Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 02]

by The Duke Next Door

  His corners of his mouth curled upward. The near-smile made him so handsome that her heart began to beat faster and more steadily at the same time. He was with her at last, the real Calder, the man inside—present and unarmored and gazing at her. The few past glimpses she’d treasured were as nothing next to the blazing force of Calder fully present.

  Her mouth went dry and her nipples tingled and she felt her insides quiver. “I—” love you. Thankfully, her throat was too tight to let the words out. Pulling herself together, she tried to think of what to do next. Kiss him, melt into him, gaze longingly into his eyes while she let her hands stray into his lap? All the years of watching Tessa’s practiced, cold-hearted seductions made her shy away from anything so manipulative. She wanted only the two of them here, only to feel what they truly felt. Only truth.

  She had mussed his hair at last. What else had she longed to do?

  Slowly, she took his hands in hers and stepped back, pulling him to stand with her. He came readily, making her flush with power along with her nervous desire. Then she spread his hands wide and let them go. She stepped into him until her entire body pressed to his and laid her head upon his wide, iron-hard chest. “Hold me,” she whispered.

  She heard his heart thump at that. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, so slowly it was as if he feared to startle her, she felt his arms come about her until she was wrapped in him, feeling the heat of his big hands press into her back, keeping her tight to him.

  Astonishingly, she felt hot tears rise behind her closed eyelids. It had been so long … She had been alone and unprotected for so, so long …

  He held her close, cradled so tenderly yet so completely. This man would never harm her, nor allow her to be harmed. This man would fight for her, live for her, die for her—

  If she could simply make him love her.

  Yet now was not the time for her need. After allowing herself one last selfish moment of being held tightly by his strength, she took a breath and lifted her head to smile up at him. “If you’ll give me a moment to clear the gowns from the bed—”

  Calder wasn’t a man of words, but he had never been accused of lacking the nerve to take action. He wasn’t about to let her out of his arms now that she was finally, heart-poundingly in them. With a single motion, he swept her from her feet and deposited her on the enormous bed, pirate’s fortune in silk and satin be damned!

  He fell with her, both of them sprawling entangled upon the piled gowns. She gasped and pushed at him frantically.

  He went quite still. Had he misread her? Was this some sort of teasing game, a heartless manipulation?

  “Get off!” She was scandalized, all right, but not by his sudden act. “Oh, Lementeur will kill us!”

  He laughed then, a short unaccustomed bark. She froze in surprise, blinking those incredible blue eyes at him, her face so close he could kiss her without half trying.

  What a marvelous idea.

  He cupped her delicate jaw in his hand and lowered his lips to hers. Her mouth was so soft, so willing and inexperienced and delicious. He found that the world shrank again, just as it had when he’d first kissed his bride, the light of everything else dimming before the glory of her mouth.

  Deirdre gave in, gave out, gave over, gave everything she had to that kiss—oh God, don’t stop, don’t breathe, don’t ever let me go—

  He moved more fully over her and his weight pressed her into the mountains of priceless fashion and she sank willingly into them, loving the feeling of his big body pressed to hers, allowing the heat and power of him to shelter her hungry heart.

  She wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him closer still. When his knee pressed between hers, she opened her thighs without thought. The layers of gown and trousers did nothing to hide the thick erection that swelled just to one side of her belly. His want only fired her own. When he slid his hand down her throat, she arched it willingly to his touch. When he covered her breast with his large hot palm, she jolted at the shot of sensation that hit her low in her belly and between her thighs. The tiny sound she made only seemed to fire him further, so he tugged at the neckline of her gown with such implacable determination that the seams slowly gave, exposing her nipple to his touch.

  She moaned, one last sane thought crossing her mind. “The gown—”

  “I’ll buy another,” he growled. “I’ll buy a hundred. Lementeur will retire young.”

