Passion Regency Style

by Wendy Vella

  And from what she had hinted at, her husband had never brought her pleasure. That drove him wild—the thought that she’d never experienced the pleasure that could be had between a man and a woman. He imagined exactly how he would drive her to the edge and make her as wild as he. He’d use his tongue, his fingers, his cock to teach her exactly what her body could do.

  The gas lamps were lit, casting their glow along the streets. From his townhouse to the hotel was only a fifteen-minute walk along the cobbled streets and he could avoid the rougher areas that not even the bravest of men stepped foot in after dark. Though at present, he felt as though he could take on ten ruffians, if not more. No one would come between him and his Ellie.

  His Ellie?

  He shook his head. This would be a short affair. She was a widow—there was little shame involved in bedding her so his conscience would remain clear—but he could offer her nothing. Work kept him busy enough and Ellie deserved better than a grizzled ex-rake who once hurt her badly. Perhaps she would find herself a rich husband before long and they could live in castles and spend the rest of their days counting their money or something.

  But first, she would be his. He allowed himself a smile and hopped up onto the pavement. Lucian grimaced to himself. Far too close to skipping along like a blasted schoolgirl for his liking. He also had to consider how he would ensure she did not see all his scars. Snuff out the candles perhaps? Or even take her so hard and fast that he had no time to remove his shirt?

  Somehow he couldn’t see Ellie being fooled by any of that. Would he take the risk and hope she was not so repulsed that she sent him away?

  He rounded the corner and the hotel came into sight. Though small by London standards, the hotel, which was only around twenty years old, was one of the finest in Caldton. Built like an Italian villa, its impressive columns and front facade dominated the street. It was, in his opinion, a fine place to meet one’s lover.

  Though she was not his lover. Not just yet.

  He allowed a small smile to tease his lips as the doorman opened the door and Lucian stepped through. Soon though.

  Lucian skirted the reception with bold steps, as though he knew exactly where he was heading. Night time visitors would be no rarity but he did not wish anyone to spot him or ask him if he needed assistance. Ellie had suffered much at his hands and he refused to add sullying her name to his misdeeds too.

  Thankfully he’d visited with business associates at the hotel so it did not take him long to find the third floor, and Ellie’s room. He paused outside and eyed the gold letters indicating her room. Tempted to pull out the telegram and double check the room number, he shook his head at himself and raised a fist to knock. He really was behaving like a whelp about to lose his virginity and Lucian was far from a virgin.

  Rapping his knuckles several times against the door, he glanced up and down the corridor. Had he knocked too many times? Sounded impatient? Perhaps she had changed her mind? The door swung open and his already dry mouth turned to dust.

  There wasn’t a stretch of silk in sight. In fact, one could have described the garment she was wearing as distinctly virginal, yet the billowing cotton lining her slender frame and pulling in under her breasts sent an instant dart of longing to his crotch.

  But then it was her beaming smile that broke him. When he raised his gaze to hers, he saw the glow in her eyes, slightly hindered by apprehension. Her generous smile wavered but remained, and she looked so much like the hopeful, excitable girl he had known all those years ago.

  “You came.”

  It was a wonder his legs did not come out from beneath him. Oh, he came. And she would come. Over and over. Breathing his name, just like she had breathed those two words. Every muscle in his body tensed up and he stepped wordlessly over the threshold.

  Ellie shut the door behind him, bringing her body next to his. Lucian studied the pale blue cotton chemise she wore and took in the way the ruffles skimmed her breasts and made him want to lick a path down and down until he became lost in her. He had seen far more enticing garments—ones deliberately designed to appeal to a man—yet on Ellie, everything enticed him.

  She slid her hands over the fabric and chewed on her bottom lip. When she tipped her head down, a few curls spilled about her shoulders. Most of her abundant hair was piled high but as it often did, much escaped and his fingers twitched with the urge to bury into those curls.

  “Will I do?” she asked, every ounce of vulnerability she had seeming to pour into those words.

