Awakened by a Kiss

by Lila DiPasqua

  Anne slid her hands inside his breeches to grip his buttocks, his muscles tightening under her fingers. She held on to him, listening to his ragged breaths, keeping to the pace he desired.

  He slowed his movements.

  “Anne . . . I’m going to come . . . hard . . . in your mouth. If you don’t want that, you’ve got to stop now.” He stopped thrusting, his body straining with effort.

  Her heart pounding, she responded by tightening her hold and drawing him in and out of her mouth, hard and fast, refusing to stop. He stiffened, his head falling back against the door. A guttural sound erupted out of him as spurt after spurt of come shot into her mouth and down her throat. She drank him in, digging her nails into him, wanting all he had, taking everything he gave, until his fingers loosened in her hair, his body relaxed, and she’d taken his last drop.

  Slouched against the door, his breaths were short and shallow, his muscled chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Drawing his sex from her mouth, Anne rose on shaky limbs, reeling, licking a small drop of his essence from her bottom lip. His eyes were closed, and on his handsome face was the undeniable look of rapture.

  She’d done that to him. Joy filled every empty chamber in her heart. Making him desperate for her had been, as he’d said, a “heady rush.”

  He opened his eyes, his usual knee-weakening half-smile forming on his lips the moment he met her gaze.

  Nicolas pulled her to him. He was amazed at the transformation in her and delighted in it. No longer hiding behind a façade—the cool erudite author—she’d embraced the passion that was so much a part of her.

  And dear God, there was such perfect passion between them.

  She laced her arms around his neck, a grin on her face despite the fervid need he saw in her eyes.

  “You liked that,” she stated, looking adorably pleased with herself.

  That was an understatement. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d come that hard. At least now, the edge had been taken off his lust.

  “Really? What makes you think so?” he teased, unable to keep the mirth from his tone.

  She snuggled closer, her soft bottom giving a sweet little wiggle. “I suppose it’s just a guess,” she teased back.

  He chuckled. She felt so good in his arms.

  She caressed his cheek, her smile fading. “Thank you, Nicolas.”

  He furrowed his brow. “For what?”

  “For showing me that there is more to physical intimacies between men and women than I ever knew. In fact, I never would have believed it had I not enjoyed it firsthand. What we’ve done today is a first for me. I’d heard of such acts, but never experienced them. I’m glad I shared them with you.”

  Her words were touching, and he cautioned himself against having any more tender emotions where she was concerned.

  “You’re a natural in the carnal arts, chère.” It was a neutral comment and one he believed with his heart to be true.

  He should take advantage of her amenable mood and draw information out of her. But he didn’t want to ask questions related to Leduc. Or her past lovers. Not now. He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the way her silky hair felt against his face. He didn’t want to spoil the moment and found himself wishing that there wasn’t anything more complicated between them than their desire for each other. “There is still more to experience,” he murmured. “Show me where the bed is.”

  He felt her shiver of excitement before she stepped back and took his hand. The chemise hid little from his view. Her nipples were pebbled and her shapely thighs were bare, looking satiny smooth. His semihard cock thickened.

  He couldn’t wait to nestle between those soft thighs, feel them wrapped around him.

  They entered her bedchamber of soft pinks and light greens. She climbed onto the bed and was sitting on her heels in the middle, waiting for him, looking so lush.

  At the foot of the bed, Nicolas began discarding the remainder of his clothing. Her lovely eyes moved over him, stopping on his cock. He loved the way she looked at him, with such hot need. How will she look at you when she learns what you’ve been up to? He abruptly arrested the errant thought.

  Her delicate brows rose slightly. “You’re already . . . uh . . .” Her voice trailed off. She was unbalanced and endearingly flustered again; her nervous excitement, tangible. Accustomed to women with a more casual attitude toward carnal encounters, he found her refreshingly different.

