by Laura Parker
“Very well.” Japonica’s gaze moved to his mouth. It was not so great a thing, she told herself. She had kissed him before. She lifted her head, closed her eyes, and found the shape of his mouth with hers.
He held still under the pressure of her lips, offering only dry warmth in return. After a few seconds she slipped away from his touch, a tiny frown of disappointment farrowing her brow. “If you are not satisfied, bahia, perhaps you should try another method.”
Japonica considered his words. There was a better way but she did not know how to compel it from him. Always before, he had initiated the kisses that left her dizzy. Perhaps if she imitated his actions she might achieve his results.
She reached up and touched his face, fingers skimming along his lean cheek until they reached his lips. She paused, rubbing her forefinger against them until they parted and the heat of his breath caressed the tip. Leaning up on tiptoe, she quickly replaced her finger with her lips and covered his mouth with the open damp invitation of hers.
This time his arms tightened, drawing her hard against his body. Yes, that was what she sought. How warm and real he felt, his kiss so perfectly right. Her hands moved, fingers reaching up to plow into the thick hair at his temples, fingers tightening in his hair, as she held his mouth to hers.
She heard him groan in pleasure and felt a tiny sense of triumph in that response. Reluctantly she turned her mouth from his but she could not catch her breath.
Devlyn chuckled as she did so, as surprised by her passion as she. “More precious than rubies, a kiss from the right woman,” he said against her hair. “Now let me show you that I may do the same for you.”
His hand moved to her hair to angle her head slightly to better receive his kiss. His tongue found the edge of her upper lip and licked it carefully, once, twice, three times. He treated her lower lip to the same exotic stroking. Finally he took the fullest part of her lips between his teeth and sucked at them as if to draw juice from a ripe peach.
The effect of his kisses was dizzyingly swift. Several important admissions forced themselves to the fore of Japonica’s consciousness. She did most decidedly want him to make love to her. She knew nearly nothing about how to encourage and return his caresses. And third, she wanted very much to learn.
He was smiling when he lifted his head. “Do you understand now? Pleasure may be given and taken on both sides.”
She smiled back, but it was less brave than his. “I begin to understand. But there is more, surely.”
“The lady grows greedy.” He cradled her head in his hand and dragged his lips back and forth across hers, then again licked at them slowly and deliberately until she was so weak with desire she had to lean against him.
She did not resist when he unhooked her gown then pulled it away from her shoulders, freeing her breasts. He cupped one in his hand, grazing his thumb over her nipple and rolling it gently back and forth. When he bent his head to taste her, she arched under his mouth and whispered, “Oh!”
“You like it, my lady?” he murmured, his hand finding and cupping the breast his mouth did not tease.
“I—yes!” It felt as if her body had caught fire. She could not keep still. She twisted and arched under his mouth and hand, trying to press closer to the source of the pleasure streaking through her. At the same time a blush flamed on her skin. Despite the pleasure, she felt silly and awkward and wondered if he found her response amusing.
But he did not laugh at her. He lifted his head and kissed her briefly. “There is so much more. May I show you?”
She opened passion-drugged eyes and said, “Yes.”
His arms went about her, lifting her off the floor and up against his chest. The buttons of his coat pressed into her bare breasts, a sharp reminder of what they were doing, and then he was kissing her again, the sweetest, gentlest of kisses, as he carried her to the bed.
Devlyn laid her down gently upon the coverlet, following with his own body. He did not break the contact of their bodies but lay half over her, one hip and leg straddling hers. He saw that her eyes were wide open now. In their depths, behind the hesitation and confusion, lay the burning embers of a desire he longed to fully ignite. Still, he had not forgotten what she had said about her seducer and how he had robbed her of the right to consent. More than ever, he wanted her to feel secure in the possibilities of pleasure that awaited two willing partners.
He reached up and gently placed his hand over her eyes. “Don’t be afraid, bahia. I promise you nothing will happen that you do not agree to.” He added the touch of his mouth to first one corner and then the other of hers. “You are mistress of the moment. I follow your lead.” He lifted his hand and very carefully stroked her cheek. “You are what I want. If you would have proof of my feelings, you need only look into my eyes.”
Her gaze was as vulnerable as any he had ever seen. The look sent a quiver of desire through his belly that was one part longing and one part protective. “Truly?” she whispered.
Understanding that a demonstration of tenderness would be the best persuasion, he lifted his hand and held it a fraction of an inch above one bare breast “May I touch you here?”
“Yes.” She sounded afraid of the sound of her own voice.
“May I touch you like this?” His fingers began to work the peak with little tugs and gentle twists until it pouted proudly beneath him. His gaze never left her face, so he saw her mouth form an O of surprised pleasure. “You like it. You feel the pleasure I would give you.”
This time she only sighed.
“There is more, Japonica, much more.” Though he would have liked to set light to a dozen tapers that he might better avail himself of a long leisurely perusal of all that he wanted to touch and caress, he did not want to frighten her. There would be another time to undress her and let his gaze linger. Now he wanted only that she not be afraid of him.
