Never a Bride

by Megan Frampton

  He unlocked the door and guided her inside, his hand at the small of her back.

  The room was small but tidy, dominated by an enormous bed that appeared to be big enough even for him.

  She turned to him. “Did you choose this room based solely on that?” she asked, gesturing to the bed.

  He raised one rakish eyebrow. “Of course. What other criteria would I have?”

  “Excellent,” she said, going to sit on it.

  He walked to stand in front of her, his hands on his hips. She drew her gaze up and down his body, biting her lip as she contemplated his size.

  “Well? Do you like what you see?” he said in a confident voice.

  “You know I do.” She nodded toward him. “Take your clothes off.”

  He immediately began to shrug out of his jacket, then tossed it onto the floor.

  She brought her hands to her back to begin her buttons, but stopped at the sound of his voice.

  “I want to take care of that,” he said in a husky growl.

  “Oh,” she sighed, leaning back on her elbows. “Well, then, proceed.”

  He undid his cravat, then yanked his shirt from his trousers, brought it over his head, and dropped it on top of the jacket that lay on the floor.

  My goodness, his chest was impressive, she thought to herself. Her mouth got dry.

  He had a dark dusting of hair on his upper body, the hair trailing down the middle to where it disappeared into his trousers. His stomach muscles were delineated, so much so that she could nearly count them. His arms were equally impressive, corded with muscle.

  He bent over to undo his boots, and she glimpsed something on his back.

  She stared, then hopped off the bed and stepped around him to see.

  “Oh my lord,” she breathed. “You have a tattoo.”

  “I do,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Do you like it?”

  Did she like it. What kind of question was that? Of course she liked it.

  It was a ship, one that covered his entire back. She put her hands on his shoulders—goodness, they were strong—and then skimmed her fingers down his back, marveling at the detail.

  “This is gorgeous,” she said. “How did you decide what to get?”

  “A full-rigged ship like that one means the person has sailed around Cape Horn.”

  “I don’t even know where Cape Horn is,” she admitted.

  “It’s at the bottom of South America. Very treacherous passage there.”

  “Oh,” she said, tracing her fingers on the sails.

  He turned, wrapping her in his arms. “While I appreciate that you are touching me, and admiring my masculine beauty, I would far rather we were together on that bed over there. You can take a look at my ink when you’ve rendered me speechless.”

  She grinned up at him. “I know another way to make you speechless,” she said, raising her mouth to his.

  They were kissing again. Only this time it was both more intense and more leisurely—knowing what was going to happen, but also knowing they had time. He explored her mouth with his tongue, and she did the same, her hands clutching his arms, sliding up and down their expanse.

  He slid his hand from her waist to grab her sweet arse, holding its curve in his palm and squeezing. He felt her shudder, and squeezed harder, then let go to caress the round globe.

  She placed her hands on his waist, tucking her thumbs into his waistband, his cock standing at rigid attention at the close proximity of her hand.

  Please, please, slide that palm down, he begged inside his head. Mostly because he couldn’t speak since her tongue was in his mouth.

  Only she did better than that—she began to undo the placket of his trousers, shoved the fabric aside and began to push his trousers down his legs.

  His cock arched forward into her belly, covered by his smallclothes. He needed to get everything off as soon as possible.

  Breaking the kiss, he quickly pushed his trousers entirely down and stepped out of them, then put his fingers at the waistband of his smallclothes. He met her gaze and arched one brow as if in question.

  She bit her lip, her head giving a vigorous nod.

  He drew them off also, and then he was entirely naked.

  She stepped back, her lip still in her teeth, her gaze assessing him.

  He resisted the urge to preen.

  His cock was pointed straight at her, and his hand went to his shaft.

  She shook her head, and he froze.

  “No,” she said in a low, husky voice. “I want to touch you.” And she lowered herself to her knees and put her hands at his waist, then licked the tip of his cock before glancing up at him with a sly smile.

  Holy hell.

  “Della—” he begged, and she kept her gaze locked with his as she opened her mouth to take him inside.

  He held himself still, waiting for her next move. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock as she began to slide her mouth up and down his shaft. Licking and sucking with a focused vigor he very much appreciated.

  Her grip was tight, as he liked, and she was making soft noises of appreciation in the back of her throat.

  He didn’t know if he could speak, or would ever be able to speak again.

  He was close. So close to spending, to thrusting deep into her mouth and climaxing.

  And then she raised her head, making him groan in disappointment.

  She laughed, using his body to stand. “I want your cock inside me, Lord Handsome,” she said, pushing him toward the bed. He fell onto his back as she followed, clambering on top of him.

  Her mouth was red and swollen, and her hair was coming down in soft tendrils.

  He had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

  Except she wasn’t naked.

  He got up onto his knees, and then with one swift movement got in back of her, his fingers going to the buttons of her gown. She made a noise of frustration, and he grinned.

  “Patience, my lady Fuckable,” he murmured, lowering his mouth onto her shoulder and nipping the soft skin there. “I will give you my cock if you can give me your sweet pussy.”

