Forbidden
Page 10
He reached for her and smoothed his hands over her sex. She jolted at the electric pleasure that was becoming so familiar. But when he went lower and his fingertips brushed her backside, she stiffened.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling his hand away.
She stared at him. When he had touched her in that forbidden way, the pleasure had been just as powerful as when he gave attention to her sex.
“Don’t apologize,” she whispered. “It felt…good.”
His eyes went wide. “I see.”
She couldn’t read his expression, so she ducked her head. “I’m sorry. There is no way that you meant to touch me like that. It’s not something anyone would like to—”
“Oh no,” he interrupted. “It is most definitely a place any man would like to explore.”
“Truly?” she asked, her heart beginning to pound with the thought.
“But it’s moving too fast,” he said, gently gliding his fingers back and forth over her sex. “You were but a virgin yesterday and this is—”
“Would you—would you put your cock in me there?” she asked, staring at his rapidly rising member. It seemed too big for her. Though it had seemed too big for her sex, too and that was certainly not true.
His eyes dilated with wild desire. “I would not start with my cock, no. But I could…I could touch you and see if you liked it.”
She licked her lips and nodded slowly. “We did promise we would purge every single desire. How will I know my every desire unless you show me?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and uttered a curse beneath his breath. When he finally looked at her again, he was very serious. “If you want me to stop, just tell me.”
“I will,” she promised.
He took a ragged breath and let just the tip of his finger slide down her sex once more. It was wet from her excitement and he pressed it to the tight rosebud. For a second, her body resisted but with gentle pressure, he dipped inside. She gasped at the unexpected invasion. One that was strange to her, but also sent a shock of pleasure through her.
“Do you want more?”
She nodded because she had to agree. His touch was just so tempting, she wanted it everywhere. She wanted to be wicked and wanton and give herself over to his every whim.
He leaned down and began to lick her sex, slow, languid strokes that made her gasp with pleasure at the unexpected act. She lifted to meet him as he suckled her flesh. She was so wet, she was so hot, she was so close to an edge he would not allow her to fall over.
He slipped that same finger away from her bottom, leaving her bereft, but she couldn’t argue when he stroked it back to her sex and slid it inside her sheath, thrusting inside like he would later do with his cock. She thrashed her head against the rug.
“Does it feel good?” he asked, his voice vibrating against the flesh.
“Yes,” she gasped out. “Yes!”
“Good.” The finger moved from her sex, and back to that rosebud it went. Now it was soaked with their combined juices, and as he pressed it to her entrance, it slid inside with far less resistance. And all the time, he continued to work his tongue against her. Only now he focused his attentions on her clit.
She arched at the invasion of both places, the odd sensation of being had in so many ways, even though it was just one man taking her. There was a twinge of pain as he began to slowly thrust with his finger, but the sweetness of his kiss at her throbbing clitoris evened out the discomfort, heightening all the sensations.
He thrust into her over and over, his mouth working hard, sucking and licking, drawing out her pleasure with every stroke.
Her fingers clenched at the rug beneath her, and with a scream orgasm hit her. But Jude seemed to be in no mood to let her ride that release at her own pace. His finger worked harder, he sucked her and swirled around her clitoris and the pleasure moved to another level. Tears streamed down her face as she shuddered through it all, her body taking and taking what he gave, the pleasure never ending and so intense that it walked the fine line of pain.
She panted as her body went weak, the ricochets of pleasure fading as she shuddered a few final times. As she collapsed back against the rug, Jude smiled up at her, withdrawing his mouth and hands from her. But as he crawled up her body, she saw he had grown hard again during his attention to her body.
“Touching me arouses you?” she asked, reaching out a trembling hand to brush her fingertips over his erection.
He nodded. “Very much. Giving you pleasure increases my pleasure tenfold.”
She shivered with understanding. “When I took you in my mouth, your moans made my own body wetter, more ready.”
“Do you even know how sensual you are? How enticing?”
She reached up and pressed a hand to his shoulder. Gently she drew him down. “Show me,” she whispered.
He smiled, but didn’t cover her as she thought he would. Instead he slid a hand beneath her back and helped her sit up. He maneuvered her, showing her that he wanted her on her hands and knees on the rug. She did this, exposing both her bottom and her sex to him as he positioned himself behind her.
She tensed as she awaited his invasion, tensed further as he stroked the head of his hard cock against her slit. “Mine,” he groaned as he slid inside.
She arched her back like a cat as he claimed her, this new sensation even more powerful than the others. He stroked into her, slow thrusts, shallow thrusts, and she gasped with each one. Already, he built her pleasure, he coaxed her response, and she was shocked when she came so swiftly after such a powerful release just a few moments before.
He wrapped his body around hers, cupping her breasts as he increased his tempo. The tremors of her body were just fading when they began again and she pushed back against him, crying out with her third release of the night. But it still wasn’t enough. He continued to push into her, but he wrapped an arm around and pressed his hand to her tender, throbbing sex and massaged her clitoris with his thumb.
