by Jenn LeBlanc
His eyes found hers, the smile in them bright. “Would you believe that position has been offered to me once before?” She blushed and he caught her chin. “I refused then, but I’ll not refuse you. From here on out, I’ll never refuse you a thing.” His other hand had shifted to the buttons of her shirtwaist, making quick work of them before it met the same fate as her other clothes. Then he shifted, his drawers sliding off to the floor.
She shivered against him, he naked as the day, she in her chemise and woolen stockings.
He took her waist, his thumb pressing slowly as his fingers rested on her hip, imploring her permission. She was perfectly made. He could feel her points between her curves, each one just where it should be.
He reached between them, and he saw her eyelids flutter. He retreated, caressing circles into her flesh under the fabric as his other hand strayed up her back and into the short locks at her nape. He massaged the back of her head as he held her face, turning her to kiss her cheeks, her jawline, over her forehead, down her neck and beneath her ear. He grazed her ribs, then caressed a pebbled nipple through her chemise.
She gasped and he took advantage, quelling her startle with the soothing sweep of his tongue at her lips. He stroked and calmed her with gentle movements, hypnotizing her with patience, diligence. His hardness stroked her thigh and she shied away, but he pulled her closer, neck to knee, securing her in his embrace. He felt her lean into him, her stiff form melting, melding, sinking, and then he was there.
His hand slid carefully to the vee of her thighs, resting in the curls under her chemise before she could retreat. She sighed, but he held her in place, watching, ever watching. His hand fell lower, and he couldn’t help but smile triumphantly against her neck when he found her hot, wet…for him. He shifted to her side and lifted her. Kicking his feet free of his drawers, he moved her to the bed.
He arranged her carefully on the pile of pillows, then turned to his portmanteau for a lambskin cap, letting her watch as he moved purposefully around the room before slowly crawling across the bed toward her. He held her gaze, still watching her eyes, which were drunk with him. He could see it; she was his to do with as he wished. Her countenance bespoke acceptance, agreement, restrained consent.
He smiled to himself as he untied the neck of her chemise and took her hands, placing them on his body to give them something to do besides interfere with his progress. She traced his shoulder, then his chest, smiling when his nipple tightened under her thumb.
She pushed against him as if to test her power and he stopped—capturing her gaze. He waited patiently for her fingers to soften and her eyes to close, then he moved over her, pulling the chemise down. She was perfect and he was suddenly aware that nobody had ever trespassed here. His gaze floated down her ripe breasts with the palest peach nipples. Her belly was taut and untouched by harm and he couldn’t resist running his hand across it, raising goose bumps in his wake. Then he looked at the soft silken hair that lay below, guiding him toward her treasure, and his eyes caught on a horror.
He jerked his head away to hide his shocked expression, but she’d noticed his hesitation and rolled to her side beneath him, pulling the chemise safely around her deeply scarred thighs, a sob surprising both of them as her eyes tightened.
He reached out, running his hand the length of her arm, drawing her eyes to his, silently expressing his sincerest apologies. He turned her to her back again and lowered himself over her, sealing her secrets between their bodies as he leaned down and kissed her thoroughly, slowly stoking the fire that had grown suddenly cold. She wrapped her arms around him, and they settled in to explore each other with lips and tongue. Then he leaned back and watched her, waiting until she decided.
Lilly felt the conflict in him, in the shift of his muscle, and she looked up to examine his face, the strong lines and tense expression. She watched as his muscles twitched then relaxed, his pupils dilating incrementally. The sunlight played across him, brightening his eyes and outlining the green of his irises. She could almost see herself reflected in the deep centers. She moved closer, bringing her mouth up to his, gently kissing him.
Part of her wanted to stop. Perhaps to wait, try some other time. But she had already come so far. She thought if she quit now, she would never gather the courage to make it to this point again, and he...he would never agree.
He was patient, letting her explore and taste him. Her tiny soft kisses traveled his mouth, then up to his eyes, brushing lightly over his wet eyelashes. He returned the favor by fluttering light kisses over every scar on her face, treating each one with reverence and care.
