by Lucy Monroe
“You are all that I could wish for, Thea.”
She stared at him and something in her shifted. He wanted her as desperately as she wanted him. That was obvious, but there was something more. He made himself vulnerable by telling her things she could not make her mouth utter. He did not have to tell her she was beautiful, but he had. She sighed. All her life, gentlemen had ignored her and she had been content for them to do so. Yet here stood the most fascinating and handsome one she had ever met and he claimed that he wanted her.
It was a heady thought, an enticing one.
She threw herself against him. He let out a startled breath and then locked his arms around her. He kissed her until her knees grew weak with it. His hard arousal moved against her belly and she shivered with desire.
“Make love to me, Drake.”
He could no more resist the plea in her voice than stop the tide but he wondered if she planned to call him Drake when he was buried deep inside her. Or would she finally deign to use his first name.
He swung Thea into his arms and carried her to the small bunk. What he was about to do would be irrevocable. It would change the course of her life and his forever. He laid her on the bed and stood above her.
“You must be certain, Thea. We can still turn back.”
She met his gaze, hers unflinching. “I do not want to stop. Please, Drake.”
That final plea decided him. “I don’t either.”
He lay down next to her on the narrow bunk. There was barely room for him and their entire bodies touched from where the side of her breast pressed against his chest to her legs that moved restlessly against his own.
He forced himself into complete stillness. He wanted to savor the feel of her naked body against his. She belonged to him and when they had both found their satisfaction, she would know it.
She said his name in impatient demand.
He smiled. “Yes?”
He thought to tease her a little, to heighten the tension. She forestalled him by pulling his head down for a passionate kiss. He gave into the emotion pulsing through him and kissed her back with all his pent up desire made huge by wanting. Thea moved her hands over him with reckless abandon. She touched him everywhere and everywhere she touched felt like it was on fire. Her body moved restlessly against his.
He cupped her breast, delighting in the weight of the soft flesh against his palm. He squeezed. He pushed and pulled, almost drunk with the feel of her under his hand. She moaned, arching her back in a silent plea for more. He knew what she needed even if she did not. Bending his head, he opened his mouth over her already distended nipple.
She nearly came off the bed. “Drake.”
He stopped suckling and looked up. Her eyes were wide and dark with need in her flushed face.
“Pierson.”
“What?” Her head tossed from side to side in frantic movement.
“We are making love, Thea. Call me Pierson.”
“Pierson,” she practically shouted and grabbed his head with frantic fingers and pressed his face into her breast. “Don’t stop.”
He smiled against the generous flesh. “Aye, aye, Little Captain.”
She started to say something but it turned into another long, drawn out moan when he closed his mouth over her nipple once again. She rocked her hips and he could not resist sliding his hand down her ribcage, over the smooth skin of her belly and into the nest of curls at her most feminine place.
She arched toward his hand even as she protested, “Surely you aren’t supposed to touch me there.”
He nearly strangled on a laugh. “Surely, I am.”
“But, I thought…” Whatever she thought went unsaid as he dipped his fingers into the tight, wet passage.
She groaned. He slid his finger out and back in, loving the feel of her moist channel. This with Thea was something so unlike matings he had experienced before. Never had he felt this desire to please, this sense of oneness with a woman. He ached to bury himself inside of her, but it had to be right. He would make this first time perfect for her and then she would understand that she belonged to him.
“I didn’t know it could be like this.”
He smiled at the wonder in her voice. Exploring with his thumb, he found the small button he sought and rubbed it experimentally as he continued the movement with his finger sliding in and out of her rapidly swelling flesh.
Unbelievable pleasure spiraled through Thea as Drake’s hand and mouth did exquisite torture to her body. She rocked her hips in a mindless attempt to assuage the burning ache he stoked with each thrust of his finger. “Please. Don’t. Stop.”
“Never.”
He increased his tempo until she felt her entire body straining toward release. Remembering her other experiences in his arms, she could not credit how much more intense the sensation was when his fingers touched her body skin to skin. Suddenly her thoughts fragmented until only one remained. She wanted to feel him inside of her. “Pierson.”
“What, love?”
“You must finish it. I cannot stand this torment.”
He kissed her breast and then stood. She watched in wonder as he pulled off his smalls to reveal his swollen manhood. If his finger had filled her so completely, how was he ever going to fit? She licked her lips. “Um, do you think perhaps there is a small problem with the disparity in our sizes?”
He rejoined her on the bed, this time kneeling between her legs, pushing them apart. She felt at once vulnerable and powerful because she knew that she and she alone was responsible for the look of naked need on his face.
“We will fit, but it will hurt at first, Thea. I know of no way to avoid the pain.”
The genuine concern in his voice assuaged her fears as nothing else could have. “Tell me what to do.”
He leaned down and she felt his hardness brush against her as his lips covered her own. He kissed her softly and then with increasing passion until she could not help straining against him.
