by Julia Keaton
He threw back his head and groaned long and hard, drew his hand over the crown of her head to hold her in place, running his fingers through her hair.
He was salty and huge, crowding into her mouth. Winter wasn’t quite sure what to do with him now, but wondered what he’d feel like against her tongue. She rubbed it along the rim of his helmeted tip, holding his shaft steady with her hand. His skin was so smooth, it invited her to taste more.
He tugged her hair slightly, shifting in his seat. “Suck me, Winter,” he ground out roughly.
The thought of him helpless against her, needing her mouth, excited her. Her cleft was soaked through, throbbing.
Slowly, she sucked him, as he had her, but harder and harder, his ragged breathing and stroking hands guiding her.
Logan put a hand over hers, showing her how to pump his shaft, milking him. She stroked him as he’d shown her, and a hoarse groan tore from his throat as he arched into her.
Winter moved him in and out, tongue teasing, suckling his rigid flesh, his essence.
She couldn’t get enough of him, of holding him in her thrall. The power was heady, intoxicating her with each pull of her mouth on his shaft.
“Take me out of your mouth ... now,” he gasped, hips bucking. “Straddle me. Take me into that tight little cunt of yours,” he demanded.
The filthy word made her wetter. She hiked her skirts up and straddled his lap, hooking her legs over the arms of his chair, splaying her wet sex open for him. He held his cock steady, allowing her to slowly slide down over his length.
She was still swollen from the night before, but her body seemed ready to take him again. She groaned at the erotic feel of him as she sunk down on his engorged member. He grasped her hips, forcing her down hard and deep on his cock. She cried out, arching her back to take him all the way.
He growled and kissed the base of her throat, lifting her up and down with his great strength as he set her into a rhythm. She flexed her thighs, riding his cock until she caught on to what he wanted and rode him, coming down hard on his lap and lifting off, back down hard. She impaled herself on him and felt so naughty about what she was doing, still fully clothed, she thought she would die from the shameful pleasure of it.
His hips jerked. She felt his cock buck inside her. His motions increased her desire. Her cream eased his passage, soaking them both, making her slick and wet as she drove him deep and hard, bumping the head of his cock against the mouth of her womb.
Tendrils of pleasure erupted within her. Her channel clenched and unclenches, grasping him like a fist as her orgasm came upon them both. It seemed to push him over the edge. She felt the jerk of his shaft inside her, felt the white hot spew of his seed deep in her womb.
Winter kissed him passionately, riding the cresting wave until she was sapped of all energy, spent and wasted.
Weak from exertion, it took her a moment to catch her breath and gain the energy to get off of his lap. She stood up slowly, heard the soft smack of her channel as his shaft was freed from the fist of her sex. He collapsed back, spent and exhausted.
She’d pleased him, and the thought brought a surge of pleasure unlike any she’d known.
“Thank you,” he whispered and pulled her against his chest to hold her around her hips. He kissed her hands and held her close. She sensed he wanted to say more than thanks, and she waited eagerly, but he remained silent, saying no more.
After a time, he lifted her from his lap, rose and began to dress himself.
“Now I must see you home. You should not have come this morning. It is too dangerous. The gossip mongers are on my trail now, and I will not have you exposed.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Winter didn’t say anything as they got into his readied carriage and began the trip to her home. He’d insisted on escorting her for some unfathomable reason she couldn’t know—and he wouldn’t explain.
The early traffic promised the ride would be a lengthy one. She should have been worried, but she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think of the consequences of her actions this morning. All she could do was feel.
Winter squirmed in her seat, discomfort causing her womb to ache with longing. She wondered what was the matter with her, that she could go so easily from despising him to desperately longing to feel him over and over again?
Had she been a maiden for too long, that the first touch of a man drove her to her knees with desire? Was this why the sexes were kept separate from one another, so situations like this could not arise? Or was she a freak of nature, a wanton, a whore?
When she continued to move around, Logan said, “What is the matter? Why do you not sit still?” He’d watched her the entire time, but she’d been too absorbed in her dilemma to notice.
“I ... ache,” she whispered, embarrassed at admitting her weakness.
He smiled, and she felt her heart flutter with pleasure at the sight of it. He almost seemed as he had once been, before her mistake of the past.
“You are insatiable.”
“I am not.” She resented the implication. He had no idea what she was going through.
Logan pulled her onto his lap with a speed and strength that shocked her into silence and immobility.
“I will make it better.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless. Her mind had finally caught up to her reality.
