His Mistletoe Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Yes, I believe I do. In fact,” she said as a reckless excitement coursed through her, “as your wife, I insist upon it.”

  He bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. “My precious lady, I am yours to command.”

  Chapter 18

  Phoebe stared back at him, her beautiful eyes wide with conflicting emotions. Lucas saw a touching mix of eagerness and vulnerability, along with a large dollop of uncertainty in those sherry-colored depths. It was a heady combination, one that brought forth in him an answering mix of tenderness and lust. He had vowed to be careful with her, but his gut clenched and his muscles burned with the effort to hold himself back.

  The fact that she stood between his legs, naked to the waist, didn’t help his self-control. Phoebe’s beautiful body, awakening to passion, would try any man’s discipline. And now she asked for more.

  He was happy to comply.

  The hardest part—aside from his cock—would be controlling his own rampaging need to get her flat on her back, her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her, slaking what had to be the most insane lust a man had ever felt. But he wouldn’t do that to her. Both delicate and innocent, Phoebe had been raised to know very little about relations between men and women. More than anything, he wanted to make her first sexual experience one of complete pleasure and trust.

  Looking at her now, with her dewy skin and nipples stiff with arousal, he had every confidence she would prove a quick study. And Lucas would certainly enjoy tutoring her in the lessons of love—of the physical kind, that is. That he was more than willing to give.

  She tilted her head, obviously wondering at his silence. Smiling to reassure her, he dusted the tip of his finger across one rosy nipple. She bit her lip, drawing in a breath that lifted the soft globes in a perfect quiver. Christ, she had the prettiest breasts he had ever seen—white and full and topped with berry red nipples. They’d tasted sweet and ripe like berries, too, and he couldn’t wait to sample them again.

  “Look at you, Phoebe,” he breathed as desire pounded through his veins. “So lovely. I can hardly wait to be inside you.”

  Her mouth rounded into a surprised little circle. “I . . . I want that, too, Lucas,” she replied in a hesitant voice.

  He gave a soft laugh. His little love was doing her best to please him, but he didn’t think she was quite ready for that yet. He had every intention of pleasuring her first, making her body shake with passion as she came for him for the first time. “Soon, love,” he murmured. “Just keep holding on to me. Whatever happens, don’t let go.”

  She raised a questioning eyebrow but firmly pressed her fingers into his shoulders. She squared her own slender shoulders, obviously preparing for whatever he had in mind. The slight movement lifted her breasts high. Lust prowled through him at the sight, and he knew a time would come when he would spend long minutes playing with her luscious tits, making her climax from that alone.

  But not tonight. Tonight was for claiming her as his wife.

  Gently, he slid the endearingly plain night rail from her waist and let it pool around her feet. Her breath hitched and a blush raced from chest to throat, and up to pink her cheeks. Every masculine instinct he possessed purred with satisfaction, supremely pleased with her innocence. His rational mind knew how ridiculous that was, but nothing about Phoebe made him feel rational.

  He took in her narrow waist, her smooth stomach, and the delicious flare of her hips. His Phoebe was slender, but she had a woman’s curves nonetheless. As he let his gaze travel down to the nest of curls between her legs, dark and silky as mink, he reached around to palm her pretty bottom, luxuriating in the curves that were now his to enjoy.

  She sucked on her full lower lip, and his erection pressed in a heavy ache against the fall of his breeches. Soon he would relieve that ache in her virginal heat, but for now he would very much enjoy preparing her tight passage to receive him.

  He slid his other hand to her bottom, kneading the firm little globes with a slow, rhythmic pressure. She took a tiny step closer to him, her eyelids fluttering with pleasure. Her movement brought her breasts close to his mouth. Unable to resist, he sucked one of the hard little points into his mouth. He gently closed his teeth around it, giving her the slightest of nips. She gasped, fingernails digging into his shirt. That pleased him, too. Phoebe would do that to him when they were both naked, he was sure, and he would take a great satisfaction in the marking.

