A Rogue for Miss Prim (Friendship Series)

by Julia Donner

  “So sorry, Gordon. How rude of me. I’m drenching you.”

  “Damn, but you are.”

  She clenched her fist to stop from reaching down when he massaged the intriguing stiffness against her hip. The coaxing rhythm activated a dark yearning. Her body followed his movements. Deep inside, a frantic need began to unfurl and reveal itself. She responded in kind when his kisses became more insistent.

  A sensation akin to relief flooded through her when he brought his body over hers, propping his heavy weight on his arms. His chest, impossibly wide, was all she could see, radiating warmth. The curling hairs scraped against nipples so sensitized it hurt. When she squirmed, he broke off kissing and began gliding his lips up and down her neck, pausing to nip the crest of her shoulder.

  “Perhaps we can take it slower the next time.”

  Before she could ask what he meant, he’d spread her legs with his knees. Blunt heat pushed at her entrance, shoved relentlessly inside, then hesitated.

  “Adele, relax.”

  “I can’t. It feels so exciting. Don’t stop. Oh, there! You’re inside me, Gordon, and oh, there’s more. Can you do that more vigorously?”

  He released a shaky laugh, lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. His careful stroking created pleasure so acute she wanted to laugh and cry. She didn’t know what was proper. Soon, it didn’t matter. Beyond caring, she let her mind and body soar.

  Carried on an emotional wave too wild to contain, she reached down and dug her fingers into his clenching and unclenching muscles. “Oh, Gordon, you have the most wonderful bottom. And I can feel you all the way inside. Yes, like that. Faster. It’s like there’s a painful coil deep inside, ready to break free,”

  And then it did, catching her unawares, its force sending her mind spinning and her body tensing with the onslaught. His thrusts became harder, then erratic. He pressed his face into her hair, his fingers digging into the pillow under her head, and moaned a very bad word in her ear.

  She stared up at the canopy as he carefully withdrew, leaving her with a strange feeling of abandonment. Her breathing wasn’t as hoarse as his, so rapid and harsh, filling the room with gratifying sounds. She had caused him to feel this way, the knowledge wonderfully empowering.

  He eventually relaxed, stretching out against her side and did a curious thing. He draped his left arm, heavy with strong bone and muscle, across her front and tucked his hand between her thighs. She wanted to ask him to remove it, since there was so much embarrassing wetness there. More was seeping out and the distraction took away her inventory of the many extraordinary sensations and unexpected emotions. There was also a curious sense of spiritual connection now that they had physically joined. She quietly assessed an inexplicable and growing attachment to this man, her husband. She hadn’t undergone any feelings during or after the wedding ceremony. Did it have something to do with the way his hand clasped her so intimately?

  Whatever it was, she now felt connected to him in a way she never expected. She’d assumed that after the consummation they would enter into a sterile arrangement that would suit them both, but the way his fingertips were now starting to move, very slightly, gently circling, sliding within the wet folds, spoke of something else, something dark and mysterious, as compelling as the stark images in the ancient manuscript.

  She inhaled when he suddenly withdrew his teasing fingers. He rolled onto his side to lean on an elbow. Gazing down at her, he slid his right hand between her legs, but this time the massaging was more insistent. She willed herself not to squirm.

  In a sated voice, low and husky, he murmured, “Why so quiet now? You weren’t before.”

  She tried not to appear obvious as she attempted to inch away from the massaging, which had moved from worrisome to creating a resurgence of her earlier hunger. To hold her still, he used a heavy leg to secure her to the mattress and slid his hand deeper into the wetness. She stiffened when he captured an acutely sensitive knot of flesh between his fingers. The stinging streak of pleasure brought her to absolute stillness.

  Mind and body focused on that spot between her thighs, she gasped and shivered. “What are you doing?”

  “Holding what is mine. Making sure you enjoy and want more. This tiny bit of you that I hold between my two fingers is, I’m sure, the only way to rule one such as you.”

