Desire Me More

by Tiffany Clare

  And when she was thinking about kissing him.

  But the last thing he should want after their morning was her spread out beneath him, taking her hard and deep as he swallowed her pleasured screams. It didn’t matter what time of the day it was, where they were, or how sated they’d been this morning. He wanted her. He always wanted her. Especially when she gave him her complete trust. Even the look in her eyes right now—full of hurt, innocence, wonder—made him want her. He was rock hard inside his trousers, and it took every ounce of control not to press her hand over his erection.

  He stared at her mouth, wanting her all the same, no matter how many times he told himself she needed today to mourn her brother’s death.

  But it was increasingly difficult to feel bad when she had scooted over to his bench to be closer to him. He closed his eyes, trying to banish his thoughts, to clear that look of hope and innocence he saw in her eyes every time she looked at him. But when he closed his eyes, all he could picture was how she’d been spread out naked beneath him.

  He was the worst kind of ass.

  Still, he couldn’t stop himself. He pressed his mouth against hers, wanting nothing more than a small taste of her before they went about the rest of their day. But their mouths didn’t linger and stop with a simple kiss. The next he knew, he’d picked her up off the seat, and her soft body was pressed against the length of his as his tongue worked against hers, slicking around her mouth and tasting her deeply. His cock throbbed, needing to be buried deep inside her.

  He jerked his head to the side. “Amelia.” She was breathing as heavily as he was, telling him that she was just as lost in the moment. “I know I should give you time to grieve. You need time alone.”

  But hell. He didn’t really want that. His need for her was constant, unrelenting.

  “I don’t need time to myself,” she said with a sigh. He swore he could taste her arousal on the air.

  Nick took a steadying breath—or at least he tried to; it didn’t work. How could he say no to her? He wanted nothing more than to fulfill her request, but he had sent a card to Murray last night, advising him to be at his club for luncheon. They had to finalize their agreement so that Shauley would be forever away from Amelia. And besides, Nick needed Murray’s lands almost as much as he needed to help Amelia through her grief.

  “Help me forget, Nick.”

  With her breathless sigh, his mind was made. He pulled down the curtains on either side of the carriage windows. Nick slid off the bench so he was on his knees, pushing up her heavy skirts as he settled between her spread thighs.

  “Put your feet up on the opposite bench.”

  She hastened to do his bidding, scooting down so her tailbone rested on the edge of the seat. Nick lifted one of her legs to spread her open. The motion opened up her knickers and brought her sweet cunt closer to his mouth. It was the prettiest sight he’d ever seen, and he wanted to devour her with a fierceness that robbed him momentarily of his breath.

  He would help her forget anything she wanted, as long as she let him drink down the juices wetting the hairs of her cunny.

  Amelia barely recognized this new brazen side of herself. But she hadn’t been like her old self since the day she met Nick. The expression in his gaze couldn’t be described as anything less than ravenous. She could hardly believe she was doing this—and in a carriage, of all places.

  A blush stole over her cheeks when Nick slipped his hand into the slit of her drawers and spread her thighs wider as he breathed a cool stream of air over her mons. A strangled sound escaped her throat as her pelvis tilted toward him. She wanted this. To forget. But more than anything, to feel.

  Nick’s teeth scraped against her inner thigh, licking away the momentary pain of his nip before he sucked on her sensitive flesh again. But that wasn’t where she wanted his mouth. She wanted to pull his head closer to her sex, but then she’d have to release the layers of her dress that she was holding up. And she wanted to see the look clouding his eyes just as much as she wanted him to kiss her in a more intimate place.

  “Nick . . . please.”

  “Please what? I can think of a hundred things I want to do in this moment, so be specific in what you want.”

  She didn’t know how to voice her needs. When she didn’t respond, he bit her other thigh, and this time she felt a rush of wetness coat her entrance.

  She gave a breathless moan and wiggled so far down the seat, she wasn’t sure how she didn’t fall right into Nick’s lap.

  “I want your mouth on me,” she said, her desperation thick in her request.

  He gave her a deep chuckle. “It is on you, love.”

  “On me . . . ”

  She demonstrated what she wanted by curling one hand over his shoulder and pulling him deeper into the vee of her legs. While that made him edge a bit closer, it wasn’t close enough to get his lips and mouth exactly where she wanted them.

  “I want you inside me,” she finally said in pure frustration, when all she got was a stream of hot breath along her slick center.

  “Is that so? And what will you give me if I fulfill that desire?”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t think when she just wanted to feel him touching her. “I need you inside me.”

  His fingers thrust inside her before she even finished giving voice to her request. But he wasn’t filling her the way she craved most.

  She moved against Nick, needing more and less at the same time. Her pelvis undulated as though his hand was another part of his anatomy, and they were in the deepest throes of passion.

  Still. Not. Enough.

  She needed more. She wanted to be so lost to his touch that she couldn’t think.

  She loosened her hold on her skirts and squeezed both her thighs around his head. He was forced to pull his fingers from her, his hands slapping against the bench on either side of her hips.