  He held her in a firm grip as he leisurely tongued and teased her, slowly driving her wild. She trembled in his grasp and hot little whimpers rose from her throat. Her nipple was stiff and hard in his mouth, and yet as silky and smooth as a pearl. He’d never felt or tasted anything better, and the temptation to linger was acute.

  But with a last, hard suck, he pulled his mouth free. Phoebe moaned and swayed on her feet. Her head tilted back and her thick hair streamed over her shoulders, a shiny river of ebony in the glow of the firelight. She was a perfect image of a woman abandoning herself to seduction and passion.

  And yet her essential innocence still shimmered in the air about her. Lucas would never mistake her burgeoning passion for wantonness. Phoebe’s passion was as pure as the woman herself, and just as true. In her innocence and trust she hid nothing from him, and it captured his heart in a way he had no longer thought possible. That seemed something of a miracle, and not one he necessarily welcomed.

  He steadied her, reining his own turbulent feelings under control. He had no desire to muddy the already complex waters of their relationship with unreliable emotions. Not tonight, anyway, and never, if at all possible. With her, he wanted simplicity, not the tortured needs and obsessions that too often came with what other men called love.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. “Why are you stopping?”

  He let out a husky laugh. “I have no intention of stopping.”

  Wrapping his hand around her neck, he pulled her down for a soft kiss. “Ready?” he growled against her mouth.

  A pleasure-laden sigh breathed out from between her lips. “Oh, yes. I am very ready for more, Lucas.”

  Then her eyes flew open as she heard her own words. She winced, but when he grinned she let out an embarrassed laugh. “Honestly. Thee makes me say the most ridiculous things.”

  He gently pushed her upright, carefully positioning her between his knees. “Not ridiculous, love. Enticing.” Then he slipped his hands between her silky-smooth thighs and nudged her to open them. “Slide your feet wider,” he urged.

  She blushed as red as fire, but obeyed him. If he wasn’t mistaken, a very small but eager smile played around the corners of her mouth.

  Gently, he stroked circles on her inner thighs, building her anticipation. With each pass he stroked higher, moving ever closer to her tempting folds. When delicate tremors began to shiver through her muscles, he moved one hand back to her bottom to support her. Phoebe reacted so strongly to his touch that he feared she might collapse in a heap on the floor when he finally delved deep.

  After a few leisurely moments of playing with her that way, he finally brushed one hand up between the outer folds of her already-drenched flesh. When she startled, clutching at his shoulders, it gave him the perfect excuse to kiss the succulent breast bobbing in front of his face. As he sucked a nipple back into his mouth, he also gently slipped his hand between her soft folds. When his fingertip connected with the hard little bud hidden there, she jerked up on her toes, as if a bolt of lightning had charged through her body.

  “Lucas!”

  He tilted his head back to look into her eyes. They were opened wide, the pupils dilated, as a hectic flush swept over her cheekbones. She gazed down at him, seemingly shocked by the sensations storming through her body. Her wondering expression, so innocent and yet so sensual, drove a shaft of heat straight to his groin. Jesus, he might yet come simply from looking at her.

  “Do you like that?” he rumbled, drawing a languid stroke through her damp heat.

  She gasped and her eyelids grew
heavy. “I . . . I think so.”

  Lucas found the tight little bud again and gently rubbed it. She unconsciously clamped her thighs around his hand. “No, love,” he murmured as he again urged her legs apart. “You’ll feel more if you keep yourself open to me.”

  She exhaled on a quivering sob, but without any more urging planted her feet wider apart. Her compliance kicked up his pulse, driving his own needs up another urgent notch. With a shaking hand, he stroked her, dragging his fingers back and forth over the tight knot hidden in her drenched curls.

  Phoebe’s eyelids fluttered shut and she began to move against his hand. With his other hand, he cupped her bottom, and then increased the rhythm, pushing the heel of his palm against her hard bud. She jerked and cried out again, but he held her firmly in his grasp, not yet ready to let her come.

  “L . . . Lucas,” she stuttered. “Please!”