  Her focus wandered as he wielded a wicked talent, and she suddenly comprehended one of the illustrations that had made no sense. Rippling pleasure slowly became unbearable. Tension filled her chest and clamped like a relentless cramp in her abdomen, coiling tighter. She grabbed his wrist, whether to stop or encourage, she no longer knew. She released him to grasp the sheets with her free hand, gripping with all her might to hold herself still.

  He silently laughed and nuzzled his nose in her hair. “I can’t describe how much I love these curls, Mrs. Treadwell. Tell me how you like what I’m doing down here.”

  When she shook her head, he nipped her shoulder. “Come on. Be a good lass and talk naughty to me again.”

  She said through clenched teeth, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Now, wife, it’s too soon into our marriage to start prevaricating. Tell me again what you want. What you like.”

  “I never…said anything.”

  “Of course you did.” He pitched his voice higher. “Faster, Gordon. Can you move more vigorously, Gordon? I could scarcely hold back, what with you doing all that moaning and begging.”

  “Nonsense. I did no such thing.” She squeaked when he squeezed and gently pinched delicate tissues.

  “Talk to me. I’ve never heard anything so exciting. Unbearably erotic. Every word you moaned made me crazier.” His open-mouthed kiss went deep, demanding a response. A groan she couldn’t suppress rolled up from the roots of her soul. She groped to clutch the edge of the bed.

  After a pleased, masculine growl into her mouth, he said against her lips, “Bless me, Adele, I knew it was going to be good between us, but the way you gave me instructions, damn, you’re so deliciously wanton.”

  His fingers started to move differently, quicker, more insistent. She had to clamp down on her muscles to hold her body still, tightening her thighs around the maddening movement. He softly laughed and shifted his gaze from studying her face to his hand. She was too captivated by what he was doing to feel embarrassed. She closed off her throat to swallow a rising wail but a gasp escaped.

  Using his weight against her shoulder, he pinned her in place, then leaned over her to whisper into her panting mouth, “Talk to me, Adele. Tell me. I need to hear you say what you like. What you want me to do, especially later, when I put my mouth where my hand is now. I’m going to feast on this, on every lovely inch of you. Open your eyes, love. You should see how your skin is blushing with color. God, now you’ve got me talking. Ah, your body is telling me how. Shivering. Rippling. Gripping my fingers. You’re close. Say it, Adele. Tell me how it feels.”

  She released the side of the bed and bit into her fist to smother a shriek. His leg pinned her more firmly in place when she tried to squirm away from the coiling intensity. She turned her head to the side to hide excruciating pleasure. A moment later, she grabbed for his wrist when her body arched, helpless, carried away on pleasure that mirrored pain in its sharpness. She managed to swallow the embarrassing noises caught in her chest, but in the aftermath, a relieved groan slipped free.

  Her body relaxed and sagged down into the deep mattress. She had no physical modesty, but the idea of relinquishing her will to someone else, while he watched and manipulated her like a puppet, was insupportable.

  But the gloating devil didn’t care about what she wanted. He was otherwise engaged, preoccupied with pressing soft, delicious kisses down the bridge of her nose, touching and investigating his prize with blatant ownership. She didn’t think she should enjoy this overbearing exploration of her person, but blissfully dazed, she couldn’t rouse the outrage, nor the energy to chastise. And to be honest, i
t was difficult to sneer at the novelty of physical affection. She’d had no idea martial relations would feel so wonderful, so completing. In addition, he appeared to have an aptitude for knowing what she liked, even if the fiend badgered her to repeat the embarrassing rambling she’d done while under his thrall. He was altogether too clever.

  She surrendered to the realization that she was not going to master this man. He had discovered the method of how to distract and perhaps master her. But she’d be damned if she would give him the satisfaction of hearing her say it out loud.

  Chapter 13

  The quill tip dripped a black dot on the blank sheet of vellum. Adele stared at it, and after a moment, realized it continued to expand, spreading out of proportion, as had the recent changes in her life. The widening blot had spiky edges, bristling like her nerve endings that shrieked to vibrant life every time she looked at her husband, and especially when he looked back with a knowing smirk and predatory gaze.

