Nothing on Earth & Nothing in Heaven

by Susan Fanetti

  “You are glorious,” he murmured and turned her around. When he loosened the lacing on the corset, Nora couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden, beautiful relief, that blissful surge of blood and breath flowing freely again. She lifted her arms above her head, and he pulled the corset up and off, careful to leave the loose laces in their eyelets. He was knowledgeable indeed about women’s clothing.

  Out of a habit so often repeated it had become instinct, Nora rubbed at her ribs, massaging away the itch and ache from the corset stays. William’s hands pushed hers away, and he kneaded her gently, easing the ache. She moaned and sagged back, letting herself fall against him.

  His beard brushed her cheek. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

  Unsure what to expect, Nora nodded. She was his now, in his control, in his hands, and she didn’t want anything else. She would give him anything he wanted.

  William’s palms skimmed the length of her arms, from her shoulders down, and picked up her hands. Covering her hands with his, nesting them together, he lifted one and brought it slowly to her chest. He stood behind her, held her up with his strong, steady body. Nora felt the cotton of his shirt against her bare shoulders; she smelled the lingering hint of starch under his own scent and that of the rain and the inn and Dover itself.

  Guiding her hand with his, he pushed into the neckline of her vest until they cupped her breast together. Already this touch was profoundly more intense and sensual than her own alone had been. Her nipples tightened into aching knots. William guided her forefinger and thumb to a hard, puckered nub and pinched his fingers over hers, first lightly and then with more and more pressure, until Nora jerked in his arms and cried out in surprise. Her joints shook and her blood steamed.

  “See?” he breathed at her ear, curving his body around hers, surrounding her.

  Speech was impossible, so she only nodded.

  “Did it feel like this when you tried it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you want more?” The question chugged over his laboured breath.

  She nodded—and William’s hands slipped away from hers. But only for a moment. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the chair near the window, sitting down and settling her on his lap.

  Dazed and besotted, Nora let him move her as he would. What else would he show her about her own body? Would he show her anything of his?

  She sat across his lap, as he’d arranged her. He picked up her hand again and eased it over her thigh, up her side, across her belly, up between her breasts, and cupped the other this time. This time, she knew what to do and did it herself. William smiled warmly, his eyes sparking with pride and pleasure—and with desire of his own, a desire that had given his cheeks a warm tint.

  He picked up her other hand and guided it as before, over her thigh, up to her belly—and back down, then up again, this time on the inside, until he pressed her hand to her centre, where she was hot and trembling. Oh, she didn’t want this to be disappointing like it was before. She wanted this hot, restive need that filled her and pulsed through her to be sated. She wanted, she needed, to know its source.

  “Ah, God, Nora,” William muttered, letting his head fall to her shoulder, and pressed his lips to her throat. “You test my will, darling.”

  She didn’t want to test him. Her doubts had evaporated in the heat between them. If he wanted her, he could have her. Virginity be damned. He meant to marry her, so what difference did it make, if they both wanted it?

  Her thoughts stopped when he pushed their hands into her drawers, over her belly, between her legs.

  “Show me how you touch yourself.”

  Feeling shy, but too enraptured to resist, Nora moved her hand under his, sliding over the soft pillows of her intimate folds, pushing between them with her finger, finding her entrance. Oh, please, let it feel better than before. Like her breast did. She pinched her nipple again, and gasped as the electric bolt shot through her.

  But the sensation of her finger inside her was not much better than it had been when she was alone. Somewhat more intense, simply because this situation was more intense, with William holding her so intimately, his hand right there, against her most vulnerable flesh, his voice low and rumbling in her ear, his need washing over her in palpable waves. But there was no electric jolt, no fire that would explain why sex was at the heart of everything.

  William chuckled lightly and took charge of her hand again. “No, darling, not like that.”

  Surprise shook a dash of sense over sensation, and she opened her eyes. “What? But that’s—isn’t—don’t you—”

  “Yes. That’s where I’ll be inside you. But there’s so much more to it. Here. Feel.”

  He drew her fingers up, through her folds, until her finger grazed something that made her whole body spasm. “What?” she gasped, pulling away from the surprising sensation.

  William brought her hand out of her drawers and to his mouth. He sucked them in, his eyes closing, and she felt his groan rumble at her fingertips. Heavens, how could something simple like that, him sucking her fingers, make her ache so?

  He pushed her hand down again, into her drawers, back to that place, and moved her dampened fingers in a circle, rubbing firmly but gently over a small nub, something she’d never known was there, on her own body, smooth and hard as a bead. There was the electric jolt she’d sought.

  “Oh,” she gasped as her hips flexed and shook, moved by a need beyond her control. “Oh!”

  “That’s it. Don’t stop.” His hand left hers, slid downward, and his fingers played around her entrance. After a moment, he pushed his own finger inside her, slowly, as if expecting her to resist him. She did not. “God, Nora. God. You’re hot and wet. So beautiful.”

