by Stacy Reid
He had never been this hard in his life. Max came over her, blanketing her with his body and settling between her open thighs. He reached between them, put his cock to her so very wet entrance and thrust deep. Her muscles resisted his determined invasion and he stopped only halfway inside of her welcoming warmth.
She moaned aloud with an erotic pleasure.
“Did I hurt you?”
Unexpectedly she lifted a hand and cupped his jaw. “It stings but...”
“But?”
“There is also this deep pulsing pleasure. But I like it very much.”
He took a deep breath and flexed his hips, sliding his cock to the hilt. She gripped him tightly with her sex and started to shiver and with a sense of shock and pleasure he realized she had attained another release. Her low, gasping moans threatened to pull his release from him, but by God, not today. He needed to move at least bloody once!
Sweat beaded his brows, as he braced on his elbows with one of his hands, while he used the other to grip her still writhing hips. Then he withdrew. He groaned. The feeling was.... fucking hell! He had no words. Her tightness did not want to let him go, and it felt almost painful to drag his cock from her clenching muscles.
The sweat ran from his brows down the bridge of his nose to splat on her quivering breasts. Once his tip brushed against her once more, he thrust back in with excruciating slowness to the hilt.
“Oh!” she gasped, her eyes widening. “There is more to it.”
“There is more,” he said, pressing a kiss to her swollen mouth. “So much more and we will discover it all together.”
“When you moved just now it felt as if lightning struck low down in my stomach,” she whispered.
He repeated his motion.
One.
Then he did it again.
Two.
And again.
Three.
And again.
Four.
And with a deep groan again.
Five.
On that stroke he paused, gritting his teeth as his balls burned with the need to release. His damn body shook with the need ravaging him. She released the sweetest giggle and he opened his eyes to see her flushed face smiling up at him. Her eyes had glazed a little and that spurred him on. Then his wicked minx did something that squeezed her muscles around him. Max shouted and it was as if his body ripped control from his mind, and he discovered it was not that he had been fighting to release but to ravish and devour. The turbulence of his passion swirled around them, but she lifted her legs and arranged them around his hips and clasped his shoulders holding her to him as he snapped his hips, driving deep into the heart of her, repeatedly.
When she attained her climax, she bit into his shoulder, muffled cries and whimpers spilling from her. Even as she clenched on him a rush of wetness bathed his cock, allowing him to increase his speed and chase the devastating pleasure rushing up his spine. With a deep groan he emptied his seed deep inside her body. They stayed like that for several moments breathing raggedly. He savored the deep feeling of satisfaction echoing through his body.
“Max?” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“That was beyond wonderful.”
Pride burst inside his chest. “We are only just beginning,” he said with a touch of roguish arrogance.
Chapter 10
Several days later, Amalie and Max raced across the lanes of the estate. They went around a corner with such speed for a moment she thought she would have sailed off the side-saddle. Exhilaration chased through her body, and she laughed before they brought the horses to a slow trot.
“That was wonderful,” she said, sending him a grin.
He nodded his agreement, then dismounted from his horse. Dropping the reins for the animal to roam, he came over to her, lifted her by the waist and assisted her down. Glancing behind her, the main house was just a beautiful speck in the distance.
Max’s country home was an impressive stone facade which climbed four stories and boasted one of the most impressive forecourts she’d ever seen. They had spent some time earlier touring the grounds and the gardens after he’d realized his anxiety surrounding their coupling had made him remiss in providing a tour. It was very grand and tastefully furnished. The lower floors held a large and elegantly appointed drawing-room, three smaller parlors stylishly decorated, a breath-taking library, a palatial music room, a study, and an impressive ballroom that opened out to a well-designed garden.
It felt good to be outdoors, after the unexpected rains of the last few days. The weather had been dreary and had kept them indoors. The interlude had been delightful, and they had spent the days playing chess, whist, reading together in his wonderful library. And of course, making love. She blushed just recalling Max’s insatiable appetites. Each night and day he took her several ways, each moment sweeter and somehow hotter than the last. He wrung such cries of pleasure from her throat and revealed the wanton in her she flushed when she recalled her exuberance.
This morning, she had woken early, went into the library to read the rest of his book. Then she had returned to the room and took the lead by kissing him all over. There had been a chapter about allowing wives to be free with their desires, to allow them to be in control in every way. She had followed each example he had set out, even taking his throbbing length into her mouth. The memory of his groans, and how he had shouted and fisted the sheets had her grinning.
“Pray confess what lurid thoughts have you smiling and blushing at the same time.”
Amalie tossed her head. “I am basking in the memory of how I made you unravel this morning. You begged me to end your torture at one moment if you would recall.”
He trailed the back of his fingers lightly over her throat, deviltry glinting in his eyes. “Ah yes, the sweet bliss of your tongue on my coc—”
She slapped his arm. “Max!”
He cast her an unrepentant grin. “I wondered if you could blush any brighter.”
