Then he heard her screaming his name.
He stumbled in his haste only to find her standing still in her drenched clothes and blushing furiously.
“I...I cannot get out of this without your help. I am sorry for asking, I tried but the buttons are a blasted nuisance.” She turned her back and gestured at the troublesome piece of clothing.
He did not think anything of her request. The sudden fear at her raised voice had banished the slight fog of desire in his head. He moved closer and fumbled with the pearl buttons, then the ties of her stays. A body in motion tended to remain in motion. When he had helped her pull off the last layer of clinging cotton he had automatically reached for the next and encountered soft clean flesh, the scent of lemons filling his nose.
If she closed her eyes she could pretend it was Mary, even if her maid could not go about her duties without gabbing. She pushed off each layer as soon as he unlaced it. Just enough to make space for him to reach for the next. She was not quite prepared for the shock of his hand on her skin. A callused finger brushing her ribs. She held her breath.
When she did not protest he placed the flat of his hand on her back. His middle finger traced the upper indenture of her spine. He knew it was improper to take such liberties but he could not deny himself. Her delicious flesh was bared and beautiful. He would move away, and apologize for his forward manners—soon. Not yet, her creamy white skin was a sight and he had to touch it, had to trace the soft curvature of her ribs, skim the top of her shoulders—soon he would...
She leaned into the touch with a soft gasp. “Robert.” He had not, in his visions, matched the beauty of the tortured, raspy, aroused sound that spilled from his throat. His softly throbbing member drew to its full length desiring, demanding, her. Only her.
Her body first warmed, then a wave of desire so strong flowed through her. She was dizzy, then it left her unbearably heavy. The heavy clothes on her body sailed to the ground as her hands lost control and fell to her sides, leaving her naked.
He tried, but he couldn’t stop his hands from slipping lower. He palmed the curve of her firm derriere. His finger slipped between the two globes. He felt the urge to cup the two semi-circles. His other hand banded across her waist, holding her firm while his curious finger probed her. She was hot, slicked with her desire and aching for him. Her moan filled the room.
The sudden crack of lightening filled the room with a glow that startled them. It returned a bit of control to him. He curled his hands away from her body and moved away one step. Then another step. He shook his head to bring a bit of his senses back. He closed his eyes, and tried to banish the hot visions in his mind. Images that urged him to claim her.
She missed him immediately. His hands stopped tracing her skin. When his hands had moved away from their initial path and brushed lower, she had stilled, afraid he would stop. She was afraid that the spell would be broken if she moved or said a word. Then she would never really know, never understand, that delicious ache that filled her with traitorous heat. He did not stop. One hand had curled along her waist holding her, claiming her. Then the other had slipped between her two legs. Its way was slicked by the liquid seeping from her private place. Then he touched her center. She could not have stopped the moan, her arching into his touch, as if her life depended on it. He satisfied that craving in her.
She turned to look at him and he knew that she was far gone. Her eyes were bigger and the plea in them was impossible for him to ignore. It wouldn’t do, to take her in the haze of desire and have her regret their union. He had to hold on to his restraint even when the peaks of her breast were raised and tight, demanding his touch. Even when her shallow rapid breaths lifted them like a pagan offering to his lips. They were two perfect globes of moon quivering softly. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and retreated, drawing his eyes back to her face before he steeled himself and looked down.
He looked at her like he was a man starved and she was a meal like no other. His eyes were heavy on her skin. She could almost felt the intensity of his gaze. He looked at her again and started to look away. He was not going to touch her, the realization came to her. The ache in her lower belly went rabid. A gasp was driven from her lips and she pressed a hand down there, at the center of her ache, nestled at the apex of her thighs. His eyes stopped and she, with a boldness and wanton seduction she did not ever think she was capable of, cupped her sex, hoping to relieve herself. The blush started from her belly to her breasts before reaching her cheeks but she didn’t look away from the eyes that flicked to her face in shock. Even in her privacy she had never been so bold.
