“Are you sure, Adrian?”
“I have said so, haven’t I?”
“Yes, but can you really just lie there and allow me to take the reins?”
“Do you want to tie my hands?”
She laughed, more womanly and wicked this time. “I admit, I’d be sorely tempted.”
“I will be good. I promise not to attempt and take control.”
She reached and traced a fingertip over the line of his sensual mouth testing him. His lips hardened, she could tell it was a sore trial for him to allow her the liberty to do that. But he did not attempt to stop her. She ran her hands down his chest. His extreme leanness made every sinew more pronounced. “But what will the consequences be, should you fail to control yourself?”
“I can control myself just fine,” he said, an indignant light coming into his gaze.
“But,” she insisted. “What if you cannot?”
“Then I shall have to go without… for two weeks.”
She gave his chest a light smack with her palms. “Then I shall have to go without too.”
He shook his head. “No, you won’t, not completely.”
“Oh.” Comprehending his meaning, she laughed again. “All right then, I accept.”
She gripped his hips with her thighs and rubbed her mons against him. His erection throbbed against her and a thrill shot through her.
Oh yes, she remembered this. The headiness of having a man at her mercy. His pleasure completely in her hands. Yes, she had just pleasured Adrian last night, with her mouth. He’d been at her mercy then, but she’d been new at that. Unsure.
She was not at all uncertain at this version of lovemaking. Nor was she hesitant to take the reins and run with them. She moved her pelvis in a circle, rubbing him, teasing him.
He leaked and throbbed against her.
“You like that?” she asked, a wicked tone in her voice.
“Aye, I like that.”
She lifted herself and wrapped her hand around his thick, hard length. “What a prize I have managed to earn for myself.”
“Indeed, my lady.”
The feel of his magnificent organ in her hand was driving her mad with anticipation. Her inner walls clenched hungrily. She just couldn’t wait. She sheathed him then held herself there, feeling the broad head of his cock within her just that little bit.
“Miranda.“ He groaned and reached to grasp her hip.
“No.”
“What?” he said.
“No,” she repeated. “You promised, remember?”
“Oh.” He removed his hands.
She lowered herself, slowly, taking him in inch by glorious inch.
Oh, oh, dear God. Oh. She silently mouthed the words.
She had forgotten how good a man felt from this angle, with her cunny sliding down on him, taking him as she would. At her own pace.
She had enjoyed this with Carrville, but only to a degree. He had never aroused her as Adrian did. He had never brought her to climax.
But doing this with Adrian was the most incredible bliss. She moved with aching leisure, dragging the sensations out for both of them. But he looked so beautiful, so sensual beneath her. He felt so wonderful inside her, that she couldn’t hold back for long.
Soon she was thrusting her pelvis hard, moving on him with daring speed, her breasts bouncing and bouncing.
He sat up half way and captured her breasts, cupping them, squeezing them.
That only increased her pleasure, nay, it drove her to a frenzy of riding him, a wanton display of hunger that she never imagined herself capable of.
The climax came on her so intense, giving her such strong spasms of delight that she cried out. Maybe she shouted?
“Now, now,” she gasped, “Find your pleasure…” It was all she could manage as she collapsed against his chest.
He took hold of her hips and made several hard, quick upward thrusts. Then his body shook and he spilled his seed inside of her.
“God, Miranda, God.” He spoke between panting breaths.
“What?” she asked, hugging him, wishing there were words adequate enough to express the elation surging through her.
And the love.
“I think I just discovered my new favorite past time.”
She closed her eyes and bit her lip, filled with too much emotion. She didn’t think she could bear it. She would explode with it, surely.
He rolled her until she was on her back, his eyes glowing like brilliant sapphires with his love. He smoothed her sweat-damp hair off her face. “What could I ever do or say that would—that could possibly convey my love for you?”
Seriousness filled her heart. “You could promise me that you will not call Heathford out.”
His look went grim. “He terrorized you. He hurt you.”
“That was years ago.”
“He just repeated that terror yesterday.”
“Oh my love, you are safe and nothing else matters now.” She reached up and put her hand to his cheek.
But he was back in his fiercer mode now. He flinched from her touch. “No man is going to act like that against you and get away with it.”
“Please do not do this to me… to us again.”
“I cannot help what has happened. But I also cannot allow it to slide without being answered.”
“And I cannot bear the worry and the fear. Not again. You cannot put me through that, Adrian. You cannot risk dying. What would Davey and I do, especially now, when the shadow of scandal darkens us no matter where we go? You must put your nobleman’s pride aside. You must put your love for me and for Davey, first.”
“My God, how you accuse me.”
