“I’m increasing, you bastard.” She took a small step back from his oncoming assault.
“My sainted mother would take exception to that statement. She was always true to my father. Truly? You are increasing? It was bound to happen sooner or later. There were no assurances, of course, but the possibilities were definitely great considering how we have been fucking each other’s brains out,” he said, the smile broadening upon his face. As Angeline opened her mouth to descend more explicatives upon him, he popped a cream-covered strawberry into her mouth. Her stunned look assured him he had caught her off guard as she tried to hastily chew the fruit, but when she opened her mouth again he popped in yet another cream-laden berry.
Angeline stepped back as she chewed. Geoffrey stepped toward her. She opened her mouth again to speak. Another berry was popped in despite her hands pushing firmly against his chest. She stepped back again. He followed closing her against the side of the bed. She pushed harder but to no avail as the next sweet confection was forced upon her as soon as she opened her mouth.
“My dear,” he crooned in her ear, “I have been without you for far too long. I am in most desperate need of you now.” With one hand he flipped her onto her back upon the bed as he set the bowl of berries down on the bedside table. In a trice he tossed up her skirts and was upon her, sliding his warm, berry-juice stained hand between her legs. “Oh, yes,” he whispered into her ear while she labored at ridding herself of the succulent berries. “You are already wet for me.”
Without further hesitation Geoffrey slid his rampant member into her warm, moist sheath releasing a groan as he felt the pleasure of her body wrapped around his own. His hands moved to her bodice to quickly loose the buttons then followed with his lips upon her nipple to bring it to rapt attention. He savored the moan that now escaped his lover’s lips.
Angeline swallowed the last of the strawberry then gasped for breath as the heat and hardness of him filling her and the sensations of his mouth on her breast drove all other thoughts from her mind. He was suckling her, tenderly biting her nipple, licking, taunting and teasing her. And she was already filled with desire for him. Damn her own body. How could she keep her thoughts straight when her body defied her whenever he came within ten feet of her? Bloody hell. He didn’t even have to be in the room. All she had to do was think of him and she flushed and heated and grew moist. Was there no hope left for her self-control?
He moved his lips to her mouth murmuring, “Tell me you missed me, Angeline. Tell me you missed feeling my cock inside your cunt. Your body tells me this is true, but tell me. I want to hear you say it.” He kissed her hard, pushing her lips apart so he could ravage her mouth with his tongue. She pushed her hips up to meet his, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sank her nails in his back. He groaned.
“Yes. Yes, Geoffrey, I missed you. You shouldn’t have left me . . .” she whispered back as she wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him deeper inside her. Then she hesitated, pulling herself away.
“But wait. I must know. Did you betroth yourself to some lame-brained chit while you were away?”
His head came up, his eyes dark green and fired with passion. “No, my angel.” He returned his attention to her breast.
She pushed him away again. “Tell me you are not already wed.” It was difficult to keep the panic from her voice.
A smile crossed his face. “Trust I would not be buried between your luscious thighs if I had the misfortune of wedding another. Our encounter would have been formal and in your father’s home. Now stop asking such silly questions. I need you now.”
Geoffrey thrust into her, deeply then shallowly, building her, pulling her along. He kissed her lips, dragged kisses along her jaw, around her ear, down her neck. Her body trembled in his arms but he seemed to be holding back his full passion for as long as he could.
Angeline tensed to hold back the feeling, to keep from letting go of the climax Geoffrey was demanding of her. She wouldn’t let go. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But once again her body turned traitor as the waves of release rolled over her again and again and again. She convulsed in his arms, holding him as tightly as she could, feeling him stroking her more quickly, not stopping, unrelenting until she shattered and he climaxed with her, pouring his seed into her again, gasping for breath and filling his need and hers.
When the release was finished, when they had both let go, Geoffrey lay quietly next to her, holding her in his arms. “Mmmm, just as good as I remembered. And you tasted of strawberries and cream. How I love pouring my seed into you,” he crooned.
His last comment brought Angeline back to the present in a trice. She tensed her body and pushed against his as she jumped from the bed.
Taken unawares, Geoffrey was pushed from his repose and fell to the floor onto his backside. “What the bloody hell was that?” he snapped.
“Your seed. You bastard. I’m increasing because of your bloody seed,” she spat at him.
Geoffrey raised himself from the floor then moved toward her forcing her back against the door. “Your bloody, damned right, my seed. It’s my seed you carry inside your belly, isn’t it?” he demanded.
“You damned well know it is. There was no other in my bed before you and there has been none but you since, you degenerate dog,” she threw back at him.
He moved up to her taking the front of her bodice into his strong hands as she flattened back against the door, sliding the fabric down her arms to bare her breasts. Then he pushed his hands behind her to release her skirt and petticoat feeling them slide to the floor between them. “It better be mine,” he roared.
“Of course it is, I’m your whore,” she screamed back.
