The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (Intimate Secrets Book 1)

by Blackthorne, Natasha

  By honor and duty.

  Now, to all appearances, he was motivated by a man’s sexual possessiveness. A type and intensity of sexual possessiveness that no man had shown to her before.

  Such a change startled her. She had expected James to remain cool, slightly detached, to command her and take her with a certain pragmatic calmness.

  She realized that in seeking to seduce him, she’d been playing with fire.

  She had thought herself so experienced with men and sexual relations. Oh, heavens, what an untried girl she really was. At least, James made her feel that way in this moment.

  He stroked her breasts with feather-soft brushes of his fingertips. She could feel the heat of his desire coming off him, as one senses the pressure in the air before a thunderstorm. Little eddies of apprehension swirled deep in her belly. She swallowed against her increasingly parched mouth.

  Jitters tickled the soles of her feet; she felt a sudden need to arise and walk about the chamber. She’d been kneeling for some time now, and her legs and knees were beginning to ache. But the brilliant intensity of his gaze transfixed her. Held her frozen.

  However, he did not seem moved to speed the matter along. And why should he? He was quite comfortable perched there on the bed.

  It struck her that he was enjoying the current dynamic between them.

  You’re mine, the way you should have been from the first.

  His words from the night before came back to her. She had a new appreciation for their deeper meaning. Apparently, he had nurtured a passion for her over the years. A most possessive passion.

  She had been ready for play.

  Ready for a little guidance.

  She wasn’t sure she was ready for such possessive fire.

  The notion surprised her. She didn’t seem to know herself and her wants as well as she’d thought.

  His attention was riveted to her breasts. He cupped them more firmly. Small currents of desire tingled through her belly. Her nipples had formed into tight peaks, aching for his touch. She was torn between that rising apprehension and her sensual desires. She searched for some topic to distract him. “The baggage cart, it should arrive soon?”

  He glanced up, his gaze a brilliant sapphire. “They will arrive when they arrive. They can wait below stairs.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He withdrew his hands from her breasts. “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Don’t ever lie to me.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, I will not.”

  “You wanted to be mine. To be my mistress.”

  “I did…I do.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. Then she glanced up, whilst biting her lip. “Am I now your mistress?”

  He nodded.

  She had expected relief but her sense of trepidation increased. Even though she had thought it all over and come to the conclusion that this was the best path for her, she was still painfully aware that she was making a change in her life’s course. A change that could never be undone.

  She took a deep breath.

  This was her chance for freedom from Frances Blayne’s dominion. Freedom from the threat of having to travel all the way to India and to join Mama and Papa in a life of pious good examples and self-denial.

  She was not fit to be any man’s wife. Meeker had made that perfectly clear to her, and her own shameful actions had proved him correct. She probably could not give a man an heir. Yet, she needed a strong man in her life. Someone to help her heal.

  This was her chance, possibly her only chance, for healing from the past, her chance to finally fully stretch her wings under the protective shelter of the only person she believed she could trust.

  Yes, she could trust James to provide the kind of control she needed. He would never allow her to disappoint him, she knew, and yet, she believed with all her heart that he would also never unfairly limit her liberty.

  It was the best compromise possible. After all, life was all about compromise.

  She studied his handsome face.

  Most importantly, I want him.

  Only him.

  Yes, she had wanted him all along. Since the first day she’d ever set eyes on him. The strength of that wanting had frightened her. It would have meant rebelling against Mama and Papa and she simply hadn’t been ready.

  She was ready now.

  Especially with James to stand behind her.

  This was her moment of rebellion against everyone else who staked a claim to control her life.

  That admission rocked her to her foundations. Yet, it filled her with a sense of her own power.

  The power to choose.

  She smiled at him, tentatively. Her lips were trembling.

  James caressed her jaw, then trailed his fingertips along her ear as he tucked back one of her curls. “If you want me to stop anything, anytime, you must tell me to halt.”

  “Halt…I-I mean this is what you wish me to say?”

  “Yes, that is my wish. Don’t say stop or no, not if you’re serious.”

  “You mean if I say stop or no…”

  “I shall ignore it.”

  “Oh.” The full ramifications of what he’d said settled over her, all the possibilities expanding in her imagination.

  It left her a bit breathless.

  “Well?” He studied her.

  “I-um…” She shifted on her knees to ease the aching there. “You mean do I wish you to…halt now?”

  “I am not going to press you if you do not wish it.”

  But in his eyes, in the tense set of his jaw, she saw that he wanted to, that he’d be holding himself under utmost restraint. Goodness, she had never dreamed of inspiring such passion in any man, much less this one. The power of that passion held her in awe, for she understood now more than ever the double-edged nature of that power. James was a man very different from Freddy or Silas Chapman.

  “No, I don’t wish you to halt.”

  He cupped one side of her face. “You understand that part of our dynamic is that as my mistress, you are here to serve my needs?”

  His voice sounded so even, so calm. His movements seemed so leisurely. Yet, she could still feel the intensity of his passion crackling on the air. Burning in his gaze.

