A spike of awareness pierced him and he pulled away, gasping, gazing down, keeping his attention firmly fixed on her face. “I cannot do this to you. I’m sorry.”
When he reached for the nightshirt, she put a staying hand on his arm. “No. Do it, please. I thought I was going to die, and I regretted, so much, that I was not ever to know what it was like to make love with a man.”
He skimmed her mind again—already so easy—and read the truth. She wanted him to make love to her, and she had no regrets. “You’ll give up a lot. You’re giving me your respectability, and your reputation.”
She laughed, and was still smiling when she answered him. “I have no reputation. I’m considered a good girl, but any man marrying me will not do so for my fortune or my name.”
“Joanna,” he murmured, and kissed her. “Joanna,” he said again, and this time he did not stop. How could he resist? He only had to know one thing. He laid her tenderly on the sheets and drew back. “Forgive me, but I must ask this. Are you a virgin?”
“Yes.”
Just that, but it would not make any difference now. It could not. She had roused him so quickly and thoroughly he hardly knew himself. Touching her naked skin intoxicated him, and completed the desire he’d been quelling since the first day he’d noticed her.
Getting to his feet, he stripped, watching her for any sign of regret or second thoughts. His shirt went first, dragged out from his breeches and tugged over his head, to be casually tossed aside. Then he put his hand to the fall of his breeches, unfastening the first button with deliberation.
He paused, his fingers on the second button. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Get on with it.”
He did as his lady asked, or rather, demanded, undid the rest of the buttons without ceremony, pulled the drawstring of his underwear free and removed both by the simple expedient of letting them drop and then kicking them free.
Her gaze went to his erection.
He let her look. After several seconds, she flicked her attention to his face. Her eyes were wide. “It fits?”
“Usually.” With an easy smile he bent, put his hands on the bed, and swung in next to her. “If it does not, then we stop.” In truth he wasn’t entirely sure they would accomplish this in one session, but perhaps that would give her the chance to reconsider. At least he could touch her, and taste her, which he’d been longing to do for days.
And leave her and his conscience intact.
When he eased her back into his arms, he felt no resistance. Kissing her as he pressed her close gave him some easement, but his body against hers was almost too much for him to bear. Her heat warmed him through to his soul
He had not felt this mortal for years.
Uncertain, excited, and desperate, all very mortal emotions. They fascinated the immortal part of him, but he was not concerned by that now. Her kiss melted him, all but one part of his body, which stood to rigid attention. Her breath scorched his cheek, and she wound a leg around him, her hands spreading over the muscles of his chest, then his arms, as if exploring what belonged to her.
He loved every bit of it. Rolling her onto her back, he came over her, and lifted to look at her. Pink-tipped breasts met his avid gaze, and with reverence he touched one. “You are lovely, Joanna.”
Ignoring the scoffing sound she made, he bent to prove it to her, kissing and then sucking the nipple gently, rendering it rosier and smaller, and beautifully harder. With a growl of satisfaction, he moved to the next, but caught the first between his fingers, twisting and teasing it. She moaned and squirmed, but not so that her nipple left his mouth. Her little “Oh, oh!” sounds enchanted him and drove him to urge her to make more.
He kissed down to her navel, and then farther. He would make absolutely sure she was ready to take him before he broached her. With their minds attuned, he could take some of the pain from her, share it and perhaps remove it completely, but she would feel the moment she went from maid to woman. He could barely wait.
Reaching her centre, he buried his nose in the sweet nectar that lay there waiting for him. “Open your legs, Joanna.”
She opened them, revealing the gate to paradise. At least as far as his cock was concerned. Even sheets as fine as these rasped against the sensitive head when it strained even further, the small eye opening to emit the drops of fluid that prepared him for her.
Her aroma wreathed around him, intoxicating him as he bent his head to taste her.
He was right. What he had on his tongue was pure nectar. He had to concentrate fiercely to recall what he was doing this for. Not only to enjoy himself, but to prepare her to receive him. If they got that far. His first taste turned him into a mindless marauder, but he could not afford to indulge himself. He must not, for her sake.
After tracing her with the tip of his tongue, he worked on the knot of flesh at the front, the part that evoked the most response. When she grabbed his head, threading her fingers through his hair and clutching the strands, he almost purred in satisfaction. Her body grew wetter, her opening softening and heating. When he brought his fingers into play, she sighed. Gently he traced her opening, circling it with deliberate intent as he worked her clitoris until she gasped and cried out. Then he pushed one finger inside. She was deliciously tight, clenching him as he pressed in, easing her and opening her more with each movement. Whether he took her virginity with his fingers or with his cock, he cared not, as long as he made the transition as easy as possible for her.
For what he’d done to her today, he owed her this and more. But a nagging voice deep inside him told him he owed it to himself too. Ignoring his personal desires had become a habit he found hard to break. When he needed food, he ate. When he needed a woman, he found one. This was different, as different as the stars from a rainbow, though he could not say which was which.
She said one word, “Amidei,” as if that answered all her questions, filling him with the dual emotions of inadequacy and power. Strange companions, but they went together now. He sucked, and felt her response, her shudder as the first shock of her orgasm went through her.