  It was the undoing of him. “You shall more than do,” he said gruffly, his throat feeling as though full of coal dust.

  He closed the gap and took her face in his hands. His lips met hers. She gasped and gripped his neck, drawing the slender column of her body to his. Sweet, precious feminine flesh pressed against him and he groaned into her mouth.

  This was a mistake. It had to be. Bedding the woman whose life he had all but destroyed? But not even the hounds of hell could hold him back. Maybe bringing her pleasure would be his salvation.

  Pish, unlikely.

  She tasted of wine and he suspected she must have had some to still her nerves. But what was she nervous about? Did she too realize how wrong her desire was for him? What woman in their right mind would want a scarred man who had been unbearably cruel to her? But her desire was there, pulling her into him and making her rub her breasts eagerly against his chest.

  Frantic fingers began plucking at his necktie and he lifted a hand to help before she strangled him. The hot, wet, desperate kisses continued. When he moved to draw the tie out and flick open his collar, she trailed her lips down the side of his face and along his neck. It was only when she began shoving off his frock coat did he realize she had been kissing his scar.

  Lucian drew back long enough to fling his coat aside and to see no hint of repulsion in her gaze. He smirked to himself. He had always known Ellie was so much better than he. No judgement, no loathing. She saw him as...well, he did not know, but as something other than a scarred scoundrel.

  “I’ve been—” His words were cut off by a blue blur of cotton flinging itself back against him. She kissed his lips with grateful, firm kisses, forcing him to spit out his words like pistol shots. “I’ve. Been. Thinking. Of. Nothing but you,” he finally spilled out.

  “Me too.”

  He ran his hands down her back and gripped her rear. Suddenly the cotton was far more than a little appealing. If his hands were to be believed—and he could not be entirely sure as he felt as though his wits were a little addled—she wore nothing underneath the cotton.

  Lucian notched himself against her and heard her sharp intake of breath.

  “You are hard,” she said, awe inching into her voice. It was most flattering.

  He smirked. “I am hard most of the time around you.” He pressed forcefully, tried to bring some kind of relief to the ache in his groin.

  Ellie’s hands ran up and down his back and she moved her hips against his arousal. Her fingers came to his trousers and tugged at the waistband. Her eagerness made him grin until she successfully undid them and slipped a hand down to cup him. That small palm holding him made his grin vanish and a strange, animalistic sound rose in his throat.

  Her hand snapped back. “Forgive me.”

  He grabbed her hand and pressed it back against him, rocking into her palm as he did so. “Nothing to forgive.” He slid a hand around her neck and kissed her firmly before uttering, “Do it again.”

  She clasped once more, exploring the shape of him through his drawers. Her eagerness—indeed her boldness—was wholly unexpected.

  Lucian took her mouth then, exploring it properly with his tongue, flicking across her lips and delving into the corner of them. Her tongue met his and he staggered back as her grip on his shaft grew bolder. Then her hand left him and he bit back a sound of disappointment.

  Apprehension tangled around his windpipe when her hands found the buttons of his waistcoat, removed it, then wo
rked on his shirt. He supposed he ought to stop kissing her and distract her in some way, but he could not bring himself to break away. She tasted too sweet, felt too hot. He could kiss her for an eternity and never get enough. He grasped and kneaded her buttocks while she popped open each button and forced his shirt from him.

  The garment stuck at his wrists and she giggled as he cursed and released her to pop open his cufflinks. One flew across the room and she giggled again. He eyed her with a raised brow and flung the other one to God knows where. Then her gaze fell on his scarred arm.

  He’d forgotten that. Ellie had made him forget. He stiffened when she stepped forwards and touched the scar tissue that covered much of his arm up to his shoulder. She skimmed her fingers over the bumpy flesh and he held his breath.

  “I am so sorry you had to suffer this, Lucian.”

  He shrugged, fighting the desire to cover up or cower away. He didn’t need to fight long. She moved her hand past the scarring and smoothed her palms over his chest and down. Her fingers traced the ridges of his stomach, searing a path. The way she stared at him, her lips parted, eyes shining... She had never looked so beautiful.

