by Golden Angel
Hands moved over her, pushing her corset to the ground, pulling her chemise over her head, and caressing her bare skin. Eyes closed, Josie cried out in shock at the sensation of someone else’s hands touching her so intimately, kindling a fire inside her that spread through her limbs, heating her blood.
Slightly bent over before him, she was shocked when his hot, bare body pressed against hers. When had he taken his clothes off? She did not have much time to concentrate on the question before his hands cupped her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples, his hot lips pressing against the back of her neck, the hard ridge of his arousal sliding between her buttocks. Whimpering from the overwhelming rush of sensations, she squirmed, her hips pushing back against him, and Elijah groaned, his fingers tightening on her breasts.
“Up on the bed,” he growled in her ear, releasing her, and Josie obeyed, still feeling dazed. She turned onto her back, lying with her head on the pillow, eyes widening as she saw him fully naked for the first time.
They had grown up together in the country. She had seen all the Stuart brothers without their shirts at one point or another, even Adam once in his smallclothes when he had gone swimming in the nearby brook, but she had never seen any of them nude. Perhaps she had forgotten, or never really noticed, how splendid Elijah was, like a statue carved by one of the old masters but with a male appendage far larger and far more fearsome than any sculpture.
His eyes, hot, almost feverish, swept over her body, and she froze, staring back at him. She had been so distracted by his muscular build and broad shoulders, the sprinkling of dark hair across his chest and down his stomach, leading to the thick, erect cock which rose from its own thatch of curls, she had almost forgotten she was naked in front of a man for the first time.
Anxiety rose again, hard and fast. Though not enough to overpower her arousal, it diminished it. What was she supposed to do now?
As though he could sense her inner conflict, Elijah smiled reassuringly as he got on the bed and knelt at her feet. Her knees pressed together, but he took an ankle in each hand and pulled them apart, forcing her to expose herself to him. Josie whimpered when she felt the cool air on her wet netherlips. Every part of her tingled as Elijah ran his hands up her legs to her inner thighs, pushing them open even farther.
“Good girl,” he said, the warm accolade making her feel oh-so-very good again, in a manner she did not understand. “Do not think, Josie. Just keep your eyes on me.”
His head dipped, his lips meeting her pussy, and Josie gasped aloud at the shocking, intensely pleasurable sensation of his tongue touching her there.
Elijah
Never before had Elijah cared if a woman had her eyes opened or closed while she was with him, but it now felt vitally important for Josie to watch him. To be intimately aware of who was touching her, pleasuring her. He did not, for a moment, want to worry that she was imagining his brother in his stead.
He could not see anyone but her, laid out before him like a sweet sacrifice to pleasure—utter perfection. His cock was hard as steel, aching to be buried between her thighs. Her hair was still piled high atop her head, like the lady she was, but she was naked and all his from those blonde locks to her pink-tipped nipples down to the blonde curls over her mound and the pink parts between her thighs to her delicate toes.
Holding himself back was exquisite agony, but he knew it would be worth it.
The slick cream from her pussy indicated her wetness, yet he wanted to take her further. She was unused to such pleasure, new to having someone touch her so intimately, and he would use that to his advantage. It was certainly something to keep in mind when they next argued. Heated and aroused, Josie was unusually compliant and obedient.
Adam’s words about her being more suited to him than to Joseph—since he would be able to take her in hand—ran through the back of his mind again. Though Elijah would have never described Josie as submissive, now he had to admit his brother had been on to something. He would have to ponder the implications later. Right now, he wanted his complete focus on his bride. His wife.
Mine.
As the sweet flavor of her arousal exploded on his tongue, the possessive thought gripped him. He was the first man to taste her nectar, to feel her shudder, and hear her cry out in pleasure. Josie was his now. Though he had always felt protective, this emotion went far beyond that. He did not know how to handle it, so he pushed it aside and focused on her.
Her moans.
Her taste.
Her squirming movements.
Her fingers in his hair, tugging at him while she moved her hips, pressing her pussy against his lips as if he needed any further encouragement.
Cock pressed against the bedsheets beneath him, Elijah’s tongue explored her soft crevices, her sensitive pink flesh while trying to ignore his own needs. Curling his arms under her thighs, his hands reached around to come over the top and spread her legs farther apart. He looked up the length of her body to see her still watching him, her eyes glazed with lust, her expression fascinated when their gazes met.
As soon as the connection was made, her cheeks blushed a very hot red, and Elijah moved his mouth up, tongue flicking over her clit. Josie cried out, body spasming, her back arching, but she looked back down at him, watching him between her thighs. Elijah stared at her as he sucked her clit into his mouth.
Nails dragged across his scalp, her grip tightening, completely worth every prickle of pain as she writhed in glorious climax.
Chapter 11
Josie
The pleasure was agonizing. There was no other word for it.
Too much. It was too intense, far too much for a person to bear and stay sane, yet she could not find the words to beg Elijah to stop.
She did not want him to.
But she was sure she would die if he did not.