A cry, and her inner channel pulsed around him, tightening in a way he couldn’t wait to experience again. He waited until the pulses died away, easing off as he sucked and licked, until she was wet and eased back into soft heat. Rising up, he returned to her, reacquainting himself with her breasts on the way. “You’re so lovely,” he murmured, smiling down at her. Impatiently he shoved his hair behind his ears and then took his shaft in one hand, guiding it along her crease until it notched into the small gap. “Do you want this, or have you had enough? We can wait, sweetheart.”
“Don’t you dare.” Her smile told him everything he wanted to know, and her mind wrapped him in enchanting need. Did she know what she was doing? In this way did Circe seduce Ulysses, or Leda wound her feathery tendrils around Jupiter.
Amidei did his best to ease his way in, urging his body rather than driving in, until it became obvious that he would go no farther like that. She was beginning to tense up, her stomach muscles tightening under his groin and her nails digging in to his shoulders.
He did not ask her if she wanted to stop this time. He read her desire, as raw as his. If he stopped now, she might lose her nerve. Bracing himself, he drew back and then thrust, tearing through the barrier of her maidenhead as he plunged in deeply to the hilt.
His balls nestled against her thighs as he gazed into her eyes. Those lovely brown orbs were wide with astonishment. Pain rested deep inside. “I’m sorry I had to do that. Wait. Breathe into it.”
She pressed against him, trying to push him away, and then, as the waves receded, as he took more of her pain into himself, she relaxed, her passage gradually opening, so he could move. “I thought we were stuck together forever,” he murmured.
Her laughter reverberated around, vibrating deeply into them both. It broke whatever tension remained between them, and he began to move. Slowly at first, he eased back, and then drove in, keeping his
movements shallow, gradually opening her to his thrusts.
“Lift your knees, Joanna.”
She did as he bade her, bringing her feet up the bed to press against the mattress. As he plunged she responded, no tuition required, instinct coming into play. Her head went back, driving deeply into the pillow as she found the rhythm and worked with him. His arousal rose, the familiar tingle lighting his backbone, so the desire, the need to come fed his whole being.
He forced it back. She would come again, and give him the benefit of that delicious sensation. He wanted nothing more than that.
They worked until nothing existed outside this room, this bed, and nothing else mattered except the peak they were climbing towards, except that they did it together. He watched her, longing to kiss her but unable to take his attention away from her eyes. Their gazes clung and held, their minds melding without words, only emotions moving and blending. He held her carefully and safely, curling all his protection around her, accepting her trust as the most precious thing anyone had ever given to him.
He sensed the imminent arrival of her culmination, carefully built it and held her safe through the first paroxysms as she lost control of her body and her mind. Until he lost his.
He lay over her, the heat of their bodies mingling. Touching her chin, he turned her for his kiss. Joanna felt his need, and then his passion, and she could not have resisted him. Not that she wanted to. Their shared kiss sealed her gift to him, and his to her. He’d eased her into the act of love, so gentle with her at first, but insistent, giving her nowhere to turn to but to him.
His hair clung to her skin, gleaming brightly, mingling with her darker locks, as their mouths joined and they savoured an open-mouthed, luscious kiss. When he licked into her mouth she tasted herself on him. She sucked, wanting more, the reminder sending her into a fluttering aftershock.
With a sound suspiciously like a purr, he slowly drew away, rolled to one side and took her with him. Drowsiness lulled her into a state that was not quite awake or asleep. He laughed gently. “After all that, you deserve your rest.”
“I cannot stay.” She couldn’t quite remember why at the moment, but she would. Urgency beat a hollow tattoo at the back of her mind, but tiredness swept over her like a wave.
“I know. But you have plenty of time. Wait here and I’ll arrange a bath.”
“Nobody must see me here.” She remembered that much.
He kissed her forehead, then her lips once more, so they grew perilously close to resuming their arousals until he gently disengaged himself. “They will not, not even Lightfoot. The bath is in another part of the suite. Rest, sweetheart.”
As he left the bed she slipped deeper, further into a sleep so peaceful she never wanted it to end.
She had barely been aware of the difference between sleeping and waking before Amidei woke her with a soft kiss on her lips. “Come, Sleeping Beauty.” Before she had a chance to rouse herself, he’d flung back the sheets, ignoring her feeble protests and lifted her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her towards a small door in the corner.
The sight inside took her breath away.
The whole of this room was tiled, up to the height of her shoulders. The images of fish poured from a spot at one end, making it appear as if they were underwater, their images playful against the duck-egg blue background. Windows, set high up on one wall, illuminated the space, and double wall sconces holding candles showed how they lit the room at night.
The most astonishing sight was the centre of the room, which was, like the rest, tiled, but sunken into a shallow, square dip, perhaps six feet around. And it was filled with water, the reflections adding bright highlights to the tiles and the blue walls above.
Boldly, Amidei moved towards the dip. She clung to his neck. “I can’t swim.”
“It’s not deep enough for swimming.”
Calmly, he stepped into the water and then sank until he sat, still cradling her in his arms.
