by Lavinia Kent
“I think I begin to understand, but perhaps you could demonstrate instead of speaking.”
“As you wish.” Another kiss upon her mouth, sweeter than candy. And another one, slightly sharper, more tangy. His teeth pulled upon her lip. His tongue trailed between lip and teeth—and then plunged deep. Her own tongue rose to meet his, rose to play and dance, to tangle and thrust.
More and then more. It was only their mouths that played, but her whole body burned.
And then his lips were on her throat, biting, nipping, tasting.
He found that same indent at the base of her throat that she had found so tantalizing on him—and there he savored.
Her whole body shuddered as his tongue moved.
His hands came up and cupped her breasts, the tips caught between his fingers. He squeezed. She squirmed, gasping.
He squeezed tighter. “God, I love how quickly the pale rose of your nipples turns to deepest red. I’ve never known a woman whose body displayed her desire so readily. And that’s not the only place of you that changes color.”
“I am sure you mean my cheeks.” It was hard to find the air to form the words. “I’ve always been told that I am prone to blushes.”
He laughed against her neck. “Of course I mean your cheeks, although I won’t specify which pair.”
And now she knew the blush was rising on her face, glad that from his angle he could not see.
His lips brushed down, settling in the valley between her breasts, his face cushioned between the swells. “A man could die happy here.”
“I do hope that’s not what you’re planning. I’d hate to be stuck here. I had the feeling you could tear through the scarves but I am quite sure I could not.”
“I do promise not to die, then.” His lips moved up one breast and tickled over the nipple. And again.
She tried to rise to meet his movement, but he pulled back.
His tongue flicked across the tip. “Patience, my love.”
She bit down on her lip as he started to move between her nipples, light, tender touches. More. She wanted more. Frustration rose on her lips, the desire to curse, to beg.
Finally, he settled about one nipple, drawing it deep.
Her whole focus gathered on the tight peak, sensations racing through her body. And then his fingers pinched the other, drawing it out, long, hard. Feeling rushed straight between her legs.
His mouth moved. His hand moved. Her whole body surged with feeling, wanting more, needing more—the more he gave, the more she wanted, desired, needed. Her body coiled, reaching for the peak that seemed just out of reach.
He pulled back slightly, mouth replaced by hand, the nipples stretched and aching, swollen and full.
His fingers played across her belly, moving ever closer. Her body ached with need despite her earlier orgasm. Her hips began to rise and fall the few inches they were allowed. She was going to explode here. Now.
Her eyes met his.
She loved him.
She loved him.
The thought she had been avoiding took her and filled her.
She loved him.
One of his hands reached between her legs, hit that spot, pressed, pinched.
So close. She was so close.
She needed. She needed him. All of him, mind—and body.
“Not yet, my dear. Not yet.” His fingers continued to move, but the pace slowed.
Chapter 26
He’d never seen the like, never imagined such beauty, such perfection. She was his, his everything, all he could ever want. He’d never even dreamed that she could be so much, mean so much. Her breasts were swollen, the nipples rising high, begging for his touch. The torn white linen of her chemise framed it all. An offering far beyond what any man deserved.
She was his. The thought of a moment ago repeated.
She was his.
For so long he’d been looking for something that was his, something that belonged only to him. He’d thought he was after a house, an estate, but the answer was so much simpler.
Sin was his.
She was what he’d been seeking all along.
With her, in her, he’d found the place that he belonged, found what he’d been searching for.
His gaze moved to his hand as it separated her moist silken folds, baring her to his gaze. So pretty. So pink. Swollen and needy, glistening with her wetness. He wanted to feast, to bring his mouth down upon her and lick her honey, to fill her with his tongue.
But other pieces of his body needed her more, wanted her more.
She was his.
Kneeling between her thighs, he positioned himself, stared at his rampant cock as it pressed against her entrance. It swelled further. God, what a sight. He pushed in slightly. Her hips rose in welcome. He pressed farther, feeling her slick warmth surround him, soft and ready.
Her head fell to one side and then the other. Her eyes closed as her body sought its pleasure, her hips rising, begging.
He pushed deep. Her eyes opened, but she did not protest.
He began to move. Deep. Deep. Deeper. Out. So tight. So warm. So perfect. In. Out. In.
Her eyes sought his, held them, a connection, deep and new and yet somehow ancient, forming between them. How had he never known this was what he wanted, known that she was the one for him? She was his. His to keep, his to hold. He pressed deeper. God. God. God. So good. So good.
Her hips rose to meet his every thrust. Her body seeking and wanting, needing. Her mouth opened, small gasping sighs.
He twisted his hips slightly, rubbing hard against her.
She cried. Her body lifted, strained. A cry left her lips—and he let himself go, pounding, thrusting, taking all that she offered and more, staking his claim, now and forever.
Her body spasmed, gripping him tight. He surged forward one last time and felt the world melt about him.
All was fire.
