Alex's Angel

by Natasha Blackthorne

  He shifted her weight until she wasn’t resting against that unruly part of himself. She moved about, resettling her bottom over his growing erection. Her face came close to his and her warm breath blew over him, rich and fruity.

  Her eyes caught his, the lids half cast over her eyes, and she laughed, slow and sensual.

  “You’ve been having claret?”

  She nodded. “I had a couple of glasses, thinking it would make me sleep.” She ran a finger down the piping on his banyan. “But it only made me ache for you more.” Her little red tongue stole out and licked her full, luscious lips.

  A stab of desire shafted into his cock. He almost groaned. She was here in his bedchamber. Barely clad. Intoxicated. Lusty. Willing. But he wasn’t going to take her into his bed.

  He wasn’t.

  He took a deep breath, then plunged into it. “But Emily, it’s no good between us. I am not what you need.”

  All right, badly worded, but said. He waited for her to take offence, to be hurt and to jump to her feet and go bolting from his chamber in tears.

  She nodded slowly.

  No woman ever took this sort of news well. Not even when they were ready to end things themselves.

  “Emily, did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes, I heard you plainly. No doubt you are correct.”

  Though he ought to have been relieved, her reply stung. “I am?”

  She laughed softly. “Yes, we both know you are.” She caressed his face. “But we don’t have to part tonight, right?”

  Good God, she was foxed.

  Of their own accord, his hands tightened on her. “No, we don’t have to part tonight.”

  Her drunken logic spoke to his worst nature. And he did owe it to her to show her that proper sex, a cock inside her, didn’t have to hurt at all.

  “We can have a—an affaire.”

  “An affaire?” He swallowed tightly. “Emily…”

  He groped for what to say. That word on her innocent, inexperienced lips—

  Yes, that’s what the French call it, isn’t it? We could have one, couldn’t we? A brief one.”

  His heart panged at the notion. That wasn’t at all what he wanted. No, no, they couldn’t have an affaire—or anything more. For her sake they shouldn’t. Damn it, this wasn’t going the way he’d expected. But she wanted an affaire…and then what? She would simply be done with him?

  What should he say now?

  “You know, Alex, I missed you desperately…after I left your rooms that day, I did.”

  “I felt the same.” The words rushed to his lips and were out before he could edit them. And what an understatement. He’d been nearly insane with worry about her. Obsessed with her.

  Her finger dropped from his chest to her lap and she sighed. “I couldn’t sleep then. I could barely eat. I couldn’t concentrate on my art…” Her hands caressed the sides of her waist and moved up her arms. “I just thought of you…” Her hands skimmed the undersides of her small, perfect breasts. “And I ached…” She sighed again. “For only you.”

  Her nipples were hard peaks, prominent even through the heavy flannel nightdress, their sensual appeal clashing with the girlishly high and lace-trimmed bodice. How sweet they would taste on his tongue… He tore his gaze away and focused on her eyes, gone smoky with passion. The scent of her heat was almost overpowering now.

  His hollowed heart filled with tenderness. How could he not tell her the truth of his emotions? “I felt the same. This is infatuation.”

  All right, a half truth. This was much more.

  “Infatuation.“ She spoke the word with reverence, making it sound such a lovely, lofty thing. “Is it always like this? Always so intense, so overwhelming?”

  “It can be,” he said, not willing to admit anything more.

  Her hands skimmed under her breasts again, as if she longed to touch them but was resisting. She was intoxicated and aroused and unable to discuss any of this reasonably. He was getting to that point himself. Oh, hell—what was one more time going to hurt?

  He could hate himself in the morning.

  It would just be another transgression on an endless list of transgressions that proved him to be as corrupt as sin itself.

  He took one of her hands and gently pulled it back up, placing it squarely over her left breast. “If you want to touch yourself, touch yourself. I am not some stiff-necked Puritan.”

  Her eyes went velvet-soft and she began caressing her breasts. Completely uninhibited. There, in his lap, alone in his chamber and, God help him, he was not a saint. He wasn’t even really a gentleman.

