Desire n-3

by Nicole Jordan

  He took her glass from her and set it aside, then eased her back on the blanket. Brynn felt her senses swimming, her blood pounding thickly with the wine she’d drunk, as he bent over her. He kissed each nipple in turn, laving the swollen tips with his silk-rough tongue, suckling until she gave a breathless whimper. When he blew on a turgid peak that was still glistening from his mouth, she quivered at the erotic shock of it.

  Holding her dazed gaze then, he sat back and unfastened the buttons of his breeches, drawing them down around his lean hips.

  In the gathering darkness, her gaze locked on his naked loins. He was heavy and aroused. She was faintly shocked to see the huge shaft, pulsing and erect, between his sinewed thighs.

  “It is only flesh, love. Touch me and see for yourself.”

  Taking her hand, he brought it to his groin, letting her explore at her own pace. Brynn swallowed her shock and touched him gingerly, feeling the warm, satiny flesh stretched over granite. He was very male, but not really so frightening. Experimentally, she closed her fingers around the rigid length, and he surprised her by giving a soft groan.

  Brynn pulled back her hand at once. “Did that hurt?”

  He gave a soft, husky laugh. “A very pleasurable hurt.”

  His eyes were hot as he bent over her again, but this time instead of attending to her breasts, he took her mouth. She lay tense beneath him until he murmured against her lips, “Let me in, siren. Kiss me the way I’m kissing you. Give me your tongue.”

  She opened to him then, absorbing the slow, penetrating motion of his tongue in heated pulses, even as she felt a ripple of despair course through her. He was so very experienced, and she had no weapons to aid her in halting his sweet seduction. Against her will, she was being tantalized by his potent sensuality, his magical kisses.

  When he gathered her closer against his aroused body, deepening his kiss, Brynn shuddered, helpless against the surge of warmth that enveloped her. A shivering desire began to grow inside her, tightening her nipples, her thighs, heating her every nerve ending. It was as if Lucian wove some strange spell around her, a spell she no longer wanted to escape. Her arms climbed upward to encircle his neck, and she gave in to the need to return his kiss.

  As the tentative thrust of her tongue met his own, Lucian felt an emotion akin to triumph. It was beguiling, the innocence and enthusiasm in her untutored mouth, the excitement, the tender searching. He tangled his fingers in the rich fullness of her hair and drank of her sweetness, showing her how to respond, to give, to take.

  She was making small sounds of pleasure deep in her throat when he slowly swept his hand down her body, pausing at the juncture of her thighs that was shielded by her muslin gown. When she stiffened instinctively, he caressed her soothingly.

  “Let me touch you, sweeting,” he murmured. “An aroused woman feels pleasure when she takes a man inside her body, but you must be ready to receive me. Let me arouse you, lovely Brynn.”

  In the darkness he could feel her questioning gaze searching his face. “I… don’t think it’s possible,” she whispered thickly, “to be more aroused.”

  He buried his smile against her throat. “Oh, yes, it’s possible. And it will be my great pleasure to show you.”

  She made no protest as he raised her skirts to bare her delicate flesh to the night air, and yet she tensed when he moved his palm along the warm satin of her inner thigh.

  Wanting to distract her, Lucian lowered his mouth to her tantalizing breasts, suckling her again as he fingered the soft folds at her damp apex.

  She was wet silk between her legs, her body already prepared for his taking. The realization made his shaft clench with savage need, yet he knew he had to take exquisite care in satisfying her for her first time.

  Her breathless moan told him he was succeeding. She clutched at his shoulders as he found the nub of her sex. He murmured a soft reassurance when her body jolted in shock, and went on stroking the sensitive flesh. In only moments she had tilted her head back, moving it restlessly against the blanket, straining her hips against his caressing hand.

  He felt her tremble, and gently thrust a finger into her silken warmth. Brynn whimpered softly in pleasure. He slid a second finger into her, pushing deeper, and she gasped, clamping her thighs around his hand.