  Nora could hardly understand the words he said; she was focused with every fibre on the centre of her body, her soul. Her fingers, his finger, moving in wild metre, drawing something up from her core, something she hadn’t known existed. Up, up, up, it came, chasing her—or was she calling it? It didn’t matter, as long as it came. She remembered her hand on her breast and tweaked her nipple, and the hungry thing inside her leapt closer.

  A rhythmic sound like a drumbeat filled the room—it was her, grunting each time her fingers made a circle, Williams’s finger pushed deep, her hips rocked, her belly clenched. And it was him, too, grunting with her, his breaths roaring around the room like a steam engine. His own need pressed at her bottom; his whole body moved under hers, tensely, desperately. In a sudden flurry, he ripped her drawers down to her knees and pushed her thighs apart.

  Oh God, something was coming, something huge and new and terrifying. It was coming, it was coming, it was coming.

  The need and heat inside her was too big, and, fearful of the crash when it came, whatever it was, Nora went stiff and still, lifting her hand. William froze, too.

  “Don’t stop, darling,” he gasped. “You’re so close.”

  Nora thought she might explode, and she was afraid. “I don’t—what is it?”

  “Everything,” he answered. “Trust me.” He pushed his finger deeply into her again. So much better than her own insignificant attempt had been.

  She trusted him, so she began again, rubbing those tight, firm circles until her overheated muscles quivered and her belly felt like molten lead.

  And then—“Oh God! Oh God! William!” She did explode. Fire and light and brilliant ecstasy burst through her, and Nora couldn’t breathe. She went rigid as a board in his arms, and he held her, his finger inside her, its thrusts slowing.

  “Feel this, Nora,” he pulled out of her and took her hand, drawing it down between her thighs, pressing it to her searing, damp centre. She felt herself throb in time with the bliss pulsing through her veins. “Do you understand now?”

  Oh heavens, how much she understood. Everything.

  She was free.

  TEN

  William res
ted his forehead on Nora’s graceful, bare shoulder and turned every ounce of his will to the effort of self-control. Still in the throes of her climax, she writhed gently on his lap, sighing with each spasm that rolled through her. The scent of her pleasure filled his head. His hand, damp with her, still held her hand between her legs.

  He’d told her that sex didn’t drive him, but good God, he had never needed release like he needed it now. More than release—he needed to be inside her, to feel her body, that silky, snug sheath wrapped around his cock as it had encompassed his finger so tightly, so smoothly.

  “William,” she whispered, and her head sagged against his. “My unicorn.”

  She purred the words, her voice so sated and smug that he couldn’t help but chuckle. “You liked that.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “So did I.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her nectar from her fingers. Her eyes opened wide and took in that sight completely.

  “Did you?” She ground her bottom on his lap, bold as a clergyman’s daughter. “But you’re still hard.”

  “I didn’t come in my drawers, no.” He groaned, grabbing her hip to still her before he did just that. “But I’ve enjoyed few things in my life as much as I enjoyed helping you give yourself that pleasure.” He slid his fingers into her loose, marvelous hair and brought her mouth to his. He pressed his lips over hers, softly, and then tipped his head back to see her eyes again. “You’re not intact, Nora.”

  Her brows drew in. “What?”

  He’d noticed it right away. “Do you know what a hymen is?”

  The crease between her brows deepened, but she didn’t answer. He hadn’t expected that she would know—that kind of biology lesson apparently wasn’t consistent with a noble lady’s place, here in England.

  “It’s a membrane inside a girl’s body, a barrier. Normally, it breaks when she loses her virginity. Yours is broken.”

  She sat upright like a shot, but William held on before she could get far. “What? But I—did we—did you break it? Now?”

  “No. I intended to be careful of it, but I didn’t feel it. It was already broken.” She paled, but before she could protest innocence, William cupped her face. “I know you’re a virgin. There are other ways it might have broken—from riding astride like you do, or if you fell hard as a girl.”

  With a deep breath released, she relaxed, but her frown still carved her forehead. “I hate that you know so much more about my own body than I do.”

  “My aunt is a physician. I know more than I’d like. She’s railed against the idea that a broken hymen is proof of sexual experience.”

  “The women in your family seem remarkable, all of them.”

  “They are.”

  “They’ll be disappointed, should they ever meet me. Nothing about me is remarkable.”

  “My darling, everything about you is remarkable, and they will love you.” He kissed her nose. “I bring it up because … well, I don’t know if it’s something a doctor here would check for, or what he’d say. If your father were told, he might be told that you’re not a virgin. Not all doctors are as progressive as my aunt. Especially here, where progress terrifies the lot of you.”

  “Not the lot of us. Just the main of us. I don’t know if a doctor would check. I don’t know why ours would. I’m not royalty, or planning to marry a royal, and I don’t think they still check the bed sheets, at any rate—and now I suppose I understand where the blood is supposed to come from. I’ve given no one cause to think a man would want me, much less that I’ve been intimate with one.” She blushed and ducked her head to nestle under his chin. “Until now, I never have been.”

  He held her close. “I love you.”

  “And I you. William, I want more. I want you to make love to me.”

  Sweet lord. William closed his eyes again and marshaled up his overtaxed will. “No, Nora. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you why not—because I mean to respect you. Because I want you to feel nothing but happiness when we do. No regret or shame.”