  “Well, all right then,” she sighed. “But there are buttons in the back, just in case you care to—”

  His response was to yank the gown to her waist with enough force to nearly lift her from the bed. She gasped in surprise, then laughter. “Give me that!” He wouldn’t let her grab the bodice back, however, instead taking her wrist and pressing it to the bed beside her shoulder.

  He gazed sternly down into her face. “To hell with the gown. Understood?”

  Excitement trembled through her. This man—her man—was not to be underestimated. He was, however, not being entirely fair. Here she was, her sheer chemise exposed to his gaze, with her hardened nipples pressing high through fabric not much denser than a spider’s web, and he remained fully clothed above her.

  She licked her lips in half-nervous seductiveness. “To hell with your shirt. Understood?”

  His hot eyes warmed further with humor. Tenderness rose in her to see him inching toward happiness. “Well?”

  He said nothing, only rolled her over to half-lie upon him. After she caught her breath—would he never stop surprising her?—she clambered up him to straddle his hips with her costly gown rucked up about her thighs. By the size of the organ that greeted her beneath her skirts, she would not have long to play at dominance!

  She fought down a shiver of natural apprehension—there must be some mistake! It would never fit!—and concentrated on evening the score. She tried to hold up her torn bodice with one hand while she struggled with his cravat with the other, then gave it up with a sound of impatience. Stripping the tiny sleeves from her arms, she pushed the ruined silk down to her hips, which left her quite indecently clad in the chemise but left both hands free.

  The damned cravat took far too long and required great attention—which Calder did his best to destroy by tugging at the narrow ribbon that gathered the neckline of the chemise over her extraordinary breasts. Determined as she was, she didn’t notice until he was able to do a great deal of damage. Once he had it untied, he entertained himself mightily watching the jiggle and sway of her exposed creamy flesh before she noticed the draft.

  She gasped and sat back abruptly, her hands pressing the chemise high once more. Unfortunately, this brought her warm damp center in direct contact with his throbbing cock, which was already fair to bursting through his trousers. His eyes nearly crossed.

  “Unfair,” she cried. “I’ve layers to get through yet! There’s your coat and weskit and shirt and …” Her voice trailed off uncertainly. “Do you wear anything else under that?”

  Not for long. Grasping her ribcage just beneath her arms, he brought that stunning cleavage down for a quick, hot kiss, then he lifted her off him and tossed her onto the mountain of jewel-toned silk beside him. “Stay!” he ordered, then rose from the bed, stripping off his coat so fast that there was the unmistakable sound of popping seams.

  Deirdre had tunneled herself under several gowns and now peeked out, primly covered up to her chin. “I wanted to do that,” she protested mildly. “Ripping seams and all.”

  The weskit hit the floor, minus a button or two, and his shirt followed. He bent to yank off his boots when the sudden silence caught his attention. He glanced up to see that the silks had risen to just above her nose and all that was visible was a pair of very large, very concerned sapphire eyes.

  Calder stopped and braced his hands upon his knees, forcing himself to breathe deeply for a moment, forcing his raging arousal under control. For all her sass and vinegar, his sensually lovely Deirdre was innocent and very likely afraid. He would not have her reg
ret this moment.

  “Calder?” Her voice was muffled. “Why are you stopping?”

  He straightened when at last he could do so. Bare-chested, still clad in his trousers and boots, he eased himself to the mattress, leaning on one wrist while he gently tugged the concealing skirts to reveal her face. She gazed up at him somberly, one lip caught between her teeth.

  He swept a lock of hair back from her face. “I’m not stopping. I’m only slowing down. Is that all right?”

  She swallowed and took a breath, then smiled. “Yes, thank you.”

  Deirdre slowly let the mound of gowns slide down until he could see that she’d wriggled out of everything but the chemise and her stockings while he was busy. She hated her sudden shyness, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “I’m nervous,” she told him.

  He nodded. “I expected you to be.”

  She took a breath, rose to her knees and moved toward him until she could feel the heat coming off his skin onto hers. She leaned close but didn’t kiss him. “But I’m not frightened.”

