Colin was certain he would die of the pleasure Amelia bestowed with such enthusiasm. She seemed lost in the act, less focused on him and more on her own enjoyment. Her beautiful face was flushed, her green eyes glassy with arousal, her lips red and swollen and stretched tightly around his girth.
“Yes,” he whispered, as she moaned and sucked harder. “Your mouth is heaven . . . take me deeper . . . yes . . .”
His body ached with the force under which he leashed it. He was trembling, burning, gasping for air. The sight of his cock sliding in and out of the ring of her lips was killing him. An hour ago, he had thought he would never touch her again, never hold her or feel her hot and wet around his cock as she climaxed beneath him. The pain of that loss was nearly too much to survive. To lose all hope and be left with nothing, only to see this—his breeches barely parted, his cock engorged and throbbing with need, and Amelia . . . the love of his life . . . servicing his lust with such passionate fervor. It made the ecstasy of her luscious mouth agonizingly intense.
“My love . . . I won’t last . . .” His voice was so guttural, he barely understood himself, but she knew. She collected his meaning. He felt it in the way she touched him, saw it in the way she looked at him.
“Do it,” she breathed, her words warm against his wet skin. Her hand fisted around him and pumped, drawing up his bollocks and making his thighs quake with the intensity of his rising climax. She cupped him there, her fingers sliding through the rough hair and fondling his sack.
He cursed, the tension in his spine painfully acute. “I will flood you—damn it . . .”
Her eager mouth flowed over the aching head of his cock in a burning caress of drenching heat and hungry suction. His lungs seized, his vision darkened, his fingers tightened on her scalp.
He was moving on instinct alone; his hips bucked and thrust, running his cock over her flickering tongue and against the back of her throat. Her clenched hand prevented him from moving too deep, kept him from taking too much. Amelia moaned in sensual supplication, the vibration tingling up the length of his erection and freeing his coiling orgasm.
Colin growled as he erupted, his cock jerking with every wrenching pulse of semen, his fingers tangling in her hair. Over the mad beating of his heart and harsh, panting breaths, he heard her seductive mewls and desperate swallows as he came such as he’d never come before, pumping hard and fast into the milking depths of her mouth until he was completely and utterly spent.
She released him with a last, lingering suck, her lips shiny with his seed and curved in a purely woman’s smile. Colin stared down at her in a daze, his thoughts lost in an alcohol-soaked, orgasm-induced fog. His heart, however, was as alive as it had ever been.
Had he truly thought sex would temper his love for her and make it more manageable? He loved her more now than ever, with a reckless, saturating abandon.
Lose her? Never.
Pushing her back, he slid down. He parted her thighs with his palms and buried his face in the slick, humid paradise of her glistening sex. Colin licked her, parting the pouty lips to stroke across her clitoris.
“Colin!” she cried out, her voice filled with startled, embarrassed pleasure.
He smiled against her, then kissed her deeply, turning his head to push his tongue inside the tiny, clenching slit that was made to hold his cock. The taste of her intoxicated him, addicted him.
“No . . . Please. ”
There was something in her voice, a note of panic that urged him to lift his head. He stared at her, saw the wild light in her eyes and asked, “What is it?”
“Please. Stop.”
He frowned, noting the high flush on her cheeks and the trembling of her thighs beneath his hands. She was hopelessly aroused, yet she stayed him.
“Why?”
“I cannot think . . .”
Reason. Conscious thought. She wanted it. Servicing him gave her power. Being serviced by him took it all away.
“You think too much,” he said hoarsely. “Give in. Free the woman who took me to her bed without care for anything or anyone.”
She struggled beneath him. “You want t-too much . . .”
“Yes,” he growled. “All of you. Every piece . . .”
He was in her then, giving her pleasure with avid lips and tongue, eating at her, drinking her in, inhaling the primal scent of her deep into his lungs. The innate hunger he felt for her stirred in response, rousing and climbing, swelling his cock as if she had not just drained him.
