How to Lose a Bride in One Night
Page 29
Her breath hitched as she imagined him freeing himself from his breeches and putting himself inside her. Nothing about it alarmed her. On the contrary, the throb between her legs grew.
His knuckles skimmed the top flesh of her br**sts as he freed her from her corset. Next came her petticoat and drawers . . . all else until she wore only her simple shift and stockings.
At the first touch of his hand on her bare thigh, she gasped.
He pulled his hand back. “Did I hurt you? Your leg . . .”
Shaking her head, she grabbed his wrist and placed his hand back on her thigh. With her eyes locked on his face, she guided his hand up her thigh. Instinct drove her. A desperate urge for him to relieve the ache he had started.
Her lips parted on a sigh as she moved his hand higher, his fingers skimming over the inside of her thigh.
A low growl escaped him. “Your skin is like silk.”
She parted her thighs wider. Her shift fell back to her h*ps and she felt cool air wash over the exposed core of her. Heat fired her face as his gaze followed suit, roaming over that most secret place.
She stopped his hand’s ascent, holding him still where her thigh almost met with the very heat of her.
“Annalise.”
She shuddered at the sound of her name. Her gaze flew to his.
“Don’t stop. Show me where you want me.”
Her breath falling short and hard, she nodded. The ache between her legs was no less intense. Bared before his gaze, it had only deepened. Still holding his wrist, she guided him to her, settling his hand over her heat.
He closed his eyes and brought his forehead to hers. She could feel the very pulse of him there, fused to the core of her. He didn’t even move, but the burning imprint of his hand, his palm and fingers against her, made her gasp.
“So wet, Annalise.”
She whimpered. Her h*ps lifted, thrusting against his palm with a will . . . a knowledge that she did not yet understand, even as her body knew, and sought.
He lowered his mouth to hers, whispering the words, “So eager.” As his palm moved, burrowed against her in a way that had her arching against him in sudden response, her fingernails dug into his bare shoulders.
“You like that?”
“Again,” she choked, nodding furiously.
He rotated his wrist and found the spot, did it again, grinding on her in a way that made her want to fly from her skin.
She cried out and bucked against his hand. “What . . . are you . . . doing?” she panted against his ear.
She had never heard of anything like this happening before. Not with a mere touch. Agathe’s and Sally’s indiscreet whisperings had never revealed anything so shattering was even possible.
Then suddenly the pressure was gone, his fingers parting her slick folds, sliding shockingly against her with a finger, searching, hunting, at last unerringly finding that tiny pearl of pleasure. Her mouth opened wide on a silent cry as he circled it with his thumb, pushing and rolling until she shuddered in his arms.
His lips pressed against her throat, his words vibrating on her skin, “There, love.”
Just as ripples of sensation eased over her and she began to feel satiated, he eased a finger into her channel.
She moaned, arching, fingers digging anew into his shoulders. Everything within her tightened and twisted once again as his fingers stretched her, sinking deeper and deeper.
He burrowed his head in the crook of her neck. “God, Annalise, you’re so tight . . . so wet . . . I can’t wait.”
Wait? She didn’t want him to wait. The burn was back, throbbing and tormenting. She wanted it fed.
She let out a small mewl of frustration and slipped her hand between them, caressing him through his breeches, her gaze locking on his. “Then don’t wait.”
Chapter Twenty-four
With a groan, he brushed her hand aside and freed himself from his trousers. Anticipation coursed through her. He cursed as he kicked them off, leaving her for a moment. Cool air wafted over her, making her shiver.
But then he was back. Every delicious inch of him, silk on steel. The weight of him settled between her legs. It was exciting and a bit frightening, the lean hips, muscled thighs sprinkled lightly with crisp hair chafing at her tender thighs. It was intimate and raw and totally unlike anything she had ever felt.
“Look at my face. I want to watch you.”
Her gaze snapped to his eyes, the blue deep and mesmerizing.
His finger stroked beside the corner of her eye, inching up to glide over her eyebrow. “So beautiful.”
Heat flamed her face, but she stopped herself from contradicting him. “So are you.”
His warm chuckle was his response.
