by Gayle Keo
“This is wrong,” she groaned. Her eyes rolling back as his lips graced her neckline. His kisses were no less demanding on the tops of her breasts.
“Do you wish for me to stop?”
She should, she knew she should, but her mouth betrayed her propriety. “No!”
His fingers danced over her laces, spreading the fabric until it gaped at her chest. Her breasts filled the space with their natural wealth. She was suddenly aware of how tight her nipples felt beneath the small slip of cotton that still separated them.
“I want to hear my name on your lips.”
“Mister Harding?” she asked, knowing fully what he had meant.
His chuckle was divine. “Foul minx...say it for me.”
His hands gripped the roundness of her hips and she squirmed again. “Owen...”
“God, Emily you are glorious.” He swept his tongue over his lips. They glittered with new wetness.
Glorious? She thought almost groggily. Her? Certainly not. Yet she felt glorious when his hand dipped inside of her chemise and lifted her breast from the confines of the fabric. His mouth descended on her aching nipple and a flood of pleasure swarmed over her as his tongue flicked over the taut peak.
“Owen!” she cried. “Please...I...”
She wasn't sure if she was asking for more, or for him to give her respite. Maybe both. His hand gripped her skirts and shoved them up to her hips. He fitted his body between her thighs and she felt a shock as the heat of his shaft beneath his breeches pushed against the crux of her femininity.
His mouth stayed on her breast as he began to rock. The silken press of her undergarments swept over her cleft with every motion of his body, creating a delicious friction. Twin pulses of pleasure began where he tended to her. Every breath, every thrust of his hips, every movement of his tongue fed them.
Her hands griped his shoulders. She was going to fall apart, or fly apart. A wild feeling was building inside of her body that threatened to overtake her. She glanced down and saw his dark head bent to her breast and she was undone.
“Owen!”
His thrusts became wild, driving her soaked silk against her body. It was too much; too much and not enough all at once. The pulses of pleasure met inside her body and she split apart. She was falling, crashing into ecstasy. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him against her body. Her hips jerked in instinct as her peak overwhelmed her.
“Emily, God!” He pumped himself hard against her. His head was thrown back, and his eyes rolled with his own high. She thought he had never looked so intoxicating.
When she came back into herself, he slumped forward. His cheek cradled to her naked breast.
“Oh, Owen,” she whispered. “What have we done?”
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered. “I'm not entirely sure that I am.”
“Well, I continue to appreciate your honesty.” His hand cupped her cheek.
He sat up, leaving a wash of cold air in his wake. She shivered and pulled her dress around her. Emily tucked her breast awkwardly back into place. Her hands trembled too much to handle the laces.
“May I?”
She glanced at him. The low light of the study was not quite enough to hide the wetness in his breeches. Her cheeks flamed.
“I...I don't know.”
“Please, it is the least that I can do.”
Wordlessly she nodded.
Emily was acutely aware of his fingers as the gently tugged her laces back together. Her dress settling into its proper place. When she was again presentable, she turned about and his arms slid affectionately around her.
“I still don't understand.” She let him pull her against his chest. She heard his heart, whose rhythm was as wild as her own, and closed her eyes. “I thought you detested me.”
“No, Emily, not you...just the society you want to impress.”
“I don't know what to do.”
He stepped back, but kept her inside the circle of his arms, and looked down into her face. “What do you want?”
“I haven't the faintest idea.”
Anger knit his brows. Red crawled up his neck. The arms that were around her back went rigid. “Well, you seemed fairly certain of your needs not too long ago.”
“Fine, Owen, I wish to be married. Will you give me that? Will you set aside your protestation of marriage in order to make a proper woman of me?”
“A proper woman would hardly have done what you just did.”
Embarrassment colored her own cheeks. “How dare you.”
She tried to step back, but his grip on her tightened. His body was an unrelenting line of masculine strength. “How dare I? What is it you want, Emily? To go wandering about with your perfect little ponce? Until he can politely ask you to be his bride? And then it will be a honeymoon of courteous thrusting that will leave you unfulfilled.”
She slapped him. The thwap of her hand across his cheek was not half so satisfying as it would have been without the glove, but his head still jerked to the side.
“What would you know of my fulfillment?”
His eyes were dark when he bent down and whispered, “Everything.”
*****
Hudson Wright's proposal came two weeks later, after a series of very proper dates and an appropriate amount of time seen in the company of one another. They had attended three dinner parties, on gala, two luncheons and a picnic in the park as a pair. It had all been very proper, and Emily had not had a single attack during their wooing.
Owen had not bothered to accompany them, but Lady Wright had been a willing chaperone. She had, of course, been appropriately absent when Hudson had gone to one knee and offered his grandmother’s ring for Emily's finger.
“You would make me a very happy man if you would consent to be my bride.” He smiled up at her.
He looked, she admitted, exactly how a man ought to look when he proposed to his lady. His hair was carefully styled across his brow, and his suit was neither rumpled, nor perfect. Everything looked posed for some painter’s romantic work.