Amelia twisted beneath Colin, clawing at his shoulders, begging for mercy in a voice roughened by pure female lust. She was on the edge of a steep cliff that terrified her, and he was pushing her, giving her no quarter, allowing her no space to retreat.
His tongue was an instrument of torturous pleasure, lashing and flickering, driving her higher and harder. His lips circled her clitoris, sucking and pulling. And the noises he made. The wet smacking, the rumbling purrs, the groans of need that made her slicker and hotter.
Thick skeins of dark hair tickled her inner thighs, moving as he did, narrowing her focus until all she knew was the tightening of her womb and the helpless rolling of her hips.
He demanded her response, forced it from her, turned her into a mindless creature of desire and need and desperate wanting.
“No . . . no . . . no . . .” she gasped, fighting him even as her fingers tangled in his locks and pulled him closer.
So that he could not leave her again.
Colin cupped her buttocks and lifted her, altering the angle, urging her thighs to widen so that he could take everything. He thrust his tongue hard and fast into the spasming opening, and she climaxed violently, her arms falling heavily to the floor, her nails clawing at the rug.
“Colin!”
She was devastated, destroyed. But he was not done with her. Before she could catch her breath, he was over her, inside her, pushing deep into the heart of her with the thick, hot length of his cock.
“Yes.” He groaned, sliding his arms beneath her shoulders, holding her in place as he lunged with sensual grace and seated himself to the hilt. “Jesus . . . you feel so good.”
He ground his hips against her, rubbing deep inside her, making her feel every throbbing inch of him.
Gasping, writhing, Amelia accepted his possession with ravenous greed, her swollen tissues parting for his relentless drives with a quivering welcome. He gripped her throat with one hand, her hip with the other, pinning her down. Dominating her. Possessing her. Branding her as his.
“Mine,” he growled, sliding in and out of her, the movements of his hips leisurely, though nothing else about him was.
There was a look on his flushed and sweat-dampened face. Part agony, part pleasure. So austere and focused. So intent. His eyes blazing with heat. His handsome features stretched tautly with strain. It was searingly erotic. Intimate.
Colin was making love to her. He was alive and in her arms, in her body. Whispering words of love and desire, making dreams come true that she had thought were forever dead to her.
Again the tension built and coiled, causing her to tighten around his straining cock and ripple along its length, making him curse and growl. She felt the chafing rubbing of his waistband between her thighs, heard the sound of his boots digging into the weave of the rug, realized he was still partly dressed just as she was.
The image in her mind of how they must look—she with parted robe and lifted night rail, he with boots and breeches lowered just enough to free his beautiful cock, both locked on the floor in carnal congress—took her to orgasm.
“There,” he purred, watching her with a feral smile of possession, thrusting strong and sure, extending her pleasure until she thought it might kill her. The surge of sensation was unbearable, tingling across her skin until it was too tight and sensitive.
When she was limp and whimpering, he sought his own pleasure, his dark head thrown back, his neck corded tightly, his cock so thick and hard.
Amelia watched
him as he had watched her, her legs wrapped around his working hips, her hands at his waist. Pulling him into her.
His pace picked up, his grip tightened. She felt the climax coming, felt it grip him in a fist, felt it tighten his lungs. It burst from him in shocking spurts of molten liquid inside her, again and again, the breaking dam heralded by his ragged, extended groan and jerking, wrenching shudders.
“Dear God,” he gasped, quaking, rubbing his pelvic bone against her swollen, oversensitive clitoris and making her come again. Suffusing her body with delight that seeped into her bones and heart and soul. Making them one.
“My love,” he breathed, rubbing his big body against hers, drenching her in the scent of his skin. “I won’t release you. You’re mine—”
She stemmed further words with a desperate kiss.
Chapter 16
Amelia woke to a hand held over her mouth. Scared beyond measure, she struggled against her assailant, her nails clawing at his wrist.