It drove him to his knees with the force of blasting cannons. She stood like Aphrodite in all her glory. Her body was arched with desire, breasts lifted and hand cupping her Venus mons. Her fingers were cupping, covering herself in that place he wanted to touch. He wanted his hands cupping her instead.
“Robert, please. I ache so much. Help me with this pain. Touch me again, please.” What man would not want the sight of her begging lips upturned? Breasts swayed slowly at a mesmerising pace with her fingers buried between pink petals. He knew she was slick with desire. And her pose was too much of a temptation, innocence tempered by an all-consuming desire. Her words ruined every hope he had of restraint.
“You don't know what you are asking of me.” His voice was hoarse and he hated that, despite his protestations, he wanted nothing more than to claim what she was offering so sweetly.
“I do,” she insisted and moved closer.
Discretion was clearly the better part of valor. If she touched him, he knew he would not be able to check his white-hot desires. “Do you?” he challenged.
One more step forward and her hands loped around his neck. “I am no child, no wide-eyed ingénue,” she insisted. “Touch me, Robert.”
“I cannot, in good faith, do that. I will never stop,” he warned. His voice was heavy. Every shallow breath he took rushed into his lungs and mashed her breasts against his chest. The peaks of her breasts poked him through the linen shift now plastered to his skin. He was losing control. He was daring, challenging.
“Don't stop.” The whisper hit his neck, tickling his skin. It was a sinuous whisper that held all the permission he needed. It was a bold demand, a wild challenge, a straight dare. His hunger drove him to pillage her, burn her with the desire she teased mercilessly but the eerie light hovered in the air for moments after the lightning flickered and he knew he could do nothing but worship her.
His hands grazed the tip of her left breast poking his shirt with her every shallow breath. He cupped her under the chin. His eyes fixed on hers as he descended on her lips, his first campaign.
She had steeled herself for the touch. But how could she have prepared herself for something she had never encountered? More demand, more intensity than she could bear. His lips plundered her and made her forget breathing.
He leaned away and looked at her flushed face. She wanted to feel every single emotion, every touch, and every nuance of desire. His hand worried one nipple and his mouth captured the tip of the other breast. He stroked it leisurely with his tongue, worried the hardened peak with tiny bite, then focusing on her face to capture her delight he suckled her. It tugged from the tips of her breast to the depths of her belly. Her muscles tightened in wanton delight and her hands, no longer content to stay by her sides, slipped to his nape to press him into her. His mouth did dangerous things to her. His teeth bit, grazed then tugged at her, working on one then the other with each bereft straining for his touch. Her ache grew worse.
“Robert, please. This ache, it grows.” She was drowning she was sure. She needed him to save her.
Her cry thrilled him darkly. His lover knew nothing of desire. He took great pleasure in watching her eyes glazed and her form molded further into him. She rubbed against him, fierce in her hunger, trying to ease her ache but not yet. Not yet. He leaned away. If she persisted with her ministrations he would lose his seed like a schoolboy at his
first taste of desire. She was too tempting a morsel.
“Robert, please.” She did not know what she begged for, but she couldn’t bear the pain. It was delicious, yet it drove her wild.
“Soon. Not yet but soon,” he promised. He led her to the bed, scooping her up in steady arms. He flung the coat to the foot of the bed and deposited his precious bundle in bed. It was cold and he was sorry, but soon he would be in it with her, warming her.
He moved away, standing by the side of the bed and a wave of shyness engulfed her. At no time had she imagined lying in bed with him. It was somewhat intimate more than him suckling her and she tried to cover herself with her hands. She did not know how she had been so bold earlier. The blush returned with full force.
“Do not be shy with me, Amelia. You and I, we have no secrets,” he begged.
He waited until she nodded then he made short work of his breeches. He perched on the edge of the bed to unroll his stockings. They were completely ruined of course.