“Oh, Hudson,” she whispered softly, just as she knew she should.
It was absolutely perfect, and yet her heart did not hammer inside her chest, and her breath did not come short. All she could think about was Owen.
In truth Owen had not been anything but perfectly polite since their evening encounter. Damn him. He had declined to attend any parties, he was unnecessary in the wake of Lady Wright, but since when had he cared how necessary he was?
He was ignoring her, and she knew it.
“Emily, is something wrong?”
The way that Hudson said her name told Emily that he had called her at least once before.
“No, no. Of course not.”
She fixed a smile to her lips and bowed her head in a pretty show of happiness. The fact that it was just a show made her heart ache. Owen would never have approved; Hudson didn't seem to realize.
“You surprise me,” she finally said. “I had not expected your proposal so soon.”
His smile wavered. “Is that a no?”
“Of course not, you are very dear to me, and I have grown very fond of you.”
He shifted and she realized that his leg may be getting sore kneeling in such a position for so long. How long had she been thinking about Owen?
“I have the growing suspicion that there is a 'but' in your statement.”
She took his hands in hers and drew him unto the couch next to him.
“May I ask a favor of you?”
He placed the ring on his knee, it glittered up at her like a pretty promise.
“Of course, Emily.”
“Will you kiss me?”
The look of shock on his face was almost amusing. He blushed. Had she looked so shocked when Owen had said the same words to her? Oh, almost certainly.
“A kiss?” He swallowed.
“I'm sorry, perhaps I should not have asked. Forgive me.” She stood up and she fe
lt his fingers close over her wrist.
“Wait,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “it is hardly too much to ask.”
He drew her back down unto the couch. One arm wrapped around her back. Emily expected to feel something akin to what Owen had made her feel, but she felt nothing, not even a tingle.
His lips touched ever so lightly to her own. It felt more like a warm breeze than a kiss. She tilted her head at the same time that he did and their noses scrapped uncomfortably against one another.
“I'm sorry, I don't...” he tried to explain.
“No, no, perhaps if I...”
She took his shoulders in her hands and she tilted her head. She tried to draw on some of the passion that she had felt. The second kiss was somehow even more awkward than the first.
She felt him pulling away. His lips were smiling.
“Oh, Emily...I mean...Miss Crawford...I...”
“Oh!”
They both jumped when Lady Wright burst into the room. Her massive form seemed to loom over them.
“Oh I am so happy for you both!” Lady Wright placed a large hand on either one of their cheeks. “I knew that you would say yes, of course! Anyone could see that you two are close. Oh, Hudson, you have to put the ring on her finger, didn't you know?”
He turned his gaze on her, she could almost feel the apology in them, and she understood. They were, after all, sitting very close to one another on a couch having clearly just shared an intimate moment, even if it was a poor one.
He looked in her eyes, clearly hoping for her to acquiesce. She nodded in assent and he slipped the ring on her finger. He pressed his lips to her cheek and whispered. “It'll be alright, I promise.”
Emily wasn't entirely sure that it would.
*****
When Owen found her, Emily was crying. She hadn't a clue how long he had been standing in the doorway. The rain currently pounding against the study window, and her own morose, masked the sound of his approach. By the time she was aware of his presence it was too late to pretend that she was doing anything but sobbing into the very pillow that she had thrown at him the night that he had ruined her.
“Emily? What happened?”
Anger surged through her with all the power of wildfire. She glared at him. Her eyes were swollen and red and she was sure that her nose had gone a distinct shade of cherry. Emily could not bring herself to care.
“You did!” she snapped. “You happened.”
“Did I?”
“Don't, don't you dare stand there and pretend to be frigid and cold. I thought you didn't like lies.” She sat up. Her heart felt tight in her chest. Her throat was already closing, and her hands were shaking. She was perilously close to an attack and she knew it. “This...this is...is all your fault!”
She couldn't breathe. Her head felt light. It must have become apparent because Owen surged into the room. His hands wrapped over her shoulders.
“Emily, you need to breathe.”
“I...” She heaved in a breath through a tightening throat. It burned. Her anger swam beneath a wave of fear. “I can't!”
“Emily, please calm down. You can yell at me all you want, just relax first.” He was trying to keep his voice as typically flippant as always, but even she could pick out the note of disquiet in it.
She shook her head hard enough that her already messy curls tumbled out of their pins, and yanked herself away from him. “I can't breathe...”
“Look at me, Emily, look up.”
Her gaze filled with his glorious eyes. They were so lovely, and filled with steadfast concern. For a moment, just a moment, the storm of emotions ebbed.
“Breathe with me.”
He placed her hand on his chest. He took a long slow breath and she struggled to do the same. In and out, over and over. Each one was easier than the one before. The storm abated.
“There we go,” he whispered. “There we are.”
“He proposed.” Her legs felt heavy beneath her body, and unwilling to hold her up in the wake of her rampant feelings.
“And you accepted.”
“No,” she said. She shook her head again, feeling the weight of her hip length hair sweep over her back.
