James let out a curt laugh. “Three headstrong boys?” He gave a shake of his head, a smile of willful reminiscence playing about his lips. Giving her an arch look, he said, “Very well. We both have a pair of older brothers. As you will not tell me about yours, I shall have to tell you about mine.”
They strolled the grounds as he regaled her with stories of youthful indiscretions, of the unfortunate consequences of slingshots and beehives, snowballs and maiden aunts, bull baiting and broken fences. There were fistfights and footraces, forest hideouts and forbidden swimming holes. But no matter how outrageous he and his brother’s antics had been, running within each tale was an undercurrent of love and loyalty Kate couldn’t help but envy.
She’d been so lost in James’s words she hadn’t paid attention to the direction they walked. She looked up to find they had reached the elegant serpentine brick wall that divided the gardens from the hospital grounds. While the main building was rather grim and foreboding, here the architect had created a lovely labyrinth of tall shrubbery, the shadowy alcoves and dappled sunlight—perfect for the sort of trysts she had confessed to watching.
A deep blush spread across her cheeks. “We should head back,” she said, but James blocked her way before she could escape.
His gaze slowly moved over her flushed face, then he took in their surroundings. Recognition set in. “So this is it. The famed garden wall.”
“Yes. Now you’ve seen it. The quickest way back is through—”
“I wasn’t aware we were in a hurry.”
He captured slender one wrist, then the other, holding them both over her head as he pressed her back against the wall. He thrust his knee between her skirts, imprisoning her beneath him. Then he lowered his head and began to nuzzle the side of her neck.
“What are you doing?”
“If you have to ask, I must not be doing it very well.”
“But...” She struggled to put her tumultuous emotions into words. “I thought when you said you no longer needed Dr. Michaelson’s private visits...”
“That I was finished with you, as well?”
“Yes.”
He drew back, quietly searching her gaze. “It would pain me considerably if you truly believed that. Particularly after what occurred between us yesterday.” Then a slow smile curved his lips. “Besides, now that I’ve seen you here at the hospital, I know better.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re far too conscientious a nurse to abandon a patient still in need of your care.”
She fought back a small, embarrassed smile. “I highly doubt what we are doing helps your ankle heal. In any event, there’s no one here. Nothing to see.”
He shrugged. “At every ball there must be one brave couple to begin the dancing.”
“We’re not talking about dancing.”
“True. We’re not.” He lowered his head, his lips brushing hers. “I don’t know why we’re talking at all.”
Kate couldn’t stop herself from kissing him back. She didn’t want to stop. How many times had she walked past this very spot, convinced she would never share that sort of passion? Longing for something just out of her grasp. Her affair with James might be a fleeting thing, but that didn’t make her cherish it any less.
Yesterday’s interlude had done nothing to sate her curiosity. In fact, just the opposite was true. Her lust for him had grown, expanding and curling into something far more reckless and compelling.
The mere touch of his lips on hers was enough to ignite a fire within her. Her body melted against his. She swept her tongue into his mouth. Her kiss was hot, scorching, an open confession of burning need. He continued to entrap her wrists above her head, pinning her between the wall and the solid masculine length of his body, and that felt exactly right.
She wanted to be captured. Taken. Right there, in that instant, no matter who might see them.
All sense of place and propriety evaporated as she thrust her breasts against his chest. Pressed her thigh against his. Felt his cock stiffen and swell against her belly. The knowledge that she could arouse him as he was arousing her filled her with an intoxicating combination of power and pride.
Kate tore her mouth away from his, hungrily pressing a trail of kisses along his jaw, his throat.
James slipped one hand beneath her skirt. He drew his fingers over her ankle and up her calf, following the knit seam of her stocking. She felt a shiver run through her as he traced a path along the back of her knee, then continued up her leg. Finally he reached the lovely space where her stockings ended and her flesh was bare.
His fingers teased the soft, creamy skin of her inner thigh. He brushed the delicate curls that covered her sex, then slipped one finger inside her.