  She is different. You’ll likely be arresting one of her sisters soon. How often have you done that to a woman you’ve bedded? Nicolas cursed the mental distractions. That was later. The future was in the future. This was now. And at this moment, all he wanted was to be inside her.

  “I’ve been hard for you for two days. One orgasm isn’t going to be enough—even an orgasm by such a talented mouth.” Nicolas tossed the last of his apparel onto the floor. “Come here,” he ordered, sinking his knees on the bed.

  Her nipples were driving him mad. They strained for him against the soft material of her chemise, and he was going to give them all the carnal attention those luscious peaks deserved.

  She moved close. He slipped her chemise off. Her arms were just about to circle his neck when he caught her wrists and held her arms apart.

  He let his eyes drink her in, taking in every appealing curve of her body and the pretty auburn curls covering her sex, already moist from her juices.

  He met her gaze, and realized she was watching him closely for his reaction. He wanted her to have no doubts as to what he thought. “You’re breathtaking.”

  She looked a little embarrassed but mostly pleased by his comment. “So are you.”

  Dieu, she was sweet—and disquieting. His thoughts were far too jumbled and soft for his liking, and he decided to blame them on his yet unsatisfied appetite for the ravishing poetess.

  She pressed her warm mouth to his and kissed him. Nicolas released her wrists and pulled her tightly against him, squeezing his cock between them. He groaned.

  Finally he was going to bed her and end his obsession to have her.

  Suddenly, she pushed away, taking him by surprise. His eyes snapped open.

  “I have something I need to tell you about myself.” Her hand was against his chest, staving him off. He didn’t like the earnest expression on her face. “I want to be honest with you.”

  No! Honesty was bad—and given the timing, the last thing he wanted. Whatever she was about to say, his instincts told him he didn’t want to hear it.

  Nicolas clasped her wrist and gently removed her hand from his chest. Slipping his other hand onto her nape, he pulled her closer, bringing her mouth to his. “Later. Not now,” he murmured against her lips. “No confessions during sex. Just mutual pleasure.”

  “I am not a virgin,” she blurted out.

  He jerked his head up. Merde.

  “I’m not sure if you’ve guessed it or not, but I wanted to tell you just the same.”

  “Fine. Good. It doesn’t matter.” But the voice inside him screamed otherwise, more suspicions rushing through his mind. He crushed his mouth to hers, desperate to drown them out with a fresh wave of lust.

  She cupped his face between her soft hands and pulled away again, her breathing as quickened as his own. “There’s been only one other man, and he never bestowed the pleasure you have. I wanted you to know the truth.”

  She was back to kissing him, trailing hot, wet kisses along his neck. Nicolas closed his eyes. And even though his prick was as stiff as wood and his body achingly aroused once more, his mind balked. Merde. Not now! He wanted carnal gratification. Not details about the man she’d been with. Not thoughts about what he’d have to do if she turned out to be Leduc. Or how she’d react if instead he had to bring one of her beloved sisters before the King.

  And especially—most especially—not the guilt over his lies.

  He wanted to lose himself in the sweet sensations of her mouth, her touch. He took her hand and brought it to his cock. Her fingers immedi
ately curled around him and gave a little squeeze. The sound of bliss escaped his lips. But as hot pleasure rippled through him, his mind refused to quiet, growing more insistent. Getting louder. And louder.

  The next thing he knew, he was staring at her surprised expression; his hands were on her shoulders—and to his astonishment—he was holding her at arm’s length.

  Merde, he’d just pushed her away.

  “I need a moment,” he tossed out, climbed off the bed, marched into the antechamber, and closed the doors.

  8

  In the antechamber, fire crackled in the hearth, the sound mingling with Nicolas’s ragged breaths. He curled his fingers. Choking on his frustration and rage, he wanted to smash his fist against the wall. What the hell are you doing? What is the matter with you? She’s so damned desirable. She is hungry for it. This is no time for a crisis of conscience!