Immediately, she exploded again, a puppet on his erotic strings. But this time he didn’t seem to be able to hold back and continue his torture. As she milked him with her release, his thrusts grew erratic, faster, and he roared as he withdrew from her. She felt the hot splash of his release across her back and arched in pleasure before she collapsed on the rug. He fell at her side, gathering her to him, and they lay together, silent except for the matched panting of their breath and the beating of their hearts that filled the room with their loud, combined rhythm.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jude set Audrey on his bed and she smiled up at him, limp and languid from their lovemaking. He couldn’t help but return that smile as he joined her, even though his mind spun with guilt and regret.
He hadn’t made love to many ladies of rank. A few widows had expressed interest in him over the years and he had not denied himself, even though it was always Audrey’s face he saw when he took them. But never, in all that time, had he done such wicked things to a genteel lover.
And yet Audrey woke his animal side. Audrey made him rough and wicked and woke all his darkest desires. Being unleashed like this could not be good.
He stroked her hair off her face. “I’m sorry.”
She opened her eyes a sliver and stared up at him with confusion on her face. “What? Why?”
“I was rough. I was forceful. I touched you in ways I shouldn’t—”
She sat up slightly and pressed her lips to his gently. When she rested her head back on the pillow, she whispered, “I liked it all, Jude.”
“But you are a lady,” he insisted.
“A woman,” she corrected. “Your woman, at least for now. And I’m not made of porcelain just because my father or my brother has a title.”
“Still, I should have been more careful, gentler,” he insisted.
She knitted her eyebrows together. “Were those the things you wanted to do to me? The things you fantasized about while thinking about me all those years?”
He hesita
ted before whispering, “Yes.”
“Then why would you apologize? The purpose of our arrangement is to purge our desires for each other, and that is what you did.”
He frowned. He had made love to Audrey three times now, drawn her pleasure out, but he felt no more purged of desire for her than he had before he touched her. If anything, he wanted her more. And he wanted more from her. He wanted to possess her in ways he knew were impossible.
“Jude?” she said, sitting up slightly to examine his face. “Did I do something wrong?”
He shook his head and made every effort to clear his thoughts. “Of course not. You are right. But so far we’ve only done what I desire. What do you have to purge?”
She seemed to ponder that question a moment before she said, “I hardly know, for up until the past few days, I’ve had no experience aside from abject terror at the prospect of surrendering to such things.”
“You don’t still feel that, do you?”
She smiled gently. “No. Not at all. I still recognize the inherent dangers to such things, especially when they get tied to strong emotions. But I must say that you are providing a wonderful education for me. I now know how many wicked things I want and like and exist in this world.”
“Wonderful and wicked said together in almost the same breath,” he chuckled. “The biddies at Almack’s would revoke your right to waltz, my lady.”
“I would rather be here with you,” she said with a shrug.
He tensed at her words and at the casual way she said them. It was funny—so many times he had been forced to extract himself from a woman who had mistaken pleasure for emotion. He’d always done it as kindly as he could, but he knew he had left a few broken hearts in his sexual wake.
But with Audrey, it was different. She seemed to be able to separate herself from her feelings. Like he was still nothing more than her chum. And while that should have pleased him—after all, he knew they could never be together…hell, they shouldn’t be together now—it still stung. He would be left with all his unresolved feelings when this was over, and she?
She would walk away.
“You look suddenly very far from here,” she murmured as she rested her head on his chest.
He smoothed his hand across her hair and tried so hard to push those unwanted feelings away. He would deal with them later, not now.
“Just woolgathering, I suppose.”
“You do that a lot,” she pointed out, glancing up at his face. “You have even more in the last couple of years. Where do you go? What do you think about?”
He shrugged, acting as if he didn’t know or it wasn’t important. In fact, her question hit upon the most important facts of his life. His feelings for her and his guilt over what he’d done. Those were the only two places his mind took him when he drifted off in distraction.
“Is it worry about your mother?” she pressed. “Thinking about seeing her so recently?”
He shook his head. “I assure you, Audrey, when you’re laying naked in my arms, the last thing I am thinking about is my mother.”
“Then what?”
He stiffened. She was so tenacious, she wouldn’t let this go unless he came up with some answer, real or imagined. But he had none for her. At least none he could think of on such short notice.
“I’m thinking that you could be missed shortly,” he said, reluctantly removing his arm from around her and getting to his feet. He found his robe, and when he turned back, she was staring at him. There was undeniable hurt her in her brown eyes, but also confusion and question.
“Jude?” she said softly, leaning forward. She had no idea what a tempting picture she made, utterly oblivious of her nudity, her body leaned toward him like a beautiful flower he could so easily pluck and have.
Except he couldn’t. He hardened his expression. “I’ll fetch your nightclothes from the other room,” he offered, turning his back on her and moved to the main room.