She shifted beneath him and felt his hands tighten, his pulse quicken beneath her palms as she pulled him tight against her, pushing her hips against his aroused strength.
He gave himself over to her. He was not practiced in the art of submission; in fact, he preferred the dominant role at all times. He only now realized how difficult the submissive bent could be, particularly for someone like him. He breathed slowly, forcing his nerves to settle, commanding himself to give in.
She lifted up, kissing his chest and neck. His hands clenched tightly on her hips as he concentrated on the feel of her mouth on him. His hands went around her, pulling her close as she twisted and tried to pull away. But though part of her seemed to refuse, her legs spread beneath him, cradling him, and he pulled the chemise from between them, the heat of their bodies melding. He kissed her face, around her jaw, and he studied her again, watching to make sure she was still present in the moment.
She shifted against his manhood, which pulsed against her thigh. She gasped into his mouth as he descended again. He reached down and lifted first one leg then the other, bending them at the knee to adjust the tilt of her pelvis. She wrapped her legs around his strong thighs, her feet resting behind his knees as he moved toward her. He rose slightly on his elbows, looking into her eyes.
“Lilly, I—” He had no idea the kind of pain this might cause her. No, she wasn’t a virgin, but by the looks of those scars it was entirely possible there was further damage where he was to tread. He felt the tremors course her body. “I— I am just as frightened as you.”
She saw the moisture at the crease of his eye, realized the truth of what she had asked of him, then nodded. He advanced slowly, achingly slow. Imploring her to hold his gaze. Her eyes flared as he entered. There were long scars even here against his smooth skin and he cringed, sinking as far as her body would allow. He rested, unmoving as he searched her eyes. She lifted her hips slightly and he groaned at the feel of her warmth surrounding him, urging him on.
His hips pulsed once, and he reached between them and slowly, methodically began a cadence that would march them both to the same finale. The hot buttered cinnamon of her irises lightened, becoming more melted butterscotch, her pupils dilating as he watched her and she him. Her breath quickened and he put his mouth against her neck, feeling her heartbeat racing beneath the skin he kissed.
She pulled his head up, tangling her fingers in his hair as she searched the green glowing depths of his eyes, growing deeper, more hypnotic, more demanding, more desperate. She started to panic as she felt her heart increase its rhythm and his movement mirrored it. Threads of electricity coursed along her skin, rushing to her center, carrying with them all of her hopes, her fears, her dreams, her nightmares. She felt her body react to his, the increasing power like riding a horse at full speed; the pulse increasing, the muscles stretching and tightening. Her hands fisted in his hair.
She was a flower blooming at sunrise and closing for the day as the sun set, but her sun kept rising and setting. Faster and faster her world spun, the flower opening and closing its petals until finally it was a blur and she screamed, pushing her hands, and him, away from her.
He rose above her, taut like a hunter’s bow as he pressed into her hard, his seed captured by a lambskin cap before entering her womb. His body jerked and he lay over her, their limbs tangled together, sated passion thick between them.
He loosed her hands from his hair, then massaged the red marks on her palms that her tension had made with slow, careful circles. She moved her fingers, releasing the cramps as he worked them, and drifted off to sleep without a word.
Perry awoke as the train slowed and took a bend, bringing the sun into full view from the window. The light invaded the train car and his dreams, preventing any further peace he hoped to claim. He unfolded his cramped muscles from the tangle of limbs around him. A delicate sigh broke the shuffle, and he stilled, realizing his current state of entanglement wasn’t his usual sort.
Lilly slept peacefully. Her hair caught the sun, highlighting streaks of red and even deep brown. He had not noticed the strands before, as she kept them carefully tucked beneath a mobcap for working. He knew they’d had a great chore of getting the tangles out when her physical state was in such a desperate condition. But now her hair shone in an arresting shade of deepest auburn. She stirred as he stretched, arching her back like a cat beneath him, pressing her body into his ready form, then pausing as her very skin began to tremble.