  “Were you touching yourself tonight, in your own bed?”

  She squirmed in his lap, rocking her soft, warm bottom over his erection. He groaned and took hold of her hips, pressing her more firmly against him whilst arching his own hips up, pressing his cock into her softness. “And did you come?”

  She paused and opened her eyes. “No. I couldn’t.”

  “But you come so easily. You can come so fast and hard.”

  “It’s difficult on my own.”

  “Is that hard for you, my darling, when you want to come and cannot?”

  She nodded. “It’s easy when you do it. I don’t understand exactly how.”

  Her voice was breathy—pure carnal enticement. Her hand was sliding down her lower pelvis. It slipped between her legs, rubbing through the flannel. She closed her eyes and moaned, low and long.

  She was such a sensualist. Artlessly so. Like no woman he’d ever known. And that was saying something. The last of his good intentions fled.

  “Wait.” He tugged at her sleeve. “Take this off. I want to watch you.”

  Together, they pulled her gown up and halfway over her head. She was still wiggling out of it, her diminutive breasts bouncing.

  But he couldn’t wait. Those tight little pink nipples fascinated his gaze. God, he couldn’t wait—

  He lowered his head and latched on to one of them, circling the enticing pebble with his tongue. She arched into him. Her moan was muffled and her wiggles increased as she struggled to get out of the nightdress. With a groan, he released her nipple and worked to free her.

  She emerged, face flushed, eyes glittering with passion. Her mouth, blood-red and slightly parted, begged for attention. He put his lips to hers. She opened and he let his tongue delve deeply, lingeringly, tasting her every nuance. Tenderness washed over him, mingling with his lustiness, filling him with euphoria. He wanted to lose himself in her entirely. He lifted his head.

  We can have a—an affaire, as the French call it, couldn’t we?

  Her words echoed in his mind. Well, it wasn’t want he wanted.

  He wanted her as a wife.

  The thought should have shocked him. Scared the wits out of him. But he felt rock solid sure. He shouldn’t marry her, of course, yet he wanted to. He wanted to possess her entirely. All desire to watch her stimulate herself vanished in favour of a determination to own her pleasure. To bind her to him in the most primitive way possible. It was wrong to do it, wrong to tie her any closer to him. But he flattened his palm to her lower front and slid his way down into the surprisingly silken texture of the fine hair on her mons.

  She had a quim like he’d never seen. The curls bright crimson, the outer lips plump and plush for such a slender girl.

  A shiver passed through her and she moaned low. He reached her stiff little nub and he brushed his finger lightly over it.

  She gripped his shoulders. “Oh, please, please.”

  Her flesh pulsed against his digit and he moved faster, firmer, in a circular pattern. Her breath came in a series of hitches. He put his mouth over hers and swallowed her cry as he held her. Her shuddering body felt so delicate in his large hands. Christ, how thin she was compared to the other women he’d had. She looked like a girl, but the force of her personality and sensuality made her seem far more significant than anyone he’d ever known before. She slid from his lap. Despite his rearing ere
ction, he let her go. If she wanted to return to her chamber, he should let her. Tomorrow, after she’d slept off her tipsy state, then they could discuss all these serious matters. The matter of finding her a husband. Someone decent and worthy of her.

  She knelt in front of him and put her head in his lap, placing her cheek against his thigh. The muscles in his lower belly tightened and, impossibly, his cock seemed to grow even harder and longer. He opened his mouth to suggest that she go back to her own bed. Her hand edged under his banyan and moved up his leg.

  He caught his breath and closed his mouth. Her hand curled around his erection and she stroked him, sure, firm and fast. And growing faster. Pure, perfect pleasure washed over him. He closed his eyes and groaned. Her body shifted in the circle of his legs and brushed the insides of his thighs. Her warm breath blew over his crown, followed by her soft lips.

  Why was he allowing this?

  How could he possibly stop her?

