Carefully she parted the flap, freeing him, feeling the thick shaft press against the globes of her breasts. She touched him—with her hand, and he shackled her wrist, holding her. Glancing up between their bodies, she saw that his eyes were pressed tightly shut, and his jaw was clenched as he struggled within himself.
“Let me give you this,” she begged.
“No.” His voice was full of desire and pain. He moved up, sitting with his back to the headboard. “Come, here, Jane.”
She reached for him, brought the tip of him to her mouth and licked, making him cry out. His head was thrown back and his hands fisted in the sheets.
“Jane, no.”
“Yes, Matthew,” she whispered before taking the swollen head of him into her mouth. He was thick, large. He felt powerful and masculine in her mouth, filling it.
“Jane, you mustn’t…you shouldn’t,” he choked out, his hands leaving the sheets and finding her hair. She sucked the head of him and he moaned, a deep guttural sound that made her womb clench.
“You are so very beautiful here,” she murmured before running her tongue along the veined shaft.
“It’s dirty,” she heard him say in a dark whisper as he clutched handfuls of her hair. “Sinful.”
“Those are memories of your past, Matty. What is between us is beautiful and right. This is a sharing—between only you and me. She took from you. I only want to give to you. Please let me.”
He swallowed hard. His eyes were still closed, but the incredible tension in his body seemed to loosen. Slowly, his eyes opened, his gaze landing on her. He choked, shocked, aroused, she didn’t know, but suddenly his shaft was in his hand and he was holding himself out to her, offering himself up.
The strength of him humbled her, and she took his offering, wanting to love him, to save him from his past.
She took him into her mouth and sucked him deep, feeling him grow impossibly larger within her mouth as she pleasured him with all the love and desire she had held in her soul.
Matthew moaned as he held his cock out to Jane. Watching her take him into her mouth was at once terrifying and arousing. He had wanted this, Jane’s red hair glowing like fire, lying across his thighs. He had wanted to hold his cock out to her, watching her take it into her mouth and love it—love him.
Ah, Christ, yes, he wanted to scream as she swallowed the length of him. She sucked him in deep. He wanted to hold her there and feel her throat. He wanted to come and spill himself in a mindless swirl of rapture. He did want to feel Jane swallowing him down, filling her veins with him. He wanted to flip her on her side and ravish her silky quim as she sucked him. He wanted to come with her, lying side by side.
But Miranda’s voice began to sneak in. He heard her voice taunting him, and he stiffened, but he willed himself to relax, to shut out Miranda and focus on Jane. With a deep breath, he clutched her hair in his hand and opened his eyes, allowing himself the erotic pleasure of watching Jane loving his cock. Their gazes met, and he held on to hers, allowing it to anchor him into the present. This was Jane with him, loving him, gifting him with her mouth. He allowed the sounds of her mouth sucking, her tongue lapping to wash over him. Everything he heard, each sound and breath, was not shameful but beautiful.
“Ah, Jane,” he moaned, fisting his hands even tighter in her hair. “God, you make this so good.”
Their gazes locked, making the scene so erotic he could barely hold himself back. This was what he had wanted, this connection, this moment with Jane, when all he could feel was her, hear was her, see was her.
Beautiful Jane looking up at him, loving him in a way that no woman ever had. Miranda had not loved him when she did this. It had been about dominance and lust. But this…he felt his eyes sting, his vision blur. This was true love. The giving of one soul to another. And he needed this, her soul to fill up the empty place where his had once resided.
“Jane,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he watched her soft lips move along his hardness. “Thank you.” Touching her face, her hair, he allowed the tears to come streaking down his face as he watched her. How he had longed for this, this healing. Miranda was gone now, exorcised from his mind, purged from his body. There was only Jane there with him now, and he cried harder and reached for her, bringing her up to straddle his lap.
He clutched her face, drawing her close to him so he could see her through the tears he had not allowed himself to shed when she had left. They flooded him now, all the pent-up emotions breaking free, like the rushing waters through a dam.