  She nodded.

  He moved away from her and began to unfasten his fall.

  Giddiness swept over her, apprehension or anticipation, maybe both. Her knees ached all the more, her legs were numb. As she watched, his unhurried fingers gained speed until he wrenched the last few buttons on his trousers open. He pulled his fall aside and his erection sprang into view, thick, strong, like a pillar of marble emerging from his trousers.

  He grasped her wrist, gently pulling her forward. She moved forward and rested her arms on his legs.

  Did she imagine the tremor in his hand?

  He pulled her hand down then wrapped it about himself.

  How smooth was his flesh. How hot. How hard. She wrapped her fingers around that satin-covered steel and gripped him. He throbbed within her fist and her heart leapt with excitement. A sound like a cross between a laugh and a gasp escaped her. He squeezed his hand over hers and no, this time she did not imagine the tremor.

  Still holding her hand over his rod, he thrust his pelvis, sliding his flesh back and forth within her grasp. His jaw clenched, flames seemed to light in his eyes. It caused an answering quiver of anticipation to flame to life in her belly. Her channel clenched and she became aware of the wetness between her legs. Pins and needles stung like nettles in her feet and lower legs but lust commanded the better part of her attention. She wished he would release her hand and let her stroke him. To learn his feel. To experiment with what he liked.

  “James?” she asked, hearing the breathlessness in her voice.

  He took her hand and lifted it from his flesh.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back. She rested on her knees again and shifted a bit clumsily on her numb yet tinglin
g limbs. The physical discomfort couldn’t match her emotional distress. Oh, he was the most maddening man! Why wouldn’t he just let things happen between them?

  He cupped her face with one hand. “You are well experienced with giving a man pleasure with your mouth?”

  She nodded. His bluntness set her heart gently pounding with excitement.

  “I didn’t let you demonstrate your skill last time.”

  She shook her head.

  “Why don’t you show me now?”

  He held his cock up, the angle making much of his girth, his length. The tip glistened with his leaking fluid.

  She reached for him.

  He shook his head. “Just your mouth.”

  She suppressed a gasp. He had said she might show him her skill. How would she possibly do that adequately if he wouldn’t allow her to use her hands?

  “Take me in your mouth.” The terseness had reentered his voice. That and his burning gaze were the only signs of his impatience.

  She rested her hands on the floor to steady herself as she bent forward and touched her lips to his crown. Then she parted her lips, sliding them slowly over the hot, smooth flesh. He threaded his fingers into her hair and held her head.

  With his other hand, he still held his erection, as though he believed she might have difficulty using only her mouth, even though he’d requested she do just that. A prickle of unease sprang to life within her belly.

  She had overestimated her experience with men and sex. This she had just learned in the past twelve hours. Was she really as skilled at this manner of pleasing a man as she believed?

  Freddy had taught her.

  Freddy had never been further than Edinburgh and a brief stay in London in his bachelor days.

  James had been all over the world. And he would have known women from different cultures, from all over the world.

  Would she compare unfavorably with those others? Would she seem too inexperienced?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse.

  She froze in her position with his cock halfway in her mouth and she glanced up at him.

  He let go of her hair and motioned for her to pull back and release him. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  She complied, feeling his flesh slide from her mouth with a sense of loss. “I-I don’t think I am half as experienced as I thought I was.” Her voice rose at the end, turning the statement into a question. She stared at him, waiting for his response, her heart lodging in her throat.

  He stared at her, his expression taut.

  Heavens! What was he thinking?

  “I mean how can I possibly compare to the vast experience you must have? You have been all over the world and—”

  He traced along her wet lower lip with his thumb. “You’re doing excellently. Now relax for me, don’t worry. Just show me what you know.” He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Another time, I shall show you what specifically pleases me.”

  She nodded. But she felt foolish inside for having worried, for having done whatever she had done to draw his attention to that worry.

  He gently pushed her hair back then traced his thumb along the shell outline of her ear. “I liked what you were doing.”

  She stared at him, hoping he was telling her the truth.

  He traced her ear so slowly. “I liked it very much.”

  She nodded again and, hoping she could redeem herself as an adequate mistress, leaned forward and opened her mouth and slid over him once more. Encompassed him. She moved slowly, oh so slowly. She loved the sensation of a man’s flesh against her lips, her tongue. She wanted to draw the sensation out, to savor it.

  It had been so very long and the previous night, when he had taken control over this act, things had moved too quickly to be truly satisfying.

  James’ cock was so huge, so hard. Male magnificence.

  He threaded his fingers into her hair, lightly gripping her head. Though he made no other move, no sound, she could feel the tremor in his hands. She kept moving languidly, tilting her head back and swallowing until she had swallowed him whole, feeling the head snugly lodged in her throat. The sensation of being filled sent currents of joy and pure feminine satisfaction coursing through her. Her blood fairly hummed with it. She moaned.