“I want to see. I want to see you.” She made the request, wondering if that was proper, asking to look fully at his person. Then she reminded herself nothing of their current predicament was proper.
He smiled indulgently at her. She was not conventional, and she had not disappointed. He stripped off his long shirt and stood up.
The firelight was blazing brighter now, and she looked her fill. He was standing with his back to the flames unconcerned about his nakedness. He was all sinews and muscles that rolled and stretched. His member was another surprise. It continued to twitch as she watched it but she took her time. The mystery was solved, igniting not a little amount of fear. She knew the mechanics of procreation. She had watched her beloved horses, even if the groom had stiffly insisted that it was improper for a miss. She knew his penis was meant to fit into her but not that thing, it was impossible. But she didn’t want to sound naive and foolish, so she just gulped and looked away. If she was drinking this cup she would drain it to the dregs. She could not be dissuaded from knowing.
He caught the misgiving in her eyes, and then the steeling of her resolve. “Trust me Amelia.”
She nodded solemnly and looked up his eyes. “You are beautiful.”
He looked at her then and perhaps there was the tiniest of blushes as he smiled. It could have only been a shadow. “Is that not something I should say to you?” he asked with a brow arched in surprise.
“Your eyes tell me already,” she said with a cat-that-got-the-cream smile.
He smiled wider at her then. “Bold piece of goods is what you are. Have you looked your fill?”
“Yes.”
Then her Adonis turned into a stalking beast. He did not hurry and the hunger in those eyes made her shiver. He knew and he enjoyed her response, the heavier pant and the leg that jerked open, then closed. He climbed from the foot of the bed, parting her thighs until he nestled in them, but he ignored her center and reached for her face, lifting her to him. She angled up her lips and he covered them with warm lips. He kissed her closed lips once then delved into the hot cavern of her mouth.
“Kiss me back,” he urged. He returned to stroking her tongue until it traced the joined seam of their lips and at last duelled with his. The first kiss had not prepared her for the heavy sweetness of this one and she wondered how many variations there were to that one intimate touch.
He strolled lower, showering her neck and shoulders with kisses until she whimpered. He palmed one globe of moon glow and pinched the tip of the dark pink areola. Her back arched, mashing her body into his. He teased her even more, flicking his tongue against one nipple then another, his fingers busy caressing the other. Her head shook from side to side on the bed. Then he pressed one nipple into his mouth and paid full attention to it. She arched again, moaning and whimpering. The fire singed her again. Every time she thought she could take it no more, he took her flying again but the ache remained. A frantic beast that clawed at her lower belly and deep within her.
He abandoned her breasts with a quick kiss and a soft sigh before he followed the trail of his hands down her stomach and towards the thatch of dark hair. His breath stirred the hairs and he slid even lower. She tensed trying to close her legs. Surely he was not going to kiss her there? It wasn’t proper!
“Allow me to show you,” he pleaded, looking up into her eyes. His torso was lifted by his elbows resting on either side of her. She nodded. She wanted to feel him. There was no place for propriety in this debauchery. He fell upon the hot flesh. He parted her legs again and delved in. His fingers separated her petals and she shuddered as his breath teased her. Then one slow tongue dragged through her dripping center.
“Robert!”
Too much. She couldn’t think, didn't even think to breath. Thick air expelled from her body in an aroused cry but he did not stop. He applied himself to licking her private place. His tongue drew strange desires and wanton responses from her again and again. His touch probed every recess of her, lapping at her petals, grazed her bud and flicked at her throbbing hole. First she was still, rigid like stone, then she was thrashing from side to side with her eyes shut. He patiently worked, enjoying her responses until she was sobbing with the force of desire coursing through her. He nudged the bud and she screamed his name. Her eyes widened and her arched body almost threw him off with its fervor.
“Robert.” She murmured when she returned to her senses, descending to earth. His hand stroked her bud again and her leg jerked, brushing against the hard flesh between her two thighs. She looked back at him in question.
