A gentle suck—her body spasmed, quivering against his lips.
Another suck, harder this time. Her hips lifted off the desk to grind herself against his mouth as a begging whimper of need tore from her throat.
But his hand on her thigh kept her pinned beneath him as he teased at her, his fingers swirling inside her even as his lips continued to nibble and suck, the heat of his mouth invisibly branding her as his.
He raised his head to watch her face. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her bottom lip was clenched between her teeth as she tried to fight back the growing ache inside her instead of giving over to it. He smiled wickedly at that. Her body was still too new to sex to know how to welcome release even as she craved it so desperately, and he burned with selfish pleasure at being the man to teach her.
Standing between her thighs, he unfastened his fall and freed his hard cock. Proof that she was ready for him glistened on the pink lips of her folds, and he was more than ready for her. So ready to plunge into her tight warmth that a drop of his dew already beaded at his tip.
“You’re mine now.” He took her waist and pulled her forward until her buttocks nearly hung off the edge of the desk, then reached down to grasp himself and press the end of his throbbing erection into the hot hollow at her core. “And I am taking what’s mine.”
She whimpered in anticipation, her body shaking with need.
But this wasn’t about need. Need had brought her into his arms last night and given him peace and absolution. This—he tilted his hips to pop just the tip of his cock inside the tight resistance of her inner lips, but no farther—this was possession.
She writhed beneath him, pleading with her body to plunge inside and take all of her. “Edward, please—please now!”
He stepped forward and shoved himself inside her to the hilt.
She cried out at being filled so completely, so suddenly, but this time there was none of the pain of before, no resistance. And when he immediately began to thrust into her, her body bore down around his to welcome him.
“You’re mine,” he groaned as he drove into her. “Say it, Kate—say you’re mine.”
She moaned.
“Say it,” he demanded, grabbing her hips and lifting them to meet his. “You’re mine.”
“I’m—I’m yours!” A shudder of surrender swept through her. Arching her back, she locked her ankles at the small of his back, because each powerful thrust against her sent her skittering up the desk, his hands on his hips pulling her toward him to pump into her again. “I’m yours, Edward…”
With a growl, he yanked down her bodice and tore open the stay to expose her breasts, and as his hips pounded between her thighs, his hands reached over her body to roughly squeeze her breasts and pull at her nipples.
Throaty whimpers panted from her, but the sounds were lost to his ears beneath his own animal grunts of need. Her arms flailed around her, unable to find any purchase on the smooth desktop, and their two bodies knocked the stacks of papers, files, and books to the floor in a tumbling mess.
With a fierce groan, he clasped her hips against him as he plunged into her and held himself there, shooting himself deep inside her. His body pulsed hot with exquisite pleasure, his legs and arms shaking from exertion as he strained to empty every drop inside her.
But she wasn’t finished and writhed herself against him, begging for him to give her release.
Keeping his spent cock inside her, he grabbed her ankles and lifted her legs up over his shoulders, and at the new angle of his body pressing heavily down on hers, he ground his pelvis hard against her, rubbing at her open sex and the exposed nub at her core. She gasped, and he did it again, lifting his hips to slam down and grind against her.
She shattered, her arms clutching tightly around his shoulders as her hips bucked wildly beneath him. He smothered her mouth with his to muffle the cry that tore from her, and he could feel her sex quivering around his cock still buried inside her, each wave of her climax pulsing through her and into him.
With as much tenderness as their joining had just been fierce, he slowly kissed her throat, then rested his forehead against her bare shoulder. For a long while, neither moved, lost in the racing of their pounding heartbeats and their gasping breaths.
“Edward?” she finally whispered.
He lifted his head from her bare shoulder, his chest panging with concern that he might have hurt her.
“You’re mine now, too.” With a smile, she touched his cheek, her voice husky with satiated desire. “Say it,” she ordered softly with a very feminine sigh, her fingertip grazing over his chin.
“I’m yours, angel.” He brushed his lips over hers, then reluctantly withdrew from her.
Removing his crumpled cravat, he used it to gently clean both of them, then cast it away into the fireplace flames. He took her hands and helped her slide off the desk, feeling a twinge of guilt when she winced in pain and rubbed at her backside. He’d used her roughly, but he couldn’t help himself. And he realized with a tug of satisfaction that neither could she.
Unbidden, she reached down to fasten up his trousers. If she wasn’t careful—he grimaced as her fingertips brushed against him—she’d find herself right back on the desk, his desire for her that insatiable.
“So,” she said quietly, straightening his waistcoat, “Brannigan’s arrived early.”
“Yes.” Following her lead, he laced up her stay, then pulled up her bodice to cover her shoulders. “I leave for London tomorrow morning.” He reached around to her back to fasten her up. Odd that he found nearly as much pleasure in dressing her as he did in undressing her. “And you’re coming with me.”
“I want to be with you, I do.” She lowered her eyes as she smoothed down her skirt. “But I cannot go to London, not so soon.”
“Why not?” he pressed. After the passion they’d just shared, he’d never be able to part with her.