He clutched her face, holding her tight. “Is it really you?” he asked, fear creeping into his voice as he openly wept. “My God, Jane, is it really you in my arms, and not just a dream? I will not awaken and find you were never here. God, please tell me that this is real—”
She fell into his arms, sunk her body onto his. He felt the warmth of her tight quim sinking down onto him and her own warm tears mingling with his. “I am here, Matty,” she whispered. “Oh, please, hold me,” she gasped through her soft cries. “Fill the empty place inside me that has only grown since I left you.”
He clung to her, burying his face in her hair as he forced his hips up, filling her full of him. Joy and ecstasy tore through him and he held her harder, drowning in Jane and the way she covered him.
Their lips met and they kissed, lazy drugging kisses as their bodies spoke the words they could no longer form. When he was close, he turned with her, wanting to feel her beneath him as he poured himself into her.
“Jane,” he whispered, “you have given me my soul back.”
She clutched him tight, her body trembling, and he came in hot, spurting waves into her body, which accepted him without prejudice or reservations, sins and all.
“That night in the gallery, I told you you could not give me the one thing I desired.”
His gaze clouded. “I still cannot.”
She kissed him, and their gazes met as she pulled away from him. “I was wrong. Marriage isn’t the one thing I need. This is what I need, Matthew. You here with me. Us in a bed loving each other. Your love that has never wavered for me in the year I took to make up my mind to come back. That’s what I need.”
“Love, passion, monogamy, I can give you all that, Jane. If you will but let me. I can be a husband to you, in every way that truly matters.”
They were on their sides, facing each other. He was tracing her freckles, and Jane purred like a well-fed cat. “I was so wrong to have left you.”
“As bitterly painful as it was, I realize it was what you needed to do in order to come to me without any regrets.”
“I have no regrets, Matthew.”
“You are my wife, Jane. In every way that counts. Constance has my title, but that is all. You…you have everything of worth that I could possibly give to my wife.”
Jane glanced at the plain gold band on her ring finger that he had placed there after their lovemaking. Yes. She had something that Constance would never have, and that was the man who was Wallingford. The title meant nothing to Jane, it was the man she desired.
“There’s a lovely manor home in Evesham,” he murmured as he caressed her mouth with his fingertip, “with at least five bedrooms, and a fabulous view of the blossom trail. Would you care to go for a ride tomorrow and see it?”
She kissed his hand. “I would love to.”
“It is not a home for me to tuck you away in, Jane, but a home for us, for you and me, Sarah and Edward, and the children I want to give you. I won’t hide you away like a mistress, Jane. You’re not.”
“We won’t be received anywhere proper.”
“I never was before I met you.” His smile softened. “I am no longer alone, or broken, and you’ve done that, Jane. You’ve given me back my life. I have no need for society, only for the people who most matter, Raeburn and Anais, and Lady Blackwood will still be our friends, just as they always have. Jane, don’t you see that what matters to me is your happiness?”
“I am most
happy in your arms. I know that now. I just…had the need to make certain that you understand our life cannot be what it would be if we were married.”
“Of course it can, because this is how it would be between us, Jane.”
“I can, and want to live with you, Matthew. Life is too short to worry about such matters. And I knew, as each day went by, that leaving you was a regret I could not live with.”
“You will have no need to worry about Constance. She will not bother us. She’s off to America. And once my father, whom you should know enjoys very good health, is gone, and the title of duke passes to me, I will divorce Constance—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “I know, my love. Protecting Sarah is important to me, as well. I am satisfied to have your love, and you in my bed. I don’t need to be your duchess.”
“Ah, Jane,” he said, rolling on top of her, “I love you more than I could ever say.”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she smiled. “I love you, too.”
“Show me this love, then,” he whispered as he lowered his head to kiss her neck.
“My lord, I was hoping that you might take me to meet my son. I am anxious to become his mama.”
His eyes flared wide when she said those words, and she knew immediately how much they meant to him. “He wants to meet you, too, but first, I need you again.”
“Sinful man,” she whispered. “And I would have you no other way.”
SINFUL
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5484-2
Copyright © 2010 by Charlotte Featherstone.
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