He moved closer, pushing against her belly, his cock aroused once again. “You are not my whore,” he whispered into her ear. “I have never paid you for your sexual favors. You are not even my mistress since I have never gifted you with anything except my seed. But you are mine, for exactly that reason, I gave you my seed and you carry it in your body,” he growled as he lifted her onto his jutting organ.
“No,” she said. As her legs wrapped around him, he sank home.
“You wanted me. You wanted this.” He pushed deep inside her again. “Tell me you didn’t ache for me while I was gone. Tell me you didn’t think of me sinking my cock deep inside your slick, hot cunt. Look how wide you spread your legs to take all of me inside of you over and over.” He thrust in and out of her hard and deep losing control of his need and not caring.
Angeline was lost again, her body wanting to take all of him, to be close to him, as close as she could get, for as long as she could have him. Her body throbbed for him, tightened around him, drew him in. “ Yes,” she screamed as she came again, convulsing, pushing, grasping, tearing at his hair while he poured his seed into her one more time.
He held her against the door, his hands gently squeezing her bottom as he tried to catch his breath. “I’ll never get enough of you, Angeline. You are mine. Only mine. I want to spill my seed into you forever.” Slowly he let her legs down, let her feet touch the floor so she could regain her composure.
Angeline’s mind was spinning, her body still throbbing from their coupling. His seed. She was pregnant because of his seed. She pushed him away and stormed to the other side of the room.
“You knew,” she accused. “Could you not have taken precautions? Are there not such things? You did it intentionally?”
Again he advanced upon her. Her fury aroused him every time, almost instantaneously. The more indignant and scornful she became, the more he wanted to tame her, to possess her, to make her his.
“Of course I knew. Certainly there are, but that would not have suited my purposes. I’ve spent enough Seasons in London. I know what the mamas do to try and snare the likes of me for their dim-witted debutante daughters. Even without the title I had m
oney enough to be desirable on the marriage mart. I spent a lot of my time escaping the well-set snares of the matrons. I think it only too appropriate I used those exact methods to get what I wanted, you. And you were only too happy to oblige me.”
“So you admit it,” she spat at him. “You deliberately got me with child?”
In front of her again, he gently pushed her back toward the bed. “Most effectively it would seem. I wanted a wife, an heir and you, Angeline. Now you must marry me or have a bastard to raise on your own. What would your father say? Especially when I tell him that I am only too willing,” he told her as he flipped her onto the bed face down then climbed between her legs. “And, you. Would you really wish to see me marry another? Have another bear my heir and let your child, my first born, be passed over? I think not.”
“How could you be so low?” she vented.
“I always get what I want, Angeline. And I want you. I was willing to tip the scales in my favor if the Fates would support me.” With that pronouncement he grabbed her by the waist and sunk his sex into her from behind.
Angeline gasped at his entry once again. He ignored the fact that she was swollen from his rough handling and so exquisitely sensitive as well. Again her body welcomed him. She pushed back against him. She was still so highly strung she started to climax immediately, gasping for breath, losing control.
“Oh, Angeline,” he groaned as he felt her sheath throb and contract around him. “Oh, Angeline. How can I control myself when you do this to me? You take me so easily. Every time. Over and over. Angeline,” he groaned as he joined her dance and her ecstasy.
Exhausted, Geoffrey laid down next to her and wrapped her tightly in his embrace. He still could not comprehend the level of feelings that rushed over him when he thought about her, when he was with her, even in the most platonic of circumstances, and, especially, when they made love. He held her close, sighing with his contentment. She was carrying his seed, his child. Surely she would marry him now. Did he have to put it into words? Risk being made a fool?
It took a few moments for Geoffrey to register Angeline was trembling in his arms and his chest was wet where her cheek lay against it. Gently he pushed her away. “What’s this? Tears? You can have no doubt I will marry you, can you?”
“No,” she sobbed softly against the warm fur of his chest.
“Of course I will. It’s what I wanted. I asked you weeks ago if you remember. When shall we set the date? I am sure the sooner the better as the local gossips will be counting the days when you deliver.”
“You cad. You planned it all,” she sobbed anew.
“Angeline,” he said, tilting her head up with a thumb and forefinger so he could look into her tear-stained face. “Surely you wouldn’t want to raise our child as a bastard when I am only too willing to wed you? I think we get along very well together. Would it really be so bad being married to me?” he asked, confused as to her actions when any number of other women would gloat to be in her position, especially since he had inherited.
Tears still streaming down her cheeks, she responded, “No, I guess it shan’t be so bad. It’s just I never wanted to get married, at least not this way.”
“Tell me, Angeline, why. Why is it that you don’t want to marry me? We share so much in common and you cannot complain about how we fit together in bed. Why do you not want me?” he asked, bracing himself to hear an answer he might dread.
Angeline sobbed loudly as she buried her face in his chest, “Because I love you.” Then renewed her tears and trembling.
Geoffrey lay still, contemplating her response. She loved him? She loved him. She did not want to marry him because she loved him?
