by Alice Gaines
She stroked him and rubbed her thumb over the tip. “A handy spell. I’ll have to remember how I did it.”
“One good thing about frigging you again so soon,” he said. “I’ll last longer.”
She stroked him all the way from his tip down to his sac. “You think so?”
“Oh, no, nymph.” He reached down and stopped her hand. “This time is for you.”
“The last time was for me. And the time before that and the time before that. You always make it about me.”
“You’re right about that one thing.” He rolled her onto her back, covering her body with his. “That’s how any good man treats his mate.”
“Then you must be a very good man, indeed.”
He thrust his hips forward, embedding his cock into her wet pussy. All the way to her core in one movement.
“Oh, my,” she crooned. “I do believe I’m right.”
He began moving—the slow rhythm he always used at first. Not frantic, but a long, careful slide along her inner sheath so that she could measure every inch of him entering her. She closed her eyes and let herself savor him filling her. She’d fallen onto a bed of their clothing, but here and there, her skin met leaves and moss. Soft and earthy with a fertile smell. They might have been Adam and Eve in their own Eden.
He smiled down at her as he rocked her into the soft bedding. “I love the way your skin flushes when you’re excited.”
“I love the way you fill me.”
“I love your fire,” he said.
She clenched her sex around his. “I love the way I can always make you hard.”
“Devil,” he said. “I love the curve of your lips.”
“I love the twinkle in your eyes,” she said.
“I love you, Juliet Foster,” he said.
She stared at him, and found him looking right back. That expression she’d seen in his eyes was back—the one she’d first seen in his bedroom in London. Serious. Deadly serious.
“David, I…”
He increased the pace of his thrusts, and lust took over. She’d have to remember what he’d said later, because her body demanded all of her attention. Even the vision of his face above hers blurred. He had the same heat of desire in his eyes, and his lips had parted to take in jagged breaths. Deep inside her, his cock thrust and thrust, and her pearl responded. The orgasm loomed, just out of her reach, but it would take her soon.
“All for you,” he whispered, and she didn’t have the words to answer. She wrapped her legs around him so she could rise up to meet his thrusts. The friction at the juncture of her thighs increased to almost unbearable levels. Pounding, rubbing.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders as her back arched. More and more and more. Then she didn’t need to reach any longer. The climax washed over her from that most sensitive flesh to her entire body. Her sex tensed around his, and then, the convulsions started. So strong and urgent. She let out a shout that floated up among the trees.
After the madness, she relaxed in his arms and stroked his back. “You’re amazing.”
“And, I’m not through.”
“What?” She opened her eyes to find him grinning at her wickedly.
He moved inside her once more. “See?”
“You’re still hard.”
“I told you I could last longer this time.”
“You’ll exhaust me,” she said.
“I’d like to try.” He pulled out of her and rocked to his side next to her. “Roll over.”
“You want my back?”
“All the better to tease your pearl while I frig you from behind.”
Oh, good heaven. She obeyed, and he pulled her against him and lifted her leg over his hip. The action spread her legs, and he easily found her entrance with the tip of his cock and entered her again. Though he’d taken her from behind at the inn, this time he had her opened wide. Vulnerable and exposed. One of his hands held her secure while the other roved over her body. First, to her breast, squeezing and then flicking at the nipple. Perhaps it was the new position, but he felt larger as he shoved his bulk into her. What an amazing lover. So creative and skilled. She neared the crest again.
“Come with me this time,” she whispered.
“I will.”
“I need to feel your release inside me.”
He groaned. “Wild, insatiable woman.”
“Please, soon. I can’t wait.”
His hand went lower, over her belly and into her pussy hairs. She should have expected the shock when he found the sensitive nub of flesh he’d coaxed to climax so many times. But the feel of his stroking there, combined with the constant in and out of his shaft in her sex, sent her whole body up in flames, and she could only lie in his embrace as her breath turned to gasps and then cries. No woman ever had a better lover. No woman ever had pleasure more complete than this. She’d fly apart in a moment, and she might never come back together again.
“Now, my darling,” he whispered. His fingers kept working on her, rolling her pearl and pressing it into the bone underneath. “I need your orgasm for mine.”
“Yes, oh yessss. Just don’t stop.”
“I’ll never stop. For as long as we live.”
“Yes. David!” She came again, even harder than before. Her climax claimed her, squeezing the breath out of her, as her sex erupted all around his. Powerful spasms, grasping him all along his length. It went on and on as if it would never stop.
He growled and then bellowed as he slammed into her a few times and stiffened behind her. Both of them, lost in their own release and yet sharing the madness. Two people formed into one by pleasure too intense to be real. And yet, the feelings were more real than the world around them.
When they finished, finally, she went limp against him. Tears moistened the corners of her eyes as her heart slowed to a mere race. The sounds of nature came back to her as the gripping of her sex on his slowed and turned to gentle fluttering. A bit of lace from her petticoat lay beneath her cheek. A bird called somewhere. A breeze cooled her skin.
