Trusting the Rogue

by Danielle Lisle

  “The lamp?”

  She nodded.

  “I want to see you, Hannah. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever beheld.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them. “Please.”

  He frowned, but he turned and did as she’d requested. One step at a time, he reminded himself.

  Darkness hit them suddenly when he turned down the flame. The quarter moon was out and, while it illuminated little, it was enough for him to see her, make her out in the shadows. She had not moved.

  Andrew walked forward, stopping a breath before her. He made no move to touch her, for, once he did, he knew he would not be able to stop.

  “Are you sure this is what you want, Hannah?” he asked, hoping very much that it was. It would pain him to walk away from her, away from the future his mind was attempting to carve. How could it be? How could he have gone from being tired of women—their games and mindless drivel—to this woman, one who challenged him and played on his mind regardless of day or night?

  “I want to feel the way I do when you touch me,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes and leant forward, his breath coming against the barrier of her collarbone. Her breathing deepened, raising her hand to his shoulder, her delicate fingers clenching him in anticipation of what was to come.

  “And how do I make you feel, Hannah?” he said into the hollow at the base of her throat.

  “Free,” she murmured, before he allowed his tongue to lick along the indent of her neck and shoulder. “Pleasure,” she uttered as he finally permitted himself to move his hand to her waist, shaping her broad hips before it travelled to her rear. “Desired.”

  Andrew paused, a soft growl emerging from his lips. How she had been wronged. There was not a woman on this earth he wanted more than her. “You are desired more than you know. Never doubt it,” he said. His kisses shifted along her soft, flawless skin, down to the mounds of her breasts. He let his lips wander over the softness, mapping the curves with his breath, enjoying her soft moans and how her body leaned into his barely there touch.

  He walked around her, allowing his hands to shape her body, exploring her through the many layers of her clothing. Those needed to go. It was dark, and while he could see shadows, the ties of a dress were delicate and could not be rushed. That thought too spoke of the woman now before him—Andrew realised for once in his life, he was in no hurry for self-gratification. Oh, he wanted her—uncontrollably so—but he would savour her, pleasure her. There would not be a moment wasted this night.

  While he moved the fingers of one hand to her buttons, he mapped her body with the others, lingering in contact with her skin as he found flesh exposed by her sagging gown. She leaned deeper into him, the little sounds emerging from her lips fuelling the fire within him, moment by moment.

  Soon the dress had pooled at her feet. One layer gone, yet more to go. The ties of her corset slowly released at the sure command of his fingers. The boned garment sagged about her before he pushed it down. Her thin shift followed before her naked back was exposed to him.

  He moved the tips of his fingers to the lower curve of her back, just above the crease of her rounded bottom. He ran them leisurely up the arch of her smooth spine, fascinated by the texture, softness and sweet smell of her clean skin.

  Was there nothing about her that he did not find divine?

  Her hair was pinned high upon her head. He wanted it free, to feel its texture. Though the darkness deprived him of the ability to observe her pleasure, he would allow all his other senses full view, to witness her beauty and marvel at its loveliness.

  One by one, he plucked the pins free, one hand still roaming over her delicate flesh. He slid his fingers along the gentle ripple of her ribs to her side until he reached the plump softness of her breasts. Her breathing stalled, as did his hand, before he moved it along the underside of the softness. Her breath soon turned choppy, her chest rising and falling. He allowed his knuckles to gently graze the hardened tips of her nipples, but offered her no more. Not yet.

  The smooth strands upon her head were now free, the discarded pins lining the floor. It was his turn.

  Moving around her, Andrew stood before her naked form. He needed her the way he needed air. Without her, it felt as if he would cease to exist.

  He untied the cravat about his neck, then allowed it to drop. He moved his fingers to the buttons of his waistcoat, before he shrugged it off, his gaze fixed on Hannah’s shadowed features. He knew she observed his movements—her breathing deepened as each piece of clothing hit the floor beneath them, as his shirt did a moment later.