She closed her eyes, and a flash of disappointment and unfulfilled longing crossed her face. “I need to be certain that Brannigan will work out here. Arthur, Mrs. Elston, Dorrie—they’re all I have.”
“You also have me now,” he informed her as she stepped away from him to twist up her hair and pin it back into place.
She kept her back to him so he couldn’t see her face, but he saw clearly the trembling of her fingers as she tried unsuccessfully to place the last pin. “But I don’t.”
“That’s why you’re coming to London—”
She shook her head, giving up on the pin with a frustrated sigh. “And after the season’s over? What claim will I have to you then, except as a burdensome ward with an indebted farm?”
He took a deep breath to untie the knot in his gut. He’d known what he had to do since last night when he saw her standing there before the firelight in boy’s breeches and a woman’s stay, when he knew he could no longer keep himself away from her. And perhaps this new offer might just convince her to come to London, to give him a chance at more nights with her…“I’ll change the terms of your guardianship.”
She whirled around, stunned, the hairpin falling from her fingers. In the silence that followed as she stared at him, the pin pinged softly as it dropped to the floor.
A riot of emotions swept across her face, so shocked she couldn’t speak and could only gape at him in disbelief.
“I won’t void the guardianship, but I can give you greater independence,” he explained quietly, knowing it was the right decision if he wanted to make her trust him enough to spend the season with him. “I would still remain as your guardian under the law, to ensure your protection, but you’d be given the freedom to make your own decisions and choices without interference from me or Phillip Benton. I’ll have Meacham draw up an addendum to the agreement and ask your father to sign it.”
She held her breath. “And Brambly?”
He grinned at her. “Yours to do with as you please.”
Then he braced himself for her to come rushing into his embrace and fling her
arms around his neck—this was what she’d wanted since he arrived on her doorstep, her life and home under her own control to do with as she pleased.
But she didn’t move except to raise a hand to wipe at her glistening eyes and to stare at him, accusingly, as if instead of giving her the farm he’d sworn to destroy it.
Confused, he reached for her. “Kate—”
“No.” She pushed him back with a look of such abandonment and distress that it ripped his breath away. “You were going to save Brambly, and now—”
“I’m still going to help with Brambly, that hasn’t changed. You have my word.”
But she only shook her head fiercely. And then the true reason for why she didn’t want to go to London hit him, and he felt like a damned fool for not realizing sooner—
“Brambly is yours, angel,” he assured her. “No one’s taking it away from you while you’re gone.”
In her eyes, then, he saw the wariness slowly change to trust and relief, and the surprising happiness swelling inside him nearly overwhelmed him. She stepped back into his arms, her warm body pressing gratefully against his.
“Thank you, Edward.” She rose up on tiptoes to kiss him, her hand sliding possessively over his chest.
Slipping his arms around her, he murmured against her lips, “We’re going to London.” There was no dissuading him from that, but…“I can remain at Brambly a few more days, to make certain Brannigan settles in well.”
She arched into his embrace, and his breath hitched at the softness of her breasts against his chest. “Thank you!”
With a groan of restraint, wanting to ravish her again right there on the floor but knowing it would be too much for her too soon, he lowered his mouth to her ear. “But I also hope you realize,” he murmured as he swirled his tongue inside her ear and was rewarded with a rapturous shiver, “I have no intention of keeping myself from you.”
She breathed out a low moan. “I certainly hope not!”
He tossed back his head and laughed, at that moment happier than he’d felt in years. Ten years, in fact.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he chided. “Now, away with you.” He turned her toward the door, then slapped her playfully on the bottom to send her scurrying. “You’ve a houseful of goods to unpack, and I’ve a stack of paperwork to sort through.”
“Hmm…I can think of more entertaining things to do than paperwork,” she ventured over her shoulder, swinging her hips invitingly as she sashayed toward the door. “I’ll be in the sitting room with the velvet sofa should you grow bored…”
“Wanton,” he teased, his wolfish smile a hungry promise of what she could expect that evening.
With a last glance back at him, she sighed longingly and slipped from the room.
He shook his head with a happy chuckle and tried to focus on the paperwork, although it was downright impossible with the scent of her still clinging to him, the taste of her still on his lips.
Who would have thought that the little minx could have his head spinning like this? But that was exactly what this woman did to him. She had him wanting her, and not just for bed sport, although that was proving more special than he’d ever imagined.
No, he admitted to himself as he sorted through the papers, scanning over each one before setting it aside, she had him wanting her for her laughter and teasing flirtations, her kindness and loyalty, even for that stubborn way she jutted out her chin. And she wanted him, too, just as much.
Perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps marriage wasn’t such an impossibility after—
A knock sounded at the door.
Edward glanced up. A stocky man with bowed legs and what little hair he had left swept across his otherwise bald head stood hesitantly in the doorway, hat in hand. He wore plain clothes and sturdy work shoes, no cravat, and a stained waistcoat, and the touch of apple red at his cheeks indicated that he’d already started drinking even so early in the morning.
“Brannigan’s overseeing the deliveries,” Edward informed him, dropping his attention back to the paperwork. “He should be down in the basement.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir.” The man stepped into the room. “I’m Guerson from the posting inn.”