David continued to hold her against him, but now, he pushed her hair away from her shoulder and neck. The pins had come loose during their lovemaking, it seemed. He pressed his lips to the base of her throat and then drew a path of tiny kisses up to her ear.
“I love you, Juliet,” he said. “I honestly and truly love you.”
God help me, I think I love you, too.
Chapter Fourteen
After handing off the horse to his groom, Derrington led the obstinate Miss Foster into the house. She hadn’t said a damned word for the entire rest of the ride back. She’d rested against him sweetly enough, just as she had from the inn until they’d had to dash behind some trees to make love before they both burst from lust.
But when he’d declared his love—twice—she’d left the declaration unanswered. True, she’d started to speak the first time, but she’d sounded as if she’d deny him, so he hadn’t allowed her to get more than two words out. He’d repeated it, though, at the most tender moment of all, when they’d both lain limp after that amazing orgasm. She’d given him no answer at all. Curse her, did she think he told women he loved them every day?
Russell greeted them at the door. He gasped audibly when he saw their state, and then recovered his composure. “My lord?”
Derrington cleared his throat. “Riding accident.”
They did look a fright—both of them. Their clothing had dirtied where it lay in leaves, moss, and soil to serve as their bed. He’d rearranged his hair, more or less, but Miss Foster’s was a tangle of knots around her face. He reached up and pulled a twig from a curl. With no good place to put it, he slipped it into his pocket and did his best to smile evenly for his butler’s benefit.
“Are you quite well, sir?” Russell asked. “And the young lady?”
“A bit scuffed, but otherwise, fine.”
“Yes, fine,” Miss Foster said—the first words she’d uttered since she’d climbed back onto the horse. “I
could use a bath, though.”
“I imagine so before you greet your company,” Russell said.
Company? “I’m not expecting anyone. Has someone dropped in to see Lady Derrington?”
“No, my lord,” Russell answered. “The guests are Miss Foster’s.”
He glanced at her to find her staring back, obviously as surprised as he. “I think I’d better see them.”
“Juliet, don’t,” Derrington said.
“Stop issuing orders.” She turned to Russell. “Where are they?”
“The sitting room,” the butler answered.
She didn’t hesitate for a second but headed in that direction at a near trot. With no choice in the matter, Derrington followed.
Three people occupied the sitting room. Harry, Miss Rhodes, and a man Derrington had never met. Miss Foster recognized him, though.
“Jack!” she shouted as she flew across the room and threw herself into his arms. The fellow barely had time to rise from his seat before she landed on him.
“Jack,” she repeated, hugging him in a way even most Americans would hardly think decent. “When did you get here?”
“Millie cabled that you’d disappeared, so I hopped on the next steamship to find you.” The man—Jack—pushed her out of his embrace and held her at arms’ length. “Love, what have you been doing?”
“Nothing,” she answered.
The room reeled around Derrington, or perhaps the entire world had gone lopsided. The woman he loved—the woman he’d intended to marry—had cast herself into the embrace of a man who called her love. And then, she’d called their divine coupling “nothing.”
Nothing.
Suddenly, he seemed at the end of a long tunnel, staring into a kaleidoscope only able to see colors shift and collide into pretty images that made no sense at all. Especially the woman he’d just held beneath him as she spent—now cuddled up to another man.
Heaven knew, the fellow was handsome enough. Not quite as tall as he was, but adequate for her height. He wore his sandy hair in a fashionable cut, and his suit matched the current style. All very tasteful and expensive.
Someone tugged on his elbow. He glanced down to find Harry, her hand on his sleeve.
“Your clothes are ruined,” she said. “What in God’s name happened to you both?”
“Nothing.” His voice came out dry and distant. Not his own at all.
Miss Foster released Jack, finally, and accepted a hug from Miss Rhodes, who must have stood at some point.
“How did you find me?” she said.
“Lord Derrington disappeared at the same time you did,” Miss Rhodes answered. “It was simple enough, but I wanted Jack’s help bringing you back.”
Jack still had an arm around Miss Foster’s waist. The man scowled at him. “What has this man done to you?”
“Nothing, truly,” Miss Foster answered.
“You disappeared with him, leaving no word. You’ve been missing for weeks, and now, I find you looking as if you’d been in a brawl,” Jack said. “I’d call that something.”
The two Americans seemed to form a cocoon around Juliet, very effectively shutting him out. His heart fell toward his stomach, where they both turned to stone. This could not be real. He’d spent over a fortnight with this woman, making love with her morning, noon, and night. He knew her every look, her every sigh. For the love of God, he knew the sounds she made in her sleep. How could he suddenly not know anything about her at all?
“Now that I’m here, all’s well,” Jack said, still glaring at him. “We’ll get you back home in no time.”
“I’m not going to New York,” she answered. “But to London and Europe.”
What in bloody hell? The man knew about her plans to take lovers everywhere? What kind of fool would that make him? Another piece of the bizarre puzzle that wouldn’t fit.
“Why not stay here for a while?” Harry said. “Enjoy the English countryside. You won’t find that in London, Mr. Carter.”
“Carter,” Derrington repeated.
