Passion Over Time

by Natasha Blackthorne

  By God, she is gorgeous.

  Tenderness choked him and he cleared his throat.

  She whirled to face him, her eyes wide and bluer than blue.

  “Beth, are you all right?”

  “Ha! Why don’t you just require me to be all right?” Her contemptuous tone sent all his tender feelings to the dustbin.

  She didn’t trust him.

  It hurt to offer her his aid, knowing she would not trust him.

  How illogical of him to feel that way. Of course she didn’t trust him. They didn’t know each other yet. At this rate, they might never come to know each other.

  Yet even knowing how illogical it was for him to feel hurt, he still sensed it. An increasing, dull ache in his chest. Like a tightness there that wouldn’t dislodge. It seemed unbearable. As though he must do, promise, whatever he must to make the feeling go away.

  Stop! He put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pressed. Just stop this mawkish nonsense now. You know the girl has the ability to evoke certain feelings in you. It is just a fancy of yours. A throwback to all your childhood daydreaming.

  It was one thing for a man to allow a woman to disrupt his private life. But this one had come to destroy even the peace within his own mind.

  He took a deep, somewhat ragged breath. Then several more. This ill-conceived affaire had to end and soon. He couldn’t tolerate, would not tolerate, this kind of disruption in his life.

  All right, I will end it now.

  Thus resolved, he lowered his hand and opened his eyes. “Beth, we have to talk.”

  His tone carried between them, hard and cold.

  She became a shade paler, her eyes widening. She stepped back two paces and brought her hand to her collarbone.

  The waning light was more filtered now, giving her hair a pure silvery-gold glow and her skin the appearance of the finest porcelain. God, she’d never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment, stripped of all her pride. Vulnerable. Every bit the artless girl she really still was.

  Remorse tore through him. An increase in that sense of unbearable emotional tension. That tightness in his chest. She’d been hurt before. He had to be careful with her. “Now, Beth, please just listen to me.”

  He reached for her, intending to touch her face.

  She jerked out of his range and her lip curled up. “Gentlemen always pretend to be so polite.”

  Her scathing tone cut into him.

  He stood there speechless. Guilty. Accused.

  “Oh, I thought so,” she said. Turning away, she teetered around and caught herself on a chair. After a moment’s pause, she continued towards the sideboard.

  Damn it all, she’s determined to fall flat on her face.

  He leaped after her, and caught her about the waist from behind. Contact with her bare, desirable body wiped the lingering sleep from his brain. Through his pantaloons, his erection surged against the soft cushion of her arse. He couldn’t repress a groan and his hand splayed over her flat belly of its own will.

  “Let me go, you damned coxcomb,” she said breathlessly, jerking in his grasp.

  The friction of her naked body sent a wave of sexual need through him, threatening to overwhelm his control. He gritted his teeth against it and sweat broke out on his brow. He forced himself to be reasonable. “Settle down, before you hurt yourself. Let’s get you back to bed before you fall on your face. When you’re sober, we can compare notes and decide who has more cause for grievance.”

  “Oh, very amusing. Well, for your information I am recovered and furthermore, I am leaving.” She screwed herself around, glaring. “And I am never coming back.”

  His heart felt as though it had suddenly died. Gone still.

  She couldn’t mean it. She had to come back.

  Nevertheless, her eyes were hard.

  She had the power to deny him. He, who needed no one. He gaped at her, stupefied. She’d somehow inserted herself under his skin—and now she had him practically on his knees at her feet.

  How the devil had that happened?

  She continued staring at him, her eyes sober and startlingly blue. “Did you hear? I am leaving,” she said.

  His heart leapt into life again. Beating so hard that resolution pounded through his blood. Of its own accord, his grip tightened on her.

  “I don’t think so.” God, was that harsh voice really his? “At least not yet.”

  * * * *

  “You can’t keep me here.” Beth threw all her defiance into the statement.

