The Wedding of the Century & Other Stories
Page 32
She hadn’t any idea that something so basic in nature could be so breathtaking. When Jase wasn’t making love to her, she was painting. In truth, they hadn’t even begun to explore the beautiful landscape. They’d only gone as far as the inn and the pub when their stomachs protested in hunger.
His hands came up to rest on her shoulders and tiny tremors snaked down her spine when she felt his fingers play with her curls. He’d discarded his jacket and waistcoat and his cravat lay draped over the back of a nearby chair. He wore only his shirt, which was unbuttoned. She refused to look him in the eye, but he wouldn’t let her avoid him. Instead, he tilted her chin in order to make her meet his steady gaze. How very wicked it was of him to hold her entranced like this.
“Shall we not recline on the lounge?” he asked, strolling to the lounge and stretching his body on the brocade. “The breeze is lovely from here.” He pulled his shirttails over his shoulders and discarded his shirt onto the floor. “Come.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Recline with me.”
“I really don’t think—”
She squeaked when he reached for her and pulled her down alongside him. “The trouble is, sweeting, you think far too much. Now, then,” he said after he had propped her with numerous pillows and ensured her comfort. “Shall we begin with a drink?”
Blossom nodded, unsure of her own voice. It would be weak and breathless she was certain, and if it wasn’t, then it surely would be now that he was leaning over her. His chest was brushing hers, and she swore her bodice became five times too tight in the time it took him to remove the cork from the champagne and pour it.
He handed her a glass, then slid back beside her, his elbow propped along the rolled arm of the lounge, his green eyes glistening with amusement as he peered down his long lashes at her.
“To a beautiful afternoon.” He held out his glass so that it chinked with hers. “Strawberry?” he asked, holding out a plump, red specimen for her perusal.
“No, thank you,” she croaked, taking far too big a sip of her champagne. Not a sip, really, more like a gulp. It was cool and bubbly, refreshing in the humid heat, and just what she needed to put her addled wits in order.
He shrugged, then leaned across her once more, dipping the berry into a bowl of clotted cream. Without preamble he popped it into his mouth, licking a dollop of cream from his lip. “I adore clotted cream. I vow I could eat it with anything.” He looked her over and grinned lazily. “Strawberries, blueberries, you.”
Blossom took that opportunity to take another gulp from her champagne, this time finishing it.
“Let me get you another.”
“No really, I hardly ever imbibe,” she protested, feeling her head already starting to become fuzzy. She fanned herself, suddenly feeling overheated.
“Unseasonably warm weather we’re having, is it not?” he asked, reaching for another strawberry and offering it to her. “One would wonder what changes will occur in fashion if this is a glimpse of what our summers are to be like.”
He dipped the strawberry into the cream and she watched in fascination as he softly squeezed it, the juice trickling out in red drops that landed on the cleft of her bosom. His tongue followed, licking every red bead in little strokes.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she gasped, wishing her breasts would stop inching above her bodice.
“Eating.”
It was uttered in the darkest of tones and Blossom did suck in her breath then. He reached for another strawberry and bit a portion of the soft flesh, letting the juice drip—drop by red, glistening drop—onto her lips. Her heart skipped when she felt his tongue, soft and light, licking away the sweet juice from her lips. “You really should think of joining me,” he whispered against her mouth.
She tried to focus on the conversation, tried to ignore the heat infusing her veins, attempted not to notice how Jase’s eyes kept roaming over the expanse of her breasts. Breasts that were pushed up into high mounds in her current semirecumbent position. It was she who was supposed to be teasing him. Not the other way around.
“Shall we continue our discussion of fashion?” he drawled, tracing the curve of her breasts over her bodice. “What do you think the ladies will be wearing next year?”
“I…I…” Lord, she was rendered mute. Her brain was fuzzy and her heart was pounding much faster than what was good for her.
“Perhaps they will be wearing nothing but a chemise and bare feet, hmm?” He grinned while his finger dipped beneath the lace edging her gown.
“I doubt that.”
“No? Perhaps they’ll wear nothing at all.”
“My lord, we are to be talking about the weather and books.”
“And fashion.”
A strangled sound escaped her pursed lips when his fingers raked through her hair, dispelling the blue ribbon she’d used to manage her riotous curls. His lips grazed her cheek, then throat, as he reached over, setting his glass atop the table. “Speaking of weather, you look a trifle warm, Blossom. Might I entreat you to refresh yourself by removing some of these heavy layers? I could assist you, you know.”
“Lord Raeburn,” she warned as her breasts firmed beneath the stroke of his finger. “You’re not supposed to be doing this.”
“Doing what?” he asked innocently while fiddling with the tapes of her gown with anything less than innocence. “You are my wife. Is it not right that I see to your every comfort?”
“Jase,” she said, trying to muster up the appropriate amount of reproof to make him cease his attentions, but the set-down came out as a breathless entreaty.
“I’m the most attentive of hosts, Blossom, and I assure you I shall not rest until I see you in a state of comfort.”