“Angeline,” he whispered as he tilted her head up again to place the most delicate of kisses upon her lips. “You do? You love me? Oh, Angeline . . .” Holding her tightly he kissed her eyes, her hair, her throat, her ears, every place he could reach, with tenderness. He moved down her body to caress and kiss the tops of her breasts, to take the still swollen orbs into his mouth, lovingly, gently, reverently.
“No, Geoffrey,” she whispered, “I can’t possibly take you again,” she protested weakly.
“Yes, Angeline, let me make love to you,” he murmured against her stomach as he kissed his way down to the confluence of her legs. “Let me worship your body and make it sing,” he whispered as he parted the still tender, still swollen lips protecting her treasures. Placing his lips upon her clitoris, he kissed it gently then laved it lovingly with his tongue. He slid his hands under her bottom to tilt her hips up and spread her legs wide.
“Geoffrey,” she weakly protested.
“Hush, Angeline. It will be all right. Really it will be,” he assured her softly then went back to kissing her mons, her clitoris, the slit still wet with their juices. He took one hand from behind her to slide it between her legs. Two fingers gently probed within her until he found the spot that brought a small gasp from her lips. There he tenderly rubbed, fondled, caressed while still his mouth was upon her.
“Oh, Geoffrey,” she whispered as her hips started to undulate to the rhythm of his fingers within her and the tongue taunting her without. Her hands moved to his hair as her passion moved into a slow, heated burn. She ran her fingers through it while her hips moved, unrelenting, and her tension mounted out of her control.
Still he stroked her passion. Feeling her body throb around his fingers. Feeling the honey from her drip over his fingers. Feeling the hard, engorged nub that was the pearl of her passion, the key to her ecstasy, against his sensitive, titillating tongue.
“Geoffrey,” she screamed as she met her climax. “Geoffrey, please,” pulling his hair wildly trying to escape from the source of her pleasure and her pain. “Oh, God, Geoffrey,” she panted as her body released its juices wildly nearly drowning Geoffrey in her come.
Geoffrey, his cock throbbing yet again, moved away from her furcula, gathering her in his arms. There was no doubt he could enter her again, but, instead, he held her tightly to him basking in her afterglow, satisfied with the way he had made her feel. Her breathing gradually slowed as she fell asleep in his embrace. She loved him. There was nothing else he could ask for.
Chapter 24
Angus rose from his chair behind his desk as he watched Geoffrey enter his library. After the butler announced him, the marquess strode in all elegance and self-assurance. Angus moved around the desk with his right hand outstretched. “Welcome, my lord. You look as if there is business on your mind? Some problem with your holdings?”
With the release of the handshake, Geoffrey settled himself against the frame of the windows. Looking out he could just catch a glimpse of Angeline tending her flower garden. Instantly his body tensed, his phallus hardened. He reined in his thoughts then responded, “Not mine, my lord. Yours.”
“I have no problems on my lands.”
“Not your lands, Angus. I have come to ask for Angeline’s hand. I wish to marry her. As soon as she will allow it,” Geoffrey stated firmly as he turned back to the man who would soon be his father-in-law.
Angus, standing in the middle of his library on the richly colored Persian carpet, rested his elbow in one hand, his chin in the other, a pensive look spreading across his face. “She has agreed to this match, Geoffrey,” he queried warily.
“Yes.”
“Of her own free will, my lord?”
“Well, yes.”
“Is she increasing, Geoffrey? Have you played your final hand and gotten my daughter with child to win?” asked the earl quietly.
Geoffrey’s face flushed crimson as he spoke, “I will make her a good husband, Angus. There is nothing she will want for, no needs that will go unfulfilled. She will be protected and happy in my care. And . . . she says she loves me.”
“I have no doubt you shall tend her well, Geoffrey, but, do
you love her?” the father asked, ignoring the fact his questions were not directly answered but sensing the answers anyway.
Geoffrey turned back to the window and the image of his purpose as he said, “I do not know what that emotion is. I know I miss her when we are apart. I enjoy her company more than any other when we are together. I want her to bear the children I wish to sire. Is that love, Angus? If so, then yes, I love her.” Having said that he thought even more about it. Was this love? This emptiness he felt when she was not near. The fullness he felt when she was. The constant need to be close to her and the total loss of control when he made love to her. Was this love? This incessant feeling of elation one minute and deflation the next. How did one live life in such a raucous way? Would it even out once they were married and he knew she would be by his side forever?
“Well, Geoffrey,” said Angus breaking into the marquess’s reverie, “I would say it’s close enough from my experience. Have you told Angeline?”
“Told her? I have told her I will marry her and care for her and protect her. Is that not enough?” Geoffrey still resisted Vanessa’s advice. Why should he play that hand when he had gotten what he wanted without it?
“Not for most women, son,” answered the older, more experienced of the two. “Most women want to hear the words no matter what the circumstance.”
“If she doesn’t know what I feel after all I have gone through for her, she is a fool.”
An Improper Seduction Page 21
