Slowly he removed his neckcloth pin. He tossed the diamond on to the dressing table next to her jewelry box. But she only heard the tinkle as it fell, because she was concentrating on something else. Him. He unfastened his snowy white neckcloth with a few efficient tugs and tossed that down, revealing his throat and the delicious dip at the base. He looked down at her.
“Come to bed, sweetheart,” he said.
Suddenly it was so simple. She’d worked herself into a frenzy wondering if she should kiss him first. If that was too forward, or if she should lie supine under him and let him do as he pleased.
She rose and stood before him, the smile curving his lips.
“I won’t ask you if you’re apprehensive. Just trust me this first time. Then I’ll give you your head, and by God, sweetheart, I’m looking forward to that.”
All the questions she wanted to ask fell away. All that she found important was the glowing look in his eyes and the promise in his touch when he took her hand and brought her to the bedside.
He positioned her by the bed and began to strip. “If you’re a shy retiring maiden, you’d better look away,” he said, unfastening the buttons on his waistcoat. They were gold, and glowed with a life of their own. But he stripped it off and tossed it aside as if it was of little worth.
Then he unfastened the glittering buckles at his knee and his shoes. He kicked the shoes free before unfastening the fall at his waist and stripped his lower garments off and down into an untidy bundle that he kicked aside.
She had never known him so careless with anything. This room, this house, was almost painfully neat. She was sure his influence had much to do with that, but now he seemed intent on her and nothing else. His shirt reached mid-thigh. Greedily she took in the exposed skin, hairy male legs, and the strong column of his throat. He paused to undo the buttons of his cuffs and the tie fastening his shirt at his neck.
His body appeared. Because he bent forward she saw his back first, strong and powerful. Then his shoulders as he pulled his head free and reefed the garment down his arms.
He was naked.
Chapter 16
Claudia’s husband was immensely powerful, muscles roping his body. She swallowed. He could do anything he wanted, and she would not be able to do anything to stop him.
The notion filled her with a delicious passivity, that she could give herself to him and would not be responsible for anything that happened. Not to think, only to feel—she longed for it. But it gave her a delicious frisson of fear, too, that only added to the prickling tension itching her shoulder blades.
“Your turn.” He smiled, but his eyes burned.
With a shaky nod, she began on her gown. At first, she fumbled, as if she hadn’t unbuttoned and unhooked this garment many times before. A pretty gown, but one she liked to wear after she’d discarded her town finery because she could get out of it herself. She’d never worn it in front of anyone who wasn’t family.
Dominic was family now—her closest kin.
When she glanced at him, he held his arms loosely by his sides, but the muscles in his shoulders were tense, and— Heavens! The part between his legs that she had felt before, even glimpsed once, was now blatantly on display. It stood up, a strong column of darkened flesh, the slit at the tip oozing a drop of clear liquid. She froze, fixed on it. When he said nothing, she forced her attention to his face. He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirked, and now, of all times, they shared a smile.
“It’s not so intimidating, is it?” he said.
Swallowing her fear, she returned her fascinated attention to his…erection.
“It’s a cock,” he said. “Say it. I want to see your lips frame that word. I hope to hear it more than once tonight.”
“Cock.” That wasn’t so bad, except the place between her legs heated and dampened. She fought the desire to rub her thighs together to ease the prickling sensation there.
“I want to teach you much,” he said. “Ask anything, anything, Claudia, and I’ll give you the answer. Here, alone, we are not bound by any rules, any people except ourselves. Nothing matters but this, and us.”
“I don’t know what to ask.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded husky.
He made a sound—half-groan, half swallowed imprecation. “Finish what you are doing. I want to see you.”
“Am I your new possession?” She’d meant it as a joke, but it sounded wrong.
A crease appeared between his brows. “Wife. Never possession. I will never—” He stopped with a rough laugh. “No, that’s wrong. I will possess you, but not in the way you mean. Prove your courage now. I know you can.”
Watching his muscles move so naturally with him when he smiled, when he shifted position, gave her the strength to unfasten her gown and let it fall. Underneath she usually had a petticoat or two, but she’d dispensed with them tonight, and she only wore her shift and a pair of little satin slippers. Without giving herself time to think, or her nerves to get the better of her, she stripped the shift away and kicked off her slippers.
As naked as he, she closed her eyes tightly, and then opened them again, but didn’t look at his face. Desperately, she prayed she wouldn’t disappoint him. This was the body she washed, tended to, and otherwise ignored, except when she visited the mantua-makers. She wasn’t foolish enough to think herself ugly, but she was not an accredited beauty. What was she supposed to think? Do?
Lifting her arms, she unfastened the clasp that held her hair in place. The strands brushed her shoulders, and finally, gripping her hair clasp tightly, she looked up and met his eyes.
Hot burning need met her eyes. If she hadn’t been standing against the bed, she would have taken a step back. She’d never been the recipient of passion like that. She spread her arms and hands. “See? This is all you’re getting.”
“So much.” He breathed the words, so softly she had to read his lips. “I need to hold you now.”
