by Dayna Quince
“What are you doing?” She hissed but only gripped his shoulders; she didn’t try to stop him.
He knew she was just as hungry as he was, and tonight he was determined to feast. He lifted her skirts all the way to her hips and pulled the tie on her drawers until they loosened enough to pull down.
“Devon!” She gasped.
“Shhhh. Hold on to me, Lydia, and don’t let go.”
He kissed her. Her most private place was exposed to the cool evening air, but when he slid his tongue in her folds, she nearly burned him. She moaned out loud, a guttural moan of need and passion. Devon tasted her with his tongue, licked and teased her sensitive flesh until she was achingly tender and wet. He sucked gently at her most sensitive flesh and felt the bite of her nails in his shoulders.
“Devon!” she cried.
He slid his hands over her tense thighs and softly curving derriere. She was clinging to him, losing herself in his wicked ministrations. He continued to eat at her, flicking his tongue back and forth, kissing and sucking until he pushed her to the edge of her tolerance. She was panting and groaning, her nails raking through his hair and lightly scoring his scalp. She whimpered, her whole body tensed, and then she exhaled with a breathy moan as the climax overcame her.
Devon quickly pulled up her drawers and retied them. Dropping her skirts as he stood, he pulled her into his arms and felt her collapse in satiated completion against him. He would give anything to bury himself inside her, but first he wanted to drive her mad with desire.
Her skin was still fevered with arousal, but Devon could feel the cool breeze on his neck. “We have to get you inside, love.”
She nodded against his neck. She leaned heavily against him as he escorted her through the French doors again, peeking around the curtains to make sure the coast was clear, and then walked her to her room. Her eyes were still dazed and glassy when he pulled her in for one last kiss and bid her a good night.
“Good night, sweetheart, dream of me.”
“Good night, Devon.” She smiled dreamily. “I love you.”
He couldn’t help it; he kissed her again, thoroughly, and then ushered her through her door. He turned away reluctantly and headed back to his room just as the sound of Lady Covington’s and his mother’s voices could be heard coming up the stairs.
Chapter 21
Shortly after breakfast, the party left for the village, and Devon handed Lydia into Colton’s stylish phaeton. The sky overhead was clear, but Devon looked out over the ocean and was concerned about the dark clouds remaining in the distance. He hopped up into the phaeton as Lydia rearranged her skirts and circled around the drive. He wished he could have ridden his horse, but he settled for a quick ride right before breakfast. He still felt weak. Things that used to be daily activities still exerted him, but it felt good. His muscles were stretched and relaxed, and his lungs gladly took bracing deep breaths of the crisp morning air in appreciation. He felt better than he had in a long time.
“Did you sleep well?” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He saw a small smile form.
“Yes, I did, thank you. And you?”
“It would have been better with your naked sated body next to me.” He grinned.
Her gaze snapped to him and she swatted his arm. He laughed as a deep blush stained her cheeks, and she huffed in ruffled modesty. “You scoundrel.”
“Don’t pretend to be surprised or offended. You may look like an angel, but you sin beautifully.”
“Yes, well, that doesn’t mean you should announce it out loud.”
“Relax. There is no one to hear us. We are completely alone and my mind is rife with possibilities.” He smiled with liquid heat.
She turned away from him. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You love it,” he teased.
They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the passing of the rolling hills and swoop of birds through the air. Devon turned down a track taking them from the main road. Lydia grabbed his arm as the wheels bounced over the rougher path mostly covered with grass and dried rivulets from the summer rains. They drove along until it seemed civilization had never existed, and they were in a world of untouched natural beauty. The vegetation was lush and green. Birds chirped excitedly and darted through the air while a deer loped in front of them, momentarily startled by the usurpers, and then sought cover in the brush.