  He couldn’t believe he was with a beautiful woman. Naked. Painfully hard. And was actually hesitating to bed her.

  Something caught the corner of his eye. The fire from the hearth cast an orange light into the two rooms that stemmed from the one he was in. In one of those rooms, he could clearly see a small writing desk. With several drawers. Some books were on it. As was a crystal inkwell.

  “Nicolas?” Anne’s voice grabbed his attention. She stood at the door, and to his disappointment, she’d placed her chemise back on. “Is everything all right?”

  No. Never, not ever in his life had he become discomposed—and certainly never with a woman. He was highly disciplined. Trained in combat. Skilled in weapons. And when he wasn’t plotting his next ambitious promotion, he was participating in his favorite pastime—recreational sex.

  He liked women. Loved a good tumble.

  He didn’t think he could be unraveled—by her or anyone. It horrified him that she had.

  Anne approached and, by her expectant expression, was awaiting his response.

  “I . . . uh . . .” Dieu, he was actually flustered. He gnashed his teeth.

  Something flickered in her eyes. “Say no more. I know what you’re after.”

  He tensed. “You do?”

  “Yes. It’s rather obvious.” The knowing look in her eyes made him uneasy.

  “It is?” It couldn’t be. How could she possibly know a thing about his mission?

  “Of course. It’s why you came in here.” She stepped between him and the rectangular wooden table in the middle of the room. “I know what you’re looking for.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And what is it I’m looking for?” He’d be damned if he confessed a thing.

  She lifted her brows. “You want me to say it?”

  He curled his fingers under her chin. “Say it.”

  “The door you’re looking for is over my shoulder—the Salle de Bain. You’ll find the chamber pot in there, next to the tub.”

  Nicolas froze and blinked. Then he tossed his head back and roared with laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “You think I need to . . .” He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence, laughter erupting from him again.

  Perplexed, she frowned.

  It took several moments before he could finally sober up. This was not his typical sexual encounter. It was high time to put an end to his imbecilic behavior.

  He picked her up and placed her bottom down on the table behind her. Her eyes widened. Nicolas cradled her face between his palms. “I came in here because you overwhelm me.”

  Her eyes softened. “You overwhelm me, too.” She smiled. “And I rather like it. I want to be overwhelmed some more.”

  He liked her answer. Actually, there was a lot about her he liked.

  “Good. Because I’m going to take you—slowly.” Nicolas pulled off her chemise and dropped it onto the table. “Would you like that, Anne? Would you like to be fucked slowly?”

  Her breathing had begun to escalate.

  “Yes.”

  Nicolas reached behind her and slid her derrière closer to the edge of the table. “Show me how wet you are for me.” He took a step back.

  She paused, and he got the sense she was wrestling with inhibition.

  “Do it,” he prompted softly.

  Slowly, she parted her thighs.

  “That’s good, Anne. Lean back.”

  His heart raced as he watched her place her palms down on the table behind her, her hips now perfectly angled for his viewing pleasure.

  Her sex glistened with her juices. Unable to resist, he scored his finger from her moist opening up to her clit, stopping to press on the sensitive nub with enough pressure to make her gasp in delight.

  “I’m going to take you right now.” His cock jerked.

  “Nicolas . . .” Her thighs trembled. “There’s a bed—”

  “Next time.” He hadn’t intended to have her on a hard surface again, but he’d finally quieted his brain. He wasn’t going to do anything to disturb the delicious desire flowing through him or jeopardize this moment. “It will be just as good. I promise.”

  He’d make her forget any discomfort she felt.

  Taking his prick in hand, he guided it to her slick entrance. Her head fell back with a soft moan. A tremor of expectation quivered through her and radiated up his cock. He shuddered. Oh, how she turned him inside out. It felt as though he’d waited forever for this. For her. He had to have her or die.