“Stop it!”
She stilled at the command, her eyes opening wide, her heart racing madly as her sleep-fuzzy brain came to an awareness of Colin looming over her in the darkness.
“Listen to me,” he hissed, his gaze darting to the windows. “There are men outside. A dozen at least. I don’t know who they are, but they are not your father’s men. ”
She yanked her head to the side to free her mouth. “What?”
“The horses woke me as the men walked by the stable. ” Colin stepped back and yanked off her counterpane. “I snuck out the back and came round to fetch you. ”
Embarrassed to be seen in only her night rail, Amelia yanked the covers back over her.
He yanked them off again. “Come on!” he said urgently.
“What are you talking about?” she asked in a furious whisper.
“Do you trust me?” Colin’s dark eyes glittered in the darkness.
“Of course.”
“Then do as I say, and ask questions later. ”
She had no notion of what was happening, but she knew he wasn’t jesting. Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded and slipped from the bed. The room was lit only by the moonlight that entered through the window glass. The heavy length of her hair hung down her back in a thick, swinging braid, and Colin caught it, rubbing it between his fingers.
“Put something on, ” he said. “Quickly. ”
Amelia hurried behind the screen in the corner and disrobed, then slipped the chemise and gown she had worn earlier over her head.
“Hurry!”
“I cannot close the back. I need my abigail. ”
Colin’s hand thrust behind the screen and caught her elbow, tugging her from behind it so that he could drag her to the door.
“My feet are bare!”
“No time, ” he muttered. Opening her bedroom door, he peered out to the hallway.
It was so dark, Amelia could barely see anything. But she heard male voices. “What is going—”
Moving with lightning speed, Colin spun and covered her mouth again, his head shaking violently.
Startled, it took her a moment to understand. Then she nodded her agreement to say nothing.
He stepped out to the hallway with silent steps, her hand in his. Somehow, despite her shoeless state, the floorboard beneath her squeaked, when it hadn’t under Colin’s boots. He froze, as did she. Below them, the voices she had heard were also silent. It felt as if the house were holding its breath. Waiting.
Colin placed his finger to his lips. Then he picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder. What followed was a blur. Suspended upside down, she was disoriented and unable to discern how he managed to carry her from her second-floor bedroom to the lower floor. Then a shout was heard upstairs as she was discovered missing, and pounding feet thundered above them. Colin cursed and ran, jostling her so that her teeth ached and her braid whipped his legs so hard, she feared hurting him. Her arms wrapped around his lean hips, and his pace picked up. They burst out the front door and down the steps.
More shouting. More running. Swords clashed and Miss Pool’s screams pierced the night.
“There she is!” someone shouted.
The ground rushed by beneath her.
“Over here!”
Benny’s voice was music to her ears. Colin altered direction. Lifting her head, she caught a glimpse of pursuers, and then more men intercepted them, some she recognized, others she didn’t. The new additions to the fray bought them precious time, and soon she could not see anyone on their heels.
A moment later she was set on her feet. Wild-eyed, she glanced around to catch her bearings, and found Benny on horseback and Colin mounting the back of another beast.
“Amelia!” He held out one hand to her, the other expertly holding the reins. She set her hand in his, and he dragged her up and over, belly down across his lap. His powerful thighs bunched beneath her as he spurred the horse, and then they were off, galloping through the night.
She hung on for dear life, her stomach heaving with the jolting impacts. But it did not last long. Just as they reached the open road, a shot rang out, echoing through the darkness. Colin jerked and cried out. She screamed as her entire world shifted.
Sliding, falling . . .
Amelia awoke to a hand held over her mouth and a whisper in her ear.
“Shh . . . Someone is in the house.”
Colin’s voice anchored her in the semidarkness. For the space of several heartbeats, the horror and fear from the vivid dream lingered. Then the feel of Colin’s body pressed to her back and his strong arms around her provided much needed comfort.