Perry wasn’t sure how to proceed. The last thing he wanted was to startle her. His hand covered her eyes to keep them closed, his mouth traveling softly from her shoulder to her neck. “You remember me, Lilly, you remember my gentle touch—I am so very gentle. Do not look, do not think. Just feel.”
She breathed deeply, arching further, testing her surroundings while her eyelashes fluttered beneath his palm in acquiescence. He tilted her mouth toward his so he could capture her lips.
“Milord,” she whispered against his mouth.
He stilled and lifted his heavy frame from her, the sudden rush of cool air between their bodies sending a shiver through her. Her hands clutched at his shoulders.
“No, milord, I—”
He cut her off with his thumb pressed across her mouth. “In this arena you really must use my name, or you may effect a change you are not entirely willing to succumb to, my sweet.”
“I— I do not understand.”
“Lilly, if I am your lord then I am also your master and will act as such. Is that what you wish?”
She breathed heavily, her breasts brushing against him in rhythm. She lifted her hands to his face. “Perry,” she whispered, the sound no more than a breath. He smiled, then turned his head slightly and placed a kiss in her palm.
“Lilly, my sweet, the rules of our engagement have not changed a bit. You are in control, and at any moment you may bring this engagement to an end.”
She smiled and drew his lips to hers, opening her mouth beneath his. He submitted to her, parting his lips and allowing her the innocent access she desired, letting her play, touch, feel, and taste of him. He allowed her to move as she would, to discover what she wanted. He was finding his submission rather the headiest brew of lust he’d ever managed to encounter.
She pushed against his chest until he was forced to roll to his back. She followed quickly, drawing herself along his side and propping her head on her hand. She moved her other hand to his eyes, gently pressing the lids closed, compelling him to keep them that way. He tensed, his flesh tingling with anticipation as the sheet drifted away.
She traced his jaw, the scruff of his beard scratching at her fingertips as her hand traveled. Her thumb drew along his mouth and it parted for her, allowing her access, willing her intrusion, begging to be satisfied, but the thumb disappeared along with her hand.
His eyelids fluttered with impatience, but he stayed them to her will. His jaw clenched against a hiss of a breath as her hand reappeared, this time gently tracing one of his wide nipples. His hands contracted like claws at his sides as she traced each ridge below his chest, counting his sturdy ribs, palming each band of hard muscle, stroking the soft valleys between the ridges before her eyes moved on.
He guessed where her gaze fell next, and he hardened impossibly as he groaned, a low guttural sound that resonated from deep within his cavernous chest, vibrating between their naked bodies and charging the nerves below her skin. His muscles tensed, and she felt the length of his body tighten against the softness of hers.
She drew in a deep breath to steady her rioting nerves and reached out. The first touch was a mere two fingers, sweeping down the upturned ridge of his manhood. The caress so delicate, so gentle, that it drew a deep but startled cry from him.
He lifted his head but clenched his eyes to remain in submission. She rested her palm across him fully, looking up to gauge his reaction. She moved slowly, watching the minute changes in his face, the sweeping and ebbing of tension across his visage. She increased the pressure, and the undulation of his muscles carried to his neck, then the rest of his body.
He was suddenly terrified of embarrassing himself, and he lifted one hand, wrapping it around her wrist and drawing her arm away. “If you continue on this tack, you will find little satisfaction for yourself, my sweet, and you may want to consider that,” he said breathlessly, hoping she understood his meaning.
“Mil— Perry, I believe where I might find my satisfaction and where you believe I may find my satisfaction to be two entirely different things,” she said brazenly.
He opened his eyes—the sparkle in them could not be captured, even by his thick lashes—and she grinned before chastening him. “Oh no, Perry, I’m quite far from finished,” she said, holding his gaze.