He laced their hands together and tugged her into a stroll. She did not want their days to end, and only if she could stay with him here forever. It was astonishing the sense of fulfillment she felt being with him. Amalie wondered just what she wanted from him.
Everything, her heart breathed. Dear God, I want everything.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, with a frown. “You looked so frightened just now.”
A terrible anxiety tightened her throat. “Nothing of import.”
“Amalie—” he began.
“When are we to return to town?” she hurriedly asked.
His steps faltered, and he urged her to face him. He tugged his gloves from his hands and placed them inside his jacket, and then his large hands cupped her face gently. Her skin prickled pleasurably. “I was thinking we should stay here for the rest of the year.”
She laughed, then sobered to see he was most assuredly serious. “We are in June!”
“Yes, and the season will end in a few weeks and we would retire to the countryside to rest our weary feet from all those frivolous excitements. I have nothing in town. Everything I need is right here with me.”
She reached up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “Come with me by the seaside.”
Surprise flared in his eyes. “To Brighton?”
Her heart took a perilous leap and then started to hammer. “I have a most delightful cottage there you know, and Max, it is glorious. The ocean is just there. I can hear the roar of it each day, and there are times I stroll along the shoreline without shoes or stockings! Just sinking my feet into the pebbled sands. I... I would like for you to join me there for a few days. We would have to be even more discreet. I do have some nosy but wonderful neighbors.”
“It would be my pleasure,” he murmured. “Just let me know when and it shall be done.”
A hot ache grew in her throat. “I would like to paint you.”
“Paint me!”
“Yes, in the nude perhaps.”
He made a ch
oking sound, and she laughed.
She waited until her quickened pulse had quieted then said, “Look behind you.”
With an arched brow, he turned, his gaze scanning the wide-open area. His gaze landed on a spot under a large willow tree. A few blankets had been spread, two chairs with easel and paintbrushes. There were also two picnic baskets and a book on a corner of the blankets.
Every time their gaze met; her heart turned over in response. It felt as if she were falling in love with him all over again, except, with a painful jolt, she admitted she had never stopped loving him. “The servants helped me arrange it,” she murmured.
“Good God am I to get naked in this frightful weather,” he whispered with mock horror. “Well there is no help for it.” Then he shrugged from his riding jacket.
How he made her laugh.
“I just thought we could paint! I shall spare your sensibilities and wait until I am in your chamber to paint you in the nude.”
They made their way over and sat on the chairs.
“I confess I have never painted in my life.” He sat on his chair and patted his lap. “Why don’t we paint together?” There was a decided glint in his eyes, and she smiled.
Amalie sat in his lap and took up the paintbrush. “What shall we paint?”
He dipped his head to nuzzle her neck and inhaled deep.
“What do you miss the most?”
She turned her head to stare at him. “You are already here with me.”
Something intense flared through his eyes, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable, so she reached out and painted his nose.
“Ah, it is this kind of play, why didn’t you say so?” he murmured roguishly. “Then he leaned over dipped his finger into the paint and swiped it on her cheek.
Before she could retaliate, he swooped down and took her mouth in a burning kiss. With a sigh of surrender, she greedily responded. When they broke apart, he gently turned her around.
“Look at the colors in the sky, the formation of the clouds and those birds on the skyline. Let’s paint them.”
She nodded, and they stayed like that, painting and laughing and chatting until the endless day bled into the night.
The very next day, Amalie and Max reposed on the soft, plush carpet by the fireplace in the library. Though it was barely noon, the sky was overcast, the sun hidden by dark, bloated clouds, encouraging them to be indoors once again. They were in scandalous disarray, for he had just made love to her wickedly and so thoroughly she felt limp with exhaustion and pleasure. She had peaked at least four times, and surely the servants had heard her screams of fulfillment through the large oak door. That had not seemed to bother Max the least, and he had smiled with intoxicating sensuality to her fretful worries.
Biting her bottom lip in deep concentration she glared at the chess board. He had won the last two games, and she had only won one so far. They had agreed to play six rounds, and the looser would be at the winner’s mercy. From the wicked glint in his eyes, Amalie suspected that it wouldn’t be foot rubs and reading that he would demand. The blasted man planned to torture her. He had even gone upstairs for four of his silken cravats and dropped them on the carpet. Her gaze kept darting to them, and she wondered exactly what he planned to do with them should he win. Her curiosity almost urged her to allow him to win, but her naturally competitive spirit would not allow it.
“Amalie.”
“Hmm,” she said distractedly, debating it she should make a move with her bishop or to sacrifice another pawn to lay a trap that would only be sprung four moves later.
Max cleared his throat, and the discomfort of it, tore her gaze from the chess board to look at him.
He was clothed only in his trousers, and his naked chest rippled with muscles. Her lover was so dashing and virile. Though she had just spent over an hour in his wicked embrace, the desire to be snuggled against him darted through her. Amalie had to fight the overwhelming need to be closer to him. She tried to assess his unreadable features.
“What is the matter?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, then leveled his direct stare at her. “I... I did not protect you.”
She frowned, not understanding his meaning. “Protect me from what?”