  And he felt almost like his old self again. But not quite. With Ellie, there were no thoughts of seduction, of playing a game. As much as he wanted her, he needed her pleasure too.

  Standing in his trousers, he slid his hands down her bare arms and drew her close. Heat radiated from her and her scent increased. He lifted her curls away from her neck and kissed up and down until a shudder ran through her, then he bit her soft lobe. Were it not for the hold he had on her, he felt sure she would collapse. Lucian registered the faint movements of her body—each softening moment, each tremble.

  When her hands began fumbling around his clothes again, he released her earlobe and set to work untying the ribbon on the front of her chemise. She stiffened.

  Lucian held her back from him. “What’s the matter?”

  She bit her lip. “Horse,” she whispered so softly he had to strain to hear it.

  What in the blazes? “Horse?”

  “What if you still prefer your horse to me?”

  If he was not standing half-clothed, with his arousal aching and desire coursing through his veins, he might have laughed. Had she not looked so desperately frightened, he could have told her not to be foolish. Instead he longed to go back and take away his careless words and his idiocy. How did he never see what stood before him now?

  “How will I know if you will not let me see you?” he asked, keeping his tone soft as though she were a skittish animal.

  Ellie did not fight him when he finished with the ribbon. She remained frozen—no longer pliant and desperate. Had he not been so frantic with need, maybe he would have offered better words of reassurance, but he had none. Perhaps if he had been thinking clearly, he would have pointed out she was more likely to prefer his horse over his own scarred body, than he find her unattractive.

  Slowly, he inched up the fabric until it was bunched by her hips. He did not have to glance down to know she wore nothing else. Nothing but this thin slip stood between him and her skin. His knuckles brushed a fragile hip bone and he pushed it higher still, drawing it over her head and leaving her clenching her fists by her side, completely exposed.

  He drew in a sharp breath. He had never seen a woman so willowy. He had tended to go for curvaceous women, even sometimes plump. Why had he never considered such a woman until Ellie? She had the most beautiful breasts he had ever seen. The corsets she wore likely did a fine job of pushing them up as they were not as bountiful as he might have thought, but he put a hand over one and found it filled his hand perfectly. And the color of her nipples... Pink and dusky and as tempting as her lips. He had no choice but to bend down and taste one.

  Lucian didn’t spend long there, though he promised himself he would soon. He had to take in the rest of her once more. She shuddered and arched into his touch as he skimmed a hand down the delicate indent of her waist and eyed her long limbs. Why had he never imagined what it would be like to bed a woman with such long legs? They went on forever and images of them wrapped around his hips rocked him.

  “Definitely...would...not choose my horse,” he grated out.

  Grasping her hip, he dug his fingers into her flesh and drew her close to press his arousal against her. Ellie sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head at the feel of her soft and pliant against him. She might be slender but she was warm and feminine.

  Ellie remained stiff for a while until he rocked into her, then she melted like butter in his arms, giving herself up to his kisses. Her mouth moved eagerly against his and the tempest swept them up once more. Desperate hands came between them and set to work tugging at the remainder of his clothes. He kissed her as he fought to slip his feet out of his shoes. He tried to kiss her as he tugged off his trousers. To break away while he tore off his trousers and drawers almost killed him.

  A gasp echoed about the room and he vaguely wondered if she’d finally registered the ugliness of his scars but, when a cool hand came to cup him as he straightened, any thoughts of any kind flew from his mind. He groaned and thrust his fingers into her hair to tilt her head back and claim the arch of her throat. Her touch spoke of inexperience—strange for a widow, but then had he not figured out her husband neglected her?—yet it was a bold, inquisitive touch, and one that had him reeling. Heat licked through his body and consumed him in every way.

  Ellie consumed him in every way.

  Fearing his knees might give way, he hooked a hand under her legs and swung her into his arms. One of the many benefits of having such a lithe creature in his arms, he thought to himself. She was so easy to maneuver. He could have a great deal of fun showing her all sorts of positions.