“It’s warm!” Astonished, she put out a hand and felt the water lapping around her ribs.
“Yes, it is.” He kissed her, and laughed. “I had this room put in when I bought the building. I picked up the habit abroad.”
“Your own private bagnio,” she said. Although the most notorious bagnio was in Covent Garden, it was infamous as a haunt of the wicked, and Joanna had never gone there. She’d heard of others, and made use of the modest facilities offered here and there, but nothing like this. Nowhere had she seen a pool of hot water.
“It’s a bath, the same as any that the maids drag upstairs and fill with water.” He helped her off his lap and sat her next to him. The water came up to her breasts now. He touched one with the tip of his finger. “You can find these rooms in other parts of the world. See that?”
He pointed to a spout jutting out of the wall. She nodded.
“That’s where the water emerges. It comes from the kitchen. Some poor unfortunate has to pump it, but it is still less disruptive than ordering the maids to bring can after can of water upstairs. Especially in an establishment like this.” He indicated a circular mark on the tiles beneath them, cunningly disguised as the belly of a fish. When she looked closer, she saw a slender chain emerging from the circle. “When we’re done, we’ll pull that out, and the water will drain away. They’ll use it in the laundry, or for some other suitable use.”
Had she washed the linens in water that had held his body? The notion gave her pause. Linens here were washed and rinsed by expert laundry maids, but when a guest had stained a tablecloth, it was important to keep the stain wet, so the correct removers could be applied. She’d undertaken that task yesterday.
“It’s clever,” she said.
“But not practical in houses that make less hot water. We have it in abundance, because we need it to serve the guests. I merely pull that lever, and it alerts the kitchen to get a maid to work the pump.”
“I’ve never noticed.” But she did not spend too much time in the kitchen. She was a housemaid, collecting and delivering tea trays, cleaning the guests’ bedrooms and serving at dinner, not a cook. She could easily have missed the command.
He took a bar of ivory soap and a cloth from a dish laid by the side of the bath, and washed her. He paid particular attention to her breasts, making her embarrassed to be like this with him. His shaft was already partially erect, but when she looked questioningly into his face, he shook his head. “No, my sweet, we will do nothing more today. You’ll be sore.” He touched the part of her he’d invaded so wonderfully and eased his finger in.
She winced. Yes, he was right, but she did not only feel sore, she felt used. Neither state disturbed her. She would obtain some satisfaction from recalling that later.
Slowly, he washed her there, holding the cloth against her to bring her easement. He would not let her move away. “We mean more to each other now. Any questions you have, come to me. If you cannot find me, then ask Lightfoot.”
“Is he one, an immortal, too?”
“Yes, of course. You saw his feet? They are natural to him. A mortal would not understand.” He paused and bit his lip. “There is more I have to tell you, but it’s probably better saved for another time. You have enough to absorb.” His hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. She draped her legs over his, her bottom nestling against his thighs, and the cloth still in place, pressing against her femininity. “I will tell you everything, I promise. But I must extract a promise from you in return.”
She waited for him to ask, but at the moment, she would do anything he asked.
“Please do not tell anyone what happened to you here today. Not even your father.”
“You’re letting me go home?” She had half expected him to tell her that he was keeping her here. As her senses returned, she had become aware that she was a problem for him. Although he had converted her, albeit accidentally, her father owned a journal, and he knew that too. She could spread the news abroad by tomorrow morning.
“Of course.
I can’t keep you, unless you want to stay. But if you do, it will be as my lover.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I will take on the role of protector willingly, but not if you don’t want it too. That must be your choice.”
“You’re offering me the position of mistress?” Some women would jump at the chance. But Joanna would not. The notion repulsed her. She would move into a different sphere, one she had no desire to enter.
“You do not wish it,” he said with a wry smile. “Then all I require is your promise to tell nobody. You are one of us now, and it’s in your interests not to tell anyone what happened here to you today.”
“I promise.” She flashed a sudden smile. “Besides, who would believe me? People would rather believe they had a nest of spies here. We need a story for the paper. Something scandalous that will push circulation up. I want to help him. He gave up a great deal for me and my mother, but he feels that he has let me down, somehow. I tell him he has not, but he refuses to accept it.”
“Why would he have let you down?”
“Because he should have had more. He was not always a journalist. He was gently born into the gentry. Once he was a Fellow at Oxford with a brilliant career ahead of him. But he fell in love with my mother, so he could do nothing but marry her. His family refused to acknowledge the connection, but he would not give her up. He could not stay in his position. They don’t allow married Fellows.”
“Does he hold Holy Orders?” Many of the lecturers and professors at universities did, so the question was a natural one.
“Yes, but only so that he could work as an academic. When we were forced to leave the college, he looked for a position, but they are hard to come by and poorly paid. A life as a country curate is hard. He said my mother and I would be better off in London.” She smiled. “He had visions of a wealthy man sweeping me off my feet.” She laughed, realising that it had happened. Just not in the way he expected. Not a way she could discuss with him. “You’re a wealthy peer. I know you’ll not be looking at me to provide anything else. I asked you to—do it.”
Her Quicksilver Lover: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 6 Page 13