Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  She swept her tongue with his, reveling in these new sensations that were both surprising and exhilarating. This was madness. She should stop him as she’d done earlier. But something inside her was singing for the first time in so long, maybe ever. It was wrong, but she just knew that if she walked away she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

  With a clarity she didn’t know she could possess during such a tumultuous moment, she retraced her steps and closed his door. When she returned to him, she unclasped her dressing gown and dropped it to the floor.

  He looked down at her, his eyes impossibly dark in the faint light from the pair of lanterns that flanked his bed. “What are you doing to me?” he rasped.

  “Consider it an invitation.”

  “It’s a bloody seduction.”

  She pulled at the buttons holding his banyan closed.

  He gritted his teeth. “I’m not wearing anything under this, Margery.”

  “Good.” She let the word embolden her, though her insides were quivering—both from excitement and dread. She was opening a door she could never close again, but she simply had to see what was on the other side.

  She pushed the garment from his shoulders and looked at his bare chest. Dark hair sprinkled between his nipples and led a trail downward. She jerked her gaze up before she could reach his arousal.

  “Are you certain?” he asked, his hands hovering at her shoulders.

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Not trusting herself not to change her mind. No, there would be no regrets.

  But he wasn’t to be satisfied. “I need to hear you say it. I need to hear the words. I like words, Margery. I love words.”

  She almost smiled. Of course he loved words. And she would give them to him. Whisking her nightrail up over her head, she tossed it atop her dressing gown on the floor. Then she speared him with a seductive—his word—stare. “Make love to me, Rhys.”

  14

  Rhys’s brain had to be failing him. Was this some fevered dream? He’d been about to climb into bed, where he’d expected to toss restlessly. Now the reason for his turmoil was here. Not just here—but ready to fulfill his fantasy.

  He stared at her nude body, disbelieving. The gentleman in him demanded he cover her back up and send her away. The man in him told the gentleman to shut the hell up. He decided to listen to the man.

  Reaching for her, he couldn’t help but repeat himself, “You’re certain?”

  She arched an elegant blond brow at him. “I understand your fondness for the written word, but must it carry to speech as well? Particularly now?”

  He laughed, but it came out as a sort of half-growl as he pulled her against his chest. The contact of their bare flesh nearly drove him to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her and held on for everything he was worth.

  With a gentle caress along her neck, he tipped her head back and kissed her mouth like he was drinking a fine, rare wine. But she tasted far better. How could he describe it? Like warmth and bliss and excitement.

  He trailed the kisses along her jaw until he met her ear. She shivered when he stroked his tongue along the outer shell and nibbled the lobe.

  “The bed?” she asked breathlessly.

  He swept her into his arms and carried her a few long strides. She clutched at his neck and pulled him to kiss her again. They fell together onto the bed.

  He rolled her to her back and came over her, his breath catching at her beauty in the dim light. Her eyes were dark and sultry, her lips reddened and parted. There’d never been a lovelier, more alluring sight.

  “Aren’t you going to touch my . . .” She glanced away from him demurely. “What you did earlier?”

  Where was the adventurous woman he’d come to know? “Your breast? Don’t be ashamed of the word or of your body, Margery. You’re beautiful.” He gazed down at her reverently, touched her softly, his palm grazing over her nipple.

  She sucked in a breath as he kept his touch light.

  “So beautiful.” He leaned down and blew across the tip, tormenting her with the barest skim of his hand over her flesh.

  “Please.”

  “Please, what? Remember, I like words. Written, spoken, screamed.” A rush of lust jolted through him as she arched up, pressing her breast into his hand.

  She cast her back against the pillow, her blond hair trapped beneath her save a small fan that grazed her shoulder. “Please touch me. Harder. Like you did before. With your mouth.”

  “Like this?” He cupped her, then brought his thumb and forefinger to her pebbled tip and squeezed, which he hadn’t done before.

  Her eyes, closed during their erotic conversation, flew open as she gasped again. “Rhys.”

  His lips curved into a satisfied smile. “I like that word on your lips.”

  He bent his head to her breast and drew the nipple into his mouth. At first, he lightly licked, but then he tightened his grip and braced her for the onslaught of his kiss.

  Her hand wound into his hair and held him against her. “Yes.”

  She arched up again, and Rhys wasn’t sure how long he could wait. He edged closer until his cock nudged the outside of her thigh. She jumped.

  “Shhhh, it’s fine,” he murmured against her breast before moving to the other one. He devoured the second as he had the first, and her low moans filled the chamber.

  When her fingers closed around his shaft, blood rushed straight to his balls and his eyes shot open. He looked up at her.

  Her eyes were open, watching him as her hand moved down to the base of his cock and then up again. Christ almighty, had she done that before? No, everything else about her screamed innocence, but for some reason she knew how to touch him. He was almost afraid to ask.

  “Margery, have you . . . ?”

  She blushed, her hand stalling. “No. Am I not doing it right?”

  “God no. I mean you’re doing it fine. Better than fine. Hell, you’re better at it than I am.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Sorry.” Sometimes he really lacked finesse, damn it. “You’re perfect.”

