What was he doing here? Did he not live far away?
She couldn’t break the stare, even though if he discovered her identity she may lose her position and honour.
She ought to leave immediately, yet remained frozen to the spot.
‘Miss? Ye or’right?’ the young man beside her asked, his hand once more hovering dangerously close to her own.
Ellen slipped it away, felt herself nod in lieu of answering. She fumbled for the previously neglected tankard of ale. She brought the liquid to her lips and gulped it. The ale was sweet and bitter, and she nearly gagged. The mouthful did nothing to ease the tightness in her belly.
The young man frowned, he spoke again.
However, to Ellen, time seemed to slow. The musicians began to play another song, this time slower and somehow more intimate. She glanced up and found Carring staring at her again.
I must go! Ellen thought frantically. She made to move and slightly knocked the young gentleman in her haste, her skirts twisted around her legs. At that same moment, she saw Mr Carring rise, his eyes never once leaving her.
He began to approach. His gaze burning. He looked lithe and powerful, like a lion stalking a startled deer.
Her heart was beating powerfully now, its rhythm matching the rapid madness of the fiddlers.
She turned, moving away from Carring.
It was imperative she escape and return to the school at once. She had to disappear into the crowd, slip away. Muttering an apology to her confused young suitor, she pressed into the crowed, hoping to disappear into forest of bodies, when she heard a gentle cough beside her.
‘Are you free to dance?’ Mr Carring’s smooth voice sent gooseflesh rippling up her back.
Ellen turned, terrified he would discover her identity, then looked up.
His face was as handsome as ever, but the hungry expression was etched deeply into the lines of his face as if with an artist’s chisel.
There was no recognition in his gaze, nothing but frank, honest admiration.
The flesh between her legs tightened and her breasts heaved.
For just a moment her tongue remained captive by her sudden and unbidden desire.
She should say no. This was a foolhardy game and one she could only lose.
And yet her recalcitrant tongue would not form the refusal her common sense bade.
Carring had not recognised her. There was no danger. He would no more expect to see Miss Brampton’s schoolteacher in this public house than he would expect to see the Prince Regent.
She bit her lip and felt herself nod.
She could feel his gaze on her lip, and thought she heard the slightest moan of need.
He needed no other confirmation.
Ellen felt his hand press into her forearm, hotter than any brand. Smoothly he drew her to him and pulled her into the circle of dancers.
Ellen shivered despite the heat. The mere touch of his hand on her cloth-covered arm made her body nearly crumble and she feared she may fall apart all together.
The fiddlers exploded into yet another song and Ellen could feel the music inside her. Her flesh thrummed with the beat, and her mind emptied of doubts.
Under Mr Carring’s firm guidance, her feet followed his steps into a folk dance as if they’d been born to it. They swayed and stepped in perfect unison. She could smell the scent of him at this proximity. He smelled smoky, masculine and charming. Perhaps it was the ale, and her body so unaccustomed to the closeness of a man, but she felt wonderfully, irresponsibly wild and free.
The small irritating complaints of her common sense fell silent under the weight of his hand on her waist and the encouraging cheer of the music.
And still, she wanted more.
Just for this one night. She would take more.
This would be the most thrilling Christmas gift of all.
Ellen swayed with him as his hand tightened on her waist. She could feel each finger press into her soft flesh.
Her breath caught and she stumbled slightly, leaning closer to him and pressing her breasts against his chest.
Was it terribly wicked that she wanted his hands on her more than for just this modest dance?
Too soon, the song ended and Carring stepped away slightly and bowed regally. ‘Forgive me, I have not enquired as to your name, and we have had no formal introduction.’
Heat licked the length of her neck as he waited for her response.
His eyes were hooded, still hungry, admiring and desirous.
Her nipples hardened beneath her quilted stays.
It took her a few moments to find an answer.
‘Tonight I have no name,’ she whispered, unable to completely find her voice. ‘This night is a Christmas gift to myself, to do as I will.’