“Yes, that’s right, Thea, show me how much you want me.”
He fit himself against the entrance to her and pressed forward. It hurt. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
He stopped. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his breathing was labored. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, feeling anything but, but comforted by the genuine care in his tone.
He took a deep breath and expelled it again before brushing her cheek with his hand. “It will get better.”
Leaning up until he was almost sitting, he tucked his thumb into her nest of curls and gently rubbed her just above where their bodies joined. She relaxed as pleasure overtook the pain once again. He slipped inside some more and stopped when he met the barrier.
He continued his ministrations with his thumb as his other hand again found her breast. He played with her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until she thought she would go mad with the wanting.
“Pierson,” she panted his name as a plea. “I can’t stand this. It is too much.”
She felt the precipice and knew that this time she would not be alone in going over.
Her body tensed as she arched up toward him, pressing him further into her passage. She felt the pain, but could not give it proper notice as the pleasure threatened to swamp all her senses. She gripped his thighs, needing to feel the solid strength of his muscles beneath her fingers as her mind splintered into a thousand fragmented sensations.
She convulsed and he thrust into her fully. The pain was instantly swallowed up in pleasure as he withdrew and thrust again. As he filled her completely, she fell over the precipice, knowing that when she came to land he would be there to catch her. She wanted to scream her pleasure, but he leaned forward and locked his lips on hers, thrusting his tongue into the interior of her mouth.
One, two, three more thrusts and then she felt the incredible sensation of him spilling his seed into her. His body went completely rigid as he found his release. His life had just joined with her own. She could nev
er be whole without him again. She pushed the thought away, even as it formed in her mind. He thrust twice more, groaning against her mouth as he shuddered each time.
Finally, he collapsed on top of her and they lay like that, panting together as their heartbeats slowed for several minutes.
He lifted his head and kissed her temple. “Did I hurt you?”
“Yes, a little.”
He touched her face, his finger gently following the line of her jaw. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled. “I’m not. I had never imagined that there could be such beauty between a man and a woman.”
Or that it could alter her so completely. She still feared marriage, but could not help wishing her life could be as linked with his as her spirit was in the joining of their bodies. She wanted more than this stolen time with him. But, it would be impossible. She did not even know if he planned to go to London from Liverpool. Perhaps she would never see him again. The thought brought unaccustomed tears to her eyes.
He looked at her with grave concern. “What is it?”
She did not know if she could put it into words. She started to cry in earnest. “I was just thinking that once we are in port, I may never see you again.” Her words came out stuttered between sobs.
He smiled. The insensitive lout. “That would be most inconvenient. I believe that in the general course of things husbands are required to see their wives, at least upon occasion.”
Her heart nearly stopped at his words. “What do you mean?”
He rolled off of her and pulled her into a sitting position on the edge of the bunk. She let out an involuntary gasp. She felt very tender between her legs. He kneeled before her and took her hand. “Thea, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Panic overwhelmed her. Marriage? An image of her mother, wasted from fever and dying swam before Thea’s vision. The words Anna had spoken echoed in Thea’s mind even as her body still pulsed from Drake’s possession.
She spoke as if to the image in her mind. “I can’t.”
“No?” He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Surely he had misheard.
She looked shocked, almost haunted. “Thank you for the offer, but I am not interested in marriage.” The words came out in a toneless whisper.
“Why the bloody hell not?”
She recoiled away from him. “Do not swear at me. I do not feel that I have misrepresented myself in any way. I never once promised marriage.”
He stared at her, his anger building as quickly as his passion had. He could not believe it, but life was repeating itself. He had been used.
Again.
He had not seen it coming this time any more than the first. Damn it to hell. He would have thought that in ten years, he would have learned something about women. Hadn’t she told him her reason for traveling to England was to participate in the Season? A Season meant marriage, preferably to someone both titled and wealthy. Not the bastard son of a father who had not even acknowledged his existence.
He had not been good enough for Deirdre, why had he believed he would be good enough for Thea? Deirdre had also only been interested in Drake as a paramour. Fool that he had been, he had believed she loved him. Still, he’d been less of a fool at twenty than he was at thirty. At least then, he had the foresight to ask for Deirdre’s hand before taking her to his bed. She had made it clear that she expected much more from a husband than a bastard with neither title nor fortune.
Three weeks after turning him down, she had announced her engagement to an aging peer. Drake had felt no satisfaction rejecting her less than subtle hints at a liaison. Nor when she had made it clear that she regretted her choice after he made his fortune. He had merely felt sickened at the lack of honor in a woman he had once believed he loved.
Grabbing Thea’s clothes from the floor, he swallowed the bile rising in his throat at how successfully she had manipulated him. He threw her gown and chemise at her. “Get dressed.”
She let out a startled yelp and batted the cloth away from her face. She stared at him, her face suddenly colorless. “You’re very angry with me.”