  Her hands slid from his shoulders to his biceps and she squeezed him in a tight grasp. As she rode his hand, her lush tits quivered in front of his face. He wanted to tongue and suck on them to his heart’s content but, more than that, he wanted to see her beautiful face when she climaxed.

  “What, Phoebe?” he growled. “What do you want?”

  “I . . . I want more. Touch me harder,” she panted out in a desperate voice.

  He let out a harsh laugh, barely recognizing it as his own. Palming her in a hard grip, he held her still as he slipped two fingers into her hot, wet sheath. Her muscles contracted around his fingers and she tried to rise up again on her toes.

  “Oh, oh,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut.

  He toyed with her like that for several moments, even though the sight of her was driving him into a state of agonized lust. But it was all too beautiful to end just yet. Her body quivered with her approaching climax, and her skin dewed with passion. Her slick, hot flesh seemed to melt around his hand as he played with her drenched softness. Now, as he pumped two fingers into her sheath, she tried to press against him, blindly seeking relief.

  It was time.

  Suddenly, he removed his hand and her eyes flew open. It took her a moment to focus, but then she stared at him, confused.

  “Lucas,” she wailed, sounding aggrieved. “Why are you stopping?”

  “Because I want you to look at me during the next part. Keep your eyes open, my love.”

  She bit her lip and tilted her hips into his hand. The contact of his palm against her hard little bud brought a fresh gasp to her lips and her eyelids started to flutter closed.

  “Keep them open, Phoebe,” he commanded.

  She pulled in a deep breath and fixed her gaze on him. Her eyes shone with a newfound sensual knowledge and her lips curved into a hot little smile.

  “Whatever you say, Lucas,” she breathed.

  His cock jerked with greedy anticipation, and he gave a soft laugh. Once more he slipped his fingers inside her wet passage, thrusting them deep inside. As he pumped, he rubbed the heel of his hand against her bud. She moved against him, and this time he let her control the movement.

  As he watched her, his body flamed with an agonizing need. Her glistening pink flesh seemed to open around his hand, swelling with excitement. Her breath hitched in her throat, and he knew she hovered on the brink.

  Gripping her rump tight, he pumped two fingers as his thumb pressed against her. Phoebe grabbed his shoulders, arched her back, and flew into her climax. Her passage contracted around his fingers and a shudder raced through her body as she found her relief. Holding her tight, Lucas clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his own response under control. He had every intention of being inside her when he came, not disgracing himself on his wedding night.

  He brought her down gently, softly cupping her mound as her release shuddered through her. After several long moments she finally calmed, and he could feel the tension in her limbs give way to a trembling relaxation. When her knees began to collapse, he hooked an arm under them and lifted her into his lap.

  As Lucas cradled her, she subsided against him with a long, drawn-out sigh. His cock was on fire and he thought his head might explode, but he had never felt more than he did at this moment, holding his wife fast in his arms. She nestled against him, one dainty hand clutching his shirt while the other rested limply against her breasts. Her cheeks were flushed and a little smile curled her lips. She looked sated, and very content.

  He pressed a kiss to her damp temple. “Did you like that, sweetheart?”

  She let out a fluttering sigh. “Truly, Lucas, that was extraordinary. You should have told me about this before we started. I would not have been nearly as nervous as I was.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. Holding her satiny body close, he stood. She squeaked a bit at that, but settled soon enough. “It’s not really something a man cares to discuss with his fiancée,” he said dryly.

  “Hmm. Well, perhaps he should,” she replied in a thoughtful voice. “It might make for a great deal less confusion and anxiety. At least on the bride’s part.”

  He strode with her to the bed. “I’ll be sure to mention that to any young men who happen to ask me for advice on appropriate conduct for their wedding night.”

  She huffed. “Now you are teasing me.”

  Laughing, he dropped her onto the bed, where she landed on the large pile of pillows. She bounced a bit, scrambled up, and scowled at him.

  “How rude,” she scolded, even though he could see she was trying not to laugh.