“Giving you pleasure.” He pushed her skirts up, baring her thighs, clearing the way of obstruction.
“We can’t do that here!” She struggled to push her skirts back down, but he overwhelmed her with his strength and determination. She wanted to fight him, truly she did, but the promise of relief only he could give her was enough to break her vows of sensibility.
“Why ever not? It is more private here than some places I know of. And what harm is one more time before you go?” He kissed her neck, nibbling the sensitive skin. “We will both enjoy it, I promise,” he whispered hotly at her ear.
She blushed and he moved her skirts out of the way, spread her legs until she could straddle his lap without hindrance.
Winter tried to remain aloof, to not touch him as he wished, but he grasped her hips firmly and pulled her down on top of him until her moist cleft nestled against his male hardness.
At the touch of his rigid flesh and the rough texture of his breeches, she moaned, gasping at his small torments. She could think of nothing but his huge size and what it would feel like inside her, when his hands had felt so good.
Logan wrapped a hand behind her neck and drew her down for his hungry kiss, plunging his tongue inside to taste her. She tingled head to foot when he finally broke away, breathing hard, as did she.
“This is folly,” she whispered, then gasped again as he forcefully ground his erection up into her slickness.
“It is fate.” He kissed her again, rocking his hips to hers, grinding into her as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. He moved his hand to unbutton his breeches, freeing his cock to rub bare skin to bare skin.
Winter clung to him, sucking his tongue, moving her body with his, the rolling of the carriage guiding their movement. Her clit throbbed with each torturous thrust, until she thought she’d die with the pleasure of it. The slipping became a push. The push became forceful, and then he was inside her, stretching her with that delicious painful pleasure she ached for more and more.
He clasped a hand on her breast, massaging her through her gown, rubbing his fingers over the hard nipple that begged for him. Winter groaned at the barrier, wanted to rip the obstruction away, wanting nothing between them but skin and heat.
“You are driving me mad,” he breathed raggedly against her ear, pressing nibbling kisses along the hollow as she arched her back. He thrust his hips into hers with force, welcoming her shuddering, undisciplined reaction, recognizing her near completion.
She clenched him, allowing him only the smallest of movements. His strokes were short, quick and hard, jolting her with pleasure with each rock of the carriage.
Moans tore from her throat at having him inside her here, in public, where anyone could see them if they peered through the sheer curtains over the windows. The carriage rocked over the cobblestones, vibrating him inside her.
Shudders raced through her nerves, culminating in the place of their joining, urging her closer to ecstasy.
Winter trembled, the shock of her orgasm breaching the edge. She wanted him, wanted him to fill her tight passage until she could take no more. “You drive me mad,” she whispered, shaking inside, tightening her arms on his shoulders as he thrust forcefully inside her. Her thighs clenched around his hips. She undulated her belly, grinding herself against his groin until the sensation increased and she could no longer fight the orgasm.
The feeling overtook them both, she could feel it coming. Her body tensed, clenching against him. He drove his hips against her, again and again. Winter threw her head back, wrapping her arms around him for support. Wave after wave consumed her, until her sex quivered and twitched against his manhood even as he gained his own release.
Her breath came in great gasps. Her heart and clit seemed to beat in time with one another, pounding and pulsing as one, leaving debilitated muscles in the wake of pleasure.
Slowly, she felt her world return to normal, could feel the warm wetness of both of their bodies between them. His pants were soaked with her juices and his own.
Winter collapsed against him, snuggling against his chest as he cradled her in his arms. She tilted her head and placed kisses on his face, wherever she could reach, feeling her heart swell despite her best judgment.
She knew then that she wanted a piece of him before this was through, to keep him with her for all time ... to bear his babe. Even if her sin should cast her from society’s graces and straight into hell. The longing was so fierce, it near made her heart stop beating with the wanting of it.
Had they already created life with their carelessness?
Logan kissed her back tenderly, looking overlong into her eyes. Winter looked away, overcome. The disconnection she’d felt with the world was slowly melting away under his heated pursuit. She wanted to believe he felt it too. He’d changed her, given her back the feeling and emotion she had lost when her father died and her world had crumbled.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and she hurriedly arranged her hair and dress in some semblance of respectability. “Thank you,” she whispered and left him before the tears could come.
She didn’t know why or how it had happened, but the attraction she’d always felt for him had deepened into something more, as though he had forced her to recognize feelings that had always been buried inside her. He’d touched her—as no man ever had or ever would. Their connection could only end one way.