Kate gave a startled whimper at the unexpected penetration. She clamped her thighs shut, imprisoning his hand between her legs. Delicious tension rocked through her as he slipped his fingers between the slick pink folds of her quim, then toyed with the sensitive nub at the entrance to her sex.
She rewarded him with another whimper, a kitten-like release of warm breath against his shoulder. Her skirts rustled as she bucked against his hand. Pulsing pressure built in her belly and a damp heat rose between her thighs.
“Do you think I should petition the Lord Mayor to install a commemorative plaque upon this spot?” he murmured. “We’ll call it ‘Kate’s Wall’. Surely there’s no place in all of London where the Queen’s subjects will find such utter bliss.”
“James...”
“No? I could do it, you know.”
“No.”
“You’re right. Let them find their own bit of paradise. This will be our secret spot.”
He was teasing her, massaging her sex as he spoke, taking her to the brink and then pulling back. Burning impatience filled Kate. She struggled to free herself from his grip on her wrists. The moment he released her hands, she reached for the buttons on his shirt, unfastening them one by one. She trailed hungry kisses over his throat and down his chest, nipping at his skin with her teeth, licking him with her tongue.
He let out a low moan and reached for the delicate buttons that ran down the front of her gown. He wasn’t fast enough, his hands too large for the task. Urgency made him fumble. Impatience careened through her. She wanted him abandon the effort and nibble the delicate buttons off her dress. No. She wanted him to bite them with his teeth and spit them out. To pull the damned thing off and liberate the skin beneath.
Finally he succeeded. He shoved her gown off her shoulders and slid it down her arms, letting the bodice hang loosely around her waist. He groaned in dismay to find yet another barrier between them: a prim, high-collared cotton shift. It was made of gauzy cotton, sheer enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her rich peach corset.
The corset had been expertly tailored to lift her breasts and thrust them forward, offering themselves to him like a set of delectable, exotic fruit. It was cut so low he could just make out the rosy crests of her areolas.
James couldn’t take any more. He grabbed the hem of the cotton shift and drew it upward. A ripping sound rent the air as the delicate fabric tore in two.
Kate gasped in relief.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he muttered by way of apology. “A dozen new ones.”
He took her left nipple in his mouth. She drew in a sharp breath and arched her back. She dug her nails into his scalp as he laved the nipple with his tongue, sucking twirling around the sweet pink bud until it rose stiff and hard. He brushed the tip of his teeth lightly over the erect peak, drawing a low moan from Kate. Then he lavished the same loving attention on her right breast.
James lifted his head and looked at her. “If you were watching,” he said, “this is what you would see: the sun falling on a woman’s bare breasts. Her nipples are dark and peaked. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed, her cap is askew, and her skirts are tumbled. She looks wanton. Entirely indecent. She looks like a woman who had been thoroughly ravaged. And who has
loved every moment of it. Who needs only one thing.”
“What?” Kate whispered, her voice husky with desire. “What does she need?”
“More.”
He unbuttoned his trousers. His cock sprang out, firm and hard and pulsing with life. Tossing aside her skirts, he thrust himself inside her with a force that lifted her off her feet. Kate, teetering on the edge of orgasm for so long, came almost immediately. She cried out as she spent, her back against the serpentine wall, clutching his shoulders as he drove into her.
Her orgasm was fast and hard and furious. Her release felt infinite, a shuddering rapture that left her gasping and weak. James filled her with his cum, then caught her as she fell into his arms, deliriously content.
Chapter Nine
James shifted in his carriage seat across from Kate. It had been a miserable May, all dreary and damp. But as the month drew to a close the weather did an abrupt turnabout. The rain finally departed, leaving behind an azure sky and a delicious warmth. Judging from the congestion in the streets, it seemed as though all of London had ventured out of doors to enjoy the rare brilliance of the day.