  He groaned and his hands tightened in her hair. At the sudden, sharp pain, gooseflesh rose along her nape. Her nipples drew tight. She drew back to the point where he almost popped from her mouth, and then she clamped her lips and swallowed him again, more swiftly this time. And more swiftly the next, adding a gentle suction, paying close attention to the subtlety of his responses, the change in his breathing, the throb of his flesh, before gradually increasing it.

  Then his hips jerked. Once, twice. He’d been holding himself still. Still as stone. It told her that she’d hit that sweet spot between too little and too much stimulation. Or, at least, she had come very close. Though her legs were shaking with fatigue from having been so long on her knees, she repeated the exact measure of suction, the exact speed of her withdrawal and swallow.

  He made a guttural sound that might have been a groan, might have been a curse, and his hands tightened even more in her hair. “Hold still,” he said, tersely.

  Her heart began to hammer with anticipation.

  He jerked his hips, quick and hard. Once, twice, thrice.

  She kept up her suction whilst he kept thrusting. Then he froze. The surging, quaking roil within his flesh shook her. The excitement made her a bit faint. It seemed as though his hands, wound so tightly into her hair, were the only thing holding her up. He thrust hard, harder. Deep. His come jetted into her throat. He kept coming and coming. She hurried to swallow, to keep up.

  He released her hair. He touched her face, lightly cupping her jaw, and withdrew then leaned his head down against hers.

  She fell down off her knees, sinking to the floor, but he caught her shoulders and held her up. His harsh, convulsive breaths shook her. She had come to rest with her hand on his chest and felt the strong, rapid beat of his heart remain the same even as his breathing grew incrementally quieter.

  Then his mouth covered hers, open, hungry, hot. He sucked her very breath away as he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, again and again, until she had to press her hand to his chest and plead for air.

  He stood towering over her, still fully dressed in his dark blue suit, his cravat not crushed even the slightest bit. But his trousers were open, his cock jutting from them, still half-erect. He bent and gathered her into his arms. For a moment, it seemed he cradled her to himself. But maybe he was just shifting her weight as he lifted her into his arms.

  He deposited her on the bed.

  She sank into the feather bed. How blissful its softness felt! She had not realized how utterly exhausted she was.

  Had the baggage cart arrived? Would there be time for her to catch some sleep before they must resume their journey?

  He stared down at her, hooking his fingers where his cravat met his neck, tugging it down but making no move to fasten his trousers. His gaze traveled the length of her body, and as it did, his rod lengthened, becoming fully erect again.

  She felt her mouth fall open. She had not realized a man could…well, surely not so quickly.

  He peeled off his coat, tossing it to the foot of the bed.

  Then he fell onto her, kissing one breast whilst his hand cupped the other. He pressed his erection to her leg.

  He licked a nipple.

  She gasped. “Surely, you can’t—I mean not so quickly?”

  He lifted his head and chuckled, the sound breathless. “Well, not usually. Not in many, many years.” He bent his head again and kissed her breast, his mouth open and hungry.

  “Oh.”

  “You do that to me. You are an enchantress.”

  His rod throbbed against her, hot liquid gushing onto her flesh. Then he rolled away from her, onto his back. “Straddle me.”

  At his softly spoken comman
d, she jerked her head up and met his gaze. “What?”

  “Come, straddle me.” He motioned to the area over his groin.

  “I’ve never—”

  “Obey me.”

  She caught her breath. Desire slammed into her belly and wetness flooded between her legs.

  “Catriona.”

  Her name was a warning. He would be obeyed. She didn’t wish to test him. Even though she felt awkward, self-conscious and aware that he was watching her intently, she crawled over to him and moved to straddle him.

  He took his cock and rubbed her cleft. At the touch of that silk-over-steel heat, her nub swelled and sparks of delight shot up through her belly.

  “But why like this?” She had never thought of a man and woman being joined like this. None of her naughty novels had described it. No, they had focused on the man being atop the woman, driving into her. That seemed proper. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  “I want you, madly,” he said, echoing her words from earlier. “If I were on top, I would fu—” He paused, briefly. “I would take you too hard, too fast. You are too newly opened for that. Let’s take this at your pace.”

  He held his cock and pressed it to her entrance.

  She lowered herself, and his flesh slid inside her, heated slickness against heated slickness. She felt soreness but she didn’t care. Having him snug within her was simply too wonderful. It was bliss. She gasped as his crown pressed up against the mouth of her womb. She felt a little foolish. Now that she was on top of him, she didn’t know what he wanted her to do next. She drew her brows together. “What should I do?”

  “Ride me.”

  Glancing down, she took in his narrow hips, his flat, hard-muscled stomach, and the line of jet-black hair that led down to his erection.

  His mighty, proud erection.

  Had there ever been a man with more bonny form? Goodness, she couldn’t imagine it. And for now, James was all hers. At last, he was completely open to her sexually.

  A thrill of desire tingled through her. But how to actually…

  She laughed nervously. “I have never been much of a horsewoman.”

  She thought she saw a faint smile cross his lips.