by Tamara Gill
“Darcy I…” Again, he stumbled over his words, and she took pity on him. Maybe he wasn’t going to cry off. Run away like she thought he would.
“What Athelby. What say you?”
The little frown line was back between his brow, and she wanted to reach up and smooth it away with her finger. But here and now was not the time.
“I’m…I’m… God damn it all to hell,” he swore. “I’ve never been with a woman in that way before,” he whispered, looking about to ensure no one was listening.
Darcy didn’t react, for she knew that already. Had suspected when he’d not known how to touch her. The kissing he had taken to very well and quickly indeed, but the touching of her at the musical loo had only occurred because she’d told him what to do, where to touch.
To know no one had had the man in her arms before was more exciting than anything she’d ever known in her life. To have it confirmed doubly so. Maybe that was why husbands found gaining brides who were untouched so arousing. She could certainly agree with the notion a lot more now that she had Athelby in much the same way.
“I know,” she said, playing with the little bit of hair at the base of his nape. “And if anything, knowing this only makes me want you all the more.”
Their dance had slowed and they stood scandalously close, but for the first time ever, it seemed the Duke of Athelby was not concerned with proper etiquette and correct behaviour.
“I will not have you at a ball,” he whispered, pulling her into a tight spin as they came to the end of the room. “I want you in my bed. Not in a window alcove.”
“I found our last rendezvous in the window alcove very rewarding indeed. I could make the same a possibility for you. There are ways you know, for a woman to pleasure a man in much the same way.”
He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “The thought of us, of you doing such things to me, please do not say it here. No one wants to see the duke of Athelby hobbling off the dance floor with his cock pushing out the front of his breeches.”
Darcy laughed, taking a quick glance downwards just for fun. “Take me back to your home. Let me show you all that there can be between a man and woman.”
“No, I do not wish to rush this with you.”
Although disappointed, she could understand his caution. “Very well, we shall take it slow, but promise me after this dance, we will leave, together and in your carriage. If I do not kiss you soon, I shall expire.”
Thankfully the dance came to an end, and they were able to make their goodbyes to their hosts for the evening. Darcy called for her carriage and spoke to her maid, notifying her that she had other transport to return home.
Using the shield of her carriage, she walked two steps and jumped up into the duke’s. No sooner had she sat on the squabs than did the horses move on and they were on their way.
“I told the coachman to drive around until advised otherwise.”
Darcy went about untying the rolled-up blinds and pulling them down over the windows.
“What are you doing?” he asked, not moving from the seat opposite her, simply watching her with amusement.
“Making this little abode private so no one can see in.”
“In that case,” he said, leaning forward, he snipped the locks on the doors and now they were fully alone and unable to be disturbed.
Settling back on his seat, Darcy watched him for a moment.
“What now, de Wolfe?” he asked, grinning a little.
She bit her lip, desire curling throughout her body. “What indeed Athelby.”
Later that evening Athelby would wonder how the hell he’d not know the carriage could be a vessel of pure, unadulterated pleasure. For years he’d travelled within such an abode, seen couples alight from their vehicles and often deliberated why the women looked starry eyed and the men most pleased.
His brother had certainly looked such often enough.
Now he knew the reasons behind all that. For Darcy de Wolfe had shown him what he could have between them if he choose.
Darcy moved from the other seat and came to sit beside him on his. Hells blood, she smelt good enough to eat. As sweet as a rose and as pretty as one as well. Unable to deny himself, he cupped her jaw and kissed the side of her mouth. Small little kisses across her neck toward the base of her ear. His attempt to seduce her seemed to work if her soft sighs against his ears were any indication.
“I’m going to pleasure you, duke. Now sit back,” she said, pushing him against the squabs. “And enjoy.”
Damn it, he bit back a groan at her lascivious promise. As it was his cock sat rigid in his pants, ready and waiting for her to do whatever it was she had planned.
“Promise me that whatever I do, you’ll not try and stop me. Know, that what I’m doing is because I want to, that it’s acceptable and will be enjoyable.”
“Very well,” he said, not willing to deny her anything.
He shifted his legs further apart as slowly, delicately she undid his front falls. Athelby tried not to cringe when his cock sprung forward, eager for her touch. She ran her finger along the top of his cock, taking the little bead of moisture that sat there and slid it between her lips, licking it.
“Fuck,” he gasped, having never used such a word or imagined such an action was possible, or that anyone would want to do such a thing for that matter. But to see Darcy do so, had his heart beating a million times too fast, his body not his own. For right now, at this very moment, Darcy owned him. All of him.
And damn it all to hell he wanted to do the same to her. Lie her back on the squabs, part her lovely long legs and lick her from ankle to core. The thought of what she’d taste like there, the crude naughtiness of it left his cock more rigid and he fought not to clasp Darcy’s cheeks and guide her over him.
Kneeling in front of him, her gaze captured his and her perfect pink tongue came out and licked him from base to tip. Athelby fought not to pass out from the wonderful sensation of having her suck his cock.
He’d missed out on so much and the thought maddened him before she stroked her tongue over his throbbing length again and he lost all thought.