Her gown came off and he tossed it aside in a rustling, crinkling lump of blue satin.
“Now, then, your stockings.”
The fight, or whatever fight she pretended to have, left her. She could only smile and nestle her head deeper into the cushions as his wicked fingers set about stroking her calves, working their magic up past her knees to the inner facings of her thighs.
“Such a garment is unnecessary in this heat, don’t you think? Let us start a new craze—bare legs. Yes, this will most definitely be all the rage,” he said appreciatively as his hands and eyes roamed over her. “Lovely alabaster legs. What man could resist stealing a glimpse?”
“Jase,” she moaned, feeling restless and languid at the same time. It was like she was floating, as if the heaviness of her heart and mind suddenly sprung wings and lifted away from her soul, leaving only a weightless body waiting, hungering for the feel of his touch. When he touched her like this she forgot everything, even the fact she was supposed to be resisting his charm and rakish skills.
“Yes, Blossom?” he asked, his eyes, which had only seconds ago been shining brightly, now dimmed. “Are you going to tell me I can’t? That I shouldn’t? That we shouldn’t?” He placed a soft kiss on her navel through her chemise. “We are supposed to be courting, isn’t that right? A bit too forward for courting, I think.”
“N-no.” She shivered despite the heat in the room and the warmth flowing through her veins.
“Then what?” he asked, his wicked mouth covering every inch of her belly through the thin linen. Blossom sunk farther into the silk cushions, her legs spreading, trying to cradle his hard thighs between hers as he slowly raised the hem of her chemise and bared her to his gaze.
“I know what it is you want,” he said, stroking her with his finger. “It is the same thing I want, sweeting. You want my hands all over you.” He slid his warm palm up her thigh to her belly where he circled her navel with one long, roughened finger. “You want my mouth covering you.”
She squirmed when he sunk his hand between her thighs. She waited to feel his fingers inside, but he did not indulge her. Instead, he cupped her, waiting for her to look into his green eyes. “Here is where you want my mouth most of all, I think.”
She twisted beneath him, but he stilled her w
ith his heavy thigh. “You want to feel me inside you. You only have to admit you want it, Blossom, and I shall give it to you. Anything you want.”
“Yes.” The word whispered past her lips before she could think to stop it.
He slid up the length of her, his chest slick with perspiration, the evidence of his arousal rubbing against her belly from beneath his trousers. Flinging her arms around his neck, she kissed him, and Jase allowed himself to sink onto her, let her kiss him thoroughly while she commanded the pace and the performance.
She deepened the kiss, and reached for his trousers, fumbling with the buttons until she at last tore them free from their openings.
“That’s it, sweeting, take me in your hand.” When she freed him into her palm he moaned a deep, guttural, “Yes,” and began to pump himself into her hand, all the while nipping and tugging at her hardened nipple through her chemise. “Firmer, Blossom, take it tightly and stroke it.”
“Like this?”
“God, yes. Like that.” He groaned when she swirled her fingertip atop the swollen tip of him. “My, what a quick learner you have become.”
“I have had a most excellent tutor. Now, what else would you like?” she asked, trailing her fingertips down the silken length of him.
“You’re mouth on me.”
“Like this?” She kissed his shoulder and sucked at it, tasting the saltiness of his skin.
“Lower,” he commanded, spurring her into abandoning every moral edict she’d ever been taught. She teased him with her tongue on his nipples, flicking and laving as he had done to her.
He straightened, then reached for her, bringing her next to him so that they were eye to eye. “I would sell every acre of my estate to feel these beautiful lips around me.” He traced her mouth with his forefinger before his eyes slowly met hers. “I’d sell my soul to watch as you do it.”
Sliding along the silk, she lowered her body and set her mouth to his straining flesh. She kissed him before flicking her tongue along the tip of him. “I will pleasure you as you wish. I only ask that you will not find me wanton or immoral after.”
“Never,” he growled as she kissed him again. “There is nothing immoral among lovers.” His hands raked through her hair and she heard his breath coming in short pants. Leaning back, he spread his legs, allowing Blossom to kneel between them. She tormented him with sultry looks, peeking up at him as she flicked her tongue from the base to the glistening tip.
Close to finding his release, he reached for her and positioned her so that she sat astride him. Her sex was wet as she lowered her bottom onto his lap. She was as much aroused by what she had done as he was, and the thought pleased him. She was most definitely passionate, and she would bring no end of pleasure to his bed.
“Take this off,” he commanded, hooking his finger beneath her chemise strap. “Slowly. I want you to unveil yourself to me inch by inch.”
Her face was flushed, as were the tops of her breasts as they strained against the chemise, but she gathered the hem tightly between her hands and raised it up along milky-white thighs till the lace edge skimmed her bottom and rested below the dark V between her legs. “Look at me, Blossom.” He tilted her face up to meet his. She looked him in the eye; a womanly challenge sparkled in them, encouraging him to be as bad as he wanted to be. And he so desperately wanted to be bad.
“Show me your breasts.”