  She thought she screamed—mewled, some sound came out of her—loud enough to throw her into a frenzy as he sucked at her with the fervor of a man who’d never feasted at the banquet hall. His tongue wasted no time and slicked through her feminine folds. She felt the scrape of his teeth along the sensitive flesh, but it only had her thrashing harder against him.

  When he roughly flicked his tongue against her clitoris, she lost the last of her control, and her body lost its will to hold back the release that had been building from the moment he’d tossed up her skirts. She screamed through her orgasm; Nick’s hand covered her mouth to muffle the sounds she made with abandon. The moment stole all sanity from her, and before she could comprehend what was happening and what she was doing, she was straddled over Nick’s thighs on the floor of the carriage.

  The bench dug into her shoulder painfully, though she didn’t mind, as it only heightened her pleasure when she felt so many sensations at once. Nick’s hands moved between them, freeing himself from his trousers moments before she sank down on his steel-hard length.

  A soft puff of air escaped her the moment she was fully seated atop him. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, she looked him straight in the eye, unable to speak, only able to feel what it was like to be taken by this man.

  “Is this what you needed?” he asked, his voice hoarse with mutual desire.

  Words were beyond her, so she nodded a second before his mouth stole her next breath in a deep, all-consuming kiss. His tongue was unrelenting as it tangled with hers.

  She could taste herself on him, the cream that had spilled into his beard slicked against her tongue, the scent light and—to her surprise—pleasant. And why that fired her desires more she couldn’t say. She just knew that the longer he kissed her, the deeper she tasted of him, sucking on his tongue, trying to steal a little of that strong essence of his that she craved, day in and day out.

  So lost was she in his kiss, she’d stopped moving over him. His hands were firm as he held on to her thighs, rocking her over his solid manhood.

  Her breathing came in pants, her knees grinding into the hard woo
den floor where little pebbles cut into her silk stockings. Frantic was the only way to describe the erratic pace of her hips.

  Her hands tangling in his hair, she slanted her mouth against his again as he rocked their bodies together in a primitive dance that elicited animalistic sounds from them both. As he promised, there were no thoughts, no niggling doubts. There was only need, reaching that culminating point where they would be lost in each other’s arms so that everything else—except for them and this very moment—was drowned out.

  With a bruising force, Nick’s hands held on to her hips, guiding her every move. And while she was no longer a stranger to his body, she liked it when he took complete control. Craved it, even.

  While their bodies grinded together, their tongues swirled and searched. They were breathing each other’s air with every pant of pleasure that fell past their lips. The scrape of his beard against her face made her skin prickle with tenderness and her thighs clench around his hips as she remembered its roughness when he had buried his face in that private part of her.

  The tingling awareness of her climax started where Nick was working deep inside her, the pounding of his member never ceasing as one of his hands released her hip so his thumb could rub around her clitoris. Her head fell back against the seat, and Nick’s mouth sucked and licked at her neck with the same ferocity with which she’d taken his mouth moments ago.

  Their coupling had been anything but gentle, so why she thought her climax should be shocked her to the core, when this time it crashed through her so hard she swore her heart actually stopped beating. She stilled altogether, fighting against Nick’s movements as she felt liquid heat bubble through her veins a moment before she smashed through the barrier of her orgasm.

  Nick shushed her cries with his mouth once again. His hands were around her hips, his body slamming up into her as he rode her through the high that stole any last bit of sense she had. She could do no more than hold on to him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, her mouth sucked his tongue and muffled his grunts as he fucked harder and harder into her. The slap of their flesh was louder in her ears than the rut of the carriage along the cobbled road. And the thought that passers-by might hear them and know exactly what they were doing inflamed her need further.

  She pulled away from his kiss, taking in a much-needed swallow of air, and she rode him, never wanting her orgasm to end.

  “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t. Stop,” she said, panting over and over again, not sure her words even made sense.

  Nick leaned her back on the bench, giving his knees leverage as he pounded into her in their awkward position. And it was worth every bit of discomfort as she slowly came down from her state of euphoria. His hand was tangled in her hair, pulling the pins that held her chignon in place. He took her like a man possessed, hell-bent on achieving one thing.

  Their coupling was so intense that her core clenched hard around his shaft, milking him, squeezing him, almost as if begging him to join her in the bliss that had washed through her. And that was all it took, for she felt the hot jets of his semen pumping into her, filling her as his movements slowed, and they finally fell back to the floor, temporarily replete.

  He nuzzled the side of her face, showering her with light kisses. Amelia closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. Despite being slightly uncomfortable, she didn’t want to get up. Getting up would mean facing everything she was avoiding, being responsible, and focusing on the real world.

  “I wish we could stay here forever,” she said between breaths.

  “A sentiment I couldn’t agree with more.”

  His cock twitched inside her. She squirmed in his lap, a smile lifting her lips. “Thank you . . . for allowing me to forget.”

  “I can make you forget all night long if you want.” Nick placed his hands on her cheeks, moving her head back so she was forced to look at him instead of hiding against his shoulder. “Is that what you really want, though?”