  His cock leaked profusely. She swirled her tongue over him, licking away his juices. She moaned, the sound deep and muffled, vibrating through his flesh.

  He caressed her cheek and spoke soft words of encouragement and praise. She was one of those rare women who enjoyed this act for the sheer pleasure of having a cock in her mouth. A man had to be very careful not to shame or denigrate such a woman by repeating the vulgarities spoken by men who feared the power of a woman’s sensuality. Or worse yet, to take a piggish advantage of her generosity. One had to simply enjoy the beauty of the moment. And he did. God, did he ever. His balls grew heavy. He wanted to come in her sweet mouth—but he wanted something else more.

  “No, don’t.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “This time is all for you.”

  She looked up at him, her head tilted back, her dark red brows drawn tightly together. “But why?”

  “Because the last time I put my cock in you, I hurt you. This time, it shall be all about your pleasure.”

  “But you have already given me pleasure.”

  “Not by half, my darling.” He cupped her face, caressing the hollows of her thin face with his thumbs. “Tonight, I am going to make you come until you just can’t come any more. And then, when you think you’re done with me, I am going to fuck you. I am going to take you to someplace you’ve never been, someplace beyond this earth.”

  The sensual promise in Alex’s words reverberated deep in Emily’s belly. Her inner walls clenched and, not knowing what to say to such a declaration, she laughed softly.

  “You’re the first woman I’ve had here in my chamber.”

  His words sent warmth curling down to her toes. “I am?”

  He nodded, then put his hands on her shoulders, gently urging her up. She stood and he pressed his face to her stomach. Warm wetness teased her navel. A bolt of desire flashed through her, weakening her knees. She swayed against him, clutching his golden head.

  He slapped her on the buttocks and lifted his head. “Go lie on my bed.”

  Excitement made her legs shake as she walked to his bed. She collapsed onto it, sinking into the softness of the thick, quilted velvet bedspread.

  “You look so lovely laying on the dark green.”

  At his deep voice, she rolled over, admiring how his bare, hard-muscled body moved as he lit the other lamps and placed them on the bedside tables. Then he brought the tea table from beside the wingchair and positioned a lamp right by the side of the bed, near where she lay.

  “Goodness, do you think there’s enough light?”

  “It’ll have to do.”

  He knelt by the bed, took her ankles and scooted her closer to the edge, pulling her ankles up and over his broad shoulders. She allowed it, spreading her legs wide as he moved towards her. His gaze fixed upon her apex and he traced one fingertip along her cleft. He looked up and his eyes were glittering pools of deep desire. “You are so gorgeous here.”

  She knew a perverse thrill at being so exposed to him. Passive to his will. His to do with as he pleased. A veritable flood issued from her core, so that his finger slipped on her flesh.

  He bent and placed his face to her sex and his straight, elegant nose pressed against her nub. He lapped at her entrance, sliding like luscious velvet over her. Firelight shone in tones of deep orange on his wavy golden hair. He thrust his tongue inside her, sliding it slowly in and out. Her own fires built again and her hips writhed.

  “Please, please,” she cried in hushed tones.

  He cupped her bottom, holding her still, and maintained the languor of his movements. Slowly, ever so slowly, he worked his way up to her aching nub. Her hips shot up off the bed and she clutched his head with her thighs. He laughed, the sound deep and low. All the while, he circled her sensitive flesh with his tongue. He put a finger into her. The fullness increased the fire within her. He thrust it in and out and her hips began to dance in response.

  He put his mouth over her nub and drew upon it.

  Pleasure burst within her, her inner walls squeezing in on him in wave after wave. When it had passed, he continued to work his finger within her until she came again—deeper, harder. Then again—deeper and harder than she’d ever come before, an explosion of sensation. “No more, no more, no more.” She panted the words. “I can’t take any more.”

  He moved up her body and then brought his lips down hard on hers, pressing for a few moments. He lifted his head and laughed softly. “I think you can take a lot.”