And then color. And then light. And then black.
Sin went limp beneath him. He called her name, yelled her name, let all his feelings loose into the room.
Sin was his!
—
Cynthia felt herself being moved, carried. Her body felt sated and limp, delicious. She smiled up at James as he lifted her and brought her to the pillows, wanting to show him that she was well pleased. The experience had been far more than she’d expected. When James had first entered her there’d been none of the pain she’d feared. There’d been a slight discomfort at the stretching; she still was not sure how they had fit. But that had given way almost immediately to a feeling of fullness, of completeness. And then…then she didn’t even know how to begin to describe the feelings that had come over her. After her past experiences with James she’d thought she’d known about orgasm. She’d clearly been wrong. There’d been something different this time. Something she would never be able to explain, but…
Could it be love? Could admitting her emotions to herself have brought her here?
She’d certainly never felt like this before, like she could float up to the clouds and drift happily. Once when she’d had laudanum during an illness she’d felt almost this light, but there’d been a sense of confusion and lack of reality that had come with it. This felt very, very real and she was not at all confused.
James laid her on the pillows, arranging a couple to cushion and support her head. He pulled a light throw from somewhere in the pile and placed that over her as well.
She smiled again—or had she never stopped? The last seemed like a distinct possibility.
“I gather you liked that,” he said, looking a little smug.
She should not let him get away with that look, but it was too much effort to think of something sharp to say. “When we are married, do we get to do that every night?”
“Have I seemed like I am tied to the night? We can do that whenever we want, whenever you want.”
“And you will just be my plaything, ready at my every whim?” Her grin was going to split her face if she was not
careful.
“I probably will be. I can’t imagine ever being able to refuse you.”
A strange sense of power grew at that. She couldn’t ever imagine using sex to manipulate him, but there was glory in the knowledge of his desire. It made her not feel quite lonely in her solitary love.
“And what are you thinking now?” he inquired. “There’s an extra edge to your grin.”
She was never, never, never going to tell him. Or was she? She’d never been afraid of risking it all. Did she dare now? Her lips parted and then closed.
“You have grown very serious,” he added.
“I am just thinking.”
“I like it when you think, but then I think I like everything about you.” He stared into her eyes.
She shifted, not sure what she saw in his gaze. “You are thinking, too—and I am not sure that I do like it. Your thoughts seem very far from me.”
“I can assure you that they are anything but.”
“Then tell.”
He was quiet and she thought he would not answer, but finally he began, “I was thinking that you are mine.”
She looked down at her naked body still pressed against his, felt the ache of their joining still present between her thighs. “It would be hard to deny that.”
“No.” He placed a finger under her chin and drew her face back to his. “It is more than that. You are mine.”
“Yes.” Did her confusion show upon her face?
“You are mine. Do you remember when you asked what I sought and I said something of my own. You are that something. You are mine. You are what I have been looking for all these years.”
Her mind grew completely blank as it tried to understand what he was saying. She was tempted to say something about not being property, about not belonging to anybody except herself, but she knew that was not what he meant. He meant…
She could not bring herself to even hope that she’d understood. “I…”
He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss upon her lips. “You are mine. You are everything that I need.” Another kiss.
He did mean it. Or did he? Her fragile heart was afraid to accept what he was saying. Unable to help herself, she pushed for lightness. “Do you mean you won’t get me a house? I have to confess I’d rather looked forward to running my own home, our own home.”
“Our own home,” he repeated. “I think I could manage that. Assuming we are still getting married? I have not frightened you off?”
He was granting her a moment of escape, giving her a moment to think of lighter things. “Well, you are big and scary.”
“I can tell by your grin and the way your eyes are again dropping to my cock.” He smiled, but his eyes still asked deeper questions. “I am afraid it is quite worn out for the moment though.”
“I was mostly trying to understand the changes in it.” And that was true.
He laughed, but still held her gaze. “I never try to understand the fellow. He acts as he wishes and all I can do is try to control him.”
“Well, you do seem to be good at control.”
“I am glad you noticed.” That smugness again.
“Will we be able to do this again before we are wed?” she asked, seeking a few more minutes to get her thoughts collected.
“I should say no. I should return you to your family in one of my father’s carriages and thank them for allowing you to visit Jasmine. It is the proper thing to do. And then I can see you for morning calls and walks in the park and perhaps we can dance a couple dances each night once the season has started and I can bring you lemonade.”
“That sounds frightfully boring.”
“I was actually thinking it sounded remarkably pleasant,” James said.
“Really? You think bringing me lemonade sounds pleasant.” Her heart beat hard. His words were beginning to make her believe. The subject might be trivial, but she could hear the care behind them.
“I do. I’ve never enjoyed the masculine task of fetching refreshment, always wondered why a girl couldn’t carry her own plate of lobster patties or glass of champagne, but with you it sounds wonderful.”
“You would rather carry my champagne than do this?” She gestured about the room.
