It was time for her to take back control. It was time for her to take back pleasure. It was time for her to take Alexander to her bed.
5
Alexander swallowed and felt the rasp of his throat as it dried, dried just as one droplet of water curled down her breast.
This was torture – and yet the sweetest torture that he had ever known. By God, no wonder the nobility of the country was lining up outside Miss Teresa Metcalfe’s door! If he did not control himself, he would himself be beating at it, desperate for entry, desperate to please her, desperate to reach out and –
No. No, he must control himself. Had he really waited all these years, suffered the loss of a reputation without any of its pleasure, to succumb now?
“You look warm, my lord,” she said softly, and she licked her lips.
Alexander’s heart was thundering and worse still, his loins had tightened to such a pitch that it would soon be completely insupportable to remain this way. He had to do something, and yet her words had caught his gaze and he could not help but stare into her blue eyes.
Bewitching – and yet, so honest. Vulnerable, even. The remains of some Thames weed were still clinging to her hair.
“Y-You…you have something – ”
His voice did not seem to work, and he raised a hand to indicate. A delicate finger rose to her temple.
“Is there something wrong, Caershire?” Teresa’s eyes flashed with delight, and Alexander almost groaned aloud. If he did not leave this place very soon, he was in danger of drowning completely in the intoxication of her presence.
He swallowed once more. “A-A little seaweed, that is all.”
With a trembling hand, wavering due to lust rather than fear or cold, Alexander outstretched his fingers and caught at the tendrils of riverweed.
His thumb brushed over her skin and he felt it at the same time she did: a rush of warmth through the contact of her soft skin with his fingertip. Her mouth dropped open and he saw the warm welcome of her lips.
Instinct took over. Mere inches of movement brought his face to hers and he was kissing her, her lips trapped in his warring embrace as he poured out all the tension that had built since the moment that he laid eyes upon her. His hand, riverweed forgotten, had entwined itself into her hair and his knees had fallen to the ground as he leaned forward to be closer to her.
“Oh, Teresa,” his voice broke as the kiss did. “I must apologise, I had no intention of – ”
“Of what?” She whispered. Her bright eyes were affixed on his own, and her lips, swollen from his passionate kiss, drew his gaze. “Of giving me pleasure? Of telling me how desirable I am?”
Alexander tried to calm his breathing, but he could not. “I have not told you – ”
Teresa laughed lightly. “Oh, I think you have.”
Her questing fingers found his loins, felt the growing bulge that was there, and Alexander moaned slightly, bearing his lips back onto hers. They opened, welcoming him in, and he glorified in the connection of tongues and lips and hands – hers had taken his, and placed them on her waist, and his mind could not comprehend how warm she was, and how wet, and he wanted to take her onto that bed and –
“No,” he said, panting, pulling away from her and standing now beside the fire as he struggled to push down that particular instinct. “No, I cannot.”
“Do not be so hard on yourself,” said Teresa with a faint smile.
Alexander laughed drily. “No, I do not mean that – I am perfectly capable, but I…I will not. I have not waited so long, maintained my reputation for so long, to lose it now.”
“What reputation?” Teresa was standing now, and Alexander tried not to pay attention to the way the firelight made her gown almost completely transparent. By God, he could see every curve and plane of her body, from the swell of her hips to the arch of her breasts.
But she was still speaking, and he must pay attention.
“ – and it does not matter what happens here, your reputation will be just as it was.” Teresa stared at him, and for the first time, Alexander noticed that there was something in her gaze: a hunger. A hunger just like his own.
“You are – you are so beautiful,” he said shakily. “Teresa, you are the most fascinating creature I have ever met, and more than that, you are kind, and good, and so intoxicating that I do not know how I am still standing!”
“Then do not,” she whispered, taking his hand and placing it slowly on her buttocks. Alexander groaned. “Caershire, I am offering you myself. I want you, and I could tell as soon as we entered this room and you spotted that bed, that you wanted me too.”
How could this be happening? It was like a sweet nightmare, and Alexander looked around him for an escape. But then Teresa moved slightly, and he felt the shift of her flesh under his hand, and everything in him cried out for surrender.
“I like you,” Teresa was whispering, and now her own hands were on his chest, and his skin felt like fire wherever her fingertips danced – and they were dancing lower and lower. “It has been a long time since I met a man who treated me like a person. Now I am asking you to treat me like a woman.”
Alexander moaned slightly as she played with the buttons of his breeches.
“Let me show you pleasure,” she murmured in his ear as both of his hands now squeezed her buttocks gently. “Let me show you gratification. Let me make love to you, and you to me, and we can ride the wave of carnal delights together.”
Alexander swayed slightly. Hardly able to think with her lithe body in his arms, he was clear of two things.
Firstly, that she was right. No one would know what happened in this room, and yet it did not matter anyway; all the world thought him a rake, regardless.
Secondly, that he was so wound up that he would do anything to see her cry out with pleasure thanks to his body.
“Teresa,” he muttered darkly, “Did you never go to church? Lead me not into temptation.”