  “Mmm,” she agreed, twisting as he lowered the fabric of her gown down her shoulders. She hoisted her arse into the air and yanked the gown all the way off her body, then tossed it onto the floor as he had his garments.

  She wore a corset and her shift, and his fingers fumbled at the laces, his cock brushing against the soft fabric of her shift as she wiggled impatiently. She looked over her shoulder at him, her dark hair falling around her face. “I hope you’ve got better competency in the bed than you do undressing me, my lord,” she teased.

  “I’ll show you competency, woman,” he said, yanking her corset off and then dragging her shift up over her head as she knelt on the bed.

  And then she was delightfully, blissfully naked. He moved her so she was on her back, her laughing face looking up at him.

  “Very competent,” she replied with a wink. “So where were we?”

  “Right fucking here,” he replied.

  “Excellent.” Her hands stroked his side, and then her fingers clasped his erection.

  Her expression shifted. “Only—darn it, I forgot to get—” And her fingers fluttered around his shaft.

  “Right. As did I.” If his hands weren’t full already, he’d have slapped his forehead. He had totally forgotten about ensuring there were no accidents. “We’ll make it work.”

  She nodded. “I trust you,” she said, guiding him inside.

  Which, luckily enough, was where he wanted it also.

  It had been so long, she thought to herself. But this—this was well worth the wait. His body was as large and delicious as she had imagined, rigid muscles defining his body, his broad chest narrowing to his hips, then lowering to the dark thatch of hair around his cock.

  And his cock was gorgeous, even though she didn’t think the appendage was normally found particularly beautiful. It was large, as she’d an
ticipated, and thick, with smooth skin that was like velvet to the touch. Iron encased in velvet, which was a deliciously intoxicating feeling.

  He was so big she had found it awkward to slide her lips over him, but the sounds he made and the way he jerked in her mouth as she ran her mouth up and down him were well worth any discomfort.

  And now he was inside her, at last. He had drawn himself up on his arms, likely so as not to crush her, but she had to admit she craved the feeling of all that muscled weight lying on top of her. Pushing into her, ravaging her as she searched for her release.

  She grabbed his arse, not surprised to find it as hard and muscled as the rest of him. And just above was that glorious tattoo, something unexpected and slightly dangerous. Just like him.

  He growled as she squeezed, so of course she squeezed harder. He gazed down at her, then began to shift, pushing in even farther, making her hurt, but in an exquisitely painful way.

  She tightened around him, making him groan.

  “What do you want, Della?”

  He was clearly eager to thrust, she could tell by his breath and how he was holding himself inside her, but still he took the time to ask what she wanted, making her emotions blossom in her chest, even though she was frantic for him to just do whatever he wanted to do to her.

  Two contrary thoughts, of course, but that was who she was, wasn’t it? On one hand a woman who had her own opinions about everything, thank you very much, and on the other a woman who wanted to have this specific man exert his mastery over her.

  But she hadn’t answered him yet, had she? She ran her hands up his back to cup his neck, drawing his mouth down to hers. She spoke just as their lips were about to touch. “I want you to ravish me until I see stars, Lord Handsome.”

  He smiled, a smile filled with anticipation and hunger, and she felt her insides shiver at what that smile promised. And then he began to move, sliding his cock and then pushing back in an inexorable rhythm. His hand went between them, touching her there, and she arched her back, writhing at the nearly overwhelming combination of all the places he was touching her—her mouth, her nub, her pussy.

  His thrusts moved her up the bed, and she reached down to grab his arse again, pulling her body into his when he pushed inside.

  The friction was incredible, and she could feel the mounting pleasure, coiling around her body as it built to a crescendo.

  And then it hit its peak, and she screamed, throwing her head back as the waves of passion rolled through her, her whole body rigid under him. He was still moving, moving faster now, so fierce and furious she was completely helpless under the onslaught.

  And then he withdrew, groaning as she felt his body spasm above her, his eyes closed, his expression grimaced. His hand on his beautiful cock, spending onto her stomach.

  She had never seen anything so beautiful before.

  He collapsed onto her, his body slick with sweat, and she wrapped him in an embrace, nuzzling his ear as the waves of pleasure subsided.

  “Mmm,” she said in a low murmur, “that was excellent.”

  They were sticky and sweaty and exhausted, and she had never been more content in her life.

  His mouth was kissing her neck, and she could feel it when he smiled. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  He sounded entirely self-satisfied, and for once she couldn’t fault him for his arrogance. It was a truly spectacular bout of lovemaking.

  “Let’s rest a bit and then do it again,” he said, tucking his face into her shoulder, his hand stroking her hip.

  “Again?” she said in surprise. She hadn’t realized—but then again, he was remarkable in so many ways.

  “Of course again.” He licked her neck. “I want to taste you, Della.”

  Her eyes widened as she realized what he was saying. She hadn’t ever done that before. Or, more correctly, hadn’t ever had that done to her before.

  And here she thought she knew everything about it.

  She couldn’t wait to see what he had to teach her.

