Tempted

by Rita Thedford

  "You are the handsomest, most assured-looking man I've ever seen,” she said at last. “You make me feel like a child with my silly shyness. I feel crass and stupid and I'm afraid of what you'll do to me. Everything changes tonight, and I'm so afraid."

  How he loved her!

  Possession and affection took up residence in his heart as he joined her on the feather-down mattress. Moving over her, he kneeled between her outspread knees and took the hand lying across her abdomen. The need to reassure her rode him like the sharp edge of a sword. “I would never hurt you intentionally, but you must know that the first time might cause you pain."

  "Pain?"

  Damn her mother for her ineptitude! Christian felt the depth of Elizabeth's fear and leaned over to kiss her lips. The taste was ambrosia, the feel of her naked body incentive to forge ahead. Steeling himself, he took care to kiss her gently before his resolve began to wither. Elizabeth Grayson, nay, Elizabeth Delaford, his duchess, had lips for which to die.

  Tasting her was his right and he drew upon it to heighten her awareness of his body. Nibbling here, tasting there, he delved, at last, within the sweetness of her mouth. With infinite care, he let his tongue move into her sweet depths, at once discovering her hesitancy and her passion. She wanted to let go, but she was afraid.

  Tenderness took over as he let instinct guide him. Already she'd felt the sharp edge of passion, and he knew without doubt that, with patience, she would demand even more.

  Cupping her face, he gazed into eyes as turbulent, as violent as a summer storm. Tears rushed over those glorious eyes, and he felt himself melt deep inside. “Do not be afraid, love,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “I'll not do anything of which you don't approve."

  "But, before...” she whispered.

  "Did you not want what my mouth did to you?” At her confused look, he smiled. “You need not answer, Elizabeth. Your cries of completion rocked the world in which we stood. Your cries were beautiful to my ears, and I would hear them again ... and again."

  With that, he took her mouth once more, and she made a soft sound as their tongues moved in a dance older than time.

  He wrapped his arms around her drawing her flush against the heat of his body. Her nipples brushed his chest. He caught his breath as passion burned through his senses. Stroking slowly, with infinite care, he touched every bit of exposed skin on her trembling body with every bit of expertise he possessed. The soft sounds she made were like the sweetest of music. She trembled in his arms. Perhaps he trembled as well.

  He lavished meticulous attention on her neck, her breasts, the indentation of her waist. Her hands fluttered restlessly against the bedding until he took a nipple in his mouth. She gasped, plunging her fingers into the length of his hair, holding him close. How he loved touching her, loving her. Releasing the plump morsel of her breast, he caught her gaze.

  "Our courtship was fraught with strangeness,” he mused, gently circling the aureole of her left nipple with the tip of his finger. It tightened in response, making him smile faintly. Wanting more, he licked the rigid bud then blew a warm breath over its surface. Elizabeth shuddered. She whimpered. He loved the way she reacted, but continued in a low, husky drawl, “Over this short time, I feel I've come to know you, love. From this moment on, your battles will be mine. Your fears will be mine. We are one through this marriage whether you wish it or no."

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Can it be?” she whispered. “Since Lottie died, I have detested men. Loathed them. How is it that I feel such tenderness toward you?” She groaned and closed her eyes as he took her nipple between his teeth to better play there. “I ache for you."

  One by one, Christian plucked the pins from her upswept hair. After sending them pinging across the hardwood floor, he sank his fingers within the fragrant mass and spread it around her like a vivid fan. He stroked the silky strands, gazing at his fists full of the bright stuff. She lifted, arched her pale throat, so beautifully displayed that he knew he must kiss her there or die.

  He made a dark sound, a sound ripe with knowledge. It broke through the darkness as he raised up to gaze into her passion-filled eyes. “Oh, my sweet darling, you have made a vast mistake in wrapping all men into the same package. Yes, the death of your sister was horrendous, but it was not the act of all men, but of one only. If I could, I would meet Stanhope on the field of honor despite the fact he has none. I would shoot him dead and I would do it for you and your loss. Men like him are naught but insects. Quite crushable beneath one's boot.” He stroked her fine jaw. “Despite what you wish, I am a man of honor and tonight, I would make you my wife in deed. Take me now, Elizabeth. Give me what I most desire."