“I’m angrier with myself.” And he was. He chafed against the fact that he had been so easily duped by her innocence.
She made no move to get dressed, just sat there crushing the bright yellow muslin against her. “Why?”
“I let you use me.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play the naïve gentlewoman with me. You bloody well know what I mean.” Deirdre’s betrayal had wounded his pride, but Thea’s shattered something deep inside him. He had to get out of the cabin before he disgraced himself and begged her to reconsider. He yanked his clothes on, not caring that he still carried her scent. A few hours on deck would take care of that. Perhaps hard labor would also dull the ache inside. He reached for the door.
“Where are you going?”
Bloody furious, he still reacted to the panic in her voice. He turned back, trying to mask his pain with a façade of anger.
“On deck.”
“But… I thought…”
“You thought what? That we’d have time for another tumble before you returned to your cabin and your preparations for leaving? Sorry to disappoint you, but I have things to do.”
She flinched and her eyes filled with moisture.
Before he gave in to the insane urge to take her in his arms and comfort her, he turned and stormed out of the cabin.
******
Thea stared at the recently slammed door of Drake’s stateroom. What had just happened? She had experienced the most beautiful experience of her life and then been dismissed like the contents of a day old chamber pot. Just because she had said no to his marriage proposal. Surely, he must realize that after what happened to her mother, Thea was not eager to repeat the same mistake.
Two tears burned their way down her cheeks. Drake was more like her father than she ever wanted to believe. She had refused to fall in with his plans and so he had rejected her and all that they shared. Sacré bleu. Was she an idiot?
She stood up and winced at the pain between her legs and the sticky wetness. She must do something about that, or Melly would know all. She went over to Drake’s washstand and made what repairs she could to her person. She dressed and then brushed her hair with Drake’s brush.
She stopped mid stroke and brought the brush to her nose. Inhaling the scent that had so recently filled her senses, she felt more tears cascade down her cheeks. Resolutely, she pulled the brush through her hair until she had rid herself of most of the tangles. She then pulled it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Securing it with pins, she surveyed her image in his shaving mirror.
She looked not a whit different than she had before. But inside, she felt different. She ached, but she rejoiced too. All of Drake’s anger and rejection could not erase the joy she had experienced in his arms. Nor would she ever forget the picture of him kneeling naked before her and asking for her hand in marriage. Not if she lived to be ancient.
She had been tempted. So very tempted to say yes, but his subsequent behavior had proven her caution founded. Or, had it? She knew so little of men and what motivated their hearts. Her father’s example overwhelmed all other experiences. She never forgot the pain of her mother’s grief, nor watching Anna die of a fever she would not have contracted had she not been forced to flee England.
What would happen if Thea did marry Drake and then disagreed with something he wanted? Would he turn cold and hard as he had after their lovemaking? Worse, would he one day revile her as her father had done to her mother?
But even if she did not marry him, she would never be completely separate from him again. She wondered how mistresses did it. This sharing of their bodies with first one man and then another. Thea felt as if part of her would never be hers again as it now belonged to Drake. Perhaps women who sold their bodies lost so much of themselves that it ceased to matter any longer.
Shaking off the
depressing thought, she opened Drake’s cabin door a small crack and peeked through it. The deck appeared empty, so she opened the door completely and stepped out. She was not ready to return to her cabin, but she had promised Drake not to go anywhere unescorted and he had trusted her to keep that promise. Regardless of what had transpired between them, she would do so.
She had made it to the corridor outside of her room when she heard footfalls behind her. She turned, expecting to see the steward and caught a whiff of the horrible body odor she had smelled the night of her attack. Without further thought, she screamed long and loud. The sailor coming toward her, stopped in midstride. He stared at her as if she’d gone mad, but she didn’t care. She would know that foul odor anywhere.
She kept screaming and a stateroom door to her left flew open. A wizened visage peered out. “Eh, what’s going on out here? What’s all that racket?”
The sailor turned and ran toward the other end of the corridor. The old woman muttered something about the thoughtlessness of the young and slammed her door. Thea had started toward the open door, but changed her tactic and ran after the sailor. He mustn’t get away.
She rushed out of the corridor and ran straight into a solid male form. It took Thea only a second to realize that the man holding her arms and glaring at her was Drake.
“The sailor, he’s getting away. I saw him.” For a moment, her relief at putting a face to her attacker made her forget her anger at Drake and she grinned. “I saw him. It was a sailor, too.”
“What are you babbling about, Thea?” His harsh voice made it clear that his anger still simmered just below the surface.
She sobered at the realization. “He followed me into the corridor, but I heard someone behind me. When I turned, I smelled him.” She tried to pull her arms from Drake’s grip. She looked past him, but saw no one. Where had the man gone? “He’s getting away. We’ve got to go after him.”
His grip on her tightened. “A sailor was in the corridor with you? Did he try to harm you?”