“Make love to me, Rupert,” she whispered in his ear, as she scattered kisses over his face and neck.
“I thought that’s what we were doing?” he rasped. “Making love.”
She shook her head, her tousled hair brushing over his chest in a silky, shiver-inducing sweep. “No, I mean in all ways. I want you to take me, to make me yours completely.”
Take her virginity, she meant. Lord knows he wanted that too, would give nearly anything to be able to sink his length into her sheath and ride her long and deep.
But he shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.
“It’s too much of a risk.” Wrapping her long hair around his wrist, he drew her down for a frenzied, openmouthed kiss in which he showed her how much he wished he could change his mind.
Clearly understanding that he needed additional convincing, she glided her palms over his chest, stopping to flick her nails over his tight, flat nipples.
His moaned, blood coursing through him at the temperature of an inferno.
Christ, he cursed. He should never have let her know how much he liked that. She had far too much power over him these days.
Dangerous levels of powerful and feminine persuasion.
“Please, Rupert,” she pleaded softly. “I need you.”
“You have me,” he grated. “I’m right here.”
“But I need you in me.” She brushed her lips over his, again and again.
Softly.
Seductively.
“All I could think after Selkirk kidnapped me was ‘What if he forces me? What if he steals my virginity when it ought to have been mine to give?’”
She caressed him with her hands as she scattered kisses over his skin, and they entwined their limbs like the lovers they already were.
“I want to give myself to the man of my choosing and I choose you. I want you to be my first. I understand the consequences and I’m ready. I don’t want to wait anymore. Not another day. Not another minute.”
He caught her in his arms and held her steady. “Do you? Do you really understand what you’re asking? I could get you with child, you know.”
“Doubtful. I’ve been thinking about this for a while and taking herbs. I’ve been assured they should prevent conception.”
“I won’t ask how you acquired these herbs, but nothing is foolproof. There’s always a risk.”
“It’s one I’ll take. Please, Rupert, don’t deny me. Don’t deny yourself any longer.”
When she put it that way, how could he refuse?
His throbbing, unsatisfied shaft agreed. Take her, his flesh urged. Roll her over and thrust inside her. Do what you’ve been longing to do for weeks.
Maybe even longer, if he were honest with himself. How long had he wanted Ariadne? Longer than he wanted to admit.
But always in the past his duty had gotten in the way.
Yet here she was, offering herself. Literally begging him to claim the last of her innocence.
He should say no.
Yet how could he, when she was everything he craved? Everything he wanted?
And really, wasn’t it already too late? Hadn’t they crossed a Rubicon of sorts a long time ago? Hadn’t they been trying to deny their fate ever since? Perhaps this union between them was a kind of destiny, regardless of what might happen come the dawn.
She kissed him again and ran her hands through his hair, vulnerable and open, eager and trusting, curiously hesitant—almost like a bride.
He resisted her siren’s call for a few moments more, then cast caution aside and kissed her. Pressing her mouth wide, he claimed her with ardent intensity, thrusting his tongue in and out in deep, relentless strokes that demonstrated exactly what he meant to do to her body.
She moaned and did her best to match his pace, quaking with undisguised need as he compelled her to take more, to take all.
Reaching down, he grasped the hem of her nightgown and, in a deft movement, yanked it over her head. She was naked underneath, her skin as smooth as silk, rubbing against his own.
He shucked off his drawers, kicked them to the floor, then turned back to her, his erection stiff as a steel truncheon.
Pulling her beneath him, he fit himself between her thighs.
“Tell me you want this, Ariadne. Tell me you understand what this means and that there will be no regrets.”
“I want this,” she vowed. “I want you, unequivocally and without hesitation. How could I possibly regret what is to come when I know it will be so very right?”
“Never say I didn’t warn you.”
Then he kissed her again, stealing her breath and in turn his own.
Chapter Twenty-two
Warn me? What is that supposed to mean?
But she didn’t have time to ponder the question further, as his mouth and hands began making forays over her body that drove her nearly mad.
“Let’s see how ready you are,” he murmured in her ear, darting his tongue briefly inside the tiny canal before pulling back to catch her earlobe between his teeth. She trembled as he licked it too, giving another little nip that made her arch and moan.
Her moan increased as he placed his hand between her thighs and slid a finger inside her moist folds. Her hands tightened on his back as he lightly stroked.
“You’re slick,” he said, “but not as much as you need to be. I shall have to see what I can do to remedy that.”
“Ah,” she sighed. “Are you sure?” She shimmied against him. “I feel quite . . . moist.”
He chuckled. “Trust me. You’ll have a much better first time if you’re literally dripping when I take you.”
Her flesh contracted around his finger at that thought, her body dampening even more. But still apparently not enough.
“Offer your breasts to me,” he said.
“What?”
“Your breasts. Cup them in your hands and push them together. You always like it when I suck your nipples. I want to try it this way tonight.”
Ah, heavens, he was going to have her ready in no time at all if he kept talking like this.