  A low, deep sigh crossed her lips, and her eyes fluttered closed as his mouth descended once again. Like a thief searching for treasure, he plied her mouth with his own. Her beautiful body responded as if made for him, and he touched her everywhere, staking his possession as their tongues parried. Together they clung, each seeking the touch of the other. Breasts that were full and needy were stroked and teased. He groaned his pleasure, steeped in the pleasure of the moment.

  With masterful fingers he plumbed the depths of her desire, stroking between her thighs, teasing, plucking. When she writhed against him, seeking more, ready, he lowered his body over her. His erection, thick and hard, rubbed enticingly where his fingers had been, stroking against her dampness. Elizabeth cried out.

  Slowly whispering words of love, telling her just what he would do to her, Christian took himself in hand and teased the nub of her sex with the rounded head of his erection. Over and over he stroked, until her wetness coated him thoroughly. Then, with steadfast resolve, he placed himself solidly at the opening of her body. Moving enticingly against her entrance, he took a taught nipple in his mouth and sucked strongly, sweetly. Tonguing the hard morsel, he insinuated his sex by small increments into hot, sultry flesh, finally coming to rest at the fragile barrier of her innocence.

  Helplessly her body stiffened at the intrusion and with words, she begged, “Oh, please no. Please, no. Oh, Christian."

  "It hurts?"

  "Yes. Tight. It is so tight,” she gasped.

  "Shh, love, let me ease your way.” Slowly, tenderly, his fingers lightly circled that ultra sensitive spot between her thighs. He felt the dampness there, its swollen state. Using great restraint, reining in his own terrible need, he teased until she moaned her need against his naked chest.

  Her fingers clutched at his back even as her breathing increased. Understanding her fears, but unwilling to stall much longer, he withdrew to press himself harmlessly along tissues throbbing with sensation. Her movements to escape suddenly became something quite different.

  "Don't move,” he whispered, but it was too late.

  Her hips arched against him and suddenly her eyes flew open.

  "Oh, my! Oh, yes!"

  "Good?” he queried, desperate now.

  In answer, she arched again, humming low in her throat. A sound of pleasure. Thank God!

  Gasping at the sensation, feeling his body begin to shake from the force of his need, he moved, lowered himself again, poised at the entrance of her body. The head of his erection throbbed, wet from her response, as he inched inside.

  He stiffened above her and, gazing steadily into her eyes, said, “Are you ready?"

  "Yes,” she whispered, rubbing her swollen sex over the rigid expanse of him. “I want this. I want you."

  Without another word, he tightened his jaw and plunged through the fragile barrier of her maidenhead. He drank her sharp cry of distress and held himself perfectly still as her body pulsed around him. Seeking his own selfish pleasure was uppermost in his mind, but he revolted from the idea, wanting to please her more than he wanted his next breath.

  Recognizing the daunting task before him and warmed by the depth of emotion he felt, he kissed the tears from her lids and cheeks. Other women had been mere playthings, while this precious specimen was wholly innocent of physical love.
She was his! His to love. His to hold.

  Elizabeth, ravishing creature that she was, belonged to only him, and he fought against a shout of joy as her inner muscles squeezed him beyond belief. Leaning to kiss her, he felt her breath come in small pants against his lips.

  "Oh, yes, darling,” he breathed. “Take all of me into you. Move now, my sweet."

  Her first tentative motion shot heat through all his senses. Delving slowly, he paused at the entrance to her womb and reached between their writhing bodies. Plucking at the small sensitive spot between her thighs, he whispered softly, “Move as I move, sweet one.” Lightly, he touched the tiny morsel again and whispered roughly, “Press this along my length as I parry and retreat. Do you feel how thick I am, how long? Squeeze your muscles against me there. It will heighten the pleasure for both of us."