He was unlike anything she had ever known. Even as she squirmed in anticipation, he stared at her as if he were memorizing her, as if he had all the time in the world. He reached down and pulled her shift up her torso and over her head.
“Much better.”
She fought to ignore the fact that she was exposed before him with all her imperfections. The way his eyes roamed in appreciation, he didn’t find fault in her.
“Now?” she asked shakily. His manhood pressed heavily along the inside of her thigh and it was hard to think of anything else.
“You’re nervous.” He smiled seductively, his well-carved lips curling slowly.
“I’m not,” she protested, but the tremor to her voice betrayed her. She was beyond thought, beyond speech. There was only sensation.
“It’s fine . . . we’ll relax you again.” Leaning down, he pressed his mouth to hers in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue slid inside to taste her again and again until she was a mass of pudding beneath him. Her bones softened, her muscles liquefying.
She slid her hand around him, down the slope of his back. The sensation of his bare, taut buttock against her palm excited her. His flesh tightened and flexed in her hand, filling her with a heady sense of power. He growled when she squeezed him.
He ground his manhood against her, the long length of him slipping against her wet folds, creating a delicious friction. She panted, thrusting her h*ps until her sex felt swollen and hot, weeping in need of him.
He still kissed her, but she was now moaning into his mouth, quivering and overcome. When his hand found her breast, she lurched at the contact. He watched her beneath heavy lids as he lowered his head, still smiling that wicked smile even as his mouth parted, descending on her nipple.
She tensed in anticipation as his mouth closed over the tip of her breast. She released a breathy sigh as he pulled her nipple deep into his mouth, the velvet feel of his tongue rasping around the peak in languid strokes. The hot lave sent her over the edge. She was lost, her head writhing against the bed.
“That’s it, Annalise.”
The sound of her name on his lips was like an elixir. She seized his buttocks in both her hands and lifted her knees.
It was all the invitation he needed.
He lifted his mouth from her breast, and the hard length of him ceased its delicious friction. The head of him found her entrance and his shaft speared her in one deep plunge. She felt impaled.
She screamed, her nails digging into his flesh. He was too much. She couldn’t take him.
He cupped her face, holding her gaze. “Annalise, I’m sorry. It will ease. Sssh.” He rained kisses over her face. The corner of her lips, her mouth, her cheeks.
He remained lodged within her, the fullness of him becoming less invasive. The sting dulled to a vague burn. He thrust again slowly, carefully, again and again, building friction, stoking that fire back to life.
His pumps grew deeper, but still restrained, tempered. His body trembled over her, his buttocks taut beneath her palms.
He breathed harshly in her ear. “Forgive me, I must move . . .”
His strokes quickened then. She gasped at the sensation. Each one seemed to reach all the way to her womb. His force matched his speed. He slammed into her, his hands sliding under her. He cupped her derriere in both of his large hands, lifting her, better positioning her for his hard thrusting.
Something tightened inside her again, coiling and squeezing. With no deliberation, her inner muscles clenched and clung to him as he delved deep in the core of her. He groaned, clearly appreciating her efforts. His hands slid into her hair, pulling her face close to his. He burrowed his lips in the crook of her neck, his teeth lightly scoring the flesh.
The entire act stunned her. She made tiny gasping sounds that she couldn’t stop if she wished it. It was scandalous and shocking . . . more intimate than anything she had ever imagined. She had never felt so close, so exposed . . . so connected to another person.
She turned her face and pressed several open-mouthed kisses to his shoulder. He growled again, catching her mouth up in his again.
He kissed her like he could never have enough. Even as he continued to pump his hips, the hard length of him sliding into her, his lips clung to hers.
She opened her mouth against his in a silent cry as he worked over her, his sleek body so very big, and male, and beautiful. A sharp yelp escaped her as something inside her snapped. Sensation flooded her, rippling to every nerve ending. Her vision blurred. She became incapable of holding up her legs. They slipped down on either side of his h*ps on the bed as he took one final, shuddering plunge inside her.
He covered her, the weight of him wondrous and not the least bit cumbersome . . . even if her lungs did struggle to expand from the pressure of his significant form.
Apparently, he did not miss the wheeze of her breath. He lifted himself up on his elbows. His eyes gleamed down at her tenderly. “Sorry. Better?” He brushed loose strands back from her forehead.