  Brave words to be sure. However, she’d willingly placed herself here, vulnerable to him. He could do anything he damn well pleased and she’d have little recourse against him without opening herself to ruin.

  Her mouth went dry. What did she know of him? What he was capable of? She stood, naked and half twisted around as he held her from behind, his damned harder-than-iron cock pressing into her bottom. Of course, this probably excited the devil out of the arrogant tyrant. Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

  Despite her pounding heart, she kept her chin high and threw him a glare up and over her shoulder, holding his gaze. “You can’t.”

  “No?” He bent closer. His silver eyes warmed, making her breath catch. He meant to kiss her. The way her heart began beating triple time, dear God, she feared she might let him.

  He thinks he can order me about like I am one of his lackeys.

  He would not win.

  She wouldn’t let him.

  The fine wool of his pantaloons tickled her bare bottom and she fidgeted in his arms. He groaned then put his lips to her temple, murmuring and lightly squeezing her breast. Sparks of delight shot through her. A moan drifted up from her belly. She swallowed it ruthlessly, only to have the suppressed energy quiver through her, sharpening the pleasure.

  I won’t feel, I won’t.

  He cupped both her breasts, fondling them almost roughly now with his large hands. Her instincts had lied. He didn’t intend to kiss her. He intended merely to amuse himself by mauling her teats, like she was some doxy come to his room.

  Surely she was not…disappointed?

  No, she was simply tired. From being up half the night sewing shoes. From skipping breakfast and drinking far, far too much. From fighting him.

  His thumbs brushed her nipples. Of course, they would have to tighten so stiff and obediently under his touch and betray her rising excitement. He rolled both between a thumb and forefinger, sending dual stabs of fierce pleasure straight through to her loins. She bit her lip so hard, she tasted metal. His breath rasped in her ear and she knew he was totally distracted by his lust.

  After his high-handed treatment, she owed him a comeuppance. She pulled her arm back, preparing to jab him in the ribs, only to find herself incapacitated in his grip.

  “You really are a virago, aren’t you?” Amusement warmed his voice.

  Angry heat rushed over her face. He spun her about. Facing him, she fought to pull away but he grasped her wrists.

  “Let. Me. Go!” she cried, struggling wildly against him. Yet he held her firm.

  He laughed, and the rich, deep sound resounded in her stomach. “So you can go find a weapon? I don’t think so.”

  “Let me go, you ass-eared jackanapes!”

  “You don’t really want that,” he said with galling assurance.

  “Why else should I ask it?”

  “You could have easily slipped away a moment ago and instead you chose to challenge me.” He released her hands.

  She let her arms drop to her sides, too vexed by his words to let the matter go. “What are you suggesting?”

  “You enjoy provoking me,” he said. “But you should be careful what you ask for.”

  She felt her eyes widen. She certainly couldn’t deny the surge of what definitely felt like victory to see him so affected. Good Lord, he was correct.

  He started walking forward.

  “What are you doing now?” she asked, moving backwards
by necessity.

  “Easy now.” He slowed and motioned behind her.

  She put a hand back, touched the wall. “I asked, what do you think you are doing?”

  “I am done talking.”

  “What the devil does that mean?”

  “This,” he said thickly, lowering his head.

  Her throat dried. He was right. She had provoked him. On the other hand, his cool, controlled reception in bed had driven her insane. Once again, it struck her how unfair it was that she should burn with such uncontrollable fever while he could turn his longing on and off at will. She had wanted to provoke his emotions.

  Well, she’d gotten her wish and then some. From the tenor of his voice and the tautness of his hands upon her, she knew his kiss would be savage. Swallowing forcefully, she closed her eyes and braced herself. Excitement pooled in her belly, dark and hot.

  His lips touched hers, warm, tender, coaxing her. A moan forced itself up but she held her breath, stifling it. His tongue flirted over her lips, a seductive promise that filled her with hunger. She refused him entry, digging her nails into her palms to keep herself from reaching up and clasping his broad shoulders.