She looked up to gauge his reaction. He stiffened. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
‘How unusual,’ he murmured, and he stepped in closer. This time Ellen felt his fingers move on her back, drawing her indecently close. Now she could feel the thickness rising in his breeches. A thickness she’d only ever heard whispers about, but never actually encountered.
He gazed down at her, ‘Then tonight may just be a Christmas gift to myself as well.’
He pulled her into another dance and Ellen and Carring found themselves once more consumed by the music and a mutual desire for freedom. If someone had asked Ellen how much time had passed, she could not have answered, until the barman tapped them on the shoulder and suggested they end the evening and depart.
‘I had no notion it was so late,’ Ellen breathed. The colour roared into her cheeks. ‘I’ve never had such an evening in my life, I’ve never felt so very ... free.’ She sighed, ‘Thank you for your company.’
Carring had said nothing for a long time, but his dark-fringed eyes seemed conflicted.
‘I ought to leave,’ she said, knowing she need not leave. The Sneddons would not miss her until breakfast. Thus it was entirely possible for her to spend the entire night dancing, if not here, elsewhere.
‘Allow me to escort you home?’ Mr Carring asked, taking her elbow gently and turning her towards the door.
Ellen felt her body clench again at his touch. It was ridiculous to feel such things for a man she scarce knew and had who had no idea who she was, yet it was thrilling.
The wind had risen during her time in the public house, and a few raindrops began to fall. She had brought no shawl and the icy droplets stung the swell of her breasts. She inhaled deeply and hesitated.
‘I need no escort, thank you,’ she said softly, ‘My home is not far and I should like to relish my freedom just a few moments longer.’
‘Have you enjoyed yourself then, this evening?’ Carring asked, his grip tightening slightly on her elbow. She hesitated, not willing to leave just yet.
She looked up into those gorgeous pale hazel eyes, so deeply shadowed by dark lashes. ‘More than I could ever have hoped,’ she breathed.
Chapter 4
Robert didn’t know what he was doing; the sweet, fresh scent of her hair, and the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric of her dress was driving him to distraction. All evening long he’d been grateful for the full coat he wore to cover the raging height of his erection.
He must be mad.
Educated and softly spoken and dressed so finely, someone would be looking for this young lady, certainly.
Someone, somewhere, would miss her.
He chastised himself for his brash and forward manner with her. He ought to be appalled by her wilful disregard for societal norms and rules, but her fierce determination to experience an evening free from a chaperone amused and excited rather than horrified him.
If he were any type of gentleman, he should be demanding her address, marching her home and returning her to the bosom of her family.
Bosom, he looked down at the swell of her breasts, the raindrops looked like diamonds against the creamy fullness. She looked up at him, opening her mouth to say something m
ore. Her lips were pink and moist. So touchable, so very kissable.
I should not.
But he did. He kissed her, hard.
His mouth met hers in a sensual crush, and he felt her gasp. His hand left her elbow and curled around her waist, drawing her to him. She mewed softly in her throat.
What the devil was he doing?
Her small frame melded to his like soft molten gold, and Robert felt a low growl of need grow in his throat.
He should take her home ...
His hands travelled from her waist and cupped the round, firm globes of her buttocks.
She gasped, and he expected her to push him away, chastise him, anything.
She did not. Instead, the woman pushed her body into his and he could not help but grind his cock against the warm softness of her belly.
His hands kneaded her buttocks and she whimpered, not in pain, or fear, but pure need. The sound was a spear of pleasure straight to his groin.
‘We must stop,’ Robert heard himself gasp, his voice gruff with pleasure.
‘No,’ she whispered, ‘Oh no, don’t you dare.’ Her lips moved along his cheek.
His cock strained harder at her demand.
‘This may be my only chance, to ever ...’ She whispered, but he did not need her to finish. He kissed her into silence, guiding them both into the dark privacy of the alleyway between the public house and teashop.