  She bit her lip, wondering if it made her a bad person that she never wanted to think about her brother again. She nodded. “It hurts too much right now, when I can barely wrap my mind around everything that’s happened in less than a day. Right now, I prefer to forget.”

  Nick lifted her from his lap, setting her back on the bench. Fixing his trousers and tidying up his rumpled waistcoat and jacket, he sat opposite her. He helped fix her hair and then knocked on the wall of the carriage. Once they slowed to a stop, Nick opened the door to give the driver instructions on where to take them.

  When he sat opposite her once again, a wicked gleam sparked in his eyes, the usual calm gray roiling like a storm about to wash over her.

  “What are you up to?”

  “I have decided to change my plans for the day,” Nick said.

  “You can’t. Murray will be livid. He may not agree to sell you his lands if you keep pushing him off. I know how much you want that house.”

  “He won’t change his mind. I’ll worry about him. You”—he grasped her knees and slid her to the edge of the bench so that their noses nearly touched—“need to focus on enjoying the rest of the day. Tomorrow, I won’t let you off so easily, but today will be about just us.”

  She smiled. “I think I can agree to that.”

  “Perfect, because you’re going to love what I have planned next.” His words didn’t match his tone, not that she brought that to his attention, but he seemed . . . oddly nervous.

  “Where are we?” Amelia stared out the window, studying the busy street. There were layers of filth, garbage, and debris everywhere. The people, for the most part, looked poor and definitely couldn’t rub two shillings between the group of them. Women with makeup painting their faces and their skirts hiked up to show their legs whistled and called over the men walking by. An old man sat against a derelict building, tipping a bottle to his lips. Children with dirty faces and tattered clothes ran through the streets, looking to be up to some sort of mischief.

  “There’s something I want to show you,” Nick said. “It will help you focus your attention elsewhere. On better things.”

  She’d never seen so much poverty, and the sight outside the carriage tugged at her heart. How could she think better things when she saw nothing but broken lives as they drove past? “This place . . . What is it?”

  “St. Giles.”

  Tearing her gaze away from the window, she gave Nick a questioning look.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Amelia. If there is one thing I can promise, it’s that we are as safe here as walking the streets of Mayfair.”

  She hesitated only a moment before Nick took her hand to help her out of the carriage. He led her down a series of alleys and narrow streets too small for the carriage. After a short time, she was so turned around, she knew she wouldn’t be able to find her way back to their carriage, should she attempt to locate it on her own.

  There were so many people in one place. No one talked to them as Nick traversed the area as though he was intimately familiar with every nook and cranny. The deeper into the maze of houses they walked, the closer she tucked herself to Nick’s side. None of what they saw seemed to shock Nick as they wound their way farther into the slums until they finally came to a less densely populated area.

  They paused outside a flagstone wall that had to be four feet high and was topped with a wooden trellis that blocked the view of what lay beyond. Nick reached through a gap in the trellis to unlock a worn and muddy wooden gate from the inside. The noise of children playing met her ears, and she stepped forward, eager now to see what he wanted to show her.

  They entered a stone courtyard, where at least a dozen and a half children ran around a lone sapling, chasing a ball. If she had to guess, she’d say they were all between seven and twelve years old, though one girl seemed much older, maybe fifteen or sixteen. She was talking to a young woman who Amelia guessed was in charge of the children.

  Nick let go of her hand and shut the gate behind them. The ki
ds kicked the ratty old ball in his direction. Amelia watched in awe and fascination as he joined their game without a moment’s hesitation. His demeanor changed, as if a weight was lifted, as he laughed at their teasing taunts and kicked the ball back, only to accept it again from the children. He didn’t try to extricate himself, as many grown men would have. No, he engaged them, dared them to try and take the ball from him as he ran around the small courtyard, dodging this way and that to keep the ball in his possession.

  He looked genuinely happy.

  Watching him brought to light how little she really knew about him. That she’d given herself to a man of whom she hadn’t even skimmed the depths. Not sure what she should do, she leaned against the courtyard wall. She actually was content to wait in the background and watch their game play out.

  A woman who’d been standing at the back of the small house approached, holding out her hand. “How do you do? I’m Sera.”

  “Well.” Amelia took Sera’s hand, shaking it. “My name is Amelia.” She didn’t give her last name, as Sera hadn’t, though she did add, “I work for Mr. Riley.”

  The woman had the same uncanny gray eyes as Nick. Was this woman a relative? Their similarities stopped at their identical eyes, though. Her hair was wheat-blonde, not black like Nick’s. Her frame slight and fragile-seeming, and her face was perfectly oval.

  “And what is your role?” Sera asked, turning to watch the game the children played with Nick.

  “I am Mr. Riley’s secretary.” She didn’t know what else to say, so she continued to watch Nick playing with the children.

  “I never imagined Huxley would give up the position,” Sera finally said.

  It shouldn’t surprise Amelia that Sera knew Huxley. “Are you Mr. Riley’s sister?”

  The woman gave Amelia a winning smile, nodding. “Half-brother, at any rate,” Sera said. “The odds that we share a father are stacked against us, considering our mother’s profession. Considering he’s five years old than me, and Mum never had a man around for longer than a few months.”