It was beautiful and rejuvenating. It soothed Devon like a fresh draught of cool water, and he let it sink into his skin with the sunlight. He directed the phaeton to a small clearing and came to a stop. Jumping down, he tied the reins to a tree limb and reached up to assist Lydia. She smiled a small smile that said many things. A small lick of heat spread from his groin. He set her down and kept one hand on her hip as he pointed out their destination.
“Colton and I used to spend hours here. That tree”—he pointed to the center of the three largest oaks near the edge of the clearing—“was the first ship Colton ever captained. I was his first mate, or a pirate come to steal his cargo.”
“Sounds very exciting.” Lydia smiled warmly as she adjusted her bonnet.
Devon turned to the back of the phaeton, letting his hand drag across her lower back as he left her. He opened the boot and pulled out a blanket and basket. “It’s still a bit early for lunch, but I thought some scones and jam would be nice.”
“Splendid.” Lydia took the blanket, and together they walked to the edge of the clearing until the shade of the oaks shielded them from the direct sun. Devon set the basket down and helped Lydia spread the blanket. She sat primly near the edge and tucked her skirt around her feet. Devon sat in the middle, unhappy with the space between them. He looked at it pointedly.
“Is something amiss?” she asked.
“We are completely alone here, Lydia, no one for miles, no one to judge us if you scoot a little closer.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Did you bring me here to seduce me?” She laughed a breathy exuberant sound that warmed his blood.
“Not only to seduce you. I thought it would simply be nice to get out of the house and spend some time alone with you. Should seduction occur, it would merely be a coincidence with perhaps a touch of wishful thinking.”
She laughed some more, her cheeks flushing beautifully pink. “You’re a rogue, Devon Brentton.”
“Yes, I would never lie about that.” He reached over and plucked her hand from the blanket. With a quick jerk, he pulled her onto him, and they were briefly entangled in skirts, arms, and legs.
“Oh!” She gasped and then giggled. “This is rather forward, don’t you think?”
“Did you expect anything less from me?”
“You are entirely too high-handed.” She sat up but did not move from his lap. “Is there ever a moment when you are not trying to take control?”
“Not likely, although there have been many moments in my life when I’ve had absolutely no control. Like this, for example,” he said as his hand skated over her breast, and she gasped in surprise. “You see, that was completely involuntary.”
Lydia scowled at him. “You deserve to be taught a lesson.”
“And how do you suppose you are going to do that?” he challenged playfully.
She tapped her chin in thought for a moment before her eyes narrowed on him again. “I propose that you lie back and be completely at my will until I say otherwise.”
“Completely at your will until you say otherwise?” he said skeptically. “Those parameters are rather vague. If I am to agree to anything, there must be more detail.”
Lydia smiled. Her eyes held a wicked glint. “You must lie back, and let me do whatever I wish to you. Let me be in full control.”
All the blood in Devon’s body promptly filled his groin. His imagination began to churn out salacious images of Lydia doing all sorts of heavenly things to him. It was too good to be true.
“Just to be clear… You’re asking me to submit to you while you do…sexual things to me?” His heartbeat accelerated, each
beat echoing the words—yes please—yes please—yes please.
Her cheeks flooded with color again, but she did not look away. She merely nodded in the affirmative.
Devon was sure he had died and gone to heaven. This was the best day of his life. He lay back on the blanket and spread his arms wide. “Do what you will.”
The minx giggled and adjusted herself to straddle him, sitting over his rock-hard erection, which she must surely feel. She made no comment and leaned forward over his chest. Devon closed his eyes. Her challenge, her position on him—it was sensory overload, and if he wanted to live through her bold challenge, he needed a small measure of control. He felt the gentle huff of her breath as she rested her chest upon his and tentatively licked his earlobe.
Devon bit back a groan.
She sucked his lobe into her mouth and toyed with it, gently biting it before letting go, and moving her tongue in slow lazy swirls down his neck. He held still, but his hands itched to touch her. All too soon, she reached the stiff barrier of his cravat.
“Are you proficient with tying a cravat?”