  She tightened her hold again and stroked him from base to tip. “It feels . . . all right?”

  “Divine.” He wanted to ask how she knew what to do, but that was a conversation for another time.

  She rotated to her side while she continued her ministrations. “When will you put it inside me?”

  God. “My cock, Margery. It’s a cock,” he spoke through gritted teeth because she was fast driving him to the point of no return.

  “You and your words,” she murmured. Her thumb brushed the head. “Oh, you’re . . . wet.”

  Hopelessly, yes. Was she? He couldn’t wait another moment to find out.

  He moved his hand from her breast and skimmed over her belly, trying not to focus too hard on the sensations she was arousing. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to spill himself in her palm. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to stop.

  He found her blond curls and delved to the hidden flesh. “You’re wet, too.” Gloriously so. His cock swelled in her grip.

  He stroked along her folds, creating friction. She moaned softly and her hips undulated. He pressed her back against the bed and cupped her, testing her sheath with a slight, shallow thrust of his finger. He’d never bedded a virgin, but he recalled the advice his father had given him—bring her to release first. That was imperative.

  He bent to her breast and drew the tip deep into his mouth, sucking her hard. To counterbalance, he dipped his finger inside of her, withdrew it, and plunged forward again. She shuddered beneath him.

  “Open for me,” he said against her flesh, his hand nudging at her thighs.

  She parted for him, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Wider,” he beckoned, looking down at her. He pressed on her inner thigh until she complied. Now she was nicely open for him, her sex pink and exposed and oh so enticing. He found the nub at the top of her cleft and rubbed his thumb across it.

  She
yelped and bucked up from the bed. “Rhys!”

  Her hand had stopped its delightful caress, but he didn’t care. He was too focused on her now, on bringing her to where she needed to be. He moved between her legs and positioned his hands beneath her. Lifting her, he licked her flesh.

  She yelped again and jumped away. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s called—”

  “No,” she cut him off, “I don’t want to hear the words. I was just . . . surprised.”

  There was a wariness in her eyes that cooled his ardor. “Do you want to stop?”

  She eased back down the bed toward him. “No. I’m ready now.”

  There was the adventurous woman he knew.

  He laid his palm over her lower belly and held her down. “Don’t move.” He gave her a wicked grin and used his hand to part her legs again. She was a bit stiff, so he went slow, using his fingers to coax her flesh. She was damp, increasingly so with each touch. He concentrated on the nub at the top and then slipped a finger into her heat. She came up off the bed again, but in an effort to take him deeper. This time when he put his mouth on her, she quivered beneath him. Her thighs shuddered and she gripped his head, tugging his hair.

  He kept his hand flat against her and used his fingers to pump into her cleft while he sucked her clitoris. Desperate little moans escaped her mouth as her hips rotated. He worked her flesh, alternating licks and sucks until her cries escalated and he sensed she hovered at the edge.

  “Rhys!”

  He moved his hand up and squeezed her breast. “Let go, Margery, let go.”

  Her legs stiffened, and she cried out as she came to pieces in his embrace. He rode the tide with her, soothing and stroking until she was replete.

  When she lay back on the pillows, he sat back from her. Her breath came fast, but was starting to slow; her eyes were wide and fixed on the canopy over their heads.

  “Margery?”

  Her gaze found his. “That was . . . astonishing. I didn’t know . . . never mind. I thought you were going to . . .” She glanced down at his rigid flesh. “Put your . . . cock inside of me.”

  She’d said the word. For him. He came over her, positioning himself at her entrance. “I’m going to. Unless you tell me to stop. Do you want me to stop?”

  “Will it be like that again?”

  “I don’t know if you’ll have another orgasm. That’s the word, sweeting.” He didn’t want to make false promises. “But I will do my damnedest.”

  She touched his chest, tentatively at first, then more firmly as she splayed her hands over his nipples. He stifled a groan. His flesh was so sensitive, so eager to find release.

  He guided his cock forward, using her moisture to glide inside. He went slow, felt her stretching to accommodate him, and paused. “Am I hurting you?” The first time was supposedly unpleasant, or so he’d been told.

  “No. It’s . . . tight. It feels fine.” She sucked in a breath as he inched forward. “That might be far enough.”

  “It isn’t, but I’ll go slowly.” He withdrew a bit, then edged forward once more. He got farther than the last time before he felt her tense. He repeated the movement again and again until he was fully inside. “How’s that?” He had to grit his teeth to keep still. She was so hot and tight.

  She’d moved her hands to his shoulders and now clutched them tightly. “It’s good. I think. Is that all there is?”

  “No, I’d like to move. If you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She did as he bade, which opened her more fully and allowed him to sink as deep as he could go. He closed his eyes, savoring the exquisite pleasure.

  Then he moved, slowly at first, until he felt her relax. He picked up his pace, increasing the friction. He braced his elbows on either side of her head and lifted his hips before driving forward again. When he opened his eyes, she cast her head back and he hoped she was in ecstasy and not in pain. He had his answer when she moaned and moved her hands to his sides and then his back and then lower until her fingers grazed his backside.