She nodded, knowing she must look like a besotted fool grinning up at him. “I’ve never been quite as perfect as I am in this moment.”
She felt him pulse inside her, reminding her that he was still lodged there, joining them together. Her cheeks burned at still experiencing him there . . . feeling him so deeply when not in the act of lovemaking. It was somehow more intimate.
His gaze skimmed her, a physical touch. Her face felt hotter as his eyes traveled over her bare br**sts. “I’d have to agree that you are pretty perfect right now . . .”
He rolled to the side, sliding from her body and taking her with him, tucking her against himself. His hand stroked her bare arm. “You were a virgin.”
She was relieved he could not see her face, knowing she must be impossibly bright now. “Yes. Are you . . . surprised?”
He didn’t answer for some moments, but his fingers continued to draw small, electric circles on her skin, comforting her. “No. I think I knew. Or rather, I suspected.”
How? She bit back the question. It would have opened all manner of discussions revolving around who she was and what happened to her leading up to the moment he found her. That was the one subject she needed to avoid with him.
Owen was an honorable man. If she told him about Bloodsworth, he would insist on protecting her. And he couldn’t. Not without risking himself. And she wouldn’t have that.
“Annalise,” he murmured as though testing the sound of her name. “It suits you.”
She smiled against his chest, turning her face so that her lips brushed his smooth, warm flesh.
He continued, his voice deep and sober, compelling. “You’ve been hiding more than your name from me.”
Her smile evaporated. “I have.” No sense denying what was obvious anymore.
“Will you tell me what happened now?”
Her fingers lightly drummed over his chest. “Yes.” She closed her eyes against the lie. “But can we have this for right now? Just a while longer? Must we spoil it so soon with talk of me and my less than savory history?”
“Very well.” His circling fingers stilled, his hand settling over her arm, clasping her gently, each finger a warm imprint. “We will have time enough later for full explanations.”
Only they wouldn’t have time later.
She had to see to that. She had used up the last bit of her time with him. As much as it pained her, she needed to be gone this day—as soon as possible. Before Bloodsworth decided that she wasn’t honoring her promise and acted.
His knuckles skimmed the top flesh of her br**sts as he freed her from her corset. Next came her petticoat and drawers . . . all else until she wore only her simple shift and stockings.
At the first touch of his hand on her bare thigh, she gasped.
He pulled his hand back. “Did I hurt you? Your leg . . .”
Shaking her head, she grabbed his wrist and placed his hand back on her thigh. With her eyes locked on his face, she guided his hand up her thigh. Instinct drove her. A desperate urge for him to relieve the ache he had started.
Her lips parted on a sigh as she moved his hand higher, his fingers skimming over the inside of her thigh.
A low growl escaped him. “Your skin is like silk.”
She parted her thighs wider. Her shift fell back to her h*ps and she felt cool air wash over the exposed core of her. Heat fired her face as his gaze followed suit, roaming over that most secret place.
She stopped his hand’s ascent, holding him still where her thigh almost met with the very heat of her.
“Annalise.”
She shuddered at the sound of her name. Her gaze flew to his.
“Don’t stop. Show me where you want me.”
Her breath falling short and hard, she nodded. The ache between her legs was no less intense. Bared before his gaze, it had only deepened. Still holding his wrist, she guided him to her, settling his hand over her heat.
He closed his eyes and brought his forehead to hers. She could feel the very pulse of him there, fused to the core of her. He didn’t even move, but the burning imprint of his hand, his palm and fingers against her, made her gasp.
“So wet, Annalise.”
She whimpered. Her h*ps lifted, thrusting against his palm with a will . . . a knowledge that she did not yet understand, even as her body knew, and sought.
He lowered his mouth to hers, whispering the words, “So eager.” As his palm moved, burrowed against her in a way that had her arching against him in sudden response, her fingernails dug into his bare shoulders.
“You like that?”
“Again,” she choked, nodding furiously.
He rotated his wrist and found the spot, did it again, grinding on her in a way that made her want to fly from her skin.
She cried out and bucked against his hand. “What . . . are you . . . doing?” she panted against his ear.