***
Excitement pulsed through Ellen’s body in hot waves. It was dreamlike. She felt the cold bricks of the teashop behind her back as Carring pushed her against the wall.
‘Is this what you want?’ his voice was ragged and he kissed the skin of her neck, sending ripples of pleasure down her body. ‘Truly?’
‘Yes,’ she murmured and kissed him again. There was nothing she wanted more than for this pleasure, this excitement to continue.
‘Then I will give you a Christmas gift you will never, ever forget,’ he growled.
He moved from her. Ellen felt loss of heat immediately as his body pulled away. The chilly air wrapped around her body, as the cold damp bricks sapped the warmth from her back. She looked down, and found Carring knelt on the damp cobbles before her, his hands at the hem of her skirts.
Confused, her hands flew to his shoulders, ‘What are you doing?’ she asked as she felt his hands slip beneath the fabric and skim the length of her calves. ‘Do you not need—’ she didn’t finish, her voice disappeared into a surprised gasp as he lifted her skirts and his hands seared a path above her knees. His hot fingers danced along the sensitive flesh of her thighs, parting them. Then she felt his lips, gently kissing the path so recently forged by his fingers. She swallowed and felt her pulse hammer in her most private of places as his kisses and touches drew closer. His hand flittered past the curls of her sex, seeking, and gently caressing. She moaned, the sensation exquisite.
‘Oh,’ she murmured unsure of herself. Her body was wanting more, but more of what, she could not quite place. She knew of what men and women did in the marital bed, but this was no marital bed, and they were certainly no man and wife.
His fingers urged her legs further apart, and as they did, she felt him part the curls of her womanhood, seeking the moist flesh of her sex. She shook, the sensation so delicately sweet, but intense. He kissed her thigh and then she felt something hot lick the length of womanhood. She cried out and her hands involuntarily moved to Carring’s shoulders and curled themselves in the hair above his collar. His tongue flicked again, from her secret opening to the hardened bead at the top.
She hadn’t known such pleasure could exist. On his next stroke he thrust his tongue into her, and she knew she was only just discovering the pleasures that could be had. She shuddered as the coarse skin of his cheeks grazed the flesh of her thighs as he thrust into her over and over with his tongue. Her fingers coiled in his hair and she widened her legs to allow him deeper access. As he continued to lick and thrust, Ellen found a warm weight growing in her womb. It was incredible, he was incredible. All the silly innocent fantasies she’d had over the years paled to insignificance as Mr Carring licked, thrust and then sucked at the folds of her womanhood. His hands gripped her spread thighs and a spear of sweet ecstasy shot through her entire body, then broke like a wave over her. She keened and gripped his hair tightly as her body met with passionate crisis. Ellen’s legs trembled, and it was all she could do to stop herself falling to the ground.
After a moment, she felt rather than saw Mr Carring move to stand, and her skirts tumbled to cover her spreadeagled legs. She clenched her eyes closed, revelling in the aftershocks of pleasure, and heard the ragged sound of his breathing and the pop of buttons opening his breeches.
Ellen couldn’t believe he’d given her such pleasure, and as her body shook with one more spasm of pleasure, she realised he must have his too.
She kept her eyes tightly closed, and heard the sound of fabric being pulled down his legs.
‘Open your eyes,’ he murmured, ‘Your beautiful eyes.’
She did. Mr Robert Carring stood before her, his handsome face hungry and dark with need. Ellen swallowed as her gaze travelled south, and saw through the darkness of the alley his manhood standing firm and erect.
Her mouth dried; his implement was large though she had nothing to compare it to. It was foreign, strange but thrilling in its primal beauty. She reached forth and ran a tentative finger over its swollen head. It came back moist. She bit her lip, it was impossible that such a thing would fit within her.
‘What am I doing?’ she gasped.
Mr Carring smiled, his teeth flashed in the dark. ‘Whatever you wish ...’ he murmured, and brought his mouth to her neck, and kissed.