Like most Londoners, James was not immune to complaining about the appalling condition of the roads. As his carriage swayed from ditch to pothole and back again, he made a mental note to have William tighten the springs on the conveyance. No sooner had that thought formed than he reversed his decision, for as the vehicle rumbled through traffic he had the distinct pleasure of watching Kate’s lovely breasts bounce ever-so-slightly.
It was beyond absurd, he thought. He couldn’t even watch the woman ride in a carriage without his thoughts turning puerile. As they jostled along he was intently aware of every move she made, from the seductive sway of her hips as he’d assisted her into the barouche, to the momentary brush of her thighs against his as she’d settled into her seat.
He noted the way her eyes danced as she gazed out at the passing streetscape, as though their short journey from St. Thomas Hospital to his home was a grand adventure, and not a trip through crowded, congested streets.
One week had passed since he’d begun his daily afternoon journey to the hospital. He had yet to meet Kate’s brothers, a fact that bothered him more than he cared to admit. Nor had he told her about his forthcoming position with the War Office.
Had she known he would be leaving England she might have wanted to bring their affair to a conclusion, and he simply couldn’t imagine letting her go. Not yet. The mere thought of it made him uncomfortable on a level he wasn't ready to explore.
He pushed the troubling thoughts away. It was a fine day, and he was determined to keep the mood light. He crossed his arms over his chest and stretched out his legs so that his ankles rested on Kate’s bench. He tapped one booted toe against the gaily wrapped box beside her. “Aren’t you going to ask me what’s inside?”
She looked at the box, then at him. “Of course not. Why would I?”
“Because it’s for you.”
“For me?” Her lips parted in surprise. “I—I don’t understand.”
“I would have had it delivered to your home, but I suspect your brothers would object to a man they’d never met sending a gift to their sister.”
“A gift?”
“Probing for hints, are we?” He lifted the box and gave it a gentle shake. “Well, it’s not a book, nor is it a new parasol. And I think we can rule out puppy, as well.”
She held it in her lap for a moment, clearly torn by indecision. “I really shouldn’t accept it,” she began, then an impish smile curved her lips. With an expression of childlike excitement, she peeled back the colorful ribbons, parted the tissue, and lifted the lid.
She gave a sharp intake of breath as she lifted the bonnet from the box, her expression softening with a mixture of wonder and delight. He watched as she turned it this way and that to better admire the creation. Unlike some of the millinery monstrosities women were given to wearing on their heads, the rich simplicity of this design had caught his eye.
It was a creamy confection of a bonnet—just ivory silk, rows of tiny pearls, a hint of pale gold embroidery, and tied with taffeta ribbons tinted soft sage. Artless and fresh, yet elegant and feminine as well. A bonnet that shone with subtle beauty, just like Kate.
“According to the milliner,” he said, “it arrived with the latest shipment from abroad. Had you taken your holiday, likely you would have seen something very much like it in a shop window in Paris.”
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, running her fingers reverently along the brim. Then she stopped, shaking her head with an expression of wistful regret. “But it’s far too fine. I couldn’t possibly accept it.”
“You can and you will. Consider it a token of my appreciation.”
“Appreciation?” She gave him a shrewd look. “In that case, did you purchase the same bonnet for Dr. Michaelson?”
“Of course not,” he replied indignantly. “With his eyes? Only lavender ribbons would do.”
James managed to keep a straight face until he saw Kate’s lips quiver. Her laugh was light and easy, washing over him like a soft breeze. He would buy her a thousand bonnets just to hear that sound again.
“Thank you,” she said.
His gaze took in the soft purity of her ivory skin, the plump pink fullness of her lower lip, the hint of obstinacy in her slightly square jawline. He noted the sparks of gold that lit her hazel eyes when she laughed, and remembered how those same eyes glowed green with contentment after she reached orgasm.
The gift had been an impulse. While he knew nothing of fashion, he did know women. And he didn’t believe there was a woman in all of London who didn’t long for a new hat in the spring. And if all women wanted one, Kate must want one. And if Kate wanted one, she would damn well have one. It had been as simple, and as profound, as that.