She had never heard of anything like this happening before. Not with a mere touch. Agathe’s and Sally’s indiscreet whisperings had never revealed anything so shattering was even possible.
Then suddenly the pressure was gone, his fingers parting her slick folds, sliding shockingly against her with a finger, searching, hunting, at last unerringly finding that tiny pearl of pleasure. Her mouth opened wide on a silent cry as he circled it with his thumb, pushing and rolling until she shuddered in his arms.
His lips pressed against her throat, his words vibrating on her skin, “There, love.”
Just as ripples of sensation eased over her and she began to feel satiated, he eased a finger into her channel.
She moaned, arching, fingers digging anew into his shoulders. Everything within her tightened and twisted once again as his fingers stretched her, sinking deeper and deeper.
He burrowed his head in the crook of her neck. “God, Annalise, you’re so tight . . . so wet . . . I can’t wait.”
Wait? She didn’t want him to wait. The burn was back, throbbing and tormenting. She wanted it fed.
She let out a small mewl of frustration and slipped her hand between them, caressing him through his breeches, her gaze locking on his. “Then don’t wait.”
Chapter Twenty-four
With a groan, he brushed her hand aside and freed himself from his trousers. Anticipation coursed through her. He cursed as he kicked them off, leaving her for a moment. Cool air wafted over her, making her shiver.
But then he was back. Every delicious inch of him, silk on steel. The weight of him settled between her legs. It was exciting and a bit frightening, the lean hips, muscled thighs sprinkled lightly with crisp hair chafing at her tender thighs. It was intimate and raw and totally unlike anything she had ever felt.
“Look at my face. I want to watch you.”
Her gaze snapped to his eyes, the blue deep and mesmerizing.
His finger stroked beside the corner of her eye, inching up to glide over her eyebrow. “So beautiful.”
Heat flamed her face, but she stopped herself from contradicting him. “So are you.”
His warm chuckle was his response.
He was unlike anything she had ever known. Even as she squirmed in anticipation, he stared at her as if he were memorizing her, as if he had all the time in the world. He reached down and pulled her shift up her torso and over her head.
“Much better.”
She fought to ignore the fact that she was exposed before him with all her imperfections. The way his eyes roamed in appreciation, he didn’t find fault in her.
“Now?” she asked shakily. His manhood pressed heavily along the inside of her thigh and it was hard to think of anything else.
“You’re nervous.” He smiled seductively, his well-carved lips curling slowly.
“I’m not,” she protested, but the tremor to her voice betrayed her. She was beyond thought, beyond speech. There was only sensation.
“It’s fine . . . we’ll relax you again.” Leaning down, he pressed his mouth to hers in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue slid inside to taste her again and again until she was a mass of pudding beneath him. Her bones softened, her muscles liquefying.
She slid her hand around him, down the slope of his back. The sensation of his bare, taut buttock against her palm excited her. His flesh tightened and flexed in her hand, filling her with a heady sense of power. He growled when she squeezed him.
He ground his manhood against her, the long length of him slipping against her wet folds, creating a delicious friction. She panted, thrusting her h*ps until her sex felt swollen and hot, weeping in need of him.
He still kissed her, but she was now moaning into his mouth, quivering and overcome. When his hand found her breast, she lurched at the contact. He watched her beneath heavy lids as he lowered his head, still smiling that wicked smile even as his mouth parted, descending on her nipple.
She tensed in anticipation as his mouth closed over the tip of her breast. She released a breathy sigh as he pulled her nipple deep into his mouth, the velvet feel of his tongue rasping around the peak in languid strokes. The hot lave sent her over the edge. She was lost, her head writhing against the bed.
“That’s it, Annalise.”
The sound of her name on his lips was like an elixir. She seized his buttocks in both her hands and lifted her knees.
It was all the invitation he needed.
He lifted his mouth from her breast, and the hard length of him ceased its delicious friction. The head of him found her entrance and his shaft speared her in one deep plunge. She felt impaled.
She screamed, her nails digging into his flesh. He was too much. She couldn’t take him.
He cupped her face, holding her gaze. “Annalise, I’m sorry. It will ease. Sssh.” He rained kisses over her face. The corner of her lips, her mouth, her cheeks.