  “Did my competency please you, my lady?” He couldn’t keep the smug tone from his voice. Nor did she likely want him to; she had made her satisfaction with him abundantly and loudly clear.

  So loud, in fact, he was grateful it was the middle of the day and likely fewer patrons at the inn he’d taken her to. He wouldn’t want to expose her to the embarrassment of a noise complaint.

  He was lying on his side, his hand resting idly on her breast, thumbing her nipple as he gazed his fill at her nakedness. She didn’t seem to be bothered by his appraisal; she was returning it, in fact, having spent a quarter of an hour resting on his backside tracing his tattoo with her fingers.

  If he had known she would be so enamored of it he would have considered getting a tattoo on his cock. Although she hadn’t lost interest in that either, so perhaps it wasn’t necessary.

  She laughed, smacking him on the arm. “My lord Arrogance,” she said in a possessive tone of voice.

  “I am yours, my lady.”

  He didn’t intend for his words to sound so serious, but there they were, emerging as though he were committing to something.

  She frowned, and he felt his breath hitch.

  “Thank you for finding Mr. Wattings,” she said at last. His chest eased.

  “Do we still have a bargain?” he asked.

  She gazed up at him, a smirk on her lips. “Which bargain do you mean? The one where I keep you company to hold the ladies off, or the one where we agree to explore our mutual attraction?”

  “The former. I leave the latter entirely up to you.” Only he hoped she wouldn’t end it too soon—not before he’d gotten enough of her, which he was beginning to wonder if that would ever happen.

  There was something so alluring about her, about the combination of sensual freedom and bold conversation wrapped up in the most desirable package he’d ever seen. She was so similar to him—both of them were strongly opinionated, independent, and refused to do what they were supposed to do. But she was also a good mother, an excellent friend, a vibrant companion, and wasn’t afraid to stand up to him.

  Very few people countered his opinions. Only Clark and to some extent Hyland had ever successfully argued with him about anything. Frederick had tried to talk him out of running off to sea so long ago, but had eventually succumbed to his arguments, even helping him out with money for the journey.

  But she would likely attempt to stare him down and refuse to budge an inch. And he, intrigued as he was, would likely agree to anything she wanted, as long as she continued to spend time with him. Either in bed or out, although he definitely preferred the former.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked suddenly, making him start.

  You.

  Only he couldn’t and wouldn’t tell her that—he wouldn’t want to scare her off. Nor did he want to admit it, even to himself.

  Even though he had just done that.

  She was turning him upside down.

  The feeling started slowly, but once it started, it built until she knew she couldn’t lie there any longer.

  “You’re getting up?” he asked.

  She nodded, her back turned to him, leaning over to pick her corset and shift off the floor. “I should get back.”

  He slid his palm on her back, and she shivered. His touch almost—almost relieved the panic, but not quite.

  “But you can stay here if you want. I can get home on my own.”

  She heard his body move, and then he was curled around her, his front to her back, the hair on his chest tickling her skin. “I don’t want to stay here. Not without you. I’ll get dressed, I can have you back in half an hour.”

  He kissed the top of her head and then got off the bed. She busied herself with putting her shift on, then her corset, and then got up to hunt for where she’d flung her dress.

  He was just adjusting his smallclothes, and her breath caught as she saw him. It wasn’t fair he was so spectacularly gorgeous all the way through, from his h
andsome, compelling face to his strongly built body to his beautiful penis.

  “What are you staring at?” he asked, his tone making it perfectly clear he knew the answer, and was more than happy for it.

  “Nothing,” she murmured, averting her gaze.

  “What is it? What happened?”

  She saw his feet approach her, and then she looked up, up into his face, his expression changed from sexually satisfied to concerned.

  “It’s nothing.”

  He placed his fingers on her chin, staring into her eyes. “It’s not nothing. But you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” It wasn’t a request. But he’d left the decision up to her as to when she would share it. Perhaps it would be soon, perhaps it would be never. But it would be up to her.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  It shouldn’t have irked him that she had closed up so soon after sex.

  Never mind. It should; he would be bothered no matter who it was. He didn’t like it when Clark didn’t share where he went after their nights out drinking. He would say the same about Hyland, only Hyland shared everything, so that didn’t come up.

  But her—usually so open about her feelings, so clear about what she wanted. Not to open up about what she was feeling now made him wonder just what it was she was hiding. But he couldn’t just demand she tell him, as he would with Clark. His relationship with her was far more nuanced. He knew he had never had this kind of particular connection with anyone before, and frankly, he felt out of his depth.

  But that didn’t make him feel lost. On the contrary, he wanted to discover just what it was that made this, and her, so different.

  But only if she allowed it. And he found he very much wished she would allow it. Nearly as much as he wanted to be allowed back into her body, and very soon.

  “Captain!”

  Griffith had arrived home to discover his valet-secretary or secretary-valet and Hyland were both out of the house. The butler, whatever his name was, informed him that his men had walked over a few streets to a nearby pub. Griffith thought he might as well go see what they were up to, since he had no desire to sit inside and wonder what she might be thinking.