“My lord, you know that I speak the truth. We have before us a chance to have a new start, a place of equal footing where we can love each other freely and create something of real meaning together.”
He seemed to freeze, to pause. She saw the haze of rage fading from his visage. “You mean the Canadian factory?”
“Yes, I need you alive and whole to help me with that. We will build it together. It'll be a new source of pride and accomplishment for both of us—something that is not connected or tainted with either of our pasts. It will be something of our own.”
“You make my desire to make Heathford pay sound so reckless.”
“It is. You need to just spend time before our voyage to Canada, regaining your strength. We need you to be whole and well for this venture.”
He exhaled loudly then rolled from the bed and went to the washstand. He ran his hands over his day’s growth of stubble. Then he turned back to her. “Miranda, you’re asking me to allow a man to get away with having abused my wife.”
“I am. But if you truly love me, you will do it.”
Chapter Fifteen
Adrian watched Davey chewing and frowning as he digested the news that they would be leaving England and soon. What cost or benefits would such a forced move bring to his younger son? He prayed that the benefits outweighed the costs.
Close to noon, Miranda and Adrian had joined Davey for breakfast. They found him sitting at the table, happily sketching the cat that lay curled up near the hearth.
Davey had eaten two hours before, when he’d first come downstairs. But he gladly accepted a second serving of griddlecakes.
Adrian had developed a taste for these in America, however he far preferred them made with fine-ground cornmeal, the way he’d had them at the Sexton household. Somehow wheat flour did not do them justice. But Miranda and Davey didn’t seem to mind them, each drizzling them with copious amounts of honey and butter, neither aware that maple syrup was far superior.
Davey swallowed his mouthful. “But Papa, what about Brentwood?”
“You and I shall go and visit Brentwood later today.” Adrian made a grim expression. “Brentwood is the heir. He cannot leave England. And from all my recent communications with him, I doubt that he wishes to.”
Davey looked sad but he nodded. “I miss him. When I go to
see him, he is never happy with me.”
“Nor with me, Davey. We must be patient with him.”
Adrian wouldn’t even consider allowing Davey to stay behind with Brentwood. Brentwood was a solitary, emotionally controlled young man. He was happy with his studies. He was possessed of a self-sufficiency that the more sensitive Davey didn’t have. Davey needed his parents. He needed close guidance and the type of daily emotional nurturing that had seemed to offend Brentwood in times past. Brentwood was much like his great uncle in temperament and would, Adrian prayed, deal just fine with that stuffy old gentleman.
Davey’s sad expression eased and the sparkle returned to his eyes. He grinned. “I am glad that you are back with Mama and me.”
Adrian caught Miranda’s eye and shared an amused glance with her. “I am glad too, Davey. We are family and shouldn’t be parted.”
“Mama smiles more when you are.”
It was odd, how Davey’s words caught him unawares, touching him in places that had up until now remained numb. A lump formed in his throat. His eyes burned suspiciously.
“I smile more too,” Davey said, “But one would notice it more in Mama.”
“Women are like that, Davey.”
Adrian glanced at Miranda once again, noticing how bright her red hair was in the sunlight that streamed in the window. He noticed, all over again, how utterly lovely she was. All the more now without her cosmetics and hair dyes and glittering bodices.
Though, he wouldn’t mind seeing her gorgeous breasts displayed in such a bodice at special events, like Christmas.
Or any night in their bedchamber.
“Papa, why are women like that?”
Adrian chuckled softly, but it was hard with that lump in his throat. “Because they are emotionally responsive, they require care and consideration from us men for we are apt to become callous at times.”
Davey’s look became so serious, contemplating this statement that Adrian might have been amused. At any other moment he would have been amused.
But not now.
His mind and heart were consumed with more pressing matters.
“Davey, you must finish your meal then go and help your nurse pack your things. We’ll be leaving England soon.
Davey’s eyes went wide. One could easily see the mix of apprehension and excitement rising within him. “How soon?”
“As soon as I can possibly arrange it.”
“But you said that you had business to transact, first, my lord,” Miranda said, with an edge in her voice.
He reached and took her hand. “No, my love. That business, though it might enrage me still, is not what matters most now. What matters most is that we are together and stay together. You and I have nothing left here in England. Our destiny lies in that new beginning in Canada.”
“Oh my lord, thank you.” Tears made her eyes glossy. “Thank you.”
She was thanking him for choosing her over his pride? Thanking him for being the first among his father and grandfather and great-grandfather in choosing happiness and responsibility in his life rather than debauchery, self-destruction and death.
“Davey, go on now and find your nurse and share our news with her,” he said, without breaking eye contract with Miranda.