  Gripping her hips, he pressed into her, watching as the crest of his cock sank into her wet heat. He was thick and full and she was wonderfully snug. He pushed, sinking deeper, her cream coating his cock. Taking his time, he stretched her slowly, savoring the shuddering sensations as she enveloped him, gloving him an inch at a time. She whimpered and lowered herself onto her back, trembling.

  A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. He continued his steady progress, bearing down on her, unrelenting. “You’re going to take all of me, aren’t you, Anne? You want it all, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she panted, lolling her head to one side. “Yes . . .”

  Nicolas butted against the entrance of her womb and groaned. At his possession, she made the most sensuous sound. He loved that. He loved everything about sex, not just the climax but all things preceding it. Especially the initial penetration, that first thrust—fast or slow—that buried him inside. And being inside Anne, feeling the hot clasp of her tight sex clenched around him, the light quivering of her inner muscles along his length, was more heaven than any man deserved.

  She was primed. He knew it wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge.

  Leaning forward, he grasped the edge of the table and slipped an arm under her waist, arching her body to him. He latched onto her breast and suckled hard. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair. The tip instantly distended in his mouth.

  Laving and lightly biting her nipple, he pumped his cock in her, giving her short, shallow thrusts that kept her enthralled, but also kept her from coming. She mewed in protest and strained toward him, trying to draw in him deeper. Her efforts were futile. He wouldn’t acquiesce. He continued, his measured strokes unbroken.

  “Nicolas . . . please . . .” She wrapped her legs around him, still desperately squirming and arching.

  Releasing her nipple from the confines of his mouth, he flicked it with his tongue. “Please what? Please, make me come, Nicolas? Please, fuck me harder?” Turning to her other nipple, he lightly raked his teeth across it.

  She gasped. “Yes, to all that. Right. Now!”

  Nicolas lifted his head, softly chuckling. “You’re being very demanding for a woman who’s at my mercy,” he teased and gave her a deep thrust before returning to his shorter strokes.

  She made a frustrated sound. “Nicolas, if you make me wait any longer, I swear, I’ll—I’ll . . . make you pay.”

  “Mmmm, now that sounds delicious.” He suckled her breast gently with just the right amount of finesse to snatch her breath away. “How will you make me pay?” He drew her hardened nipple back into his mouth.

 
“I’m a writer . . . I have . . . ahhhh vivid imagination . . . I’ll . . . think of something.”

  With his cock dipped in glory, and this passionate woman pleading for more, Nicolas ceded. He slipped his arm out from under her, straightened, and grasped her hips again. Suddenly, he didn’t want to make her wait. He wanted to give her all the pleasure she craved and more. To make this an unforgettable experience for her.

  Tilting her hips, he plunged, driving the full length of his cock inside her. Her cry of pleasure resonated in the room.

  Briefly, he closed his eyes, unable to move or breathe as a wave of hot pleasure crested over him.

  Tightening his grasp, he plunged again, and began giving her deep, solid thrusts. “How does that feel?” By the sultry sounds she made, by the way she flexed her legs and squeezed them around him, he knew she liked the depth and angle of his thrusts, but he wanted to hear her say it. “Tell me, chère.”

  A light sheen of perspiration glistened on her flushed skin. Her eyes were closed, her sweet breasts jiggling with the force of each downstroke.

  “So. Good,” she said, each word rushing out on a pant.

  She clenched around his thrusting prick, tearing a growl from his throat. Oh, it was definitely good. In fact, the best. He reveled in the stunning sensations washing through him. He could never tire of this. Never tire of her.

  She was his. His sensual soul mate.

  His perfect match.

  Nicolas released her hips. “Come here,” he said hoarsely, and grasping her wrists, he pulled her up, dragged her closer, and drove his cock into her with such intensity it made them both gasp. Fisting her hair with his one hand, the other splayed against her lower back, he rode her with fast, powerful plunges, holding nothing back. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, wanting to possess every part of her. To his delight, she returned his voracious kiss, feeding his desire.