She laughed, and the flex of her body pushed him over the edge. He poured down his passion, frustration, joy, confusion, all muddled into a fiery kiss that seemed to spark his body into life. Her fingers were no longer fumbling, and his breeches were slipping down his legs, and the freedom it brought him was intensely pleasing.
He pulled her towards him and she willingly came to him, arching her back into the kiss and rubbing against him in a way that made him almost lose focus – but he had heard her. Teresa had spent plenty of time making love to others. It was time that someone made love to her.
Breaking the kiss and hearing a sigh of disappointment from her mouth that made his whole body jerk, he lifted her off her feet and strode towards the bed in the corner of the room.
“No.”
Alexander looked down at her, confused. She looked slightly dazed, punch-drunk with the excitement of the kiss, but she looked at him steadily.
“But I thought – ”
Teresa shook her head. “Not there. There.”
With an elegant hand, she pointed towards the curtain. Alexander swallowed, took four steps forward, and she pulled aside the curtain to reveal –
He could hardly believe it. He had read about such places, of course: places in the Orient, places in France, and very select places in London that one heard discussed, but never directed to. A huge four poster bed sat in the middle of the room, with silks and ribbons cascading from a point above it, covering it with moving coloured shadows. Two candles were alight in the room, throwing golden colour through the silks, making one portion appear blue, and another green. The silk bedsheets were invitingly soft, and there was a bottle of unopened wine on a small side table.
His mouth must have fallen open, because Teresa leaned forwards and captured his tongue with hers in a deep and slow kiss. He closed his eyes, lost in the moment, lost in the warm squirms of her body as he held her.
“Now, put me down,” she whispered as the kiss ended. “And close your eyes.”
Far be it for him to refuse a request from a
lady, but Alexander could not help but feel a little exposed: standing as he was, in a borrowed shirt and nothing else. But it was impossible to resist her, and what’s more, he had no wish to.
“And open.”
Alexander opened his eyes, and almost exploded in passion just at the sight of her. There she stood, just a foot from him: completely naked.
Teresa Metcalfe did not need adornment for her body. She stood, cotton white gown pooled at her feet, and stared at him fiercely, as though to defy his disapproval.
But how could he disapprove, when she was so entirely beautiful? Her blonde hair had tumbled down her back and shoulders, brushing past her nipples which budded in the slight cold. The swell of her breasts moved with every short breath, and that part of her that Alexander had wanted to see for a good while: there it was, waiting for him.
He took a step forward, and she put out a hand. “Wait. Are you truly ready for this – and are you ready to give up your own control for my pleasure?”
Teresa watched him swallow, saw the difficulty that he had in concentration as he beheld her naked body, and smiled. It was impossible not to revel in the power she had over this man: a man who by the looks of it, was going to more than satisfy her.
“Alexander,” she said slowly, her fingers playing with the button of his shirt. “Alexander, will you give me this night? A night of pure ecstasy, a night where I am the sole focus of your lovemaking?”
She watched him swallow; saw his Adam’s apple move, saw the tension in his loins grow, and then heard his shaky reply.
“Anything – anything you want, and I will worship you.”
Teresa’s body taunted with anticipation, and she took a step forward. With her mouth by his ear, she whispered, “In that case, Caershire, I give you absolute leave to do whatever you like with me.”
In a swift movement her breath was knocked out of her: his strong hands had picked her up around her waist and thrown her onto the bed. Gasping with shock, her body was soon covered by his own – the shirt had gone, and it was his chest on her breasts, his legs entwined around her legs, his dark member nestled near her own secret place.
His kisses burned a trail down her neck as his hands brought her buttocks higher, and Teresa could not help but cry out his name as his moving lips found one of her nipples.
She jerked with the pleasure, so unusual, so unexpected. She could not remember the last time that a man had made any exploration of her body, and Alexander was simultaneously dominant and kind, never playing with one part of her body too long to let the rest of it cry out for him.
“How is this?” He asked as one hand left her buttocks and squeezed her other breast gently.
“Incredible!” She gasped, almost incomprehensible in her sighs of satisfaction.
Fiery streams of bliss were flowing through her body as Teresa squirmed under his experimental fingers – his innocence, and his obvious desire to bring her to intense pleasure almost enough to take her to the edge.
But not yet. Now his lips were once more on hers, and one hand rested on her waist, while the other – the other was moving slowly downwards, almost nervous if she was any judge, to that special place.
Despite the joy that coursed through her body, Teresa almost broke the kiss to stop him. He would not know, how could he know what would be pain and what would be sensuality in that secret place.
“Caershire,” she said wildly, “Alexander, wait – oh, God!”
It did not matter that he had never known a woman before: Alexander’s natural instincts were soft and gentle, but the rhythmic movement of his fingers as he slipped inside her was enough to drive her closer and closer to that edge of ecstasy, and she writhed, unable to control herself as he dipped his mouth once more to her neck, nibbling near her ear and clenching her buttocks with his other hand.
“Alexander, I am going to …” Teresa breathed. “Oh, Alexander!”