  Leaning against the bedpost, he took a moment to study her. She looked utterly tempting, naked against the white sheets and wine-colored coverlet. Her skin glowed with a pearly sheen, her dark hair flowed onto the pillow, and he could even see the pink, sweet flesh peeking out from behind the curls at the apex of her thighs.

  And the best thing was the smile on her lips and the happy gleam in her eyes. But as they stared at each other her gaze shimmered from laughter to intense longing and, God help him, a love as naked and beautiful as her body.

  His heart clutched with a devastating emotion he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  “Phoebe,” he rasped from a suddenly dry throat, “I can’t wait any longer.”

  She tilted her head and gave him a puzzled smile. “I cannot imagine why you should.”

  That’s all it took. In seconds, he ripped off his clothes and came down on her, pressing her slim body into the mattress. As her arms twined around him, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, drinking in the sweetest kiss he had ever known. His head roared and lust pounded through his body and brain, so acute he could have sworn the pounding was outside his head instead of in it.

  Suddenly, Phoebe put her small fists on his shoulders and shoved with all her might as she pulled away from the kiss.

  “Lucas,” she hissed. “Stop!”

  He shook his head impatiently, swooping back down to her mouth again, but she inserted a hand between them and the kiss landed on her palm.

  “Lucas, stop. It sounds like someone is at the door.”

  He froze, finally understanding that the pounding was indeed coming from outside his head—on the front door, from the sound of it. And whoever was doing it was in one hell of a hurry. The bloody fool was using a stick, thudding repeatedly against the sturdy oaken door.

  He groaned and dropped his head on the pillow, trying to ignore the throbbing urgency in his body. “Hell and damnation. I’ll kill him. Whoever is pounding on my door—on my wedding night—I’ll kill him.”

  Chapter 19

  Propped up on his elbows, Lucas stared down at her, every muscle rigid with disbelief and frustration. Phoebe pushed on his brawny chest again as she tried to wriggle out from under him. Lying trapped and naked under a large man on the brink of losing his temper struck her as a very bad idea.

  The heavy pounding on the front door drove away the last remnants of her sensual daze. Lucas had unleashed unknown, delicious forces in her body. He had done it gently and skillfully and, she was certain, with tender affect
ion. But his tenderness had now fled, falling victim to the untimely interruption of their lovemaking.

  The rapid change made her nervous. “Lucas, please get off me,” she said breathlessly.

  He blinked, staring down at her as if she were a stranger. Then he grimaced. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “I understand, but I would still be grateful to get up.”

  Grumbling, he rolled to the side, then sat up on the edge of the bed. She scrambled under the sheets, which prompted another irritated look from her husband. “Phoebe, no one is going to burst in on us.”

  She pulled the sheets up to her neck. “I happen to be cold,” she responded with dignity.

  Lucas surged to his feet, looking more disgruntled by the minute. Not surprising, although she wished he would stop glowering at her. The interruption was hardly her fault.

  The pounding in the hall finally stopped, but a moment later the sound of raised voices replaced it. Yanking on his clothes, Lucas stalked for the door.

  “What are you going to do?” she blurted out.

  He cast a disbelieving look in her direction. “I’m going to see who is trying to pound my door down. You stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I get rid of the damn fool who had the nerve to ruin my wedding night.”

  The door slammed behind him, sending a hollow boom echoing through the room.

  Oh, dear. Phoebe threw back the bedding and rushed to gather her clothes from the floor, shivering as she pulled her night rail over her head. The fire had burned down to embers, and in the fitful light of the candles, the room was cold and dreary, and seemed as shabby and out of sorts as she felt.

  She hastily pulled on her wrapper and grabbed her slippers. As she crossed in front of her dressing table, she caught a glance at her reflection. Stumbling to a halt, she stared at herself. She looked exactly like a woman who had just been tumbled, hardly a presentable image.

  Quickly, she wove her hair into a haphazard braid and then dug a heavy woolen shawl out of one of her trunks. Casting it over herself, she took another quick glance in the mirror. Although not likely to impress anyone, at least she looked respectably covered. Given the clamor of voices now issuing from downstairs, she could not afford to waste another second.