Awareness seeped in slowly. She noted the elaborate moldings on the ceiling and felt velvet beneath her calf.
They were on the settee in the library. From the look of the fire in the grate—now reduced to mere embers—she had been asleep for at least a couple of hours.
Turning in Colin’s embrace, she faced him and pressed her mouth to his ear. “Who is it?” she whispered.
Colin shook his head, his dark eyes glittering.
Amelia held still, absorbing the tension that gripped his frame. Then she heard it. The sound of a booted foot falling on the parquet floor.
Boots. At this hour.
Her heartbeat leaped from the steady rhythm of slumber to a racing tempo. Unlike her dream, this time it was Colin who was endangered.
He pressed his lips to hers in a quick, hard kiss. Then he slid silently off the edge of the couch. On his knees, he fastened his breeches. He drew his discarded shirtsleeves over his head, then reached for his small sword.
She, too, slid to the floor and belted her robe.
“Secure the door when I leave,” he whispered, pulling his blade free of its scabbard with torturous slowness to avoid making any sound.
Denying him with a shake of her head, Amelia crawled over to where a faint glimmer betrayed the jeweled hilt of his dagger lying atop his waistcoat and coat. The moment her hand wrapped around it, he was behind her.
“No.”
“Trust me.” She turned her head to press her cheek to his.
His jaw clenched. “My sanity hinges on your safety.”
“You think I feel differently about you?” She touched his cheek with a shaking hand, tracing the faint line that marked the spot where a dashing dimple appeared when he was happy. “Rest easy. My sister is the Wintry Widow.”
There was a long pause, his throat working as he considered what she was saying.
“Let me help,” she breathed. “How will we ever move forward together if you always leave me behind?”
She knew how the thought of her in danger tormented him, because she felt likewise about him.
Finally, Colin managed a jerky nod. With a swift kiss to his parted lips, she pulled the dagger free of its sheath.
I love you. The words were spoken soundlessly, his lips against hers.
Amelia lifted his hand and kissed the back.
Colin wrenched away from her and moved
to the door. At some point while she was sleeping, he had closed it. Now, he turned the knob and cracked it just wide enough to see. The well-oiled hinges made no sound.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone. She counted to ten, then slipped out after him.
Bolstered by the feel of the dagger hilt, Amelia crawled along the runner toward the stairs, her senses acute. The sound of the wind blowing and the nocturnal call of a preying owl grounded her to the moment. She breathed shallowly, her emotions suppressed by the instinct to survive and the need to protect Colin. There was a sudden silence, as if the house held its breath, and then she heard the barest hint of sound—a stealthy footfall straight ahead.
She paused. Pushing to her knees, she huddled in the darkness.
A clear shot, just one.
To her right, a movement caught her eye. Holding the blade and aiming the hilt, Amelia prepared to throw. Her arm was steady, her nerves taut but manageable. She had never killed before, but if it became necessary, she would act first and face the consequences later.
Her arm went back, her focus narrowed on a slim shaft of moonlight lying directly across the bottom step.
Although there was no discernable sound of progress, Amelia sensed the intruder moving closer to that tiny beam of light.
Closer . . . closer . . .
Suddenly, Colin lunged. She knew it was him by the white of his shirt, as he arced through the moonlight. He crashed into a body so well concealed by shadows that Amelia had been unable to see the outline of it at her present angle. A loud crash heralded the colliding of the two figures into a breakable object.
She leaped to her feet. Crossing the hallway, she reached the opposite wall, improving the chances of a successful strike.
It was too dark to identify one form or the other. With both figures tangled in a writhing mass of limbs, she could do nothing but pray.
Mercifully, a door opened on the upper floor. She bit back a sob of relief. The light cast by an approaching lantern bearer was sufficient illumination to catch an uplifted blade too short to be Colin’s small sword. Amelia pulled back her arm and threw, putting weight behind the volley with an oft-practiced lunge.
Sylvia Day - [Georgian 03] Page 22