With a tilt to her lips, she dropped the hem of her chemise and reached for the straps, then stopped before she slid them down her shoulders. She didn’t lower them; instead, she fixed him with her blue gaze and pushed the bodice of the chemise down so that her breasts bobbed out, teasing him with their bouncing. Her smile when she heard his growl of appreciation made him feel reckless. She would not lay cool and unfeeling beneath him, enduring the obligations of the marriage bed.
He took his time studying her in the light, watching as the afternoon sun highlighted her hair and cast her skin in a peach glow. His gaze flickered up to the gentle slope of her shoulder, to the curve of her neck, and beyond, to where a mirror rested against the wall opposite the lounge.
Reaching out, he trailed his fingers along the indentation of her waist and up and over her hip, all the while watching in the mirror as his hand roamed along her alabaster flesh. Gooseflesh sprung to life beneath his fingers, and he felt as well as saw Blossom sway into him. His hand at last found her bottom and he squeezed it. He rather enjoyed this position, he realized, tipping his head to the side so he could see his finger skimming down her derriere and disappearing into the dark curls that were already damp for him.
“Cup your breasts, Blossom. I want to watch you. I want you to see me watching you.”
He fitted her hands around her breasts, making certain her pink nipples peeked out between her fingers. At first she didn’t understand what he wanted of her, but she soon learned as he showed her how to pinch and tweak her nipples.
Lifting her, he positioned her so that she slid her sex along his throbbing cock. He was aching to take her, but he wanted to take things slower, to savor the moment.
Blossom watched as Jase’s dark hands roamed her body, heating her with each touch of his fingers on her belly and his lips at her back. When she sat frozen atop him, mesmerized by the beauty of his hands on her, he nipped her shoulder and said in a dark and thrilling tone, “Make them hard for me, Blossom. Make them so that I can flick my tongue along them.”
He was so very wicked, she decided, even as she indulged him. Yes, he was so very wicked and she knew that she wouldn’t want him any other way.
Her eyes went wide when he raised her up from his lap and took his erection in his hand, thrusting slowly into her, telling her to sink down onto him.
“Ride me,” he encouraged. He supported her with his knees as he lifted her onto his arousal.
She arched then, the action thrusting her breasts toward him, the movement making them bounce in a way that begged for his hands to cup them.
Good God, he’d never experienced this before; never had lovemaking felt this right, this complete. As he watched her body move atop him, he realized he was at last satisfied, his hunger appeased, his soul fed. He loved her and it was only a matter of time before she realized that it was safe to love him back.
She moaned again, raising herself up and down without the least bit of encouragement while her nails bit into his thighs. She was molten in his arms.
Resting her back against his knees while she ground her hips onto him, Jase watched her match his rhythm. A thin sheen of perspiration trickled between her breasts and he captured it with his fingertip, circling her nipple with it until it glistened like a shining cherry. The sight made him grow uncomfortably thicker, but Blossom’s loving body stretched around him, welcoming him deeper.
“Come for me,” he commanded, quickening his pace until they were deep stabs that made her suck in her breath. His finger found her clitoris and he flicked it in time to his strokes. She was beyond wanton now. She was wild and writhing, and not until he was certain she was satiated did he let himself indulge in his own pleasure.
God, how I love you. He hugged her slick body to his and nuzzled his face between her breasts, feeling more contented than he ever had in his life.
This was love. This was the future. He had never been happier in all his days than he was right now, vulnerable and weak, with only Blossom’s arms to keep him safe from the tempest raging in his heart.
BLOSSOM STOOD AT THE French doors, staring at the patchwork of farms, trying to think of anything other than the man sprawled gloriously naked, soundlessly sleeping, on the lounge behind her.
Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she saw that Jase still slept, his black hair a tousled mass that was brushed back from his forehead. Shivering despite the heat, Blossom brought her arms tight around her waist. She’d donned Jase’s shirt when she’d risen from the lounge. His scent still lingered and she swore she could feel remnants of his body heat clinging to the material.
Suddenly Jase’s heat engulfed her. He caged her with raised arms, his fingers curving around the molding on the door frame while he proceeded to nuzzle her hair.
“Sorry to fall asleep on you, love. You should have woken me instead of standing here all alone. Although,” he whispered wickedly, “I rather enjoyed waking up to the view. You look rather fetching in my shirt. It’s very alluring, you know, what you look like in white linen.” He traced the outline of her bottom that peeked out from beneath his shirt while he nuzzled her neck. “Come back to bed, sweeting. Let me love you till the sun goes down. Then I will seduce you by starlight.”
She smiled and caressed his face. “You already did that, that very first night.”
“Did I?”
“You did.”
“Tell me what you were thinking just now, when your eyes were closed.”
“How beautiful it is here, and how much it reminds me of your estate. The countryside is very similar. I’d like to paint it.”
“I can’t wait to bring you home, Blossom. I can’t wait to stand at our bedroom window, just like this, and look out upon the fields.
His grip tightened and he turned her to face him. “I want to share this with you—all of it. I want the estate to bear the fruits of our labor. When I look out our window I want it to be with you.”