His firm fingers found that special place within her and she cried out as she came, her body thrashing as the wave of decadent joy spread across her body.
She heard the breath of wonder catch in his throat, and hazily wondered if he had expected such a reaction.
“That was remarkable,” she breathed, staring up at his handsome face – a face that was looking at her with such tenderness. “Alexander, I cannot tell you – I cannot explain just how incredible that was.”
He smiled. “It has been almost impossible for me to – to control myself. Seeing you experience that – feeling you, having myself inside of you, even just my fingers…” Alexander’s voice trailed away as Teresa started to move. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” she breathed. “But you are. Lie down here.”
He obeyed, and Teresa glorified in the way that he did. No other man had ever wanted to take orders. No man would even consider it.
But not him. Not her Alexander.
“Now we shall make love in a different way,” she murmured, moving to lie beside him.
His eyes widened at her words. “You can – you can climax again?”
Teresa laughed. “Several times, actually. ‘Tis one of the few benefits of being a woman.”
She leaned forward and rolled onto him, feeling the strong heat of her secret place meet his own – and she groaned aloud, let him see the pleasure she felt from his form.
“Teresa,” he whispered, his eyes dark and beseeching. “Teresa, I cannot wait much longer. Please, I am begging you…”
The power was almost as satisfying as the lovemaking, and she laughed as she straddled him, raising herself up so that she could look down on him.
“My dear lord Caershire,” she teased, rolling her hips slightly from side to side so that he twitched and moaned in painful delight. “Are you asking me to deliver you from evil?”
Alexander could not help but laugh at that, and she felt the laugh vibrate through his body, and the longing started to mount up in her once again. “You could say that, yes.”
“Too bad,” she breathed, and in swift movement she sheathed herself on him.
That was when he cried out, “Teresa!” and she felt the warm wetness of herself tighten around him, and she shivered in pleasure.
“What is wrong?” She whispered as she rolled slightly, watching his body jerk and spasm with joy he had never felt before. “Too much for you?”
Alexander did not answer in words: instead he pulled himself up and clutched her body like an anchor in a storm.
“You may have been drowning when we first met,” he said shakily, his hands tight around her buttocks. “But I am the one drowning now.”
Teresa kissed him then, and this kiss was different. There was warmth in it, just as with all the others, and yet it was more than just lust. It was connection, vulnerability, joy, desire, heat, and all Teresa wanted to do was kiss him for the rest of her life.
And then she pulled his hands from her, and thrust his entire body down, holding his hands behind his head and grinning at him.
“Ready?”
She did not wait for a response: she did not need to, she could feel him tense and become, if possible, even more tense and rigid inside her. She started to rise and fall, rocking with each movement in a curve to slide him slowly in and out of her. She arched to increase the friction and felt an answering ricochet of bliss echo through her body – but she did not release Alexander’s hands, twist as he might as he neared his own climax.
“Not yet,” she whispered.
“Teresa, why!” Alexander cried with a smile on his face but a tension in his jaw. “This is so – I cannot – you are so…”
And then she felt it, that own growing warmth just below her stomach, and Teresa increased her pace, fanning the flames and watching his eyes stare at her breasts moving faster and faster, and it was about to happen and she wanted it to last forever but they were almost at the peak and they cried out in unison as they were both overtaken by their climax.
Teresa fell into his arms, and felt his pant
ing breath upon her shoulder.
It was several minutes before either one of them was able to speak.
“I could do that,” breathed Alexander slowly, “every day of my life, and never get bored.”
Teresa chuckled quietly. “Careful, Caershire, or I will hold you to that.”
6
It was the shout that did it. Without the shout, it was quite conceivable that Alexander would have slept for at least another hour, but the cry of “Fresh fish! Fresh fish for sale!” from the street broke through into his dreaming consciousness like a knife.
For a terrible moment, he had no idea where he was. Red silks glowed in the daylight, the softness of a pillow that he did not recognise, the warm of another body in bed with him –
Alexander started. His eyes drew open wide, and he stared at the naked woman asleep beside him. She was lying on her front and the curve of her back led his eyes to the swell of her bottom, and her blonde hair covered her face.
Teresa. He sagged with relief as the memories started to pour back: the Thames, the rescue, the return, the conversation, the lovemaking . . .
Something in him stirred, and he was almost embarrassed to find that, had she been awake, he would have been desperate to pleasure Teresa again.
He spent a minute watching her sleep, the steady rise and fall of a person in deep slumber, the patterns of light as a breeze shifted the silk hangings dancing over her skin, and then his brain caught up with him.
The light. It was daylight; it was morning, and he had spent all night there, in a courtesan’s bed.
The thought almost felt as though it had emanated from a different person. Teresa was no courtesan in his eyes; why, she was a victim, a woman who had had no choice but to turn to the oldest profession in the world to protect her family.
A rush of love and protection surged into Alexander’s heart, and it was so strong and overwhelming that he almost woke her, so desperate was he to tell her –
Drenched with a Duke (Ravishing Regencies Book 2) Page 5