Trembling slightly, she did as he urged, holding herself up for him—quite literally offering her flesh for his delectation.
And feast he did, burying his face between her plumped breasts with sinful purpose. While he rubbed the faint whiskered roughness of his cheek against one peak, he drew on the other, hard then soft, using his tongue to press her nipple against his teeth before catching the aching nub for a long, circling lick.
With a small movement of his head, he reversed the process, rubbing her wet nipple against his other cheek while he began suckling forcefully on the first.
Back and forth he went, steadily building her need until she felt as if her flesh were on fire. Her mind grew dim, her body throbbing everywhere.
Her hunger intensified even more as he slid his finger higher inside her and began rubbing a spot that made her squirm and shake and moan, as if she might fly apart.
She didn’t know how much more she could take. She was teetering on a razor’s edge, craving release with a need that approached desperation. Yet every time she came close to claiming her pleasure, he would ease off, as if he knew exactly how near she was and was determined to deny her.
He was a devil, increasing her torment with every lick and draw and stroke.
Hades above, I can’t bear it!
“Please,” she begged, too far gone to care about such petty matters as pride. “Please, let me. I need to take my release.”
“Not yet,” he told her, lifting his head briefly from her pleasure-swollen breasts. “Not until I’ve got you so wet and randy you’d promise me your very soul.”
So he was purposely torturing her! She ought to have been angered by his arrogant admission, but she was too deep in his thrall to care, knowing he was the only means of putting an end to her suffering. The only way she would find her bliss.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered roughly.
With blind obedience, she did as he c
ommanded, giving him greater access to her most vulnerable feminine flesh. She nearly sobbed aloud when he pulled his finger out of her, insane with disbelief that he would stop. But before she could voice a protest, he slid gently in again, only this time using two fingers.
Her back arched, unintentionally forcing him deeper. Her hands fell away from her breasts, shaking so much she couldn’t hold on any longer. Her arms fell to her sides on the bed.
A tiny slice of pain shot through her core as he delved higher, then withdrew again. He stroked in and out, then one time more before pausing in midstroke to scissor his fingers wide.
“Oh!” she cried, the pain sharper.
“Trust me,” he whispered again. “This will make it easier.”
Losing her maidenhead, did he mean?
Suddenly she remembered how large and stiff his shaft was, how thick he’d felt in her mouth earlier when she’d been pleasuring him. And now he was preparing her to accept him, to accept his hard, male flesh inside her.
Then she couldn’t think again, his movements focusing all her attention to that one spot where he continued to spread his fingers open and closed. Then he rubbed her again in just the right way, reigniting her most profound pleasure.
He took her mouth with his again, leaning up to claim her in rich, seductive draughts that she returned with dazed, heated fervor.
Truly, she would have let him do anything in that moment, her senses so heightened and on edge that he controlled her completely. And still he would not let her take her release, building her again until moisture gathered in her eyes.
Suddenly he pulled his hand away and settled his hips more fully between her thighs. Spreading her wider still with a hand, he positioned his shaft and thrust inside.
But he didn’t get far, even she could tell that, only his tip lodged within her.
“God, you’re tight,” he said between clenched teeth. “I knew you would be, but you’re even smaller than I thought.”
“Is that bad?”
“No. It’ll be fine, Ariadne.” He kissed her mouth, though she feared he did it as a way to distract her.
Luckily it worked, leaving her dreamy and desirous again. At least until he rocked his hips and thrust into her again, his efforts gaining him another inch.
An inch that hurt—worse than his fingers.
She must have let out a whimper of pain, since he stilled and kissed her again. A sheen of perspiration damped his brow and he trembled, clearly striving to maintain his control.
She’d thought their joining would be so easy, so natural—but he was so big. “We’re not going to fit, are we?” she whispered.
“Of course we are. But I think it might be better if we do this fast rather than slow.”
Before she had time to debate the wisdom of that suggestion, he slid his hands under her bottom and locked her in place. Then he plunged, thrusting into her with one smooth, powerful stroke that forced his erection deep inside.
Too deep.
She cried out, bucking against him in an instinctive effort to throw him off, but her move only succeeded in lodging him deeper, her tender flesh feeling as if it were stretched beyond its limits. She groaned and pressed her hands against his shoulders, but there was no budging him. He wasn’t going anywhere he didn’t want to go.
“Shh,” he soothed, claiming her mouth in another long kiss. As he did, he slid one hand up to pet her breasts again in just the way she liked. Slowly the pain began to subside, her muscles somehow starting to accommodate his intrusion.
She gasped when he pulled back, nearly all the way out, then gasped again when he thrust firmly inside her once more. He did it again, pulling back, then plunging in, quietly establishing a rhythm.
Taking hold of one of her thighs, he urged her to wrap her legs around his waist. She obeyed, burying her face in his neck as she curled her arms and legs around him to hold on.
Once she did, she noticed that he added a new movement, circling his hips on each incoming thrust so that his shaft began to stroke her in the most delicious way.