“You’re teasing me,” he said breathlessly.
She grinned, licking him a third time. “Good things come to those who wait.” But she didn’t make him wait too much longer. Fascinated, he watched her lips circle the top of his cock and slide down, taking a good third of his phallus before she started the opposite way. Athelby did clasp her face then, if only to anchor himself to reality. Darcy’s sucking, licking, teasing of him was relentless, an endless torture that made his stomach clench and his balls ache. Her tongue was soft against his skin, pushing against his pulsating veins.
Dear heaven he was lost…
For what was probably only minutes, but felt like hours of pleasure, she sucked him, used her small hand about the base of his cock and stroked while her mouth entwined magic about his soul.
Never did he ever have any idea such a thing was possible. That a woman would take a man so, and seemingly enjoy it if Darcy’s aroused moans and breathy sighs were any indication.
The carriage turned a corner and he caught her arm, and braced them both by pushing against the window. Darcy adjusted and took him deeper, clasping his balls after each glide of her hand and mouth. The action, a little different than before, but more determined had stars form before his eyes.
Athelby found himself pushing into her mouth, such an ungentlemanly thing to do, but he could not help himself. The need to reach the pinnacle that he’d long denied himself was too much to ignore. He wanted to fuck her mouth, hard, do base things with her and make her come against his own face.
All these thoughts bombarded his mind, and crying out, he climaxed He tried to pull away, to save some dignity for himself, and her too, but Darcy wouldn’t have it. She stayed fixed upon his cock, licking him, sucking and swallowing all that she pulled forth from his release.
His breath ragged, he stared at her as with
a little wipe of the corner of her mouth, she sat back on her hunches and grinned. “How do you feel, your grace?”
How did he feel? By God, he felt lethargic, hungry for more, intoxicated, drunk on her and what she did to him. “I did not know that it could… That a woman could do such an act to a man. I never listened to the bawdy talk that sometimes occurred at my club.”
Darcy came to sit beside him, kissing him gently, slowly that only aroused him to have more of her. He could taste himself on her, and his cock twitched. “There are lots of things we can do, if you’re willing.”
Athelby warred with himself. He wanted her, knew that he’d go mad if he didn’t have her soon, but to engage in a liaison wasn’t something he considered respectable. Darcy needed to be his wife, and perhaps, should he play by her rules for a time, she would come to see the same. He could not just sleep with a woman and then leave her to the wolves, something his brother often partook in.
He tapped on the roof, signalling the driver to return Darcy home. “Will I see you at Duncannon’s ball two nights from now? I will give you my answer then.”
Darcy righted her gown and sat back against the squabs, tidying her hair and ensuring it was similar to how she’d had it set before going out for the night. “Very well, I shall wait to hear what you choose.”
“Thank you,” he said, frowning at the fact she was annoyed by his hesitation in having an affair with her. Not that he didn’t want her, he did. Desperately so.
But by having her, losing himself to her, did that mean he also lost who he was, what he believed to be right. At this time, he couldn’t see any other way forward but that path, and Athelby wasn’t sure anything, even Darcy was worth losing his values over.
Chapter 6
Darcy sat under a large oak at her friend Fran’s garden party and covertly watched the duke of Athelby. He hadn’t noticed that she was present, as her chair sat under a lovely shady spot, with some of the branches of the tree hanging down and partially hiding her from view.
Darcy shifted her attention to her friend and for the first time, she noticed a small bump behind her friend’s otherwise small waistline. She narrowed her eyes on the little mound. When was Fran going to tell her about that little bundle? Smiling at the thought of her best friend not only marrying for love, but starting a family. Something she’d wanted to do ever since they were at Mrs. Dew’s finishing school for young ladies.
Today the duke wore tan breeches and knee-high boots that were so polished one was sure to see their reflection in them. His bottle green coat hugged him like a second skin, and she flushed, remembering how she’d managed to delve beneath those fine clothes and give him pleasure. Have his large hands entwine in her hair, pulling her, holding her against his member as she pleasured him. Made the demanding, righteous duke of Athelby crumble and come apart in her arms. And how delicious it was having him react so.
She crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs a little in expectation. Should they get an opportunity today she would steal him away, lock him up in a room somewhere in the sprawling mansion behind them and have her way with him.
Maybe even make love to him this time. If he wished it.
A footman came by and offered her ices and she took one gratefully. After her less than garden party thoughts, she needed to cool off a little.
The duke continued to stroll through the guests, talking to those who were game enough to speak to the fierce looking man, before he stopped and quite obviously searched the party. Was he looking for her maybe?
When their gazes locked, his shoulders slumped just a little. In relief at seeing her present, Darcy wasn’t sure, but his determined steps toward her certainly implied he’d captured his quarry.
He came to stand at the end of her chair, towering over her and oh, how she wished he could crawl up the seat to lie atop her, lift her gown and settle between her thighs and take her.
Darcy swallowed, again shifting on her seat as the thought of having him left her needy, a greedy little minx desperate for his touch.