He laid his head back and closed his eyes, releasing her wrist. He realized her speech and intonation mocked his status, and he marveled at her cunning. She didn’t seem the same missish innocent he’d convinced to bed last night. Her hand returned to him, wrapping deftly around the silk-encased hardness. His body shifted under her ministrations, and he ground his teeth, pushing his head back into the pillow, his body drawn tight.
She lifted to her knees beside him and he tensed further. Stroking gently with one hand, the other slowly reached down, surrounding the rest of him in her hot grasp. His body bucked at the sudden sensation, and he wrapped his hands tightly in the sheets at his sides. Her rhythm steadied upon him, and he felt as if he would cease to exist.
His hips caught her rhythm and she glanced back to his face, seeing confusion and pain. She stopped instantly, shocked, and pulled her hands away as he opened his eyes to her.
He waited, his entire body thrumming with the built up passion she’d demanded from him. “Lilly, my God. What—”
She shook her head. “Did I… Did I hurt you?”
“No. God, no. Sweet Lilly, there is no pain here,” he said, trying to calm his frustrated body. He took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm, then glanced around the berth and stood. He walked over to a cheval mirror that was attached to the wall with a silk cord and placed it at the end of the bed, turning it toward her. Then he returned. He moved her as she fought him instinctively, urging her on her knees to face the mirror. She grasped the sheets and pulled them around her.
“No, Lilly, you are going to look on yourself, and me. You are going to learn what passion looks like. You are going to recognize this in me, and in yourself.” His voice was like the flames of a fire. The sound licked at her senses, heated her skin, forced the breath from her lungs.
“Yes, milord,” she said quietly.
He growled at her and kneeled at the foot of the bed in front of her. His hands burned into the skin of her thighs, flaring her senses as he smoothed them up toward her hips, and she fought to keep still. He saw her closed eyes and tightened his grip tenderly. “Look,” he breathed.
She opened her eyes. His large hands wrapped about her thighs, squeezing gently, moving softly on her. Her jaw dropped and her eyes fell shut again.
“Look,” he said with greater intensity. He felt a shudder course her body then her lids flickered open. Her head fell back slightly and her gaze traveled to the thick dark hair reflected before her. He pulled her forward at the end of the bed and unfolded her legs, placing them over his broad shoulders as he bowed his head to her.
She cried out, her hands
flying out to steady herself. He looked up at her again. “Watch,” he commanded.
She did. She watched as he bowed his head and she felt his warm, wet tongue lick and explore. Her breath fled and her lungs heaved, trying to catch air. She saw her skin flush, her breasts lift, the nipples tightly ruching. Her face contorted, and she watched the fleeting expressions change; she saw what she had seen in him, And she realized these were all the faces of passion. His tongue dipped and she cried out again, gasping a breath as one of her hands flew to tangle in his hair.
Her body tensed, her legs fell open, her knees drew up, her toes curled against his shoulders, and her fingers bunched. She felt the tension grow then pulse, and she screamed. He stood before her swiftly and pushed into her, and in two thorough strokes she broke, writhing on the bed beneath him while he held her close.
Perry caressed her dewed skin, drawing a flush across her body, willing it to his command. He moved her back to the kneeling position and went to the basin, replacing the cap he’d used to prevent her becoming with child. He mounted the bed behind her on his knees. Sliding her onto his lap, he entered her once again—this time from behind—and she cried out.
“Watch,” he reminded her, and her head fell back to his sturdy shoulder, her eyes open, staring into the mirror. His arms wrapped about her, one hand going to the soft mound at the crux of her hips, the other claiming one of her pale breasts, teasing it to fullness. He found in this position he was required to hold on tighter to her, against the sway and the speed of the train. He trailed kisses down the side of her neck, breathing heavily at her jaw.
She felt his pace, matched to the chug of the train on the track, and followed him fitfully toward the shining release she knew awaited her. He lifted his gaze as he slowed their pace, his eyes catching hers in the glass.
His hands caressed and held, and he bade her follow them, trailing down to her knees, then back to her thighs, to her hips, then to where he gently rubbed her soft, untouched, stomach. His hands sinking lower with each stroke.