When he returned, she had gotten to her feet and used his comb to detangle her long locks. She faced him when he entered and took the clothing he offered. She said nothing as she slipped the nightdress over her head and then put on her robe. When she was dressed, she turned to face him at last, her expression guarded.
“If you don’t want to answer my questions, Jude, you don’t have to,” she said. “But if I’ve done something wrong, I wish you’d tell me so I don’t repeat the offense.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he assured her, though he could see it didn’t work.
She folded her arms across her chest almost protectively. As though she needed the barrier between them in this moment. “But I can see with my two perfectly good eyes that you are not happy with me. Here we were, lying together, and then you get up and all but kick me out of your cottage like I’m a lightskirt.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m not kicking you out like a lightskirt, Audrey. I just think that it would be better not to risk getting caught.”
She held his stare for a long moment, her expression confused and hurt. Then she nodded. “Very well. Will I see you tomorrow, then, or will you hide out here?”
He flinched. He was too obvious, it seemed. He moved toward her, taking her hands. When he touched her, her expression softened slightly.
“I’ll be dealing with some of the deliveries for the changes in the dining room in the morning, but your mother has asked me to join you for tea after lunch. So I’ll see you then.”
“And tomorrow night?” she said softly, brown eyes holding his evenly.
He cleared his throat. The best thing for both of them would be to push her away. But he couldn’t.
“If you come here, Audrey, I won’t turn you away.”
She didn’t look completely pleased with that declaration, but she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek regardless. Then she turned and they walked to the main room where she slipped out the door and left him alone.
He stood for a long moment, staring at the door where she had just left. Then he shifted his attention to the rumpled rug where they had made love less than an hour ago. With a sigh, he moved to smooth it, erasing the evidence that he had taken Audrey yet again.
His eyes moved to a small escritoire near the fireplace. As if in a trance, he moved to it and opened the top drawer. He shuffled some papers and then slowly withdrew the miniature he had hidden there upon his arrival to the house. A miniature of Audrey.
It had been painted when she came out, so her features were softer, her eyes not so troubled by the heartbreaks her family had endured in the past seven years. But at its essence, the picture was Audrey, with a mischievous half-smile and all her beauty and elegance.
How had he gotten the piece?
Well, it didn’t really matter. He’d had it for six years, carrying it with him whenever he left home for more than a few days. He always hid it and took it out to look at it in his darkest hours.
Now was most definitely one of those. Because he was beginning to fear that before their unexpected affair was over, Audrey was going to hate him.
Either because he revealed all his secrets, or because he kept them all locked inside.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jude stood at the back entrance to the main house at two the next afternoon, staring at the door he had entered hundreds of times in his life. Today it felt almost impossible to turn the knob. After all, he knew what awaited him.
First, there would be Audrey, who was probably still mulling over what had happened between them last night. He knew her too well. She had no doubt gnawed on every moment between them like a dog with a meaty bone, trying to determine the reason behind his every action. And most likely seeing herself to blame for any ill humor he had expressed.
But along with her would be Lady Woodley. The dowager marchioness had never been anything but kind and welcoming, accepting him into her family when his own shunned him. And how had he repaid her?
By participating in the loss of one daughter and seducing the other.
But he owed them more.
So he opened the door and slowly entered the house. There was a footman standing in the first hall he turned down, polishing some kind of silver plate. He nodded to Jude as he stepped into view.
“The family awaits in the Yellow Room, sir.”
Jude blinked. “The yellow room. You mean the west parlor? The one recently renovated?”
The young man nodded. “That is the very one, Mr. Samson. Lady Woodley is so thrilled with its outcome that she is insistent we all call it the Yellow Room from now on.”
Jude smiled despite himself. “Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint the lady, would we?”
The young man’s face grew somber. “Never, sir.”
“The Yellow Room it is, then,” he said with a laugh. “Good day.”
The servant said his goodbyes as Jude began to move toward the Yellow Room. He couldn’t help pondering how different the Woodleys were from his own family. He recalled the servants being quiet and constantly terrified of being sacked at his uncle’s home. But the Woodleys inspired great loyalty.
The kind he felt but sometimes hadn’t shown.
He frowned as he pushed the door to the Yellow Room open and entered to find Lady Woodley and Audrey already assembled there.
“There he is,” Lady Woodley said as she rose from her place on the settee slowly and moved to his side. She looked pale and drawn, but she had a broad smile that faltered as she reached him and took both his hands. “You look troubled, Samson. What is it?”
He shook his head, sorry he had allowed his troubles to be shown. “It is nothing, my lady, I assure you,” he said, but he caught Audrey watching him, her concern as clear as her mother’s. “I am merely sorry if I kept you waiting.”
“You didn’t,” Lady Woodley said as she looked around. “I was just admiring the room now that the furniture is back and the portraits and knickknacks in place. Don’t you think it looks divine?”