He remained lodged within her, the fullness of him becoming less invasive. The sting dulled to a vague burn. He thrust again slowly, carefully, again and again, building friction, stoking that fire back to life.
His pumps grew deeper, but still restrained, tempered. His body trembled over her, his buttocks taut beneath her palms.
He breathed harshly in her ear. “Forgive me, I must move . . .”
His strokes quickened then. She gasped at the sensation. Each one seemed to reach all the way to her womb. His force matched his speed. He slammed into her, his hands sliding under her. He cupped her derriere in both of his large hands, lifting her, better positioning her for his hard thrusting.
Something tightened inside her again, coiling and squeezing. With no deliberation, her inner muscles clenched and clung to him as he delved deep in the core of her. He groaned, clearly appreciating her efforts. His hands slid into her hair, pulling her face close to his. He burrowed his lips in the crook of her neck, his teeth lightly scoring the flesh.
The entire act stunned her. She made tiny gasping sounds that she couldn’t stop if she wished it. It was scandalous and shocking . . . more intimate than anything she had ever imagined. She had never felt so close, so exposed . . . so connected to another person.
She turned her face and pressed several open-mouthed kisses to his shoulder. He growled again, catching her mouth up in his again.
He kissed her like he could never have enough. Even as he continued to pump his hips, the hard length of him sliding into her, his lips clung to hers.
She opened her mouth against his in a silent cry as he worked over her, his sleek body so very big, and male, and beautiful. A sharp yelp escaped her as something inside her snapped. Sensation flooded her, rippling to every nerve ending. Her vision blurred. She became incapable of holding up her legs. They slipped down on either side of his h*ps on the bed as he took one final, shuddering plunge inside her.
He covered her, the weight of him wondrous and not the least bit cumbersome . . . even if her lungs did struggle to expand from the pressure of his significant form.
Apparently, he did not miss the wheeze of her breath. He lifted himself up on his elbows. His eyes gleamed down at her tenderly. “Sorry. Better?” He brushed loose strands back from her forehead.
She nodded, knowing she must look like a besotted fool grinning up at him. “I’ve never been quite as perfect as I am in this moment.”
She felt him pulse inside her, reminding her that he was still lodged there, joining them together. Her cheeks burned at still experiencing him there . . . feeling him so deeply when not in the act of lovemaking. It was somehow more intimate.
His gaze skimmed her, a physical touch. Her face felt hotter as his eyes traveled over her bare br**sts. “I’d have to agree that you are pretty perfect right now . . .”
He rolled to the side, sliding from her body and taking her with him, tucking her against himself. His hand stroked her bare arm. “You were a virgin.”
She was relieved he could not see her face, knowing she must be impossibly bright now. “Yes. Are you . . . surprised?”
He didn’t answer for some moments, but his fingers continued to draw small, electric circles on her skin, comforting her. “No. I think I knew. Or rather, I suspected.”
How? She bit back the question. It would have opened all manner of discussions revolving around who she was and what happened to her leading up to the moment he found her. That was the one subject she needed to avoid with him.
Owen was an honorable man. If she told him about Bloodsworth, he would insist on protecting her. And he couldn’t. Not without risking himself. And she wouldn’t have that.
“Annalise,” he murmured as though testing the sound of her name. “It suits you.”
She smiled against his chest, turning her face so that her lips brushed his smooth, warm flesh.
He continued, his voice deep and sober, compelling. “You’ve been hiding more than your name from me.”
Her smile evaporated. “I have.” No sense denying what was obvious anymore.
“Will you tell me what happened now?”
Her fingers lightly drummed over his chest. “Yes.” She closed her eyes against the lie. “But can we have this for right now? Just a while longer? Must we spoil it so soon with talk of me and my less than savory history?”
“Very well.” His circling fingers stilled, his hand settling over her arm, clasping her gently, each finger a warm imprint. “We will have time enough later for full explanations.”
Only they wouldn’t have time later.
She had to see to that. She had used up the last bit of her time with him. As much as it pained her, she needed to be gone this day—as soon as possible. Before Bloodsworth decided that she wasn’t honoring her promise and acted.