  With a tiny shake of her head she reoriented and started to write, but concentration seeped away, evaporating with a bemused lethargy that had started on her wedding night. This sluggishness could not be trusted, for underneath lurked a creature, voracious and wanton. The desire within couldn’t get enough of her husband’s lovemaking. The wretched devil had ensorcelled her with a strange sexual spell. Of course, she’d never tell him that. The trick was making her body listen and behave, but in the end, he always overwhelmed, her resistance feeble in comparison.

  A tap on her door sounded a moment before it opened to reveal the spellbinder himself. He wore his ever-present satisfied grin, but she now knew the reason.

  Due to the discovery of her own weakness, she now understood why men pursued. Logic pacified impatience with her lack of resistance, giving her understanding and the wonderment that he lived with the same craving that held her in thrall. She didn’t want to think that any woman would suffice for him, a man who could—and had probably sampled—more women than he remembered. She really disliked the knowledge that for her, ever since the wedding night, no other man would ever do. He’d ruined her dream of one day knowing what it was like to take a lover to enslave, something she’d written about, but never thought to experience for herself. Gordon ruined that with his clever hands and gorgeous body. The man was indecently good looking without clothes.

  He came to the desk, and she was glad she hadn’t gotten much written. What had gotten down on paper was illegible due to the fuzzy state of her mind. Her skin prickled, every nerve alert, when he leaned down over her chair. Like a puppet on strings, she lifted her face. His lips glided across her brow, nuzzled her curls, and left a sizzling path down the side of her cheek.

  His mouth hovered over hers in a barely there kiss. “Good morning, darling. That was an excellent choice you decided upon for last night’s session. The bottom’s up position. Conducive to conception, I should think.”

  “You have an evil chortle when you are excessively pleased with yourself.”

  “I do, don’t I? But that specific position will no doubt bear fruit and render the family delirious with a new addition. My thanks for showing me the ancient manuscript from India. Frightfully inventive.”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have shown you.”

  He trailed a fingertip up the side of her face to her cap, slipped underneath, withdrew a lock of hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “But it’s my turn to select an illustration for tonight and I have. Something specific for your satisfaction. You know the one. Your right leg trapped under my waist. You mounting me, which leaves me with the delightful occupation of both of my hands entirely free to roam. Ah, I can tell by the flutter of the material on your bosom and that sweet little catch in your breath that you know the exact one I mean.”

  When she attempted to protest, his mouth sank down on hers for a deep, drugging kiss. He made a disappointed sound as he took his mesmerizing mouth away. “As much as I would love to ravish you here on this convenient desk, I must contain my ardor. You have a visitor.”

  She blinked to comprehend, then blushed, angry with herself, because she had started to imagine him shoving aside everything on the desk’s surface to have his way with her stupidly traitorous body. She had no will against his wiles.

  She hoarsely replied, “It’s too early and too soon for well wishers to be making calls.”

  “It’s been weeks, my delicious Mrs. Treadwell, and your caller is a dear friend of yours, or I would have sent her away.” He nipped her chin. “And carried you upstairs.”

  Visions blossomed. Her sensually fogged mind cleared enough to mumble, “Why go upstairs?”

  “Aren’t you the scrumptious baggage, so greedy and adventurous. Very well. Let’s have something different on the menu tonight. We’ll make love in my room. Or perhaps on the couch in my dressing room. No, that will not accommodate tonight’s selection. We’ll save the couch for dessert sex. Take a nap after your caller has left. You’re going to need your strength.”

  He strolled to the door, stepping back as it opened. Showers announced, “Miss Percival.”

  Gordon smiled and inclined his head in a bow, cool and urbane. “A good day to you, Miss Percival. I’ll leave you with my wife, the oh-so-very happy bride.”

  Annabelle curtsied as he left, then sent Adele a suspicious glance. Her expression didn’t change after the door closed. She hurried to the desk, about to ask an excited question, but paused.

  “Adele, whatever is the matter with you?”

  A voice other than her husband’s suggestive dark tone had asked a question. She reordered her Gordon-befuddled thoughts. “He’s addictive. It is.”