“Oh, my goodness.” Miss Foster clapped her hand over her mouth. “No one’s introduced you.”
“No matter,” he said.
“Of course, it matters,” she said. “Lord Derrington, this is Jack Carter. Jack, the Marquis of Derrington.”
His title. So impersonal, even if it was the usual way of introductions. The Queen, herself, could hardly have made it more formal.
“You spirited my Juliet away.” Carter said. “I don’t care if you’re the Queen of Sheba. What have you done to her clothing?”
Miss Foster nudged him in the ribs. “Jack.”
“We’ll get you more in London,” Carter said.
“Stay, all of you,” Harry said. “We’ll sort things out well enough.”
“By all means, stay as you want,” he said. “And then, go as you want.”
Miss Foster’s chin jerked up. “Do you mean that?”
“Of course. Whatever will make you happy.”
“Thank you,” she said.
His heart hadn’t turned to stone, after all. It clenched painfully in his chest, and he could scarcely breathe.
“Bump?” Harry said softly.
He shook his head, waving off her concern.
“Interesting nickname you have there, Derrington,” Carter said.
“Never mind that now,” Harry said. “Let me show you the garden.”
Miss Foster grasped Carter’s hands. “Oh, yes. You’ll love the gardens.”
“Come along,” Harry ordered. She extended her arm toward Carter, and he curled it around his own. The perfect gentleman as his grandmother led him off. Miss Rhodes trailed along after them. Only Miss Foster stayed behind.
For a long moment, they stared at each other. Although disheveled, she was the same woman he’d found at the inn. But as they stood there, the tunnel that separated them lengthened, pulling her even farther away until her image blurred around the edges. For a moment, she seemed as if she’d do something—reach out to him or speak. Eventually, she lowered her gaze, turned and went off after the others.
***
Jack grabbed Juliet’s hand and held her back while Lady Derrington guided Millie through the garden. She’d seldom seen him angry, but he was now.
“All right, let’s have it,” he said. “The entire story.”
“There isn’t much to tell.” She normally didn’t lie to Jack, but she could hardly explain something to him she didn’t understand herself. Her head was spinning after everything that had happened since dawn.
“Oh, really,” he said. “Then, why do you look as if you’ve been rolling around on the ground?”
She didn’t answer that, but then, she didn’t have to. Her blush would do it for her as her skin heated. Always perceptive, Jack would see for himself.
“Good God in heaven,” he said. “You were rolling around on the ground. With Derrington.”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” She wouldn’t add that she’d also had a thorough spanking at Derrington’s hand at an inn where anyone walking by the door might have overheard.
“You know I’m not a prude, love,” Jack said. “But I don’t see a wedding ring on your finger.”
“He’s asked me to marry him. Multiple times.”
“But you don’t want to marry him.”
“I wanted…want…to travel around Europe,” she said. “I only agreed to come here for a short visit.”
“Millie’s been beside herself, and I don’t blame her. How could the man take you away and leave no word where you’d gone?”
“Let’s sit down. My head’s spinning.” She led him to a bench and the two of them sat as they had so many times since childhood. Hatching plans and plotting mischief.
“I asked Derrington to take my virginity, and he demanded I marry him, instead,” she said.
Jack coughed a few times. “That’s the opposite of how things usually go, isn’t it?”
“The two of us became stub
born, and neither would budge,” she said. “Finally, he told me I’d won, and he’d do what I wanted if I agreed to come away with him.”
“How generous of him.” Jack’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“He really didn’t want to do it. Well, he did want to, the way men usually want these things, but he also didn’t.”
“You were confused, and he took advantage of you.”
“No,” she said. “Well, yes he did, but not in the usual way.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “I may not have direct experience with the way men deal with women, but taking her virginity is the usual way men take advantage.”
She jumped up and paced a bit. “It’s not like that at all.”
“Then, what is it like?”
“He says he loves me.”
“Do you believe him?”
That stopped her short. She hadn’t thought to question that. He sounded sincere enough. He touched her so sweetly, and not just during sex. She could be reading a book and suddenly feel a hand on her shoulder. She’d always know it was him because her brain had memorized his scent. Heaven knew she’d slept in it enough nights for it to take possession of a corner of her mind.
“Yes, I believe him. But it doesn’t excuse him trying to keep me prisoner.”
“Prisoner,” Jack repeated. “He’s been holding you prisoner?”
“When I told him I wanted to leave, he wouldn’t let me. He told me he forbad it.”
“How long has he held you against your will?”
“Technically, only a few days, but he brought me here knowing that he wouldn’t let me go. So I guess I’ve been a prisoner all that time.”
“The whole thing’s insane,” Jack said.
“And that’s not all.” She sat down again. “He and his grandmother have a crazy idea that he’s cursed and his only hope is for him to marry me.”
Jack stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Probably, she had. David Winslow, Marquis of Derrington, could do that to any woman. Judging from his grandmother, the ability to drive people to distraction ran in the family. Maybe the Winslow curse didn’t afflict only the men of the family, but also the unlucky female the man chose as his mate.