  She felt the soft gust that was nearly a laugh. “You don’t get frightened,” he reminded her. “You take vengeance.”

  Her words of bravado had come back to haunt her. She longed to tell him that she was often frightened, often worried, sometimes even weak and helpless and needing of protection. He didn’t want to know that, she was sure. He wanted the perfect portrait she’d taken such care to paint for him. He wanted strong, saucy, thorny Deirdre, confident and proud, not the lonely girl who longed to be her true self with him.

  Still, if she could make him fall in love with one side of her, could she not someday reveal all?

  So she smiled flirtatiously and braved putting her hand upon his bare chest to feel the iron muscle beneath the silken skin. Struck by the difference between his taut flesh and her own, she let her doubts subside before her burning curiosity.

  He was so beautiful, all giant strength and corded sinew. Without thinking, she let her curious fingers trace the beam of his collarbone to his muscled shoulder, then circled back to feel the wiry texture of the hair that covered his broad chest. Settling onto her heels, she bent her head over her examination until, without noticing it, her long hair trailed over his skin.

  His rippled belly contracted sharply at that. She passed her palm down over it, only to have him react again. “Are you ticklish, my lord?”

  He pressed one large hand over hers to stop her. Surprised, she looked up to see his eyes black and burning, wild lust barely held in check. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Oh dear. Much as she longed to see him lose control in his passion for her—perhaps not this time! She gave up on proving her theory of ticklishness—someday soon, my lord!—she spread both her hands wide over the rigid plates of his chest, only to find them too small to cover much. She was not a tiny woman but he was such a fine, large specimen of a man—

  Alarm twanged within her. Her gaze flew up to meet his riveted stare. “What if it … doesn’t fit?”

  “Then I’m going to kill myself forthwith,” he panted. “For life won’t be worth living.”

  She laughed nervously, unconvinced.

  He swallowed forcefully. “Deirdre, I’m not going to be able to wait much longer—”

  “Oh!” She was being selfish again. She reached for the buttons of his trousers. “Here, let me help—”

  He moved so fast, she didn’t even see it. Suddenly she was on her back again, this time with his hands pinning her wrists above her head. “Don’t—” His voice was a moan into her neck. “I won’t be able to stop—”

  Calder couldn’t think, couldn’t reason. His thoughts had to fight their way through pounding animal lust, winding slowly through to his consciousness—God, her scent! Her skin—her curious touch—her sweet apprehension—

  He’d never wanted someone so much in his entire existence, not even as a randy lad! Yet she was untried and nervous, a new bride. It wasn’t possible that she was ready for him. She must be terrified. He feared he was going to have to leave her before he did something they would both regret forever.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  “Calder?” Deirdre’s whisper was warm against his ear. “Take off your boots.”

  His boots were airborne before Deirdre had time to draw three breaths. His trousers and underdrawers followed in a single sweep. He stood before her, naked and magnificent, his powerful chest rising and falling with the breathlessness of his desire for her.

  She rose to her knees and pulled her chemise over her head, tossing it to drift lightly over the gleaming leather of his boots on the floor.

  She still wore her stockings, but she didn’t think there was time to—

  He was on her then, his hot hands on her skin, his burning mouth demanding hers. There was no more conversation, no more thought, no more time for apprehension. He lifted her and rolled them both into the pile of silk, one hand on her back, the other spread over her bare buttocks. He moved his long legs between hers and lay upon her. “Open,” he groaned. “Open for me, please, my darling—”

  Her heart pounded at the words. Hiding her face in his throat to conceal the sudden dampness in her eyes, she lifted her legs until her knees gripped his hips. She dug her fingers into his hair and held on, ready for the pain, willing to do anything for this wonderful man who called her his darling.

  When she felt the thick head of his penis touch her softest parts, she willed herself not to cry out in surprise. He would thrust now, impaling her and taking her virginity. It would be over soon and it would never be so bad again. She was not afraid.