  “What is? Good heavens, you look as if you’ve been boiled until limp and hung out to dry. Has that beast been taking advantage of his husbandly rights a bit too often?”

  A slow smile curved Adele’s lips. She swallowed a purring sound humming in her throat. She might as well have admitted it out loud than try to hide the impossible. “Is there such a thing as too often?”

  Annabelle scolded her with an admonishing cluck. “Pay attention. Tomorrow you’ll have a visitor. Sir Harry Collyns is interested in our cause.”

  That yanked her down from the clouds. A frown creased her brow, an odd feeling, since she’d been relaxed to the point of grogginess for days. She blinked and looked up. “Sir Harry? Why would an arbiter have any interest in our projects? He’s a popinjay from all I’ve heard.”

  “Shame, Adele. He can’t help that he’s beautiful and neither can I. It doesn’t mean we are bereft of intelligence or finer sensibilities.”

  “A scolding well deserved. I take it you are unable to receive him at your house.”

  “Certainly not. Adele, what has happened to your brain? I cannot receive a gentleman with his reputation, even with my parents present. His repute as a womanizer is as widespread as his popularity. I am single and you are married, therefore, you are the better choice.”

  “From a rake like Sir Harry? Doubtful, but I am equipped and ready to do what must be done for our cause. I shall walk you out.”

  Adele stood, grateful strength and control had returned to her rubbery limbs. It only took Gordon walking into the room to turn her legs to water, blast the fiend. Another memory flared, but she squashed it and looped her arm with Annabelle’s as they went up to the floor above.

  “Come with me to my sitting room. I have a parcel for you to take with you today. Has Beadle been around to make trouble?”

  “Mrs. Jeffries threatened to call the authorities the last time he showed up on the doorstep.”

  “When was that?” Adele opened a door for her friend to precede her inside.

  “A week, Thursday last. He was demanding to have Lily back. I believe Mrs. Jeffries told him she would beat him about the head with her broom and scream murder if he attempted to enter.”

  “How dreadful. Did Lily or any of the other children hear?”

  Annabelle accepted the parcel Adele extended and tucked it into
her reticule. “The poor dears were sobbing by the time Mrs. Jeffries got back to them. Perhaps we should consider a different location. The country, perhaps.”

  “I doubt I can raise the funds for that. It’s getting more difficult than I thought it would be to carry on with the writing. I had hoped marriage would free me from Cousin Vera’s scrutiny and persistent invasions into my privacy. Now I must carry the fear of Gordon and his family discovering what I do to fund Spitalfields Manse.”

  Worried, Annabelle asked, “Are the funds desperately low?”

  “Very nearly. I’ve had to resort to the hidden cache more than once in the last few months. I’m receiving a much more generous allowance, but that is not nearly enough for the expenditures and quarterly bills.”

  “Mr. Treadwell has honored your requests?”

  “As I have fulfilled mine. The increase to my allowance is still not enough without the writing.”

  “But what can we do? The land the Manse sits on is owned by greedy merchants. They have increased the rent three times in the last year. They know we can be manipulated due to our devotion to the children.”

  They said no more until they were out on the street. Adele glanced at a swiftly moving carriage. “I suggest that we start to look for some other rental properties. Perhaps Sir Harry could advise us on that? Good heavens, did I just entertain the thought that we should solicit the advice of a rakehell?”

  Annabelle laughed and gave Adele a quick hug before stepping up into the waiting town coach, a grand vehicle, since Annabelle’s father spoiled his beautiful child beyond all reason. Instead of envy or jealousy of the devotion and adoration her friend enjoyed, Adele felt a warmth of happiness for the love and admiration lavished on her friend. Miss Annabelle Percival had no conceit and was as lovely inside as her exterior. She’d sensed it when they met at a garden party two years before and shared an immediate affinity, a comfort in each other’s company that they never questioned. Annabelle had only commented that she felt she’d always known Adele from the instant they were introduced and that they must have been sisters in heaven. Having no better explanation, Adele agreed with the simplicity. Some things were not meant to be argued.