  He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. “I’m sorry, Margery, I have to—”

  He slammed into her, pushing in and out with rapid strokes. She surprised and delighted him by rising to meet his thrusts. His orgasm built, the blood rushing to his cock, as he drove deep one final time. Then he crashed over the edge. Somehow he managed to drag himself away and spill his seed next to her. He clasped his cock, stroking it until he was spent.

  Falling to her side, he fought to catch his breath. After several moments, when he’d recaptured his equilibrium at least a little bit, he focused on her. She was staring at the ceiling, as she’d done downstairs, and again he couldn’t read her.

  “Margery?”

  She turned her head and a smile curved her lips. “You were right. I didn’t have another . . . orgasm, is the word? But I was close. If you could’ve just kept going . . .”

  He rolled to his back and brought his forearm over his eyes. “Well, I thought it best to prevent a child, given that we are currently unwed.”

  “Oh, I understand.” She touched his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to criticize. It was wonderful. And thank you for being so considerate.” She sat up and looked to the side where he’d spilled himself. “I don’t suppose you can move so I may get up?”

  “You don’t need to leave.”

  “I wouldn’t want your staff to know what transpired.”

  Thomas would figure it out, but Rhys wouldn’t tell her that. “I’ll ensure you’re back to your chamber before the household is awake.”

  “No, I’d rather go now.”

  He frowned at her, wondering if he’d done something wrong. “Have I upset you?” Oh, God, she regretted what they’d done.

  “Not at all.”

  He didn’t believe her. She’d lied to him before, why wouldn’t she again? “Margery, I care for you. We’ll be married of course. You needn’t worry that I’m a cad.”

  She stiffened. “I don’t think you’re a cad. And we’re not getting married.” She scooted toward the end of the bed.

  He stood as she got to her feet. “But, given what just happened, we must marry.”

  Bending, she picked up her nightrail and drew it over her head. “If that’s a proposal—and it doesn’t particularly sound like one—my answer is no.”

  He retrieved his banyan and fastened it around himself, growing perturbed at her obstinacy. “But you must. I’ve . . . ruined you.”

  “Nonsense. I don’t feel ruined. If that’s ruination, I will gladly engage in it daily.”

  Christ, despite the conversation, that particular declaration was making him hard again. “You’re being obtuse. I’m a gentleman, and gentlemen do not take advantage of unwed women.”

  She hooked her dressing gown together, shielding her delectable body from him. “You didn’t take advantage of me. This is ridiculous. I’m quite satisfied with how the evening turned out, but now I’m tired and I’m going to return to my chamber. Good night.”

  She turned to go and he tried to get his feet to move so he could follow her, so he could talk sense into her. But in the end, the door closed behind her, leaving him alone. Leaving him to wonder what in the hell had just happened.

  After an exceptionally sound sleep, Margery awoke early to go in search of Thomas. It had occurred to her—rather belatedly, given what had transpired last night—that she ought to take some manner of chaperone or companion with her on this journey to Caerwent. After she’d consulted with the butler, he said he’d organize something before they left. Margery wasn’t sure how he’d accomplish the feat, but she recognized that he was terribly efficient, so she didn’t worry. He’d also assured her that Penn would have regular baths, starting today.

  After managing those issues, she’d taken breakfast in her room so as to avoid Rhys. Though she had no regrets about last night, she did have a bit of trepidation about seeing him. He
would likely pursue the subject of marriage, but she’d only refuse him again. She wasn’t going to wed him because they’d enjoyed a sexual act that no one would ever learn of. He’d asked because he’d had to, and obligation was no reason to marry. At least not to her. Maybe if he’d wanted to . . . No, she’d made her choice last night with no expectations and no desire for anything permanent.

  Now, with the hour of their departure at hand, she couldn’t hide any longer.

  The morning was bright and warm as she stepped into the drive where the carriage was waiting. Penn stood beside Thomas, who was speaking with Rhys. Dressed in an olive green coat and buff breeches, he was the epitome of a country gentleman. His dark hair was brushed back from his handsome face. It was impossible to look at him and not think of his mouth, his hands, his . . . cock.

  Heat rushed to her face and she turned toward the carriage.

  “Margery!” Penn rushed toward her. “Thomas and I are going to find a cat today.”

  Margery smiled down at him. “How wonderful, I’m so glad.”

  Thomas approached her next. “Craddock’s younger sister, Jane, has been employed to accompany you on your journey.” He inclined his head toward a young woman with dark red hair. She stood near the coach with her brother and their driver, Craddock.

  “Excellent, thank you, Thomas.” Margery waved a hand to Jane. “Good morning. Shall I call you Craddock or Jane?”

  “Jane, I think.” She cracked a wide, pretty smile, revealing a slight gap between her two front teeth. “My brother’s already Craddock.”

  “Jane has been working as a scullery maid for Lord Trevor, but they were able to spare her for several days,” Thomas explained.

  Margery glanced at him. “I hate to take her away from her regular job.”

  “Please don’t concern yourself,” Thomas said. “She was more than pleased to obtain some experience as a lady’s maid.”

  It seemed she was helping the young woman, which made Margery quite happy. “Then I’m delighted she could join us.” She smiled at Jane.