She shrank back as he advanced, but when he closed his arms around her, his warmth drew her, and his masculine strength surrounded her. She’d been here before, but not skin to skin, just them with nothing between them. He overwhelmed her, and she loved it.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
She had her head buried against his chest, but at his words, she lifted her chin. Close up, that gaze was even more intense, dark eyes made darker by passion.
He kissed her. Took control of her mouth and her body, cupped the back of her head, guiding her to the position he wanted. Leaning her cheek against his chest, Claudia hummed into his mouth, moaned her need of him. Her body ripened—she actually felt it, the way her sex opened and heated, preparing itself for his possession.
He stroked her, at first like a man with a bird in his hands. Then with more purpose, moving to her breasts, to touch the sides. She pressed herself close, her nipples hardening against the rough hair on his chest.
His kiss turned hungry, open-mouthed, and voracious, eating at her and commanding her response. She gave it, uncertainly, but she opened to his demands, clutched his shoulders, the smooth muscles bunching under her palms.
In response he gave a totally masculine grunt, the sound reverberating down her throat as they kissed. One kiss followed another, until she felt drunk on them, her stance unsteady.
When he released her, she wavered. His face alight with pleasure, he bent to lift her. He swept his arm under her knees, shoved back the covers with his free hand, and helped her on to the crisp white sheets. He followed her down, straddling her body with his, and kissed her again.
This time he drew back and tenderly brushed the hair back off her forehead. “Let me know if you dislike anything. If you find something is uncomfortable, tell me. Except— You know I’ll have to hurt you a little, do you not?”
She nodded. “When you—”
He chuckled softly, deep in his throat. “Yes. When I do that. Not for a while yet. Let me prepare you.” He kissed her again. “Let me explore you.”
She
was recovering a little, looking forward to whatever came next. His obvious pleasure had emboldened her. Spreading her hands over his back, she smoothed along the powerful muscle as far as she could reach and then back again, up to his shoulders. She framed them, marveling at the width between her hands. Of course he had a soldier’s body, but he bore himself so well, he didn’t seem so large when dressed.
“Do you want to be a slave girl?” he murmured. “We can play games like that when we want to. Just us, in our room, with nobody to see or criticize what we do. But for tonight, let us be more conventional.”
She wriggled under Dominic, his shaft pressing against the soft skin of her stomach. It left a damp mark. Intriguing. When she slid her hand between them with the intention of touching him, he hissed a breath and moved away.
“Another time you can touch me all you like but not now. I’m not made of stone.”
“That’s not what it feels like to me.”
They both laughed. It should have been a tension reliever, but when their bodies shifted and moved against each other, Claudia only felt more restless. She moved her feet, finding a small amount of relief in rubbing against him, the rough hair of his legs abrading her calves. His attention sharpened, and he sealed their mouths in another kiss, deep and passionate but not lingering. Moving down, he kissed her neck and throat, touching his tongue to taste her, and farther down to her breasts.
This time he would not stop. He would not pull away. The notion excited her immeasurably. Trills of sensation swept through her, like a keyboard player performing elaborate arpeggios. Each one was stronger than the last, centering on that part of her where he was slowly but inevitably heading.
He lavished attention on her breasts, sucking her nipples to hard, sharp peaks. Then he licked around, moaning her name, together with endearments that scalded her soul.
“Soft and delicious, exactly the right size for my hands. You are lovely, Claudia, more than I even imagined.” With one hand tucked by her side and the other caressing her breast, he looked up. He did that after he moved to her stomach. Then that place on the inside of her hips that sent fresh shocks through her. She could not remain still, but squirmed under his hands.
Down he went and farther. Every so often he glanced up at her face, and seemingly satisfied, carried on to that place between her thighs. “The clitoris is sometimes called the pearl of passion by poets.” He touched the bundle of flesh, the hard bit at the front of her cleft, and she yelped, catching her breath.
He muttered something, then, “I have to taste you.”
His head descended between her legs as he pushed her thighs apart and hooked his arms beneath, curling his hands up to rest them on her hips.
When he sucked, she cried out, but he took no notice of her protests. Perhaps he knew that she’d kill him if he stopped. Sensation built, peaked, and grew even more. Only when she was close to exploding did he bring one of his arms back down to touch her. He stroked her and circled her opening. Holding her breath, she kept still for him as he explored and stimulated.
Then he pushed one finger inside. It felt like a branch being shoved inside her and alarm shot through her, piercing the miasma of desire he’d carefully built. He would hurt her. The sting was anything but pleasant. But she trusted Dominic. He would ensure her safety.
Reaching out blindly, she clutched his hair and held on. He grunted again, but didn’t stop that powerful suction that was slowly but inevitably driving her to a conclusion she had not yet reached. When she’d touched herself in the past, she’d sensed something like this, but not so controlled or inexorable. Or so powerful.
Her mind stopped working as the sensations built and built until, with a scream, she came. Her body throbbed, clenched, and tightened, her heart pounding as she cried out in the throes of her release.
He progressed up her body, kissing her breasts in passing, her throat, her mouth.