  He moved lower, kissing her throat, pressed her closer, crushing her breasts to his chest. Abraded by the starched crispness of his linen shirt, her nipples hardened to painful little points. She had to breathe. There was simply no choice. She released her breath in a low, mewling moan. To her horror, she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her breasts against him, seeking more of the sensation that was driving her insane.

  His head lowered, his lips blazed a trail of fire over her collarbone and down to capture a pebbled nipple. His tongue circled the stiff peak, hot sweet moisture that melted every bone in her body. Her head fell back against the wall. Another mewling, pleading sound escaped her and her hips thrust forward, her sex pressing against his well-muscled leg of its own volition.

  He suckled her and she clutched his head, moaning uncontrollably. The weight of his erection pressed her belly, making her achingly aware of how empty her cunny was. Her channel clenched and her honey flowed, drenching her, preparing her for him. For his hardness, his bigness.

  The warmth of his mouth left, and cold air hit her nipple with painful effect. He lifted his head. An urge to beg his return rose to her lips but she bit it back. Balling her fists, she resisted reaching out for him.

  The conquest should have been hers. She should be on her knees at this moment, with his cock nestled in the back of her throat, driving him mad with pleasure. Imprinting herself indelibly on his memory for all time. Instead, she was the one quivering with overwhelming need.

  She hated him for this. Indisputably, she did.

  “Beth, you’ve a choice to make. You can go and get dressed and I’ll see you sent home.” He set his hand on the base of her throat. “Or you can stay where you are and be thoroughly fucked against this wall.”

  At the power he displayed, heat pulsed through her body with such stunning force, nothing else mattered. There would be ample time, later, to hate him.

  “Look at me, Beth.”

  She opened her eyes. For God’s sake, must he talk it to death? Why didn’t he just do it?

  “What’s your choice?”

  The nervous flutters in her belly released into a laugh as he backed away. The unhurried motion of his fingers moving along the buttons on his fall set her trembling with anticipation.

  “Now, Beth,” he said, as he worked the last button undone.

  She swallowed hard. Her heart hammering harder than ever against her ribs.

  He lunged for her.

  She gasped and backed against the wall.

  His hands cupped her bottom, lifting her away from the wall. Lifting her up until her legs rode over his arms. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms tight behind his neck. Pray God he didn’t drop her. Fear tingled through her, heightening the excitement as he throbbed against her wetness.

  “Plead for me,” he said hoarsely.

  “Yes, you arrogant bastard, fuck me. Now. For God’s sake, now.”

  He nipped at her earlobe. “Use my name.”

  “Fuck me, Grey, please fuck me har—ah!”

  Hands on her bottom, he pushed her wet heat down on his cock. Hard like iron, his erection filled her, stretched her. The suddenness, the sweet satisfaction of it made her cry out. He pulled her up until he came all the way out. The loss of fullness and pressure was devastating and she tried to push down but he held her firm. Then, ruthlessly, he pushed her down again, repeating all the intensity of that earlier moment. Delicious pleasure made her weak and she lay limp as a shudder passed through his body.

  “God,” he breathed. His cock throbbed within her while he held still. Then he lifted and pushed her down and up on himself, slowly.

  Just when she expected him to tire and rest, his movements built in speed. Over and over and over. Fucking her like no one else ever had. Using her. Controlling her. Providing her with the sensation of flying wild and free.

  After a long interval of mindless sensation, she made an abrupt landing against the wall, her heart hammering so loud, she couldn’t hear his panting breaths that convulsed his body. He shifted and then thrust, his pelvic bone making maximal contact with her nub. White-hot sparks of pleasure exploded within her. His mouth covered her as she cried out.

  His thrusts came shorter and faster until with a sudden, sharp inhalation, he withdrew. His cock pressed to her belly, surging as warm wetness jetted against her. An immediate sense of loss assailed her. She clutched his shoulders and sobbed softly. Her relaxed internal muscles tightened with a wistful regret because he had not spilled himself inside, leaving her all soaked and slick with his seed, marked and claimed. As his.