  But for now, the bed would do. He cursed when he nearly tripped on his shoes and spilled her onto the bed. She giggled and buried her head against his neck, her soft curls teasing his skin. In all his years of pursuing women, he did not think, firstly, he had ever been such a blundering fool, and secondly, that he had ever felt the urge to laugh and grin whilst making love.

  Her giggles where infectious as he too laughed as he dropped her to the bed, making her bounce against the purple bedding.

  Lucian crawled over her and paused to rest on both hands so he could view her. Mirth still twinkled in her grey eyes—eyes that drew him in and made him forget all reason.

  “Do you laugh at me, Ellie?”

  “Just a little,” she admitted.

  “Many men would be greatly offended.”

  “You are not many men.”

  He resisted the urge to puff out his chest. “That is true. Little Ellie, you have such a way with words.”

  Disappointment shuttered her gaze and he slipped a leg between hers to bring them closer together before dropping a kiss to her nose. “What is it? Is this not what you wish?”

  If she said no, it would kill him. He held his breath and awaited her answer.

  “You still see me as little Ellie.”

  Ah. Lucian eased back enough to prop himself on one elbow, his leg still twined with hers. “Old habits die hard and I speak only with fondness.” He skimmed a hand down her side and back up to cup her breast. She instinctively arched into his touch, an age-old movement that made blood roar in his ears. “Here, on this bed, naked and wanting, I see you only as a beautiful woman with needs.”

  “Beautiful?” she whispered, disbelief tingeing her voice.

  “Yes, beautiful.” He leaned over her once more to kiss a path down her neck to the hollow of her breasts. “Now are you to keep me talking all night or am I to make use of this beautiful naked body?”

  Ellie gasped in delight as he sealed his mouth around one nipple and drew it into his mouth. “Oh, make use of me. Please.”

  Her breathy plea was the undoing of him. There would not be many more words, he suspected. Just touches and cries.

  Using his teeth to nibble lightly at her
nipples, he concentrated on them until she was writhing beneath him. He then kissed his way down the delicate span of her waist and even stopped to kiss her hips. When he drew apart her thighs, her scent greeted him and if possible, he grew harder. He touched the nest of brown curls and she jolted towards his fingers.

  Lucian grinned. She might not be little Ellie in body or mind anymore, but she was in soul. She demanded pleasure and was not shy about it. The Ellie he had known had taken delight in every moment. Until his foolish behavior that was. It relieved him to see that woman remained, even if tucked away.

  “Lucian,” she breathed when he split those curls with his fingers and brushed her sensitive skin to find her wet and wanting.

  He dropped lower to bring his lips to the inside of her thigh. Soft skin met his mouth and the fragrance of her intoxicated him. He had to have a taste.

  Keeping her parted for him with a hand on either thigh, he lapped his tongue up towards his prize. She uttered a surprised sound but surrendered instantly when he pressed his tongue into her. With long strokes, he pleasured her until she was squirming beneath him. He took the opportunity to suck and nibble her pearl while she clawed at his back. The noises she made would flatter any man’s ego. He only hoped the walls of the hotel were thick.

  Her thighs locked around him and her hands winnowed into his hair. He had little choice but to bring her to her peak—though not even wild horses could have dragged him away. When he felt tiny tremors wrack her body and her thighs tighten around him further, he thrust one finger up into her and circled her nub rapidly with his tongue. It took only moments for her to burst apart beneath him and he savored her trembling orgasm while lapping gently until she collapsed.

  Swiping the back of a hand across his mouth, he rose up and slid beside her. He kept a possessive hand on her breast and eyed her. “I hope you’re not done,” he said with a grin.

  She turned her head to eye him and echoed his grin. In fact, it was likely more wicked than any grin he had ever bestowed upon a woman. A hand pressed him back and she came over to straddle him. What had he done? He had unleashed a beast. Lucian dropped his head back and surrendered to her. What else could he do but enjoy the ride?