“I did not say that.”
“But you said we can’t do this again until—”
“I said that I should say that we shouldn’t, not that we wouldn’t. I am not sure that I can keep my hands off you for two weeks, much less the month you have demanded.”
She sat up slightly, leaning toward him, but still holding his gaze. “I am beginning to think that two weeks might be acceptable.” Could he hear all the things she had not yet said?
“And I have decided that you are right about the month. Having the banns read will add an air of respectability to the whole affair—and you are right about both the parish and the wedding breakfast.”
Well, it would be hard to complain when she’d set the date, but still she wanted to.
“Don’t look grumpy.”
She straightened further. “I don’t look grumpy. I look—look pensive.”
He raised a brow. “And don’t worry. I am sure I will find ways for us to be together.”
“How?”
That brought a deep chuckle; his eyes flashed with amusement. “If there is one thing we gentlemen of the Ton have a talent at, it is finding discreet corners. I know which rooms are likely to be empty during almost any soiree—and which turns in the park leave one out of sight—although I admit that only allows for a little tickle and feel, and maybe a stolen kiss or two. Perhaps you can find an excuse to be out for the afternoon, and if you happen to find yourself here, I am sure that Jasmine would be happy to let us use a room to talk.”
“I do like the way you talk.” Her eyes darted down and then back to his.
“And I am rather fond of your conversation as well.” He tapped the tip of a sensitive nipple that was not covered by the light blanket.
“Only fond?”
He stopped and turned to her, bending down until his face was only inches from hers. “Tell me the words you still need to hear my sweet Sin, and I will say them. I’ve never had occasion to use words to woo, but with you I am more than willing. You are mine.”
“I want you to say them because you want to. I need them to come from your heart. I think I understand you, but I need to be sure.” No woman wanted a man who merely repeated back to her.
“And you are not brave enough to say them first? My sweet Sin who is brave enough for anything?”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “No, I am not. I should be, but for once I find myself frightened.”
He kissed her again, gentle and reassuring. “And what if I don’t know the words? Do you want me to say love? Love seems too simple for all that you make me feel. You offer me a completeness I never knew I lacked. Do you want me to say desire? That I certainly have, but the desire I have had in the past is nothing to what I feel when I look at you, when I think of you spread before me, when I dream of your eyes clouded with passion.”
“I am certain it’s my eyes that you are dreaming of.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, to add to his words, to press his point, but instead he smiled and let his eyes drift down to her breasts. “I admit that I may dream of parts other than your eyes. You do have the finest ass I have ever seen upon a woman, and the better I know it the more I desire it. And when I think of your breasts swelling with need, of the nipples darkening at my touch, of—”
“Enough. I believe I understand.”
“Then I am back to not having words.” His gaze stayed on her breasts.
Reaching out she placed a finger under his chin, raising his face until their eyes met. “Then I suppose I must find them—although I admit they do not seem adequate. I love you, James. I loved you when I was small and I love you now. It is not the same love and yet it is connected. If you say I am yours, then I take you as mine. I do not know why I fought it when it feels so
right, when you are so right. I think that none of this”—she gestured again about the room—“would have ever happened if the feelings had not been there even before I knew them. If you have been waiting for me, then I have been waiting for you.” She leaned forward and pressed her own kiss upon his mouth. “I love you, James.”
His lips pushed back. “You are mine, Sin, and I will never let you go.”
She let her eyes drift closed, savoring the moment. Another kiss, not passionate, not wanting or desiring, but filled with more love than she could have ever dreamed.
He pulled back, smiled as if filled with stars. “Should we be practical for a moment? There is still much to be taken care of.”
She grinned. “As long as we get back to this quickly—and I see by your expression that we will.” She sat up, glancing about the room, her scattered thoughts collecting. “Should we talk to your father together or do you wish to do it alone? He will need to support the story about Jasmine.”
He stood, still smiling. “Only you would be so perfect for me. Ready in a moment to put life back in order. I will make arrangements with Scarlett. He may be stubborn, but I am sure he wishes our marriage. Langdon is being slow to provide an heir, so he’ll welcome any surety of the continuation of the line.”
Pulling the throw high over her bosom, she began to plan. It was amazing how quickly the real world could intrude, if only in thought. “And my father. I do need to return today—or, given the hour, I suppose tomorrow morning. I cannot abide making the secret any greater than it already is.”
“I understand. I will talk to Scarlett this evening. He will be late at his club. Then in the morning I will take you to your family and ask for your hand. I will make it clear that from the moment we saw each other again I was determined to have you. I cannot imagine that your father will have any difficulty with our engagement.”
She bowed her head. “No, I think he will be glad to have me out of the house. Oh, I don’t mean that the way it sounds. He will be delighted that I am starting a household of my own, but I do also think things will be easier with Gillian if she is the sole mistress of the house.”
“That I can understand. So we are decided, tomorrow we will visit your father?”