“I’ll manage,” he growled.
He could feel her dainty fingers pulling at the cloth, unraveling the intricate knot until it fell to the side. She sat up, her body rubbing against his straining arousal, and Devon clenched his fists to keep from grabbing her hips and grinding into her. This was her game, and he was determined to follow wherever she led.
She readjusted herself until his cock sat in the hollow between her thighs. Did she know what she was doing to him? He wanted to growl, to throw up her damned skirts and sink into her warmth, but he kept still as she unbuttoned his waistcoat and moved on to his shirt.
“Should I anticipate being al natural in nature?” he asked huskily.
“Not completely.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. Was this retribution for catching her in the alcove last night? He flexed his groin muscles, his arousal twitched against her and she gasped.
“Devon!” she said in warning, but her hips moved against him in a little wiggle. She pulled her skirts free from between them.
Devon groaned aloud this time. He could feel her warmth and softness against him now through his breeches. “You’re merciless.”
She pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She slowly trailed her fingers over his chest, sometimes lightly, sometimes letting her nails drag across his skin. She touched his nipples, first curiously, and then more determined as they reacted to her touch. She leaned forward again, and Devon tensed as he felt the warmth of her breath, and then the hot wetness of her tongue circle his nipple.
He took a deep breath and tried to relax his muscles. His body felt tighter than the strings of a violin, and she was plucking away at him, pushing him to snap.
“Do you like this?” She breathed against his wet skin.
He nodded—afraid if he spoke, all that would emerge were growls and snarls. She moved onto his other nipple and took pleasure in torturing it into a hard pebble. She bit his skin and sucked. He could feel the sting of his skin being marked by her, and he knew when he looked at it later tonight, he would be aching for her again.
She moved lower, her tongue darting in and out to tickle and tease. She burned a trail to his waistband and stopped, the tips of her fingers dipping inside and driving him to distraction. He cracked open one eye-lid to peek at her. Her face was rosy and her eyes glazed with desire. He wondered what she would do next…and if he could handle it. This was Lydia, his Lydia, and yet the woman atop him was wild with wicked intent. Was this his doing? She was a woman unleashed. A woman no longer held by the chains of society, and now he was reaping the benefits.
She was seducing him in a clearing, the sun above them, the wind and trees witness to their passion, and from the looks of it, she was thoroughly enjoying it. There was nothing more beautiful in the world than the way she looked now with passion—passion for him—written all over her face.
She fumbled with the placket of his breeches, unhooking each button agonizingly slow as each touch pleasurably abraded his manhood. She scooted back on his legs and reached her hand into the tented fabric to grasp him in her warm palm.
“Oh, God, Lydia,” he growled and closed his eyes again. He must be dreaming. This moment was too fantastic to not be a dream.
“I confess I don’t know what to do now,” she said timidly.
“Squeeze a little harder and stroke up and down,” he said through clenched teeth.
She did as he instructed, and Devon promptly lost his wits.
The feel of him in her hand was like holding hot marble. He was so soft and hard at the same time. She did as he said, repeating the motion over and over, watching the unguarded expression of his face even with his eyes closed. He liked this—really liked this. She tucked that information for use at another time. Right now, she was trying to remember the instructions Hattie had given her. She would never have thought of doing this herself, but the maid was very informative when asked about how to bring a man to his knees.
She scooted back farther and leaned forward. She felt his body tense even more beneath her, and his manhood jerked in her hand. She couldn’t stop now. It was positively thrilling to be able to give him so much pleasure and see him so overcome by it. She carefully set her lips to the head, and Devon moaned loudly.
“Lydia, don’t,” he said.
His voice was raspy and deep, but he kept moving his hips in time with her strokes, so she continued. She ran her tongue around the tip once, and then took him into her mouth as far as she could.
“Lydia!” he cried out.