“You are so sweet.” He lowered his head and nuzzled the peak he had brought to standing, then slid it into his mouth.
Japonica turned into the embrace of his lips upon her breast, her thigh brushing the heavy corded muscles of his. The full swelling of feeling inside her made her want to wrap her arms about him and hold on forever. And so she did, clasping his shoulders so that her bare arms were filled with his warmth. What he was doing to her was so strange and so wonderful she did not ever want him to cease.
As he stretched out fully over her she welcomed everything about him, the scent of sandalwood rising from his skin, the slight abrasion of his beard upon her so sensitive breasts, the hard heavy weight of his longer, weightier body as he shifted his hips onto hers. With slow strokes he began driving his pelvis against her, pressing her farther into the mattress. As he did so a new hardness pushed against her lower belly. Curious, her hand slid down between them to touch it, only to draw away in disconcertment.
Devlyn lifted his head. “Would you know how a man is made?”
She had shut her eyes, and only shook her head.
“Are you certain?”
The regret in his voice made her look up into his face, at once familiar and strange. “I am afraid.”
He smiled at her but there was a hint of mockery in it this time. “You frighten me, too. You are so lovely and taste so sweetly of passion that I dread to think I may not be able after all to best please you.”
She frowned slightly. “Why so?”
His smile broadened. “A man who desires a lady is a prisoner to his passion for her. He cannot always control it. For instance, when you kiss me you make me hard with want of you. When you touch me—ah, then, lady, I am yours to command.”
“Command?” A sly smile crept over her daunted expression.
“Would you have it so?” He took her hand in his. “You have only to touch me, stroke me, and know that it is true.” He brought her hand back down to the placket of his breeches. “Unbutton and see for yourself what your kisses do to me.”
For a moment her hand rested unc
ertainly on his rigid length and then she reached to undo first one button and then another. He raised up a bit to allow her hand to finish its work and then he felt himself spring free against her palm. She gasped but did not entirely draw away.
He kissed her again, a slow persuasive kiss of gentle supplication. “Do not be reluctant to touch me. I am only human,” he said softly against her mouth.
Only human. Japonica wondered how she could ever have thought him otherwise when his human form was wondrous enough. She felt lightly along the length of his shaft and then closed her hand around the thickness of it. She felt his sharp intake of breath against her mouth. “Shall I stop?”
“Only if it pleases you,” he murmured breathlessly. “But I beg you not. Know me and make me yours. I will deny you nothing.”
As she caressed him shyly, he began again to touch and kiss her, her shoulders, her breasts, her belly. Everywhere he left the damp impression of his mouth, her skin seemed to burn. Those touches and kisses and licks and strokes quickly overwhelmed her and she abandoned her exploration of him to sink into sensation behind closed lids. Her senses filled with him, his taste, his scent, and his heat. It was as if he seeped into her pores and she would forever after carry a part of him with her. When he lifted her skirts, bunching them about her waist, and then cupped the bare skin of her buttocks in one hand, she thought she would swoon with the intimacy of the caress. But he was not done. He pushed a knee between hers and lifted her up so that she straddled his thigh.
“Don’t fear me,” he whispered against her ear. “You are meant to be touched here.”
As he slipped his hand between her spread thighs and his fingers plied her most private place, Japonica gasped and moaned, feeling more wicked than she had thought possible. Her hips moved of their own volition to aid his stroking hand.
“Your body is ready for me, bahia. Are you?”
She looked up at him and whispered, “Yes.”
“Open to me, sweet one, you are ready. I will not fail you … oh yes … that’s it… so good. So warm … so wet and ready for …”
Past modesty or shame or fear, past all feeling except those that he provided with his hand and mouth, his body and words, Japonica abandoned herself to the moment. He was murmuring words to her in Persian, sweet husky pleadings, words of thanksgiving and encouragement. They were chest to chest and belly to belly. He lifted her hips once more and pressed between her thighs until he found the place he wanted.
She sobbed softly, her back arching in surprise as he slid into her. Her hands went automatically to his hips to hold him there deep within her. But he did not lie still. He surged deep within and then withdrew slowly, deliberately allowing her to feel every shift of muscle and tissue, and then he plunged again, slowly at first, watching her face and smiling at her inarticulate sounds of pleasure. Everywhere he touched her a new sensation registered. She heard his harsh breath in her ear, felt the bunch and stretch of the taut muscles of his back beneath her embrace, and marveled at the strength and gentleness of his motion. Finally the push-pull rhythm as old as life and as unique as the lovers who shared it caught them in its dance.
And then even that bit of separateness was gone. She was no longer feeling, but part of the feeling, part of him.
The perfect union became too much. Joyous and urgent need demanded release. When it came, the inexplicable spiraling release of ecstasy, she keened out her surprise and was echoed in his answering cry of gratitude.
Japonica was unaware of how much time passed before she felt herself again anchored to the earth. The candle had guttered out, the silence of the night broken only by the soft slow breaths of the man in whose embrace she lay gloriously and unashamedly naked.