His gaze travelled over her face and searched her eyes. “The possibility of a child.”
Her stomach knotted, and she slowly pushed up into a sitting position. “A child?”
A flush mounted on his savagely hewed cheekbones, and he too sat up, folding his legs beneath him.
“I... fuck!”
She flinched at the curse word. “Surely it is not a given that... that I might fall with child?”
“In my experience, which is not an excuse, I did not think to withdraw from your body... at the end. I was so damned consumed that I did not think.”
She swallowed. “What made you realize it now?”
His jaw tensed visibly.
“Max?”
“I was simply lost in a dream for a moment.”
“And what dream is that?” she demanded softly.
He stood and padded to the windows overlooking the lake. There was a restless energy to his movements. “You are walking on the lawn as you did this morning with a book in your hand. I have seen no one walk and read before, and you did it with such enchanted animation. Only this time... I imagined you with your belly swollen with child, and another two children running behind you flying kites.”
Amalie stood and clasped her hands before her. “Are you there too?”
He faced her, and the raw need in his eyes had her gasping. “Yes.”
They stared at each other, a silent question swirling in the air.
“Do you still want children?” He asked.
“Yes, I do,” she said, hating the pain bursting in her heart. “I... you know I have always wanted a large family.” Amalie took a deep breath. “What if I am with child?” This was never something she had given any consideration when she had agreed to their affair. How naïve and ignorant she had been.
“I will take care of you.”
Her pulse skittered alarmingly, and a heaviness settled in her stomach. “How?”
In a few steps he was before her. Cupping her chin, he regarded her carefully. The intrusive knock on the door jolted her. With a scowl he lowered his hands and moved around her.
“What is it?”
The butler entered; his eyes carefully lowered. “Forgive me my lord, your sister, Baroness Melville is here. I’ve placed her in the parlor by the east gardens, but she was most eager to find you.”
Max’s mouth tightened, and she wondered what emotions he felt.
“I will be there shortly.”
The butler bowed and melted away.
“We will resume this conversation later. I will deal with my sister.”
Amalie nodded. “Should I come with you?”
“No. Do not leave this room.”
That order sent a shock through her. “Max?”
He did not answer, putting on his shirt and waistcoat with impatient jerks. Without putting on his boot and jacket he made his way from the room. At the door, he shifted so he could see her.
“I do not wish for you to encounter my sister. Stay here until I’ve return to you.”
“It does not matter to me if your sister knows I am here,” she whispered.
“It does to me.” Then the door closed with a resounding thud.
Oh God. Amalie hurriedly made herself presentable. Thank heavens she had donned back her day dress after he had ravished her. Ignoring the twinges in her body and the ache between her thigh, she hurriedly put on her stockings and slippers. Then she tided her hair as best as she could without a maidservant assisting her.
Then she sat on the sofa and waited. She tried to entertain herself by playing both sides in the chess game but found it difficult to concentrate. The clock on the mantle ticked by slowly until an hour had passed. Amalie stood and paced, wondering exactly when Max would retrieve her
.
Her breath hitched. Stay... retrieve. Like I am a bloody dog! Her emotions vacillated between shame and anger, and she tried to tell herself she overstated the matter, but the feelings lingered, twisting her heart into a painful knot. Her heart swelled with a feeling of doubt. Her thoughts tumbled, jagged and painful.
Lifting her chin, she made her way from the library. She would head to her chamber, call for a bath, and then finish reading her book. She would not hide away like she was a distasteful secret. Once in the hallway, she made her way to the winding staircase. Amalie climbed the stairs when a loud gasp had her stopping and turning around.
Max arched a brow at her, but it was his sister’s scandalize mien Amalie stared at. Her eyes were red, and her nose blotched. She had been crying.
“You said she was not here!” She slung accusingly at her brother.
Amalie’s heart cracked when his only reply was directed at her.
“I instructed you to remain in the library.”
An inexplicable feeling of emptiness swelled inside. “Go to hell!” she snapped hoarsely.
His sister gasped, and her hand fluttered to her throat. “How vulgar!”
Anger flashed in his head. “You will be civil and respectful at all times to Lady Weatherston or I will drop you on your fundaments outside and bar you from entering again no matter how prettily you cry!”
His defense did not soothe the pain in her heart. He had planned to hide her presence in his home.
“Lady?” his sister demanded scathingly, her eyes flashing. “I told you of the rumors swirling about town linking your disappearance and you denied she was here!”
“I informed you I have no interest in rumors, that is not a denial.”
“So, it is true? You’ve taken her as your mistress?”
Unable to bear any more of that judgement, Amalie hurried up the stairs, painfully aware he did nothing to stop her. Was that what he had spent the hour doing? Reassuring his sister that Amalie would not taint their family’s name? she entered her room and leaned against the door, breathing harshly. With a sense of alarm, she realized tears coursed down her face. She had allowed no one to make her feel so wretched in the ton, in all the years they vilified her, so she could not explain the wild, unfettered feelings tearing through her body.