  He did not move, but only held himself trembling above her, his breathing tight. Deirdre hesitated, then did what came naturally, using her grip on his hips to rotate her wet flesh slightly over his erection. He gasped and jolted, which forced him a little deeper into her. She went still at the stretching pain, but it never amounted to more than a minor sting and soon faded. Encouraged, she wrapped her legs tighter and brought him further within her, inch by inch, breathing into the ache as he slowly tore away the slight resistance. He allowed it, letting her set the pace, restraining himself with a whiteknuckle grip on the two fistfuls of satin beside her head.

  At last he pressed fully within her. She’d had her doubts there at the last! When the last ache ceased, she stroked her hands down his rigid back. “There,” she whispered. “I have you inside me now.”

  Then her hands clenched into the muscles of his back as he swelled instantly within her. She understood now—somehow he’d kept himself from his full size until she was ready! Despite the tears of pain that dampened her eyes, she bit her lip and breathed deeply. He would not know.

  Still he grew, until she had to writhe beneath him, desperate to adjust herself to him, fearing it wouldn’t happen. Heavens, he’s enormous! I can’t—it won’t—

  At last, she felt herself fit to him. Letting out a long breath of relief, she opened her clenched fingers and eased them over his back. It was over.

  Until he began to move.

  With the first slow, dragging withdrawal, she cried out at the sensation. He went still instantly, making her whimper and twist against him. “More—” she gasped.

  He moved so slowly, making each moment of it last an eternity of breathless pleasure. She whimpered, she moaned, she clung to him with arms and legs and lips, unable to believe she’d lived her entire life without the touch of this man!

  Each slow draw, each exquisitely not-quite-painful thrust, drove her mad until she was a wicked, panting beast in his grasp. Sweat slicked their naked skin together, her lips grew sore from his ravaging kisses, her nipples throbbed from his hot, tender fingertips, she undulated beneath him, reaching for more, more—

  Until at last it broke over her like a wave on a rock cliff. White-hot pleasure from somewhere deep inside her shot through her veins, burning her thoughts away, making her cling and shudder and moan into his sweat-slicked chest.

  He gave in
at last with a great roar, thrusting hard and fast—once, twice, thrice—until he shuddered and moaned her name into her hair, his hands tight on her, his body rigid for a long, silent moment. She felt him swell within her tender flesh, but she could only whimper softly at the new sensation. She was lost, afloat, swirling helplessly in the backwash of the deluge of him.

  After a long moment, he withdrew from her. Though he’d decreased somewhat, she was so tender that she gasped.

  “Shh.” He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her tenderly to lie half upon him. “Shh, my darling.”

  My darling. She wanted to cry every time he said it. She hid her response in a soft, breathless laugh. “Heavens,” she said. “I had no idea.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Neither did I.”

  She pressed her face into his chest. “What do you mean? You’ve … you’ve done that before.”

  Calder hesitated. “Not … quite like that.” He wasn’t ready for her to know what he himself was surprised to learn—that making love to Deirdre was soul-wrenching, stunning, outrageously beautiful and deeply, deeply disturbing. He felt raw, exposed … new. Never had he gone into a woman only to find himself lost in her, unsure of where he ended and she began. He’d sunk into Deirdre like a lost ship into the sea, helplessly floundering, powerless—without a will of his own.

  He stroked his hands over her back as she still quivered in his arms. He didn’t know what to do with such earthshaking need. It frightened him, yet he longed to repeat it. He was parched for her already, only moments after leaving her hot, wet depths.

  You’re in deep trouble now.

  When she finds out, she’ll own you.

  Perhaps. Unless … unless she felt it, too? He wanted to ask her, wanted to tell her, wanted to share his entire life with her, every dream, every plan, every instant of pain and joy—

  He felt breathless with that desire, storm-tossed and exposed and suddenly, warily hopeful. She might understand. She might feel the same.