  She arched her head into the pillow as his lips sank into the flesh of her throat. She tightened her thighs about his waist and moved as he'd instructed. “Christian?” she cried, her expression wild and confused as he stared down at her.

  "Yes, love.” He plunged again, caressing far within her. Moving a slight increment, he thrust deeper, harder, making her moan and move in response. Again and again he stroked, each time eliciting an agitated sound from the woman in his arms.

  Suddenly and without warning, he felt the dam of pleasure break inside her. She stiffened for a moment then simply let go. Satisfaction soared through him, heightening every feeling, every emotion as she shattered in his arms, crying out her pleasure.

  Holding himself perfectly still, he felt the ripples of her completion break over him. Suddenly her silence ended, and she cried out with an explosive sound of joy. The sound washed through him, making him crave nothing more than to come explosively within her.

  Vowing to catch her in that final tumble, he let himself fall with her. The throbbing demands of his body reached the final pinnacle, and he wanted nothing more than to die and be born again within the beauty of her body. All restraint vanished in the face of his desperation as he began to plunge. Hard and fast. He wanted his seed buried deep within her. He wanted her love and a babe. He wanted it now!

  As her inner muscles compressed, he felt the beginnings of a climax clear to his toes. As she gave a final whimper, he plunged into the depth of her sweet body. Crying her name, he roared his release and emptied himself deep within her.

  Satisfaction rolled heavily through his body as he sank against her and wondered if she'd felt the same soul-jarring release.

  A sobbing woman was not what he expected!

  Sated. Yes.

  Whimpering and satisfied. Absolutely.

  Never this!

  "Oh!” She grabbed at him with frantic fingers, tried to push him away. “Oh, Christian, what have you done to me?” she sobbed.

  Slipping off her, he gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. Fear that he'd hurt her threatened like a red cloud. “Love, what is it? Hush. Have I hurt you?"

  The wobble of her head was his only consolation. He pulled her damp body close and whispered endearments.

  "Stop it!” Elizabeth cried. “I loved it! I loved what you did to me, but all this has made me weak. I want you over and over again, but with that wanting, I lose myself."

  Understanding swept through him. He smiled and drew her face to his. “The first thing I ever saw of you was strength. Impossible strength for a woman."

  "For a woman?” She arched her brow and managed a scowl through her tears. A soft hiccup spoiled the effect.

  "No,” he chuckled. “You mistake my meaning, love. I thought you the bravest of women for your diatribe against Lord Stanhope. I thought then that you were a woman of mettle. A woman of strength."

  Elizabeth turned and propped herself upon an elbow. “So do you understand why I felt the need to rob them at the point of my sword?"

  With delightfully wicked thoughts of what he would do to her next, he smiled. Then with a jerk of his body, she was pinned beneath him. “I am not like your parents, Elizabeth. Yes, you should be beaten soundly, but I cannot fault your heroism. You did what you thought best, despite how misguided you were. Your heart was in the right place. But here I am to save you from yourself!"

  He laughed out loud.

  She punched him in the arm. “How dare you? Do not ever laugh at me."

  "I can because I am your husband, but, darling, you must realize that your actions were not that of a proper lady!"

  "I did what I felt right at the time. Perhaps I went about everything incorrectly, but in retrospect, I know that I accomplished much as well."

  Gazing at his passionate wife of only a few hours, Christian frowned. “Please tell me that you've forsaken this quest of vengeance?"

  Elizabeth stared at him for many seconds then finally smiled. “You've said you will support Charlotte House, and I believe you. The women there need our support, but my father was right. I can deal with these injustices with money. I assume that since you have boatloads of money, you shall not say me nay!"

  "No. You may spend my money and yours to benefit anyone you choose. I, myself, contribute often to sailors with clap."

  "Sailors with clap?"

  "Yes,” he grinned. “Those poor souls, who've dedicated their lives to God and Country, so seldom enjoy the pleasure of a woman they make mistakes in selection. Though dockside harpies are a generous lot, clap is inevitable."

  A small frown knitted her brow. “Is there really such a thing?"