When his son had left, Adrian reached for Miranda and pulled her into his lap, more gracefully than he had the night before, in dark, when they had both still been held captive by their own demons. Last night, he had been so set on convincing himself that he no longer wished to be bound up in such a passionate, all consuming love.
But when she had broken, there in his arms, and shared all her demons with him, confessed all her sins and weaknesses, he had realized, for the second time, how vulnerable she really was beneath her strong, proud exterior. He had realized how much she needed him.
And even more than that, he had realized how much he needed her to need him.
Now he knew that no matter how much pain it might bring in the future, he wanted this mad, passionate love that they shared. This love that consumed him. Let him be consumed.
She looked up at him and smiled. “I thought that you said Davey should see how a husband and wife interact when they are in love?”
“Some moments are meant to be just for us.” He cupped her face. “I love you, now more than I ever have.”
“You said last night that you thought such a turbulent love was not good for either of us.”
“I was wrong. We need each other. I love you more now because I have accepted that neither of us can escape the pain that our love may bring us. We need each other and no amount of your pride, my arrogance, or our individual self-protections, can change that. We are stronger towards the world when we are vulnerable with each other and share all our pain and anger. We need to occasionally bleed off the poisons so that we may feel the joy in each other.”
“I have always loved that about you,” she said, her eyes glowing.
“What?”
“That you are ultimately so wise.”
“Any wisdom I have found has come through loving you, my darling.” He stroked her hair and joy filled him.
Joy and pain, going around in circles. This was what life was meant to be. And he wanted to share it all with no one else but her. His sacrifice had proved to be his salvation.
The End.
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Please keep reading. I have included some excerpts from my other works.
A Measured Risk by Natasha Blackthorne
A MEASURED RISK features a shy, intellectual, strong-willed widow with real life curves (Rubenesque/BBW) and a protective, possessive Dominant, alpha male hero. This is a story of Dominance and submission with light BDSM, emotional healing, trust and love.
He is her most dangerous temptation and now he is demanding her submission. Dare she take the risk?
Book one in the Regency Risks Series
Emotionally scarred in the horrific accident that took her husband's life, Lady Cranfield is imprisoned by her lingering terror of horses and carriages. She longed to be closer to the fascinating Earl of Ruel. She sensed intuitively that he could teach her how to overcome the terrors that held her in bondage.
And now she's willing to risk almost anything-her reputation, even her virtue-to find out. But what he proposes startles her.
When the shy, studious and socially awkward young widow approached him, Ruel instantly sensed she would be the sweetest, most submissive experience of a lifetime-if only he can gain her total and complete trust. He makes her a non-negotiable offer. His help in return for her submission and obedience.
But Lady Cranfield grew up neglected by her ducal parents, raised by servants and then later ignored by her handsome, charming husband. She's learnt to protect her heart at all costs and she trusts no one but herself.
How can the jaded Earl of Ruel break through her self-protective defenses and show her how to love when he has spent his lifetime avoiding that tender trap?
Reader Advisory: This is a BDSM romance. This
book contains anal sex, spanking, light bondage, D/s themes and brief F/F touching.
This is a work of historical fiction, it is not meant to be an accurate portrayal of or guide to how people recover from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. As a work of historical erotic romance, it is also not intended to portray modern BDSM or D/s lifestyles.
A Measured Risk is published in British English and uses British Spelling.
Excerpt from A MEASURED RISK
Copyright © Natasha Blackthorne, 2012, 2013
“Why did you run away?” His deep voice settled in her belly, rich and warm, like crème brûlée on a cold winter’s night.
“Because I wanted you to follow.” She tried to sound sophisticated and seductive, but her voice choked off on the last word.
Ruel placed his hand on the shelf above her head and blocked her path to the door. His tall, solidly muscled body leaned over her, surrounding her with the sumptuous, sinful scents of tobacco, Scotch whisky and something masculine and undeniably dangerous. A slow, sensual smile stretched his hard mouth.
He appeared different. Softer. More approachable.
At the change, her insides seemed to flip over.
“Well, sweeting, getting us off alone was a very inspired idea.” He touched one of her fallen ringlets. “I am bored to distraction with endless hunting and fencing.”
As he slowly wrapped the curl around two fingers, he brushed her collarbone. Fiery sparks tingled down her spine, so intense that she shivered and her nipples beaded, pressing against her stays. By some instinct she hadn’t even known she possessed, she arched her back, presenting herself for his assessment.
His eyes shone so vividly blue against his bronzed face that they resembled cornflowers. She swallowed tightly and wished for a long drink of claret. This more personal side of him suddenly seemed far more hazardous than his usually fierce exterior.
Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3) Page 15