  Sucking hard on her engorged nipple, he kept up the arousing rhythm with his fingers, probing and withdrawing, until the motion enticed her hips into an undulating movement she couldn’t control.

  She arched and twisted, instinctively seeking relief from the feverish passion he was building within her. He could feel the heat rising from her flushed skin, hear her rasping pants as she reached the brink of climax. A heartbeat later, he felt her shatter.

  Triumphant, Lucian took her mouth again, capturing her startled moans. He kissed her face and held her until she lay completely pliant in his arms. His erection was a throbbing, painful heat, but he forced himself to remain still, allowing her time to recover.

  He sensed her bewilderment as Brynn searched his face in the darkness.

  “That was the pleasure you spoke of?” she whispered hoarsely.

  He smiled. “Yes. That was the pleasure. But there is more.”

  “More?” Her voice sounded faint. “I don’t know if I can bear any more.”

  “You can,” he promised softly. “You’ll find the bliss even deeper when our flesh is fully joined. Let me show you, Brynn.”

  Her silence, while not welcoming, suggested surrender.

  Smoothing a tendril back from her forehead, Lucian slid his thigh between hers, then hesitated.

  A strange tenderness filled him as he gazed down at her shadowed features. This was his wife. The woman he had chosen to be his life’s mate. He had made love to countless other lovers, but this time was somehow different. He was burning with lust, desire, need, yet the feelings rioting through him were more powerful than any he had ever experienced.

  And more dangerous. Having Brynn beneath him like this-sexually responsive, incredibly alluring- reminded Lucian of his erotic dreams…

  He frowned. Was Brynn right? Was he becoming obsessed with her?

  Lucian shook his head. For now he wouldn’t consider the possible danger. Brynn was his bride. His elusive enchantress. He wanted to taste her secrets and make her his forever.

  His whisper brushed close against her ear. “Let me make you mine, sweet Brynn…”

  With deliberate slowness, he eased over her, spreading her thighs with his own. When he entered her partway, she drew a sharp breath. He held himself still, allowing her to grow accustomed to his alien hardness stretching her, filling her.

  Her breath grew harsh when he pressed in a bit farther. “No, don’t tense up, love. Try to soften your body when you take me inside you.”

  When he felt her tension ease, he progressed slow increments at a time. This time he felt her wince when her fragile barrier rent, but she made no sound beyond a faint gasp as he sheathed himself the final measure.

  For a long moment Lucian didn’t move, pressing soft kisses over her flushed face, her eyelids, cherishing the lush promise of her virginal tightness.

  He could feel her softening, warming around him, feel her heated wetness increasing with her renewed arousal.

  “Better?” he asked, his control no longer steady.

  “Yes,” she said, the word a mere breath of sound.

  Lucian forced himself to hold back, to restrain the excitement flaring through his senses. She was moist and hot and insanely inviting, but still innocent and untutored. Calling on all his willpower, he began the slow, exquisite task of bringing her to pleasure, moving gently inside her, using all the skill he possessed to coax a sexual response from her.

  She offered no resistance now. When he pressed even deeper, Brynn’s thighs parted to accept more of him. And when he drew back, she tentatively lifted her hips, as if to follow. Lucian clenched his teeth, fighting the scorching hunger of his body.

  Traces of the same scor
ching hunger singed Brynn. The heavy, burning ache inside her was growing, yet it wasn’t pain. It was heat; it was desire. Her entire body throbbed at the feel of Lucian’s hard flesh joined with hers.

  Then his mouth dipped to her breasts, kissing her erect nipples, and the twinges of pleasure sharpened. His tantalizing, arousing caresses made her press closer, molding her skin to him as she felt the hot, coiling tension rise, spiraling through her body from the bright center of sensation.

  In reward, he sank deeper. She whimpered, wordlessly pleading, helplessly needing. He thrust harder, and Brynn suddenly erupted.

  Her senses exploding, she moaned, mindlessly clutching his face to her breasts, frenzied with longing. All she could do was cling to Lucian and endure the storm, a magical whirlwind of fire in the darkness.