A new sound, one of pleasure this time, soughed from between her lips. Her body responded without her express will, and she began to arch her hips in time to meet each of his thrusts.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he said, encouraging her. “Just like that. Exactly like that. Do you want me deeper?”
And she did, her nails digging into his back as she pressed herself forward to take even more. “Yes! More, Rupert. Harder. Deeper.”
He groaned and did precisely as she asked, increasing his pace so that he thrust into her with a kind of frenzy.
She repeated his name over and over, crying out with each fresh stroke, taking him into her body as fully as he could go.
And it was heaven and hell combined, every moment better than the one before, hunger lashing her until she thought she would surely die if it were not satisfied.
Then, without warning the world seemed to teeter, knocking her off the precipice and over into the void. She cried out as ecstasy burst within her like a golden sun, ripples of pleasure spreading through her until she shuddered from the sheer beauty and brilliance of it.
How could I have existed without this? she wondered. How will I exist if I can’t have it again?
Above her Rupert continued to thrust, his skin hot and slick with his efforts. Abruptly he stiffened and shook, shouting out in pleasure against his fierce release.
Then he sank down upon her, pressing her tightly beneath him. She lay, feeling protected and happy, not the least bit crushed by his weight.
Hugging him closer, she fit her cheek against his and savored the moment, knowing it was one she would never want to forget, not even if she were to live forever.
• • •
Ariadne awakened the next morning with a smile on her face. She stretched her arms over her head, her muscles quietly protesting, along with a few other delicate internal parts. But she didn’t mind the minor soreness; the night had been more than worth it.
“Good morning,” Rupert greeted her in a whiskied baritone.
Her smile widened as she rolled toward him. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“I did.” He regarded her from where he lay with one arm bent behind his head. “For a couple of hours at least. As I recall, someone woke me up.”
She trailed her hand over his chest. “Hmm, I wonder who that might have been.” Leaning up, she kissed him, lingering for a span of several slow heartbeats.
He stroked a palm over her bare back, stopping to splay his fingers against the base of her spine. “Regrets?”
“No.” Her pulse gave a sudden thud, a splinter of concern wedging itself inside her happiness. Why would he ask such a question? “You?”
The eyes that met hers were deeply blue and deeply introspective. Then he blinked the look away. “No. No regrets.”
Spearing his fingers into her hair, he pulled her down for another kiss, taking her lips with a fervent, openmouthed intensity that left her mind adrift and her body aching to be joined with his once more.
Instead, he let her go. “It’s late. We should be up and on the road.”
“Oh.” She blinked and sat up at his urging. “Yes, I suppose we ought.”
Flipping back his side of the covers, he stood and went to retrieve his drawers.
Despite her dismay at his abrupt dismissal, she couldn’t help but admire the view as he tugged them on, the muscles in his tight buttocks flexing with the movement. Next, he picked up his dressing gown and threaded his arms through the sleeves, then tied it closed with the belt.
“I’ll ring for the maid to attend you.” He thrust his feet into his slippers. “Shall I have breakfast sent in as well? It would be faster.”
She pulled the sheets up over her bare breasts. “If that is what you prefer.”
With a nod, he went to the door and let himself out.
She sat, unmoving, irritation gathering like a black cloud to smother her buoyant
mood. Was he always so foul-tempered when he awakened, or had he decided to make this a special occasion? Since in the past, he’d always left her bed before dawn, she had no way of knowing.
She beat her fists on the sheets.
How dare he ruin my happy day.
But then she noticed the height of the sun in the sky, realizing that the hour was far more advanced than she had imagined. Maybe he was only concerned about the travel schedule and being able to reach London tonight. Men could be so annoyingly single-minded and dour about such things. Perhaps she shouldn’t assume his grumpy humor had anything to do with her.
He did kiss me, after all.
Passionately and with obvious enjoyment.
Maybe he was tired and just needed a cup of strong coffee. She would be the first to admit that neither one of them had managed much sleep.
Her body tingled pleasurably at the reminder.
Yawning, she climbed out of bed, only then noticing the dried streaks of blood smeared on her inner thighs. When she glanced back, she saw that more blood stained the sheets, vivid proof of her lost virginity.
Is that what he’d meant about regrets? Had he worried that she minded giving herself to him after all?
Well, she didn’t. Her innocence had been hers to give and she’d given it freely.
No, she thought again, I have nothing to repine. I have no regrets.
• • •
Rupert poured water into the basin, then wet a rag and used it to cleanse Ariadne’s virgin blood from his shaft.
He scowled, realizing that just that simple act and the thought of her were enough to make him aroused again. He almost wished he’d taken advantage of her warm greeting while they’d been in bed and tupped her again. She wouldn’t have refused him. Instead, she would have opened her arms and legs and welcomed him, letting him appease his lust while he roused her again to pleasure.
Still, he’d made a cock-up of all his plans—rather literally, as it happened. He’d been impulsive and unwise, allowing his animal appetites to rule his pragmatic head. Allowing himself to do what he wanted rather than what was best.
The Trouble With Princesses Page 20