He chuckled at her wide-eyed question. “We are not done, my sweet.”
“You have not found your pleasure.” Even now, after everything they had shared, she blushed.
“If you do not wish to continue...” He made to move away from her but she snared him, arms and legs holding on.
“Please Robert, show me all,” she pleaded.
“I will. I will.” He subsided, capturing her lips in a brief kiss before he moved to support his body on one elbow.
His erect member has been complaining for the past interlude, since it had nestled between her thighs for a while. He guided himself carefully into her and drove in with caution. She was a maiden yet.
It was foreign, then it was familiar, as if he was made for her and her for him. They fit. “Yes. Oh yes.” It filled, completed her. A warm wave filled her to satisfaction.
She pushed into him then her eyes flew open at the lack of pain. “What? No pain?”
He chuckled at her appalled airs. “All that riding, I suspect.”
She started to explain, “Truly, I am...” but he cut her off.
“There is no need for words, Amelia. I know,” he soothed.
“Oh.” She was speechless.
“Oh?” He pulled all the way out and surged back in.
It was strange. It was beautiful, and it filled her with a wonder and raked all her senses to life. She opened her eyes again to find him staring intensely and directly into her soul. She could not look away. She licked salty sweat from his shoulder and touched his back shyly, then boldly palming his rolls of muscle.
Her pleasure mounted and he knew he was looking control. She was warm, tight and her muscles fisted his flesh in a stranglehold. The look in her eyes was pleasing, hungry and demanding. He knew the moment he lost control.
He looked at her. Supporting himself on one hand, he reached between them and teased her bud. “Fly with me.”
The hoarse words tipped her over. Her pleasure ran deeper and seared her mind for delicious moments as she screamed his name, her fingers gripping his back.
He thrust wildly like a wild thing, a mad thing claiming its mate. He surged into her again and again while she rippled around him, flooding with hot liquid. His long drawn-out groan mingled with her own cries as ecstasy over took him and he spilled his seed into her body. He tried to draw out and spill outside of her, but she clenched in a rigid hold and demanded his surrender, increasing his pleasure wi
ldly. “Amelia, my Amelia.”
The darkness swallowed her and she could faintly hear him calling her with a degree of urgency. He slumped between her breasts and fell into heavy sleep.
A while later he woke and moved off her, hoping not to wake her. She barely stirred and he rolled her onto him and covered her bare flesh with the coat. He hardened and tried to move out of her but she protested, murmuring in her sleep. Even sleeping his woman was of a strong opinion!
He shifted, capturing her murmur in a sleepy kiss before surrendering to sleep again.
Chapter Nine
Amelia woke in a state of peace and pleasure that turned into momentary confusion. Someone had just called her name, a hand insistent on her arm.
She blinked once, then again before she looked up to see Lord Windon, Robert.
Just like that, the events of the night before flooded through her and she smiled, lifting her hands up.
Her enthusiastic lover of the night before was gone, a cool mannered man replaced him. This man thrust her clothes into her outstretched hands. “Your clothes are dry. The rain has stopped for awhile now,” he told her with a touch of asperity.
“It must be dreadfully cold outside.” What perfectly boring conversation to be having after such a night as they had both shared.
“It is, but the wood lasted through the night and we are quite warm. In any case we should be getting ready to return to your hall,” he advised quietly.
He made perfect sense. His logic was undeniable, but she would have loved a kiss, a kind word. Some sign that the night before was not an obvious regret. Maybe she had been unsatisfactory. She bit her lips at that. “Of course, Your Grace.”
“Robert.” He answered her shortly. “I am sure the horses will want to be returned to their stables.” He could not believe himself, grasping at excuses to cover his guilt. Horses?
“Of course, Robert.” She was appropriately chastened. She had failed to take the needs of the horses to heart, and maybe the man wanted his meal after a night in a place not suitable to his needs at all.
Denying The Duke (Regency Romance: Strong Women Find True Love Book 3) Page 7