She would have smiled if she could; his hands were pulling up the blanket in white knuckled fists. Who knew that something that seemed so submissive could be so empowering? She repeated the caress, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could, and keeping one hand firmly clasped around the base. She kept the rhythm going, his hips mirroring her strokes, and his breathing becoming faster.
“I’m going to lose it!” he begged.
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she loved the way his chest and abdomen muscles tightened convulsively, so she kept going. She knew what to expect when he climaxed, Hattie made sure to warn her, but she didn’t know how to anticipate it.
“Oh god, don’t stop now,” he gasped.
She kept going, her eyes taking in his pleasure greedily as if it were her own. Indeed, she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but this moment was for him, for all the times he had given her pleasure and taken none for himself.
He threw his head back, his neck muscles bunching and tensing, and let out a guttural groan. The hot, salty, and sweet fluid of his release spilled into her mouth. When he was finished, she turned away and spit it out onto the grass. She wiped her mouth and watched him as his breathing calmed, and he lay there in relaxed satiation. Her body hummed with arousal, still wanting its own release. She tucked his manhood back into his trousers and lay down beside him, her head resting against his shoulder.
“That was… I can’t…”
She smiled. She was a little proud of herself, given how easy it was for him to reduce her mind to mush. Now she knew she could do the same.
He finally opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. He turned his head to look at her, his eyes drowsy and warm. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“A little bird told me.” She smiled impishly.
“A little—bollocks.”
He rolled on top of her, pinning her. She gasped in surprise and pleasure.
“Is it my turn now?” he said suggestively as one of his hands began to drag up her skirts.
“No, today is for you.” She giggled and squirmed against him playfully.
“It would be for me, but for you, too. It wouldn’t be fair, otherwise.”
“Devon!” Lydia squeaked as he attempted to dive beneath her skirts.
A crack of thunder rent the sky.
They both jumped, looked around
, and then looked up. Dark clouds were rapidly gathering overhead.
“We’ll have to finish this at the house.” Devon stood and pulled her up.
Lydia cast a wary glance to the sky before gathering the blanket. “Will we make it to the house in time?”
“Perhaps, if we hurry.” Devon threw the basket in the boot and lifted Lydia up into the phaeton. “We can use the blanket to keep us dry if it starts to rain, but it won’t last long.” Devon jumped into his seat and flicked the reins. “Hold on tight.”
Lydia practically wrapped herself around him as he circled around the clearing and pulled out into the rutted road. He went as fast as he safely could, a bouncing and jarring pace, until they reached the main road. They raced along, but as the sunlight was quickly over-powered by the ominous clouds, raindrops began to pelt them. Lydia spread the blanket over their heads, fighting the pull of the wind. She was a little scared now; she spread her feet to brace herself in the seat, but she felt at any moment she would fly out of the phaeton. They came upon the house as a steady rain began to fall. Devon drove around to the stables, pulling the horse to a stop as the stable hand came running. He tossed down the reins and jumped down. Lydia couldn’t help but laugh as he gallantly ran to her side and lifted her down. Taking her hand, they ran for the shelter of the house as a bolt of lightning flashed and was followed by rumbling thunder.
They were nearly soaked by the time they ducked inside the side door, panting from their run. They stopped and caught their breath, grinning foolishly at each other.
“I could use a hot bath.” Lydia panted as she tried to catch her breath.
“That’s a wonderful idea. My tub is big enough for two, fortunately.”
“Devon!” Lydia swatted at him and looked around them.
“No one is near, and it does not matter who hears, anyway.” He pulled her close to him and tried to kiss her.
“Not here.” She pushed against his chest weakly.
“Let’s finish what we started.” He buried his face in her neck.
She wanted to moan in frustration. She could feel the cold seeping through her wet gown on her back, but her front was pleasantly toasty against him. A hot bath for two sounded wonderful, but she wouldn’t be able to resist him if they were both naked together. She couldn’t give in to him until he agreed to marry her.