  Andrew reached for her then, curving his hands about her hips as she took a step towards him. She pressed into him, her softness melting against the firmness of his body, his cock stiff between them. Warmth filled him as he felt her against him—it was right. It was where she belonged.

  He could hold back no longer. He would have her, claim her as his. Show her pleasure, joy and passion.

  Claiming her lips for the first time was a more potent sensation than he had ever expected. The softness as they connected with his own sent a spiral of need through him, a desire to toss her on the bed and to experience passion at its heart, but she was not ready for that. He must treat her as a maiden, a woman green to the art of sex, not a woman ready to experience all the pleasures a man and a woman could create together. Later that would come—he refused to think of any other possibility—but now he would please her, his pleasure coming from hers.

  Hannah slid her hands to his chest as their mouths danced, her hesitant touch soon turning stronger, more confident as the moments progressed. Andrew kept his tongue hidden until she embraced his lips with hers, meeting his kiss with her own. Slowly he allowed his tongue to slide across her lips. She hesitated but followed his lead, their tongues twisting in courtship moments later. She was a fast learner.

  His hands roamed the curve of her back once more, this time south rather than north. The firm rounds of her rear shaped perfectly in his palms when he tightened his hold on them, bringing her closer to his body. His stiff cock strained against his breeches.

  She broke the kiss, moaning a muffled name that he hoped was his, as he backed her towards the bed. She sat down while Andrew went to his knees, tracing his hands over the delicate netting of her stockings before rolling them down and discarding them, along with her slippers.

  Hannah shifted back on the bed, laying her head among the pillows while he removed his boots and breeches. He soon stood before her wearing nothing at all, his proud cock pointing in her direction—not that she could see.

  Climbing on the bed between her parted thighs, Andrew came to settle above her, casting most of his weight on his arms to her sides. His body called for him to mount her, join with her, but she was not ready. He would savour her some more, nibble on her fine flesh, dine on her beauty.

  Lowering his head to the hollow of her throat, Andrew allowed his lips to move over her, morphing her body from the tense mass it had been moments ago to the melted woman who lay under him.

  He paid lingering attention to her breasts, smiling against her skin as she arched up into his touch. He offered what he knew she craved—a firmer hand. He could not deny her a single thing. He curved his hands around her lush breasts, then lowered his lips to take the hardened tip of a nipple deep into his mouth. She moaned, her hips pushing high into his as she clasped his head, pulling him closer to her. He rested fully on her, his weight anchoring her to the bed.

  Squeezing her breasts once more before he allowed his lips to leave her, he chuckled as she groaned her disappointment. He would rectify that shortly. He caressed her belly button with his tongue before roaming lower still, to the springy curls at her core guarding his next treasure.

  Her gasp of surprise made him smile into her folds as he slid his tongue through her slit to circle the nub at the top. Her surprise quickly dissipated and her body relaxed, before she started to squirm—no doubt because
of the foreign sensations assaulting her. Andrew wanted to bring her mind-altering pleasure and planned to do it more than just once, but first by his mouth. He did not have to wait long.

  Hannah’s moans quickly changed to pants and rambling. “Stop, oh my, more, please, oh!”

  His lips curved as he worked faster, sliding his fingers into her as well. He knew her husband has been dead for some time, but the tightness of her core and the way in which she gripped him with such force surprised him. Her husband had not pleasured her as he should have done, and Andrew planned to fix that tenfold. She would know after tonight what true pleasure at a man’s touch was.

  He slipped another finger inside her and fanned them out slightly. Her juices made his entry easier, but as her back arched and he sucked deep on her nub, Andrew knew she had reached heaven, her womanhood spasming around his fingers as he stroked her from within.

  Moments later, she melted into the mattress, a sigh emerging from her lips. He smiled as he kissed her core goodbye for the moment before he slid between her legs, wiping his mouth on the sheet to the side as he went.