  Her cries of ecstasy and wonder still echoed softly in the night as he drove himself to his own convulsive climax deep within her. Vaguely she felt his shudders, felt his restrained violence as he moved possessively, forcefully between her thighs. Yet her shaking body seemed to accept his urgency, welcoming him until his final tremors faded.

  Dazed, trembling, Brynn fell limply back, shutting her eyes.

  It might have been an eternity before she regained enough awareness to feel the gentle kisses Lucian was pressing over her face. He was still buried within her, his breath hot and soft on her skin, while she was still throbbing, pulsing with intolerable pleasure.

  “Was that as distasteful as you expected?” he asked, his voice warm with intimacy.

  “Not quite,” she breathed, reluctant to admit that he had been right.

  His laughter was soft and vibrant, as full of promise as the night air around them. Carefully he eased from her body and gathered her in his arms.

  Wincing with twinges of pain, Brynn pressed her face into the smooth, muscular wall of his chest. She could feel his warmth, smell the exciting male muskiness of his skin. His embrace felt unbearably intimate, yet after what had just passed between them, it was rather tame, she supposed.

  She was glad he couldn’t see her embarrassment. The caressing darkness had made her cast away all inhibition and logic, turning her into a wild, lustful creature she couldn’t even recognize.

  She was stunned by the wonder of a passion she’d never anticipated. She hadn’t realized such a degree of wanton feeling existed. But then her new husband was a captivating man, magnificently virile, seductively male…

  Brynn drew a sharp breath.

  With very little effort, Lucian had breached her defenses. Like every other woman he pursued, she had succumbed to his disarming tenderness and smoldering sensuality… heaven help him.

  Brynn squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think of the danger. Not now. Not at this incredible moment.

  She buried her nose deeper into his chest, wishing she could hide inside him.

  “Has any female ever resisted your attempts to charm?” she murmured finally.

  “You, love.” His tone was gentle and faintly amused. “You’re the only one I can recall. Except for my mother, perhaps. She was usually immune to my efforts.”

  It seemed he could laugh at himself. That surprised her. And worried her. She didn’t want to find anything else appealing about Lucian. Didn’t want to come to like him.

  Even so, she was indescribably grateful he had been so considerate of her virginal state, that he had been so gentle with her. He was still being gentle, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on the bare skin of her shoulder…

  At last acknowledging that she shouldn’t encourage such familiarity, Brynn edged away, then flinched at the tender throb deep inside her where she’d stretched to accommodate his raw power.

  “Perhaps we should return,” he murmured as if he sensed her discomfort. “You would be more comfortable in a real bed.”

  Sitting up, she fumbled to straighten her clothing but found it difficult with her mind still in turmoil. In a moment Lucian brushed her fingers aside and helped her dress. Brynn bit her lip at this telltale evidence of his licentiousness. Even in the dark, he knew his way around a woman’s undergarments.

  She held her tongue, though, and suffered his attention in silence. When he pressed a kiss on her temple, she pulled away and rose to her feet. She was startled to feel a wetness between her thighs. It was Lucian’s seed, she realized, reminded of the brazen carnal relations they had just shared.

  “Wait a moment,” he murmured. “I brought a lantern.”

  She could hear him opening the basket and then striking a lucifer. The sudden brightness as he lit a box lantern made her wince, but it was the sight of his naked torso that made her avert her gaze. His lean, muscled frame rippled with fluid strength and sent butterflies curling low in her belly, as well as fresh pulses of sensation throbbing between her thighs.

  When he had put on his shirt, he returned the champagne and strawberries and glasses to the basket. Then, gathering the rest of his clothing and the blankets, he handed her the lantern.

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  She would not look at him as she negotiated the path along the cliff face, or when she accompanied him across the lawn and onto the terrace, heading for the French doors that led to the dimly lit library.

  She had just climbed the marble steps when her husband came to a sudden halt.

  “Brynn, wait,” he ordered in a low, urgent voice.

  She paused, then gave a start of alarm when the dark figure of a man moved out from the shadows of the house, into the lantern light. She hadn’t suspected anyone was there.