What came from her lips were moans and wordless cries. She clutched his head, her thighs trembling in his grasp. If she could have closed her legs against the relentless assault of ecstasy, she would have, but his hands held them firmly apart. When she met his gaze, his eyes were hot, filled with the dark flame of his own arousal. It was Elijah as she had never seen him, never imagined him.
Fingers pushed inside her, stretching her almost painfully, and she gasped at the rude intrusion. Her muscles clenched, making his fingers feel even larger inside her, yet the sensation was pure pleasure. The fingers moved, thrusting, eliciting another gasp. It felt so very odd yet so very right. She had craved this, even though she had never experienced it. It was far, far more pleasurable than when she had performed her own explorations.
Finding a particularly sensitive spot with his lips, he sucked, and Josie screamed. Her back arched, toes curled, and tears slid from her eyes, trickling into her hair and the pillow beneath her head. It was a blissful torment, a pinnacle she tipped over, then she was falling, and falling, and falling, and he kept suckling. Waves of erotic rapture crashed over her, pummeling her senses, and she gasped for breath as the foreign sensations drowned her in their magnitude.
When Elijah finally released her from his lips, she slumped, swooning on the bed, limp and insensate. Nothing her friends had told her could have prepared her for such a devastating onslaught. She would have never believed them, even if they had been able to adequately explain.
Fingers sliding out of her, Elijah kissed his way up her stomach to her breasts, his lips moving over her so gently, so briefly, her skin shivered at his touch. She was so sensitized, even the mere brush of his lips was almost too much.
When he met her gaze again, his body settling between her thighs, something thick, hard, and heavy pressed at the entrance to her body, rubbing against her slick folds enticingly. Josie’s breath caught in her throat. Despite the lassitude wreathing her limbs, her body came alive again with nervous tension. This was it.
“Who am I, Josie?” he asked, his lips hovering over hers.
“My husband?” Confused, unsure of the response he wanted, the words came out
a question.
“My name, sweetheart.”
“Elijah.”
His dark eyes blazed, his body shifting atop hers. Pressing her hands against his chest, she could not look away as he shifted his hips and slid inside her. Far thicker than his fingers, he could not push in all the way. He moved slightly, then pulled away before thrusting in again a little deeper, claiming more space in her body. Wickedly intimate, she could not close her eyes, could not look away, as he breached her virgin entrance and buried himself inside her.
It hurt more than his fingers had but felt better. When he thrust a little harder, shoving more of himself inside her, she cried out, and his lips descended on hers. The sweet, salty taste unfamiliar, she realized she tasted herself on him. The utter perverseness of the act both aroused and repelled her, but there was no stopping him now.
His tongue invaded her mouth as determinedly as his cock invaded her pussy. She was full of him, her body surrounded by his limbs and torso and completely conquered by his mastery over her pleasure.
When he drew back, she cried out against his lips, her hands pressing against his chest, nails scratching over his skin as he moved against sensitive flesh. She was so wet, hot, and swollen, the pleasure was even more intense than what she had already experienced.
I cannot possibly take any more of this…
Yet when he thrust back in, his cock sliding into her wet sheath with ease, her hips rose to meet him, eagerly accepting his full length back inside her. It hurt wonderfully… if it hurt at all. Josie could no longer tell what she was feeling. The pain, the pleasure, were too closely linked together, leaving her awash with incomprehensible, overwhelming sensation.
Slow, steady thrusts, in and out of her body, were driving her wild again. Every time he filled her, his body pressed against the exquisitely sensitive spot, and her inner muscles clenched around him, building more pleasure deep within. The sensations were building to a climax again, and she could already tell it would be fuller, bigger, than the one she had already experienced.
She could only hang on to Elijah as though he could keep her from becoming lost in the sea of sensations that threatened to carry her away. All her life, he had been a rock, her rescuer, and now she clung to him rather than rejecting the security he represented.
Groaning, Elijah moved harder, faster, and Josie cried out as his passion spilled over onto her. Her legs wrapped around him, opening herself farther as he spent his desire on her. As he grew larger inside her, she clamped down around him, sobbing as a another assault of ecstasy wracked her senses.
Her body tingled, small explosions of fireworks traveling from between her legs over her skin, sending her reeling. She felt as though she might swoon again, dizzy from the sheer ecstasy that soared through her. Something hot pulsed inside her, and she shuddered, clutching Elijah, feeling his weight pressing down on her, his low groans mingling with her shrill cries.
“Elijah,” she murmured in his ear with a sigh, relaxing beneath him as she felt him settle on top of her, both panting for breath in the afterglow of their consummation.
Elijah
Hearing his name as a sigh of pleasure on Josie’s lips affected him far more than he would have thought possible. Many women had moaned, screamed, and sighed his name, but it had never made him feel like this. Pure satisfaction, combined with a shocking possessiveness he had not thought himself capable of.
Was it their long history? The fact she was his wife? Or some combination thereof?
He did not know. Nor did he understand where the surge of affection, far stronger than he had ever felt for her, came from.
Sliding onto his side, he wrapped his arms around her, and Josie snuggled in. Of all the words he would use to describe Josie Pennyworth, ‘cuddly’ had never been one of them, but then, she was no longer Josie Pennyworth. She was Josie Stuart, Lady Josephina Stuart, Countess of Durham, and the future Marchioness of Camden. His wife.