  He shifted his body and his crown touched her entrance.

  She sucked in her breath. Oh… Would it hurt this time, too?

  He applied firm, steady pressure, slowly. Her flesh stretched; the pressure became intolerable. She twisted her hips, trying to elude him as the sensation skirted the edge of pain.

  “Easy.” His tender tone soothed her. “Your body will adjust.”

  He pressed deeper, and already the ache eased, the pressure becoming a pleasant sensation. A sound like a mingled moan and sigh escaped her lips. He pulled back and thrust, smoothly and steadily. Elation chased up from her channel to her womb and up through the very centre of her body. He pulled back again and this time she arched her hips up to meet his downward movement. Pleasure like liquid, molten gold coursed through her blood. Seemingly of their own accord, her hips met his again and again.

  “That’s it, darling,” he rasped near her ear.

  They went on like that for a long time. Well, at least it seemed a very long time. God, she had never imagined anything like this. It was so intense—so wild, so free.

  It seemed endless.

  Then he stopped and lay against her, panting.

  “Is it over?” she asked.

  He made a harsh, breathless sound like laughing and kissed her cheek. “Not by half, my love, not by half.”

  He pulled up, their bodies sliding slickly with their sweat. He took each of her legs. “Wrap them about me.”

  She complied. He moved within her again, deeper than before. But not deep enough. She lifted her legs up high on his back, as high as she could. His downward thrust rammed hard against the mouth of her womb. Delight sparked through her. She sobbed and rocked, returning back his pressure. He repositioned himself, then drew back and thrust again. His pelvic bone brushed her nub. He moved in and out of her. Over and over. A quivering began deep within her. His mouth covered hers a second before the tremors shook her. Her very womb seemed to contract and release, sending waves of pleasure through her, sweet and hot, like boiling honey. She was consumed.

  She lay beneath him, listening to the rasp of his breath. His cock throbbed within her and his scent, musky male and exotic sandalwood, surrounded her. But he was a part of her, deeper than this physicality. She never wanted this moment to end.

  He began to withdraw. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, clutching him tight.

  He groaned, the sound echoing with an odd note of sadness or regret. His body trembled. And then he was with her again, becoming even m
ore a part of her, merging with every particle of her. Hot surging erupted against her inner walls. Satisfaction melted her bones; something more profound than her own orgasm. A joy at having pleased him.

  She sat. Warmth like viscous silk gushed from her. The most luxurious thing she’d ever felt. She bent forward to look between her legs. Whitish, thick fluid was spilling from her core. His seed. Him, inside her. She put her fingers to herself and touched it, testing the texture. This was the tangible evidence that she had drawn his passions from him.

  A sharp intake of breath startled her out of her fascination.

  She looked up and found his gaze fixed on her cunt. On her fingers touching his essence.

  He surged forward and put his mouth to hers, open, his tongue ravishing hers as if he would devour her whole. The unexpected heat and ardency of it took her breath. He kissed her almost violently until lack of air forced her to push at his chest. He released her.

  She gulped for air while his eyes seemed to pierce into her.

  “You make me want you all over again.” His voice was husky and intimate. Hungry.

  A surge of excitement made her mouth go dry. “Could we—? Could you—?”

  He shook his head. “I could—in a while—but you’d be too sore. You are not that far removed from a virgin.”

  He ran a caressing hand lightly down her back, sending chills over her and tightening her nipples. “Oh.”

  “We can’t do this again.”

  He sounded so final that it put a cold layer over her warm, satisfied joy.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll get with child, if you aren’t already.” An edge entered his voice. “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Cling to me and keep me from pulling out.”

  “I—I didn’t think about you—you— I just didn’t want you to leave me.”

  “Darling, I wasn’t going anywhere, but I had to come. It wasn’t as if I was getting up and leaving the chamber.”

  “I didn’t mean physically, I mean you were withdrawing yourself wholly.”

  His sensual lips twitched as if he was fighting a smile. “You say the oddest, female things.”