And she hated him for it. For how could he ever love her, when all he felt was hate?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Winter, darling, a package has arrived for you,” her mother called from the door of her room.
“Thank you, Mama. I’ll be down momentarily.” Winter looked up from the book she was reading and watched her mother go.
She looks tired, Winter thought. How much of the truth did her mother know? Or suspect? Winter hadn’t been as careful as she should have been. No doubt, she was driving her mother into the grave with worry. She was glad the ordeal was nearly over, but strangely saddened too. It was best to put the episode behind her and resign herself to living alone ... away from the machinations of men—and temptation.
She couldn’t imagine what could have come, but she had a sinking feeling it would be nothing good. Winter went downstairs and retrieved the large, oblong box from the hall table. It was heavier than she’d expected, thin as it was. There was no sender marked, but her name was written in a bold hand that she recognized immediately.
Returning upstairs to the privacy of her bedroom, she locked her door and sat on the bed to open the package, ignoring her mother’s curious stares at her furtive actions. Eventually, she would explain everything to her. Just not now.
There was no telling what surprise he’d sent her this time, and she was taking no chances, no matter how odd it looked.
Lifting off the top, inside she found thin layers of paper, which she quickly tore aside to reveal a folded gown, more exquisite than anything she’d seen in her life. The color of eggshells, it was encrusted with swirling patterns of jewels and beads, glittering with white and cerulean fire. A fitting gown for an ice princess. She was holding a fortune in her hands, and she wanted to kill him for it. She was not his mistress, to be clothed and adorned as he saw fit. It didn’t matter that that’s what she felt like.
Angrily, she pulled the heavy gown out. A note fluttered to the floor as she lifted it from the box, and she saw beneath it laid a rolled canvas. Sudden tears sprang to her eyes, stinging and harsh until she could barely see to pick up the note. She rubbed her eyes with her fists before reading his letter.
My ice princess,
I regret I have had to cut short the length of our agreement. The arrangement has progressed beyond my original intentions, and I find myself growing into a madman with want of you. I have no desire to turn you into a whore, and so I release you from your obligation to me. The gown is a gift. I hope you will wear it to tonight’s ball.
Logan
Winter ripped the parchment into tiny pieces and scattered them among the tissue paper before balling the refuse up. He meant to buy her off, pay for her silence and assuage his guilt. She would not let him get away with it. She didn’t need him to take care of her—she didn’t need him.
The realization that the ordeal was over struck her like a blow to the stomach, but she couldn’t appreciate it, not now, not like this. He’d ruined her in a way she’d never thought possible, and she wanted him to suffer like she had—like she was suffering even now. He had given no thought to her feelings when he’d dashed off the note so impersonally. Winter’s eyes prickled again, but she pushed the weakness back. Anger was driving her now, and she reveled in the emotional freedom—freedom that he had forced her to embrace.
She had not intended to go out, but this changed everything. She decided she would be attending Mrs. Moxley’s ball after all. Logan would see her at tonight’s ball ... in a way he’d never seen her before.
* * * *
Mrs. Moxley’s annual winter ball was one she normally looked forward to, as did the whole of society, but this year was different in ways Winter would have never foreseen a few short weeks ago. She was changed, as if her vision had suddenly been restored, and she could see shallowness and greed all around her, recognize prudence as a fear of emotion. Propriety was a leash for controlling its young women. And her restraints had been broken.
Arriving at Mrs. Moxley’s sprawling townhouse, which encompassed nearly half a city block, Winter and her mother were greeted with affection by their stout hostess and rushed inside to the festivities.
Her mother had only looked at her when she’d seen her dressed in the new gown. She’d said not a word of how Winter how come by something so extravagant. Winter suspected her mother knew that she’d been about something, and the fact that she said not a word spoke volumes to her.
Winter could only be grateful to avoid confrontation and guilt.
Fractal, rainbow-hued light reflected off massive crystal chandeliers hanging above the pink marble dance floor. The heat of candles and hundreds of people warmed the air uncomfortably, but Winter didn’t notice. She cast her gaze about the multitude of bright gowns and garish dandies. There was only reason why she had come tonight, and she hadn’t found him yet. Too many people crowded around her, blocking her view.
Her mother was off visiting friends just a short distance away, and when Winter turned to go to her side, she was intercepted by one of her former beaux, Michael Ansley. He’d claimed undying love for her, but when their money dried up, he’d disappeared along with the rest. She had caught his eye unintentionally. There would be no avoiding him now.
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