How is it possible to feel this kiss on my neck as well as between my legs? she mused as she threw her head back, exposing her neck to his wandering lips. Her sex pulsed anew.
‘Do you want me?’ he growled softly, and nipped the delicate skin beneath her ear.
She remembered the magnificence of his cock, ‘Oh yes,’ she moaned.
It was all the consent he needed. Carring’s hands reached for her skirts again and pushed them high. The cold damp air whipped around her.
With his knee, he parted her legs again and this time the cold air licked the wet lips of her womanhood.
Ellen opened her eyes as his mouth left her neck. Her gaze followed his and she watched his free hand grip his cock and guide its thick head to the opening between her legs.
She must have whimpered, for he paused, shushed her with a gentle kiss.
She looked up at his face, his brow furrowed in concentration. She could feel the hot burn of his manhood’s broad head push gently upward.
Ellen shuddered, she’d heard about the discomfort first sensual relations could cause a virgin, but she was ready. She may never have the opportunity again.
For a time, he rhythmically pushed gently and insistently upward. The blunt thick head nudging her, coaxing her to open, but he did not yet breach her maidenhead.
She sighed, relaxing slowly into the strange urging.
Was this what sensual relations were?
Was this all?
He growled softly under his breath.
‘You have never been with a man before, have you?’ he whispered.
She hesitated, not entirely willing to disclose, then he nudged a little harder.
A sharp pain shot through her core. ‘Oh! No,’ she whispered, ‘I have not.’
The nudging between her legs stilled for a moment.
‘You still want me?’ His voice cracked under the intensity of his words.
‘Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘Yes.’
He pushed a little harder, and she winced just slightly.
‘You may feel discomfort,’ he warned, pulling back just a fraction.
‘I know,’ she said.
He pushed with even more pressure. She wanted him, she wanted him so very much.
‘Please ...’ Ellen began, but she needn’
t say more. Robert kissed her again, and this time, the pushing between her legs became firmer and much more insistent. There was a burn now, as her secret opening began to give way under his attention. Ellen shuddered, knowing what she must do. She spread her legs further apart, allowing him unreserved access.
Carring pushed hard once and breached her maidenhead in one smooth thrust. Ellen cried out in pain and shock. ‘Oh!’
He plunged further, burying his cock to the hilt, until her body could take no more. Only then he stilled.
‘Oh,’ she moaned ‘Oh, it is too much!’ Ellen buried her face in his shoulder, pinned at the waist by the thick invasion between her legs.
‘Shhh,’ he soothed and kissed the top of her head, ‘Shhh.’
Ellen opened her eyes and held Carring’s gaze; desire and need blazed there.
‘May I continue?’ he asked, his voice strained.
The stretch and burn of his manhood imbedded so deep and wide within her made it almost impossible to speak, but she nodded.
He began to move, careful slick movements that took her breath away. The stretching discomfort lessened with each stroke, and at length, the same heavy womb sensation began to fill her again as her body accepted and began to relish his onslaught. He kissed her, sweetly on the lips, and she opened her mouth to his tongue. A low moan gathered in her throat as he moved more strongly within her. He growled, and pushed in hard before retracting, and thrusting hard again.
Her body began to grow tight, and her breathing matched his thrusts. She didn’t know how her body could accept such pleasure, such intensity, but it did, and she adored it. Carring’s movements became quicker, less smooth as he moved towards his own crisis. Ellen’s hands curled around his neck as she clung to him, her back pushed hard against the wall, her sex growing ever tighter around his rigid manhood. A moment or two passed before her body broke with the same, wondrous pleasure it had earlier. She cried out into Carring’s neck, and he bucked into her thrice more before shuddering and pumping his last.
Ellen could not say how long they clung to each other in the frantic final moments of passion, but after a time, the rainfall she’d forgotten about made itself known by falling heavier.
A Christmas Bride Page 3