  She seemed so scandalized that he had to laugh. Feigning shock, he widened his gray eyes. “But of course, darling. Have you not learned by now that every blight upon mankind has a charitable organization attached to it?"

  She relaxed in his arms and finally laughed at his teasing. “Then I shall contribute as well,” she offered brightly.

  "Generous of you, love. It is quite painful, I hear,” he said with a comical wince. She giggled then snuggled deeply into his arms, much to his delight. For the moment, her worries about losing her independence seemed a far away thing.

  Feeling grateful to the gods of besotted bridegrooms, he buried his face in her wealth of hair and whispered, “How you delight me, my sweet. All teasing aside, surely you must know that I shall support your causes as I hope you will support mine. Two strong-minded people such as we can accomplish much. Together, we shall be invincible."

  Leaning over her, he gazed into the deep violet of her eyes. She had the sated look of a well-fed kitten, and he smiled as a sense of peace blended vibrantly with sensual need. Since her taste was addictive, he took her lips, pressed her back into the pillows, and wallowed in the profound ecstasy of having her in his arms.

  * * * *

  Floating on the tail of a lovely dream, Elizabeth felt warm, strong flesh surrounding her, lifting her. Sighing softly, she turned her head and burrowed against his chest. His heart beating against her ear pulled her gently from sleep and into the beautiful reality of being held by her husband.

  Fluttering her lashes sleepily, she felt them graze the hair on his chest and smiled in naughty remembrance. Helplessly, she stirred, feeling the disappearance of her warm cocoon as cool air sifted over her naked body. The contrast of Christian's warm flesh and night air caused her to loop her arms about his neck with the need to get closer.

  "You are as wiggly as a harnessed bee, my love,” he whispered. “Be still now and let me care for you."

  "Care for me? What do you mean?"

  "You shall see,” he answered as he carried her across the room and back into the luxury of his bath. The room was fragrant and warm with rising steam. While she'd slept, he had drawn another tub of water. The candles still flickered softly, though sunken fatly within layers of melted wax.

  "What have you done, Christian?"

  He brushed a kiss across her forehead and carefully stepped into the steamy pool. “You must be sore from loving, and I am simply doing a husband's duty."

  "But I am not so—” She gasped as he san
k into the water with her, halting her words, shocking her into silence. “Ah, this is heavenly,” she murmured. Turning her eyes upward, she gazed into his beautiful face, felt the measure of her heartbeat quicken. “Tell me how you would know this?"

  He gave her a bland look and lifted one black brow. “I read extensively."

  Immersed in comfort as she was, she let her curiosity rest and simply enjoyed the moment. “Well,” she admitted, trailing her hand through the silvery water, “you were correct. This is heaven."

  "Just the bath?” He filled his large hands with water and let it rain over her bare chest. Spreading his legs, he pulled her gently into the space he'd made. Drawing her back to his front, he bent his head to sip liquid drops from her shoulder. “I do not know about you, but I have already experienced a bit of heaven this night."

  Taking a fat sponge in his hand, he dipped it into the warm water and bathed her breasts.

  "Mmm. Though skeptical about the entire process, I must admit to being pleasantly surprised.” Turning her head, she gave him a lazy grin. “Do not look so cocky, Christian, or so self-satisfied. You might make me regret my honesty.” Dipping her fingers in the water, she flicked droplets into his face. “Besides, I am still not convinced marrying you was the right thing."

  "Ah, love, it is far too late to worry about that now. You have been well and truly loved. But I have been wondering if too much pleasure might prove a dangerous thing. I anticipate so much happiness that I might just cock up my toes from a surfeit of lust."

  "Hmm.” She turned completely in his arms and blatantly brushed her bare breasts against him, grinning shamelessly when he groaned and laid back his head on the rim of the bath. Twining her arms about him, straddling his lap to rub languorously, she whispered seductively against his kiss-swollen lips, “I always wondered how it might feel to strike you dead, husband. Theoretically, of course. Perhaps it is time to plan your demise. Death by desire. What do you think, hmm?"