.
“Your body’s ripening,” he said. “I can’t wait to watch our child grow inside you.”
She sighed. “I’ll get as big as a house.”
“You’ll still be the loveliest woman in creation.”
“Liar.”
“Shhh.” He stretched out next to her and slid his hand lower. His palm settled on her belly and stayed there. Such a sweet gesture. Then, it wandered lower into the thatch of curls that covered her sex.
She lay back, eyes closed, and waited for his touch at her most sensitive spot. When he grazed it, a cry tore from her throat. Just that light contact made her tingle and burn—needing him.
“Do you know how much I’ve missed this?” he asked.
“Tell me.”
“I’d rather show you.” He took her hand and placed it on his cock. Erect before, now it felt as hard as steel beneath taut skin. She stroked him, feeling the pulse of blood in the vein along the underside. He held himself absolutely still as she explored his sex. The firm shaft, the ridge around the head, the dimple at the end.
That day in the gazebo, he’d taught her about a particular spot on his cock that excited him the most. Probing with her fingertip, she searched for it.
“Oh, God,” he gritted. “You remembered that.”
“I plan to use it to get what I want,” she answered. “For the rest of my life.”
“I submit,” he answered. “But I hope what you want right now is to be royally frigged.”
She sighed. “More than anything.”
“Then, I’d better make you ready.”
His fingers parted her pussy lips and stroked them. She lay there and let him rub back and forth, each time collecting moisture from her sheath. She’d already grown so ready that she coated his fingers with her wet heat.
He found her pearl again, and each time he touched it, she slipped farther and farther from reality. All that mattered in her world was his heat beside her, the sound of his breathing, and the passage of his fingers. Back to her pussy, then forward to her pearl. A lingering touch on that scrap of flesh—just enough to stoke the fire in her belly. And then, the whole process began again.
“David, make love to me.”
“In a moment. It’s been too long since I’ve petted your pretty puss.”
She still held his cock. But, with her mind overwhelmed by the pressure against her pearl, she couldn’t concentrate on doing anything more than pumping her fist along his shaft. It seemed to work though, because his breathing went faster and he groaned louder as she worked him.
As he became more aroused, his fingers pressed harder and faster against her clitoris. Liquid fire pooled inside her. Soon, it w
ould burst free to claim her in orgasm.
“David, I’m ready. Take me now.”
“Thank God. I thought you’d never ask.”
She spread her legs, making a place for him between them.
“No, my darling,” he said. “You on top.”
“To protect the baby?” she asked.
“And so I can watch you riding me.”
She got to her knees and then straddled him. With one hand, she parted the lips of her sex, while with the other, she took a firm grasp of his shaft. He helped her onto him, circling her waist with his hands as he lowered her slowly. She sucked in a breath as she took more and more of him, finally settling herself against his pelvis. No matter how long they’d spend their lives together, no matter how many times they made love, the miracle of how their bodies fit together would never grow old. Nature had made them to complete each other, and now that she’d finally accepted the truth of their love, she could put past hurts behind her and find true happiness.
He began to move, slowly thrusting up into her while guiding her with his big hands. The male animal with his mate—bigger, stronger, fiercer—cherishing and protecting his female and their young.
Their child. His child. Her child. As her lover continued pushing into her as if he couldn’t get deep enough, she let go of the last fear of truly giving herself. This man wouldn’t leave her, wouldn’t find her too tall and ungainly, wouldn’t think her unfeminine, wouldn’t want another woman. He loved her alone. The knowledge made her heart sing even as her body rose toward the pinnacle.
She watched his face, savoring the play of emotions there. Reverence, love, and the light of passion in his eyes.
“I’m yours, Juliet,” he whispered.
“And I’m yours.”
“Love me,” he gasped. “Love me.”
“Always.”
He closed his eyes as a wave of hunger strong enough to resemble pain passed over his feature. “Ah, God.”
“Now, David. Now.”
He moved his hand to her sex and stroked her pearl with the pad of his thumb. Darts of pleasure shot through her, traveling along each nerve to every part of her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her vision reddened at the edges, but she kept staring at the man who’d been her lover and would soon be her husband. His muscles bunched as he strained for their mutual pleasure. Each thrust harder and deeper. He rubbed her nubbin faster, and finally, she had to surrender. Her head tipped back, and she closed her eyes.
They were alone and together now, their bodies joined in the most carnal way possible while their spirits twined together. Separate identities merged into one. Each would reach a separate climax, but each would feel the other’s, too. She’d feel the moment he released his seed inside her. He’d feel the tightening of her womb the moment she did.
He’d reached the very end of his endurance, and yet, the friction of his thumb never lessened. She caught his fever as her lust rose to claim her. And yet, he drove her past even that boundary. Breath escaped her, and her voice failed her. She could only continue taking him into her body while the two of them reached the edge and flew past.
A powerful current caught her up and squeezed her. Her pussy exploded in orgasm, gripping him and then bursting into eruptions around his cock. His climax followed hers, merging the two into something greater. This instant in time contained their beginning and their end and the eternity between. No matter how long they lived, this moment would exist forever.
After it ended and she could breathe again, she lowered herself onto his chest, basking in their shared joy and listening to the thumping of his heart beneath her ear. They rocked together in a sea of completion, her sex still clutching his in the aftermath of their passion.