“Emily, you are wearing his ring.”
She looked down, and saw it glimmering there. How had she ever seen diamonds as warm? They were filled with cold promises. “No, you don't understand.”
“Are you engaged to Hudson Wright?”
She blinked. “I honestly have no idea.”
He laughed, and it was an oddly manic sound that seemed to come from a bleak place within. “Curse you, woman.”
“I love you.”
“Do you?”
“I have no idea.”
“Curse you again.”
He kissed her like he could devour her from the mouth down, and she melted. His kiss was nothing like Hudson's, though she hated to compare them. There was no awkwardness to the brazen way that his mouth slid over her own. His tongue delved between her lips to taste her, over and over again. She drowned in his own intoxicating favor of wine and spice.
He pulled back to let her breathe.
“More,” she begged. “Oh, Owen, more.”
He pushed her unto the chaise and pulled her dress away from her body. In moments sunlight, muted by the misty gray of rain clouds, was spilling across her bare skin. His mouth sank along her body, over her neck and breasts and hips. He left nearly no part of her untouched, unworshiped.
“There you are,” he groaned, when his fingers slid along the wetness of her sex. “There is my demure little vixen.”
His fingers plunged inside of her, opening her body to him. Deep pleasure swam through her, crashed through her. Yet all it did was fuel the storm of her need.
“Owen, I need more.”
“Tell me, tell me what you need.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips, and pulled him to her. Emily felt his length pressing inside of his breeches. She thrust her hips in wanton desperation.
“Take them off.”
He hesitated. “Emily, if they come off I can make no promise to your purity.”
She gripped his face in her hands. “I do not care. My purity...take it. I want them off.”
He made a sound more animal than human and jerked his pants down his hips. The next time he lay over her she felt the hot press of his blunt tip.
“Oh yes, Owen, yes!”
“Are you sure, Emily. Say it, tell me that you are sure.”
She thrust her hips towards him, enamored of the wet glide of his masculinity across her cleft. “I am sure, Owen.”
He buried his face between her breasts and she felt him nudge himself against her opening, still he hesitated. She wrapped her arms over his back and tugged him closer.
“Don't stop now.”
“God, Emily, you are my undoing.”
He slid into her. Emily expected to feel pain, but it never came. Perhaps her body was too willing, or his fingers had been preparation enough. All she felt was her own wetness and the glorious heat of him inside of her. He moved and she groaned. Her hips arched towards him with ardent abandon.
“Oh, Owen, yes!”
She was aware of everything, his breath on her body, the tickle of his hair along her neck. The long line of his chest as he moved over her, again and again. She lifted her hips to cup him to her.
“More, oh God, Owen, more.”
And more he gave her. His hands slid beneath her body and lifted her from the chaise so that only her shoulders were mated to the fabric. He surged forward over and over again. She could no longer determine where he ended and she began, nor could she bring herself to care. Her body had never felt more alive.
“Emily,” he grunted, his voice near to breaking.
“Yes,” she told him. “Oh yes.”
One hand fondled her breast and her eyes rolled back as the rough tender tip of her nipple scrapped along his palm. Her skin felt too tight for her body.
/> “Please,” she whimpered.
“Fall with me,” he gasped. “Fall with me, Emily.”
She could do nothing else. She felt the hot flood of his release inside of her and she gave in. With a final surge of his body, she broke into a thousand pieces.
*****
She was not sure when she dozed off, but when she woke he was still inside of her. The light from the study window had turned gray with a late hour, casting shadows across the room. She pressed her hand against his shoulder and he roused.
“Emily?” he asked.
“Well who else?”
He swallowed once before quipping, “Might have been a scullery maid.”
“You are not half so funny as you seem to believe yourself.”
“True. But I am twice as funny as most and that is enough.”
“Fine, now please remove yourself from my person, I would like to breathe.”
“As you wish.”
With a move that she could not have performed on her best of days, much less in a state of half wakefulness, he rolled off of her and sprang gingerly to his feet. She curled her legs to her chest and watched him search for his trousers. He was a gloriously built man.
“What do we do now?”
He glanced up at her. “What do you mean.”
“Come, now Owen, now is hardly the time to joke.”
“I am not joking.”
A cold feeling began in her belly. “I have already said you are not funny.”
“I am not attempting to be. Emily, I made what I wanted abundantly clear.” He stopped looking for his garments, and instead gave her a steady glance.
“I, I don't understand.”
“I told you that I did not want to get married,” Owen offered.
“Well, yes, of course you did. But I had assumed...”
“I also told you that I was many things, but I am not a liar.”
Her heart felt too small inside of her chest, small and breakable. Without understanding the 'why' of it, she pulled her chemise over her otherwise naked body.
“So, you will not marry me?”
“No, but that does not mean that we cannot be together, Emily. I will not push you out of your home, we can stay here and be together.”
She shook her head, as much to clear her angry thoughts as to tell him 'no'. “I cannot do that. I am...I am a lady.”