“So this is how it is done? How everyone feels?”
Devlyn turned his head to look at her in grateful amusement Never in all his life had he felt as he did in this moment with her, and he doubted, for all their boasting, that those most practiced in the exercise ever felt what they had just shared. If she had just discovered her capacity for passion, he had discovered in himself an emotion far deeper and more hazardous for the heart. Yet he hesitated to speak that truth for reasons he did not probe.
“It is often pleasant enough,” he said carefully. “Easier for a man than a woman, I am told.”
“Oh.” So small a word captured exactly her expression, which was so eager and yet so shy.
He relented a little and took her chin in his hand. “As you now know, bahia, the lessons are simply mastered and the skill that comes with practice may provide its own enjoyment. But it is rare that feeling….” He watched her gaze and so knew the exact moment when she began to understand him. “That feeling enters into the equation with such results.”
“The key then is one’s feelings?”
He nodded, wanting to tell her things he doubted she wanted to hear from him. “Did you think it only a man’s pleasure?”
“I did not know.” She rose up so that she could better observe his expression. “Are these feelings new to you?”
“These feelings …” Again reluctance held him back, the temptation to be less than honest when he had promised to be at her full command. So then the price of being with her was truth. “I would swear they are singular in my experience.”
She folded her arms across his chest and placed her chin on them so that her face was only inches from his. “But you are a man of the world. How can that be?”
“Are you certain you want the answer, lady?”
Before she lost her nerve she whispered, “Yes.”
He touched a hand to her cheek. “Memory is a tricky business and I have not even the usual recourse to it. Yet I believe the emotions I feel now I have felt before, but only with you.”
Her pupils expanded, engulfing the plummy depths of her irises. He had shocked her and himself and he was only glad for it. “Will you not tell me if that is true?”
Japonica did not know how to answer, or even if she should. She looked away, staring off into the darkness that could not completely hide her thoughts. To tell him the truth would only give birth to more questions that she would not answer. “You sound regretful for your loss of memory, my lord.”
He shook his head. “My only regret, lady, is that with both hands I might have loved you better.”
She blushed so deep a shade she would have put holly berries to shame. “I do not think that I could bear to be loved better than I have been tonight.”
He raised his eyes to the ceiling and exhaled a breath. So she would not yet tell him about their shared past. He was not a patient man but he could wait a little longer.
He rolled over and caught her to him. “It will be my greatest pleasure to love you as well and as long as you will have me.”
As long as she would have him! Did he know what he offered? Did he even begin to suspect what her answer would be? Love me forever.
The words trembled on her lips. They deserved to be said, for they matched exactly the feeling welling up inside her. She had only to look into his eyes to know that what she wanted was reflected there with such passion as he had. But he had not spoken of love, only loving. And she was a woman, after all, and courage could take even a brave woman in love only so far.
She turned her head away, dusting his nose with her curls. “This is your proposition, that I will be your mistress for as long as it pleases us both?”
He did not answer at once. “If that is what pleases you.”
“No.” She rocked her head in the negative on his chest and answered with the truth. “No, if I were to be often with you like this, it would spoil me forever for any other man.”
This time he took several shallow breaths. “Who is this other man?”
“There is none. Nor, until tonight, did I ever believe that there would be. But you have shown me something of myself and I shall be forever grateful to you for it.”
“But if … am I not enough?”
He tilted his chin forward to meet her gaze squarely. “Would that be so terrible a fate?”
Caught! She was caught in a trap of her devising. “No. It would not. But I must not love you.”
“Must not love me?” His said the words reflectively. He lifted his maimed arm. “It is because of this?”
“Oh no.” She reached for his arm and brought it to her lips for a kiss. “It is what you are and in that calculation it makes no difference.”
“So then, why?”
“I will not be your mistress.” She looked away. “I wish you would not ask me again.” She scooted back closer to him. “We have tonight. Kiss me and show me again how to make you happy.”
She expected that he would kiss her and forget. But he looked suddenly more serious than he had been all evening. He touched her cheek, stroking back a handful of curls that had swung forward into her face.
“You have the power to lift my heart right out of my chest and take it with you. I bid you be kind, bahia.”
PART THREE
… what a mischievous devil Love is.
—Samuel Butler
Chapter Nineteen
Fortnum and Mason brimmed with activity the week before Christmas. Servants in livery, cooks with their kitchen maids, even gentry with baskets over their arms and maids at their sides jostled one another in order to have their turn at choosing among the various sundries and potables of the well-known establishment in Piccadilly.
Richard Fortnum made certain that his “cousin” did not, for lack of time or space or by oversight, miss any feature of his establishment. An initial awkwardness ensued when Fortnum overheard her being addressed by her maid as “my lady.” Once Japonica confessed to her title of viscountess he made a quick adjustment and awarded her his instant deference. It was a singular privilege that nobility would deign to cross his humble doorstep. Add to it the cachet of being a relation? Now that was patronage. He took it upon himself to give her a personally guided tour with two senior assistants in tow.