“That was… lovely.” She rubbed her nose against his chest hair. Adorable. Sweet. Complacent. More words he had never thought he would use to describe Josie Pennyworth.
Josie Stuart, now. The reminder only increased his sense of gratification.
“I am glad you thought so,” he murmured, absentmindedly stroking her hair. Josie sighed again, her arm wrapping around his waist and cuddling in his arms. They were so closely snuggled together, he could feel her falling asleep.
She muttered something about her mother, but he could not quite make out her words. Considering the one word he had understood, he was not sure he wanted to. Elijah stroked his fingers thru her hair. They had not even stopped to take it out of its pins, but he did not care. He had wanted her, and having her had done nothing to reduce the desire he felt for her.
Tonight had been nothing like he expected. It had been so much more. He had felt so much more.
Which was dangerous.
Though Josie knew about the Society of Sin, thanks to Mary, she could have no real concept of his darker desires. She was clearly a passionate young woman and perhaps more submissive than he had realized, but that did not mean she would be able to handle the Society’s pastimes. Nor did he think she truly understood what he wanted from her, despite speaking to Mary.
He did not want to simply spank Josie, then fuck her. He wanted to tie her to his bed, turn her bottom a blistering red, then torment her by pushing her to the edge of orgasm over and over again until she was crying and begging for climax. He wanted to pinch her pink nipples, fig her to make her squirm while she was being spanked, and ride her into ecstatic oblivion.
He could only imagine Josie’s expression were he to suggest any of this.
He was almost relieved he was still hunting for the traitor. While he did not particularly like the idea of betraying his marriage vows, no matter how popular the activity was among the ton, at least he would have some time to purge his needs while he remained part of the Society. Surely, by the time he finished his mission, he would have had his fill of the perversities enjoyed by the members of the Society and would be content to cleave to his wife and no other.
Tightening his arms around her sleeping form, he promised himself he would be faithful to her in his heart—where she already had an unexpected place.
Which no one must know about.
The thought inserted itself so swiftly, so strongly, he was taken aback. On its heels was the confident certainty it was true.
Whoever the traitor was, they were watching him closely—watching his whole family closely—and had already sent him a threatening note. Unlike the rest of the ton, the traitor knew exactly what had transpired to cause Elijah to be the one to marry Josie. Where others saw the possibility of a love match or at least a match of passion, the traitor knew differently.
If the villain realized there was more than childhood affection or the protectiveness of a neighbor and a gentleman, Josie might be in danger. Elijah’s blood ran cold. Bad enough that Evie had dragged her friends into the mix, the idea the reprobate might target Josie deliberately because Elijah cared about her…
He felt sick to his stomach at the very prospect.
Which was why he forced himself to unwrap his arms from around her, replacing the one under her head with a pillow. She grumbled softly in her sleep but did no more than sigh as he tucked the sheets around her to keep her warm.
Josie would sleep in her bed, and he would sleep in his. He did not like to think any of the servants might be working against his family, but in this case, even idle gossip could be precarious. To everyone else, he would need to appear to be a dutiful husband, but not one who demonstrated any deep emotions toward his wife. If the traitor thought Josie could be used against him…
No. That would not do at all.
Brushing a golden curl that had escaped her coiffure away from her cheek, Elijah bent down to brush his lips over the spot the curl had laid, feeling oddly tender. With one last look, he blew out the candles and returned to his lonely bed, where he stared
up at the ceiling, wondering how he was going to complete his mission and keep everyone safe.
Chapter 12
Josie
Waking up to an otherwise empty bed was an unpleasant surprise.
Even more unpleasant was discovering the mess she had made. Making a face at the sticky, flaky residue from last night’s passion, she scooted across the mattress, away from the still damp spot.
“No one warned me about that,” she muttered balefully, blinking her eyes in the morning light just as there was a knock on her door.
Elijah? Her heart leapt with excitement and anticipation before falling back down.
No, the knock had come from the hall door.
“Yes?” Her voice sounded a bit croaky, so she cleared her throat as the door opened to reveal her lady’s maid, Debbie’s sweet, happy face. It was odd to see Debbie here, in this house rather than her parents, but Josie was relieved to be faced with someone familiar first thing in the morning.
Truthfully, she had been expecting to see someone else familiar in her bed with her… Perhaps it was for the best. She had no idea what to say to him when she next saw him. A faint frown furrowed her brow. Perhaps a scolding for leaving such a mess for her to sleep in. Had he slept on the soiled sheets as well? She had no idea when he had left her bed. They had fallen asleep together, which had been rather lovely. The entire evening had been lovely. Unexpectedly so.
“G’morning, miss, I mean, my lady.” Debbie’s apple cheeks turned pinker as she stumbled over Josie’s new honorific. She blushed even harder when she looked past Josie and saw the bed.
“Good morning,” Josie said, pretending she did not see the pink-tinged evidence of her defloration in the middle of the sheet for all to see. It would be far less embarrassing for both of them if they ignored it completely. Josie tucked the top sheet in more tightly around her body. Debbie had seen her nude before, but she was feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment.