Just as when he’d touched her there before, she tasted her own flavor on his mouth. At first the flavor shocked her, but the blatant carnality soon encouraged a response from her. She thrust her tongue against his in a search for more. When he drew away, he gazed down at her, bright-eyed. Lifting his body, he gripped his cock in his own hand and guided it to her cleft. Her slick body accepted it. Such intimacy sent thrills through her to replace the momentary panic of a moment before. She clutched at him, grabbed his shoulders.
“Ready?”
He smiled, his teeth sharp and white when she nodded eagerly. Whatever he had to give her, she wanted it, would claim it for her own. He pushed, and then pressed against her opening.
“It’s too big,” she protested
“Shhh. No it’s not. I’ve worked you open. Let it happen, sweetheart.” With small kisses to her mouth he helped her ease his way. But he waited, infinitely patient, until she sighed and let her legs fall open, cradling his hips between them.
He pushed again, and then jabbed. She winced. He murmured her name, kissed her and tried again. This time he drew away farther and used his hand once more to hold himself as he drove through her maidenhead. He didn’t pause but forged a path into her body, only stopping when his groin touched hers and their stomachs pressed firmly together. His heat burned through her as she gasped, the lancing pain piercing right through her.
She shoved him, trying to get him away, but he didn’t budge. “No, we can’t do this. Can we start again tomorrow?” Perhaps it would be easier then, once he’d essayed her.
“It’s done,” he said. “I know you find patience difficult, sweetheart, but summon some now. We are committed to this act.” He kissed her softly, with delicacy. “You will feel better in a moment.”
Surprisingly, she did. He remained still and let her accustom herself to the feel of him inside her. She had read of the act, but she had never imagined the unutterable intimacy of it. Naked, touching from breast to toe, with part of his body actually inside hers—even in her most imaginative dreams this had never happened. Never felt so real. Indeed the world had disappeared, ephemeral and unimportant next to what they were sharing now.
He moved, and so did her world. As he pulled out of her, a new shard of sensation captured her, so close to pain but not quite, ending as absolute pleasure. She cried out in delight. “Oh, do that again!”
Growling, he pushed back in, drew out, and back in. The repetitious movement varied slightly when he rested his upper weight on his elbows and tilted his hips. “Lift your legs. Put them around me.”
His voice was lower. Gasping his name, she curled her feet around his calves, lifted her knees higher. Then she dared to stretch out and cup his powerful buttocks in her hands.
A wordless cry broke from his throat as he pushed in again, and then withdrew. He pushed her up, like when he sucked her but not quite, the sensation deeper and faster. It encompassed her whole body, swept away any remnant of pain from his piercing of her, bringing new heights of passion. Wrapping her arms around him, she held on and let him take her to paradise.
Or somewhere. Hard to believe in the celestial existence of something so earthly, so very visceral, but so sublime. Words poured out of her, but they were the same two. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…”
The cry of effort that erupted from his throat every time he punched deep into her seemed involuntary, drawn by something deep inside him that bypassed civilized behavior. Anything less civilized she couldn’t imagine, and she loved it.
Her own peak broke and washed over her, but this time her channel pulsed around him, clenching his cock as if milking it. It had its effect on him. Sweat broke out on his skin, her hands sliding when he arched his back, thrust one more time, and buried his forehead against her shoulder.
Then he moved convulsively, dragged his body out of hers, and hot, warm pulses of his seed splashed against her belly.
“Why did you do that?”
He’d found a damp cloth and gently cleaned her before joining her in bed again. He lifted her hand and kissed the b
ack of it. “Do what, sweetheart?”
She snatched her hand away. “You know what. Am I not good enough for you?”
“What?” His eyes widened with shock and he went up on one elbow. Claudia drew the covers over her naked body. Now she’d had time to recover, she had thought long and hard. “A wedding night is a time to make children. How can we do that if you don’t…?” She paused, groping for the right words.
“Come inside you?” His expression hardened and he sighed. “I cannot. You deserve…better.”
“Better than you?” She scoffed. “I can’t think of anyone better.”
The sheets lay between them, channeled on her side, and solitude fell over her. After that—after they’d engaged in the most intimate activity she had ever shared with anyone else—he was cutting her out. She sensed his retreat, the way he was putting the experience behind him, placing in its rightful place in his mind.
He flopped down on to his back. “While matters are so uncertain, I do not wish to put anyone else in jeopardy. You or a child.”
“You married me.”
“You ensured that was inevitable.”
“You could have resisted. All I did was ensure you saw me. I gave you something to think about. To decide if you really wanted to let me go.”
Now she lifted up to glare at him. He didn’t avoid her eyes, but met them squarely. She could no longer read his expression. “I did not force you to anything. I did not lure you into a compromising situation, and I did not make my family compel yours in any way. I didn’t have my father visit your parents, for instance.”
A tiny muscle next to his eye twitched when she said “parents.” That was it. She waited for him to respond. She would absolutely not take the blame for his marrying her, if guilt had to be assigned.
He acknowledged her point with a small nod. “Every time I saw you, I wanted you more. I’ve never known an impulse like it. You enchant and infuriate me. I took to my club, but your family was there, even if you were not. They made me think of you.”
Reckless in Pink Page 20