“Ah, Mr. Guerson, of course.” Edward came forward with a smile, his hand extended. “My apologies. With all the activity going on here today, I thought you were one of the workers.” He shook the man’s hand. “What brings you to Brambly?”
“It’s Miss Kate, Yer Grace.”
Katherine. She’d been out of his sight for less than five minutes. Surely even that hellcat couldn’t have gotten herself into trouble so soon. He frowned. “What is it?”
“Well, sir, you should know that all o’ us in the village think right highly o’ the lass. We’d never want t’ see any harm come to her.”
Sudden concern surged into his chest. “What’s the matter, Guerson?”
“This, sir.” He removed a letter from his jacket pocket. “Young Tom brought this by a few days ago, said Miss Kate wanted it put into the mail. With all the storms and rain, the mail’s been delayed, so I thought you might should see it first, you being her guardian now an’ responsible for the lass.”
Edward’s face hardened as he took the letter and scanned his gaze across the address. Phillip Benton.
“Normally, I wouldn’t bother ye none with somethin’ like this. But it’s to her papa, ye see. And e’eryone in the village knows the bloke’s a worthless rat’s ass.” The words slipped out, and the man stammered in apology, “That is—I mean to say, he’s not a good man.”
“No,” Edward agreed, his jaw clenching, “he’s not.”
“And I’d hate for Miss Kate to do somethin’ foolish and get hurt, now she’s got ye here to take care o’ her.”
“Thank you, Guerson. You were right to bring this to me.” He nodded stiffly toward the door. “See Brannigan before you go and tell him to give you a coin for your trouble.”
“Right kind o’ ye, Yer Grace.” He slipped his hat onto his head and quickly left, a bounce in his step as he headed toward the rear of the house and the basement stairs.
Edward broke the wax seal and opened the letter, and three coins clattered to the floor at his feet. As he stared at them, the same cold betrayal stirred in him from ten years ago, falling over him like a black fog creeping up to swirl through him and steal away his breath.
His eyes swept slowly from the coins to the letter clutched in his hand. With each word he read, his pulse banged harder, more fiercely, as if trying to prove that he still had a heart left in his blackened chest. But he knew better. He knew deceit and had experienced firsthand that black place that could take a man’s soul.
Now, it descended over him again as he stared at her letter, its claws ripping into his chest to claim him—
His angel had damned him straight back to hell.
* * *
In the drawing room, Kate busied herself by arranging the newly delivered furniture and sorting through all the goods still to be unpacked in the crates. But her eyes kept straying to the velvet sofa in the corner, her mind replaying what Edward had told her about it. Although she tried to breathe normally, her heart still raced, and her body pulsed electric at the brazen way she’d given herself to him right there on the desk. The same way she planned on giving herself to him tonight on that sofa.
She laughed shamelessly, her hand flying up to her mouth. They hadn’t even removed their clothes!
He’d called her wanton, and perhaps she was. But if being wanton made a woman feel this good, this happy, well, it was an absolute wonder that the entire female population of England wasn’t cornering off men to demand they turn them wanton.
And it was all because of Edward. She craved him, so much so that she’d just begged him to possess her and willingly admitted to becoming his.
His. His hands on her body, his weight pressing delectably down on her, his manhood stroking inside her—she’d not only wanted to submit, she’d enjoy
ed the surrender. And she wanted nothing more at that moment than for him to possess her again until she was once more powerless within his arms.
Her whole life she’d never understood how her mother could love her father so faithfully, despite the terrible way he treated her, the abuse he’d heaped upon her. Why had Mama surrendered her life’s freedom to become his wife? And why had she remained faithful, even knowing he never loved her in return?
But now Kate knew. She’d experienced for herself the rush of feelings that made a woman want to sacrifice her freedom for a man.
Yet she wouldn’t make the same mistake her mother had. She would never marry a man who did not love her, and she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Edward held feelings for her. The idea of marriage was terrifying enough by itself, but to add to it all she stood to lose…Brambly, her medicine, her heart. If her husband decided to take it from her, there would be nothing she could do to stop him.
With Edward, there had been no talk of marriage, and she was glad of it. Even if he had asked, she would have refused. But an invitation to London was a far cry from a marriage proposal, and so she would go with him because she couldn’t bear the idea of denying herself that time with him, even if she could see no future for them beyond the end of the season. For all that he’d promised to protect her and made being in his arms so very special, Edward did not love her.
Her chest squeezed, hollow and desolate. But could he ever?
“Katherine.”
At the sound of Edward’s deep voice behind her, her heart leapt as hope surged through her. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was beginning to care after all.
She laughed happily as she turned toward him. “I think we should—”
Her laughter choked beneath the iciness of his black gaze. In a heartbeat, her happiness ripped away, replaced by sudden worry stabbing in her stomach, and dread clenched its cold fingers around her heart.
He stepped toward her, forcing her backward until she pressed against the wall, trapping her. He placed his hand on the wall at her shoulder and leaned down until his face was so close to hers that his breath stirred across her lips, until his eyes bored mercilessly into hers.
Dukes Are Forever Page 16