“I don’t believe it,” he murmured as his hands stroked her back. “How is it possible to feel more each time?”
“It must be your doing. I’m just a virgin, remember?”
“You were better as a virgin than the most practiced courtesan.”
“And you’ve had some of them, I gather.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Does it bother you that I’ve been with other women?”
“Not as long as they don’t stare at me in hat shops.”
“Hat shops.” He chuckled. “You’ll have to explain that to me someday.”
She sighed and stretched. “Someday.”
She lay in his embrace, warm and secure in his love now that she’d finally accepted the reality of it. No matter how many times he’d declared himself, she’d always doubted him because she’d doubted herself. She’d protected herself from hurt—or, so she’d thought—but, in the process, she’d hurt him. Not fair. Not fair at all, but she’d been too wrapped up in what she needed and wanted to see that.
She stroked his chest. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”
He rubbed her back, his palms like velvet against her skin. “That’s what you’re supposed to do, if I understand the curse correctly.”
“It’s not really a curse, is it?”
“Not for our generation of Winslows, but I imagine our children will see it differently.”
She lifted her head and gazed into his face. “We’ll be a burden to them?”
“Not a burden, exactly,” he answered. “More of an annoyance.”
“You could be right. I’ve always annoyed my brother and sister and the people they married,” she said.
He chuckled. “And took pride in doing it, I imagine.”
“You’ve met them. Wouldn’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
His arms went around her, hugging her to his chest. “So, you’re resigned to your fate—living with me and driving our children to distraction?”
“Someone has to do it, I guess.”
“Then back to England we go,” he said. “And we’ll never be separated again.”
“Never.”
***
Juliet refused to wear a corset under her wedding gown, and Lady Derrington stood behind her in that choice, despite the subtly raised eyebrows of the fashionable dressmaker from London. The woman may have noticed the slight thickening of her waist and the lump of her belly. They’d paid her enough to remain silent, though, and she could keep her judgments to herself.
Who knew or cared whether the guests would notice, either? The same went for any mention of the pristine white of the fabric. Huge numbers of noble first births came “early,” so no one had any business questioning this one. Queen Victoria, herself, could attend and disapprove, and it wouldn’t sour Juliet’s mood. Today, she’d married the sweetest and the sexiest man on Earth, and once they’d seen the guests off and settled in for the night, she’d prove yet again how much she adored him.
The weather blessed their union with sun and warm breezes, so they held the reception in the garden among the nudes. Lord and Lady Mitford loved the statues, of course, as did Lord Blandings. His wife seemed less enthusiastic, but she managed to keep the siblings from New York occupied in faint disapproval, so she served a very useful purpose, indeed.
Instead of tossing the bouquet, Juliet handed it off to Millie quietly. Millie would be the next bride, so there was no point in having a competition. Millie gave her a quick hug and smiled, fingering the petal of a white orchid.
“You look even more beautiful than I’d expected,” Millie said.
“Happiness will do that for a woman,” Juliet answered. “You’ll be even more lovely.”
“As long as Mr. Wently thinks so, I’ll be satisfied.”
Juliet glanced at the man who’d just performed the wedding. His gaze had hardly strayed from her maid of honor during the entire ceremony, and now, he stared at Millie with so much love in his eyes, Juliet would have been jealous if her husband didn’t look at her exactly the same way.
“At least, you won’t have to rush your wedding,” Juliet said.
Millie didn’t answer, but her cheeks colored.
“Will you?” Juliet prompted.
“But, you’re not sure,” Juliet said.
In answer, Millie simply shook her head.
“Why, you little scamp,” Juliet said. “You and the vicar have done the deed.”
Millie’s color deepened. “We couldn’t resist.”
“Was it good?”
“Ah, Juliet, you have no idea.” For a moment, her friend looked as if she’d swoon. Then, she recovered and straightened. “But then, you do, don’t you?”
“I’m so happy for you.” Juliet put her arm around Millie’s shoulders. “When will the wedding be?”
“As soon as we can arrange things and Richard’s family can all get here.”
“You’ll wear my dress.”
“I couldn’t,” Millie said. “All that expensive fabric Lady Derrington brought, the lace…”
“What a waste to use it only once,” Juliet replied. “We’ll get that silly dressmaker from London to take the waist in and change some things to make it your own.”
“You’ll be my matron of honor?”
“Of course. And Derrington will give you away.”
Millie’s eyes misted over. “I can’t believe I’m so happy.”
“I can. Now, go and find your husband-to-be and tell him just how happy he’s made you.”
“I will.” Millie pecked Juliet on the cheek and went in search of her intended.
Juliet wandered to a bench and sat down. So many people had attended that she didn’t know, she hadn’t even tried to memorize the names. Her husband was a marquis, after all, and this wedding—her wedding at the advanced age of thirty-two—had society all a-twitter. At least, it felt that way when she’d looked out over the sea of unfamiliar faces crowded into the family chapel. One face wasn’t there, thank heaven—the blonde woman from the hat shop. In fact, everyone seemed delighted with the proceedings, so if any of her husband’s former lovers had had news of the marriage, most likely they had all stayed away.
Now, all the strangers milled around in their finery, sipping champagne in anticipation of the feast that would follow. One figure she knew and loved separated himself from the crowd and approached. Jack, her safe haven in any storm.