  Her breathing had slowed and she lazily moved her hands to him as he rose above her, sliding them down his back. It was a tentative touch and he was hardly sated.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured.

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Please do not think it is over, my dear. It is merely beginning.”

  She paused for a moment. “More?”

  He kissed her lips firmly before shifting his attention to her breasts, again shaping them in his palms. “Mmm,” he murmured, flicking the tip of her hardened nipple.

  It did not take much for her to clutch his head, her moans filling the room once more, her murmured sighs rich in the air around them. Oh, what a glorious sound!

  He wanted to join with her, show her that sex was more than a painful moment that was undertaken only to gain an heir. It was truly one of life’s pleasures.

  As he nestled between the softness of her thighs, Andrew rose to take hold of her lips in a demanding kiss. She met him there, offering up a passion—a confidence—that she had only now found. She wanted him, desired him as well. It warmed his soul.

  The tip of his cock settled in the weeping indent of her core. Hannah stiffened for a moment and he broke the kiss to rest his forehead upon hers.

  Tentatively, Andrew pushed forward in small strokes, pulling out and entering her little by little. Hannah’s body soon melted beneath him, her fingers biting into the skin of his sides as she gripped him, moaned encouragement and lifted her hips in involuntary invitation.

  Soon he was fully buried in her spongy heat, the tightness of it overwhelming Andrew at that instant. He leant down and kissed her as he willed his body to relax. Her tight hold on him, her shifting hips and her clenching core were little help in his attempt at restraint. He gave up—he wanted her too much.

  He broke the kiss and started moving, pulling out to the tip before plunging back in. Hannah’s calls of pleasure filled the room, and his harsh breathing sounded loud to his ears. But as he felt the end coming, he reached between them, found her nub with his fingers and took them both to heaven, twice.

  Chapter Five

  It took Andrew several ticks of the clock on the mantel to place his surroundings, but it was the woman asleep on his chest who slowly reminded him. A smile lifted his lips. Hannah—his Hannah.

  Something touched his arm, invading his thoughts, and Andrew turned his head to the side. The first thing he noted was a puppy toy, then the child who held it, his thumb in his mouth as he stared at Andrew. Oh, dear.

  “Are you well, Harold?” he whispered, trying not to squirm at having been found in the boy’s mother’s bed. Andrew hoped he was too young to truly understand what it meant. Surely he was?

  The boy shook his head, then glanced at his mother where she still slept on Andrew’s chest.

  “What is wrong?”

  Harold plopped the thumb from his mouth. “There is a dragon under my bed,” he whispered back.

  “A dragon…?” Andrew repeated slowly, wondering if he was perhaps dreaming.

  Harold nodded. “Mama has to scare it away.”

  Andrew looked down to Hannah. She was fast asleep. He could not bear the thought of waking her. “Can I scare it away instead?”

  Harold tilted his head to the side in an effort to study Andrew. “You are not very scary.”

  Andrew smirked and thought he likely should take offence, but in this case did not. “I shall have to prove it by ridding you of it then, shan’t I?”

  Harold shrugged his shoulders and headed for the door. Andrew slipped out of the bed after rolling Hannah onto her side, where she snuggled up against his pillow. He quickly found his breeches at the end of the bed and slid them on, then moved to the hallway, where Harold awaited him.

  “Let us see to this dragon then,” he said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  * * * *

  Hannah snuggled deeper into the softness before she frowned. She had been so much warmer moments ago. She inhaled the scent of man and musk from the pillow, and a flashback of the evening’s events soon filled her mind.

  Oh, the pleasure! So much she had been sure she would explode!

  Sir Andrew had been more than true to his word. The things he had done to her, his touch and the way her body had burned from within were things she had never imagined existed. Yet he had been so tender, so patient, and so loving with his touch. She had not expected that. The mere memory of it made her want to weep.

  But where was he now?