He looked about, not that anyone was nearby, she was the only one lying on the chairs put under the tree to shade guests who wanted to rest for a time. She raised her brow, but didn’t say a word, but neither did he. Athelby simply stared at her, his gaze raking her body and leaving her shivering from the raw need that shimmered in his eyes.
His jaw clamped, and he frowned. “Where can we go?”
Oh my…those words made her gasp a little and make her heart skip a beat. “Do you wish to be alone, your grace?” she asked, playing coy and simply not saying, ‘me too’ as she so wished to.
“I’ve thought of nothing else but what you did to me the other evening, and it’s past time that I returned the favour. It is only right as a gentleman that I do.”
“Of course, and as a man who believes manners are a pinnacle we all must strive toward, I would think less of you should you not have offered,” Darcy said, coming to stand toe to toe with the duke, “to taste me with your mouth as I tasted you. Enjoyed you, your grace.” She ran her finger across his bottom lip.
His nose flared as he seemed to struggle with his emotions. Seeing the duke mad for her left her longing for him again. It was the most intoxicating thing she’d ever seen, and her heart did a little flip of rejoice.
“Somewhere close by. The house is too far away.”
Darcy chuckled. The house wasn’t all that far, although they would have to cross the lawns and weave their way through the multitude of guests who congregated there, only too ready to stop a duke and try and catch his eye for their daughters.
“There is a summer house hidden in the gardens. If you follow the path until it comes to an end and turn left, you’ll see it a little way along. It overlooks the park beyond and the small lake this estate has itself.”
“Perfect.” The duke strode off in the direction she stated.
Amused, Darcy watched him, going to talk to a nearby group of women before she too, strolled to where they would meet.
Trepidation and expectation made her heart thump and her stomach clench in excitement. Would the duke enjoy touching a woman so, kissing her in the most intimate of places? Her husband had only ever performed it on her once, and upon awakening the next morning, he’d proceeded to tell her he’d been so far into his cups that he’d thought her one of his mistresses and that he regretted the action. That he would never do such a thing again.
Before Terrance had said such a thing, Darcy had thought that perhaps their marriage could work, that he did find her attractive and wished to only be with her. How wrong she’d been, such an immature, green fool.
She raised her chin and determinedly continued toward the summer house. The duke was not her deceased spouse. He was a man who desired her, wanted to do all that she wished to do with him. Was passionate and eager to please her, in a sexual regard at least, which was more than her husband had ever been.
Going through a small gate on the path, Darcy pushed it open and stopped to admire the summer house. It was a rectangular stone structure, with two large windows and a double glass door. Steps led up to the door and for decoration, the roof had small castle looking balustrade that ran about its edges. Darcy had always loved the building, and during the time her friend Fran was being courted by the Viscount, they had often spent afternoons here, swimming and enjoying each other’s company, while her friend fell further and further in love.
It had been the best of times, and now hopefully, she will make more, delightful memories.
The duke stood in the doorway to their abode, his cravat, coat, and waistcoat nowhere to be seen. Lounging against the wood, he looked casual and so delectably handsome that heat pooled between her legs.
How she wanted him, all of him.
“Waiting for someone, your grace?”
He laughed a deep, rumble that echoed with determination and need. Shivers slid down her spine and she rushed toward him, eager to have him kiss her, touch her, be with her in any which
way he was willing.
The moment they touched, a spark lit a flame within her and she kissed him deep and long. The duke did not hold back and only too willing, met each stroke of her tongue, each clasp of her wandering hands with that of his own.
Her hair tumbled down about her shoulders as his fingers spiked through it. Darcy pulled the duke’s shirt from his breeches and ripped it over his head, leaving his heaving, muscular chest hers to admire.
She stood back a little and admired the view, ran her finger over each ripple of muscle. He skin was sun kissed, and left her wondering what he did that he was able to have such a skin tone. The thought of him working shirtless left her mouth dry.
Instead of asking, not wanting to delay what she longed for him to do to her, she leaned forward and kissed where his heart beat fast. Her hands went about his back as she kissed her way up his neck and found his more than willing mouth.
This time the kiss was slow, languorous, an unhurried seduction that made her ache to have him.
“I want you, Athelby.” Her voice was breathless and full of need, but she did not care that he would hear that. Darcy could no longer pretend that their little liaison was merely that, a temporary fling. For it was not, not for her at least. Not anymore.
He picked her up, kicking the door closed and carried her over to a day bed in the middle of the room. For a moment Darcy hoped that he would strip himself of his breeches, but instead, watching her, he slid her dress up over her legs to pool about her waist. Warm air, fragranced with roses kissed her skin and she bit her lip as he placed large hands on each of her knees and slowly spread them apart.
Oh, dear lord…
His fingers played with the silk stockings still tied against her thighs before his lips skimmed their way up toward her aching mons. For a man that had never done such a thing before, he certainly seemed to know what he was about.
“You’re so beautiful, Darcy.” He paused, placing a small kiss to her very core and making her gasp. “Tell me if I’m not doing this right, or you want more or less of what I do.”