  “I’ve already addressed that silly concern. You make assumptions, William. Why do you think you know better than I how I’ll feel?”

  Only moments ago, she’d admitted that he knew more of her body than she did. But this wasn’t about her body, it was about her heart. For that, it was all the more delicate a subject. “Because this is new to you.”

  “And it’s not to you. Because you’ve bedded dozens of women, and I’m just a stupid, ignorant child.”

  “Don’t twist my words, Nora.” Clutching her in his arms, William stood up and set her on her feet. He pulled her drawers back to her waist, trying not to focus on delicate gold curls between alabaster thighs. “We’re not going to quarrel. I’m going back to my room.” If he didn’t get some space between them, she was going to get her way, and that would put the most important thing, the future they both wanted, in jeopardy.

  He took three steps away from her before a guttural shriek like a feral animal came out of her.

  Her bare foot thudded on the carpet as she stomped. “Why do you get to decide?!”

  He turned on his heel. She stood there, her chest puffing, her cheeks flaming, her eyes storming. In the windows behind her, lightning flashed, as if her rage had summoned an answering flare in the tempest outside.

  “Why do you get to decide? If we’ll make love, when we’ll make love, if I’m ready to make love, if we’ll argue, what I’ll enjoy, what I’ll regret, how I’ll feel, what I do, what I see, what I know, where I go, who I know, what I wear, how I act, what I think, who I am—why don’t I get to decide any of it?”

  Her anger was about far more than this moment. He reached a conciliatory, comforting hand to her. “Darling …”

  She swatted it away, hitting the back of his hand hard enough to sting. “Don’t you dare condescend to me, William Frazier. Don’t you dare.”

  “There are things you don’t know, Nora, experiences you haven’t had. Whatever the reason, in that way, you are ignorant.”

  She slapped him, knocking his head to the side. If not for his beard, he might have found himself bruised later. He closed his eyes and reached deep, not only for calm, but for wisdom. He understood her frustration, and even her fury. But he didn’t know the solution. The simple truth was that they didn’t live in the world she wished to live in. The medieval hall in which the Earl of Tarrin, and his daughter, resided was a much older, less forgiving place.

  He stretched his jaw and faced her again. “I assume that now you want me to go?”

  “No. I want you to stay.”

  “To what end? What do you want from me, Nora?”

  “I am telling you. I’ve said it plainly. You need only hear me.” She stepped to him, putting her body against his, and boldly grasped his trousers, over the swell that encased his erection. The starved beast of his need leapt through him. “You’re still hard.”

  Of course he was. If anything, her fiery self-assertion had made him harder. He groaned and covered her hand with his, but he didn’t pull her away. “Nora …”

  “You say you want to be respectful of me. Give me the respect to believe I know my own mind.”

  “If your brother finds out, or God forbid, your father?”

  “So what if they do? You say I’m not a virgin already, so why not make it really true? Besides, perhaps it’s best that they know—if I’m spoiled for anyone else, how can my father stand in our way?”

  That her hymen was broken, were it known, would be further cause to condemn him, not welcome him into the family. William doubted very much that her father could be made to accept him on the grounds that he’d taken his only daughter’s virtue. This was how her naïveté showed most clearly—in thinking the world made sense. Far more likely, the earl would chase him out of England with hounds at his heels, and marry her off to the first remotely respectable man who would take her.

  Moreover, Christopher was a good friend, and he’d
trusted him with his only sister’s care. William might well lose that bond he valued over this.

  But Nora’s hand moved on him, squeezing, exploring, and his mind clouded with desire. He’d already been in desperate need of relief before this strangely arousing quarrel. Her scent still suffused the air, he could still feel her on his hand, and the image of her breathtaking, ebullient climax was burned in his mind. To have her beneath him, her bare flesh on his—was there enough strength yet in him to leave this room without it?

  “Nora …” he tried one last time.

  “William,” she whispered, looking up at him with keen turquoise eyes while her inexperienced hand learned all she could of his desire. “Respect me.”

  “God damn it,” he muttered and grabbed her.

  She gasped and formed her body to his at once, throwing her arms around his neck. He claimed her smiling mouth and demanded everything he could get. Her tongue was right there to greet his, tangling with him unreservedly. Now that he’d given in, he needed all of her. He lifted her off her feet and walked her to the bed, looming over her as he laid her down on the dark red damask duvet.

  She broke away from his mouth and pushed herself further onto the mattress; then, with her eyes boldly locked on his, pulled her vest up and over her head.

  Propped on his hands over her, William gazed down at the gift she offered him. Smooth, lovely skin, so pale he could see the faint blue map of her veins. Small round breasts, with tiny nipples as pink as the center of a seashell. A flat belly sloping down into her drawers. She was thinner than he’d realized, almost too thin. The marks of her corset still showed under her breasts, along her sides. What, he wondered, was that contraption meant to restrain on a body like this?

  “William …” she murmured.

  He brought his eyes up to hers and saw doubt there. “Are you sure, Nora?”