  What madness.

  He braced her against the wall. Moments passed with nothing but their panting breath. Her cooling sweat made her shiver and his lips grazed her temple. He murmured something. Against her belly, he remained hard. She hadn’t known it could be so for a man.

  “Let’s lie down,” he said. Tightening his grip on her bottom, he carried her to the bed and laid her on it. He moved away and stripped his clothes off. Naked, he looked somehow taller, leaner, his shoulders and chest wider, his hips narrower. As he approached the bed, his face was all angles and hardness in the waning light that filtered in through the curtains.

  “Where’d you learn something like that—like what we just did?” she asked, watching as he reached under his pillow and pulled out a linen towel.

  He sat beside her and began wiping his seed off her belly and where it had rolled down the front of her thighs and mons. “You don’t really want to know.”

  His light teasing tone practically begged her response. “Yes, I do.”

  He grinned and a devilish light entered his eyes, making him look positively boyish. Then he shook his head and folded the towel over to a new, dry side and wiped her upper thighs.

  “Are you going to tell me?” she demanded impatiently.

  He traced circles over her stomach with a fingertip. “From a Russian princess, years ago when I was not much younger than you. She liked to play games, too.”

  “Princess? Ha, she was not!”

  “Well, now, she said she was…if she wanted to be a princess to me, who was I to gainsay her?”

  A princess, indeed. Beth bristled all over. “Well, you needn’t sound so pleased about the matter,” she blurted.

  She wished she’d have bitten her tongue clean through rather than said that.

  He laughed softly. “Why do women ask questions they really don’t want answers to?” He lowered his head and kissed her belly. “Don’t fret yourself. You’re more beautiful than any princess I’ve ever seen.”

  His tongue found her navel, flicking and teasing. She gasped as renewed lust flashed through her. But the import of what he’d just told her sank in. “You’ve really been to Russia?”

  “My father sent me all over the world as a supercargo. I h
ad to learn things they don’t teach at Harvard.”

  “Such as how to fuck a princess?” Her words came out all snappish and inside she cringed.

  He laughed and tossed the towel aside. “No, I don’t think he intended that. The only thing my father approved of was working and making a profit. I know he took an early evening at least once, or else I’d not be here, but other than that, his only pleasures were the counting house and the Exchange.”

  “What did your mother think of that?”

  His eyes grew shadowed. “I don’t know. She was a very frail lady and kept to her rooms. She died when I was six.”

  Her heart contracted with empathy and she suddenly wanted to embrace him and cradle his dark head to her breasts. To offer him solace more tender than passion. Her mouth went dry and her belly fluttered with pure fear at this emotion. She quickly changed the subject. “I have never been farther than Baltimore.”

  “If these damned wars ever end, perhaps I’ll take you for a tour of Europe.” He trailed his fingers over her cleft. “Would you like that?”

  “Yes,” she said, unable to keep the eager excitement at such a prospect from sounding in her voice.

  He looked up at her, his eyes glittering with passion. “Then consider it a promise.”

  Happy warmth suffused her and she laughed, pretending for the moment that he meant it.

  They had a future together.

  She could be his.

  His lady.

  She would dress in satins and silks and the finest muslins, make herself utterly beautiful, for him alone.

  He would build her a grand mansion and together they would turn such a house into a true home together based on love and comfort.

  Her secret dream.

  No! I don’t care! I don’t need his wealth, or his grand mansion or to be a fine lady for him. I have no such foolish dreams!

  Sudden queasiness forced her to take several uneasy breaths.

  She’d never felt at home anywhere. She suspected she never would.

  “When do you have to leave?” he asked, moving his hand low along her stomach.

  “I should return by nine.”

  “Then we still have time left.” He stroked her cunny with feathery motions, drawing her attention to how wet his gentle yet steady attentions were making her. “How many times can you come, Beth?”