  Pushing herself up, Hannah looked about the room and realised she was alone. The half-opened door caused her to wonder. Had he simply upped and left? A pang of disappointment assaulted her but she shook it off. She had asked for nothing, just as he had offered nothing other than her pleasure. He had certainly lived up to his side of the bargain.

  A soft rumble of voices suddenly reached her ears, and she had to focus to hear it again. Sliding from the bed, Hannah felt heat flood her cheeks as she realised she was naked. What if her maid had seen her like this? She hurried to her dressing table and slid into her gown, then quickly slipped the buttons through the loops.

  With gentle encouragement, the flame of her lamp lit and she took it into the hall, attempting to seek out the source of the voices she was sure she had heard. Slowly, she travelled barefoot down the carpeted corridor, but paused as she came upon her son’s room.

  “Mama always scares him away. You need to be mean and grouse at him or he will return,” her son’s voice commanded.

  “Hmm…” Sir Andrew’s voice filtered towards her as she stood to the side of the door. “Go open the window, Harold.”

  “Why?” came her son’s dry reply.

  “I am going to grab him by the tail, then you open the window and I’ll throw him out. Then we shut the window and we can all head back to bed.”

  Hannah’s heart leapt. He was humouring her son. The late duke had thought she babied Harold, but he was a child. There was nothing wrong with one’s imagination—in truth, Hannah encouraged it.

  “Okay!” came Harold’s eager voice.

  She heard a scraping sound, then running. “Close it!” Sir Andrew called, and the window closed with a bang.

  “You got him!” Harold cheered.

  Sir Andrew tsked. “You doubted me?”

  “Nah,” her son said.

  Andrew chuckled. “Into bed, young man.”

  “Thank you for getting rid of my dragon,” Harold muttered.

  “I will always rid you of your dragons, Harold. All you need to do is ask.”

  Tears pricked Hannah’s eyes. How could a man—a man who was not Harold’s father—offer so much adoration towards her son, a child whose own father had seemed to care so little for? The late duke had only ever wanted Harold to ensure that his cousin would not inherit the title.

  “Papa never slept with Mama.”

  Hannah’s breath cau
ght as she heard her son’s words. The bed springs creaked. For a moment her face heated with shame, but the memories of Sir Andrew’s touch, his murmurings about her beauty, his desire for her… Well, those memories too burnt her skin, but for an entirely different reason.

  There was a long pause before Sir Andrew said anything. “Do you not like that I am here now, Harold? Do you have a problem with me spending time alone with your mama?” he said as the bed creaked again. Hannah guessed he now sat beside her son.

  “No,” Harold said after a moment. “Are you going to be my new papa?”

  Hannah raised her hand to her mouth, stifling the gasp that broached her lips.

  “Would you like that?”

  She strained to hear, and tears leaked from her eyes when she heard her son whisper, “Yes.”

  “I would like that too, Harold. I would like it very much,” Andrew said, then coughed. Was that emotion clouding his voice?

  “When will you marry Mama?”

  Sir Andrew barked a surprised laugh. “While I admire your optimism, young man, I worry that your mama may not be as receptive to the idea.”

  “She likes you. You make her smile. Papa never made her smile—only cry.”

  Hannah wiped the tears away from her cheeks, but it was futile. More trickled down in their place.

  Hannah had tried so hard to hide her unhappy marriage from her son, but he was such a clever boy and while she had hoped he had not noticed, it seemed he had. Every insult the duke had issued to Hannah or Harold, she had tried to dismiss, allowing the scorn and unpleasantness to roll off her. It had never worked—the sticky insult had always clung to her soul. In the remnants of her nights she had often lain in bed, her misery coming forth and sobs filling her generally quiet chamber.

  It had been Harold who had kept her going—his firm cuddles when he had crawled into her bed in the dead of night, his gentle smiles as they had eaten breakfast and his pleasure at the idea of a simple stroll through the park. Yet, it had never occurred to her that he knew more of her struggles. It pained her so much that he knew.