He took her arm as the carriage drew to a stop in front of his home. He led her inside. “I have another surprise for you,” he said as he guided her to the library. “One I hope you’ll enjoy.”
A small table had been set for an intimate luncheon, complete with formal linens, fine china, and candlelight. A rich variety of mouth-watering aromas drifted across the room. He nodded to his footman. “Thank you, Owen. That will be all.”
Kate waited until Owen had left the room. She looked at James, her expressive face lit with delight. “How lovely.”
“I thought the occasion called for a celebration,” he said.
“What occasion is that?”
“The fine weather. My newfound ability to mount the stairs in my own home. Your new bonnet.” James shrugged. “Take your pick. Any or all of the above.”
He poured two glasses of sparkling wine and passed one to her, watching as she lifted the crystal goblet and brought it to her lips. For once, he wanted to give Kate the courtesy of courtship. He wanted to spoil her with gifts. Fill her with fine food and wine. Send her flowers. Talk about the books she liked, the music she enjoyed, her favorite places to visit.
His appetite for the woman had been so insatiable he’d behaved like a boorish schoolboy, every nuance of romantic overture forgotten in his blind rush to bed her.
He intended to remedy that. To make amends for his roughness, his raw hunger, his need. While he had nothing against the pleasure of fast and furious fucking, there was considerable enjoyment to be found in slow, deliberate mating as well. Each had its place, and he was determined to introduce her to the joys of the latter.
James deemed the luncheon a success. Kate seemed to enjoy their light banter, and even opened up a bit about her childhood. And though his intentions had been noble, the effort to restrain his impulse to abandon their meal and drag her into his bed was harder than he’d imagined. As he watched her select dainty morsels of choice beef, creamed potatoes, and fresh spring vegetables, the purely erotic pleasure of imagining those lovely lips wrapped around his cock nearly overwhelmed him.
While he assumed the food was w
ell-prepared, it left him entirely unsatisfied. What he desperately craved was to pry apart Kate’s soft thighs and linger over the taste of her, a pleasure he had yet to experience.
At last the meal ended. Owen arrived to clear away the plates, leaving behind a dish of sweet summer cherries that had been pitted and soaked in brandy. Ignoring the sterling serving utensil, James reached for a cherry and popped it into his mouth. The fruit was small and slick on the outside, plump and juicy inside.
Leaning toward Kate, he lifted a second brandy-soaked cherry and brushed it against her lips, staining them deep pink. Then he coaxed the sticky fruit past her teeth. A trickle of juice dribbled from the corner of her mouth and ran down her cheek. James caught the thin stream with his tongue, licking the sweet fluid from her skin.
He pulled her into his lap and brought another cherry to her mouth. She moved to bite it, then recognized he held it not within his fingertips, but in his teeth. She took half the cherry, chewed and swallowed. He did the same, not breaking the pressure of his lips against hers.
He swept his tongue into her mouth, savoring the intoxicating brandy and cherry taste of her, so rich and delicious. He angled her head as he probed her mouth, lingering over the feel of her lips, the press of her body molding itself against his.
He moved his hands down her back as they kissed, willing himself to move slowly. He knew her body now, knew what she liked. She liked him to tug free the bodice of her gown, then slip her skirts over her hips and tumble them down her thighs. She liked him to toss her lace cap aside and pull the pins from her hair, sending it cascading over her shoulders in wanton disarray.
She liked him to set her free. To release her from the imprisoning cage of drab, dutiful nurse and expose the harlot within.
It was a task James was happy to perform.
He brushed soft kisses along the column of her throat as he edged her toward the bed. There he stripped her down to a black lace corset and sheer black stockings, leaving the beautiful ivory globes of her breasts and ass fully exposed. That had become one of James’s favorite new pastimes, one he looked forward to with keen anticipation—discovering what racy bit of silk and satin Kate wore beneath her demure frocks.
Out Of Her League, An Erotic Romance Page 10