  “My lord, it is I, Davies,” the man murmured in a cultured accent.

  He was an older, distinguished-looking gentleman, Brynn saw, with graying hair and a tall, somewhat portly figure. Lucian must have recognized him, for she could feel his tension ease beside her.

  “Yes, Davies,” he said with apparent casualness. “I presume you have a good reason for traveling all this way from London?”

  “I do, my lord. I have news, which I fear is not good.” The man glanced at Brynn. “Perhaps we might speak in private?”

  “Of course. Brynn, this is my secretary, Mr. Hubert Davies. Davies, my new wife, Lady Wycliff.”

  The man sketched her a deep bow. “I am honored, my lady.”

  Brynn murmured a polite reply, then glanced up at Lucian, who gave her a brief smile.

  “Will you forgive me, my dear? It appears I have some dull business affairs to deal with. Why don’t you go upstairs? I will join you shortly.”

  Short of making a scene, Brynn had no choice but to oblige. She made her way up to her bedchamber, rife with puzzlement and curiosity-and disquietude as well.

  When she caught sight of herself in the cheval glass, though, she drew a sharp breath in dismay at her wanton appearance-her hair tumbling wildly down her back, her gown disheveled, her cheeks flushed with color.

  Her flush deepened when she realized her husband’s secretary had spied her this way. It was shameful to have been caught in such brazen behavior, especially after she had vowed she wouldn’t succumb to Lucian’s practiced charm.

  She washed the vestiges of his lovemaking from her body and restored order to her appearance, pinning her hair up again, and then discovered she didn’t know what else to do with herself-whether to change her gown for her nightdress or simply wait for Lucian to come.

  At loose ends, she tried to read, but found she couldn’t concentrate. Her mind kept wandering to Lucian, both to the incredible passion he had shown her and to darker thoughts of what effect this night would have on their future.

  It was perhaps a half hour later when her restlessness grew to a fever pitch. Shutting her book, Brynn rose to her feet and began to pace the floor, wondering what could be keeping Lucian.

  She was about to go downstairs in search of him when she heard a soft rap on her bedchamber door. When she bid entrance, she was taken aback to see his secretary, Mr. Davies.

  “Forgive me, my lady, but I have a message fro
m his lordship.”

  “A message?”

  “Yes. He regrets being called away on an important matter.”

  “I’m not certain I understand,” Brynn replied, frowning. “What could possibly require his attention at this time of night?”

  “Business that cannot be avoided. Lord Wycliff has left for Falmouth, where his ship is anchored. He gave me instructions to escort you by coach to London on the morrow. I am to help settle you in your new home.”

  Brynn felt herself stiffen. “I wonder that he could not spare the time to tell me himself.”

  “The matter was urgent, my lady. Lord Wycliff begs your forgiveness.”

  Brynn wasn’t certain she could believe the apology, but she tightened her jaw and bit back a tart comment, saying merely, “When may I expect to see him again?”

  “I regret I cannot predict, my lady. Doubtless it will be several days at least, perhaps a week, before he can join you in London. As for tomorrow, it will be best to get an early start as the journey will be rather long. I came in his lordship’s traveling coach. If you are agreeable, I will have your trunks loaded at first light.”

  “Very well, Mr. Davies,” she said rather numbly.

  With a deep bow, the secretary stepped back and shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Brynn to stare after him, stiff with shock and hurt and welling resentment.

  What business, she wondered, was so urgent that her new husband must abandon his bride on their wedding night? And why in heaven’s name could he not even do her the simple courtesy of saying farewell?

  Chapter Seven

  London

  “We should arrive at his lordship’s town residence shortly,” Mr. Davies remarked, speaking for the first time in two hours. “Are you comfortable enough, my lady? ”

  “Yes, thank you,” Brynn prevaricated, shifting in her seat to relieve her cramped muscles. Nearly three days of coach travel, even in a coach as well-sprung and luxuriously appointed as her new husband’s, was not her idea of comfort.