by CJ Archer
***
Susanna didn't greet Orlando when he entered her parlor carrying the spare mattress. She merely dismissed Bessie from her bedchamber and closed the door on him. Much, much later, when the house was quiet and her nerves were completely shredded, she went to the door separating them.
She didn't open it. Instead, she leaned her forehead against the solid oak and sighed. There was no point opening it. No point in waking him and demanding he relieve her of the longing that gnawed at her bones. No point starting something that she would regret.
She walked back to the window and looked down. She could see the walled garden and her orange trees covered with the canvases as well as the eastern approach to the house. Holt had returned that way earlier in the evening. It had been dark and he carried neither torch nor lamp, but she'd known he was there as surely as she knew he was still in her private parlor now. She just knew.
A soft knock on the door made her jump. She hesitated a moment then answered it. Orlando stood there holding a candle, a sleepy smile curling his lips.
"You should be asleep," she said and winced at her pathetic attempt at light conversation.
"You disturbed me." His voice sounded rough.
"I was very quiet. I couldn't possibly have woken you."
"I didn't say I was asleep, just that you disturbed me."
Go back to bed, Mr. Holt. It's what she ought to have said. She opened the door wider.
He didn't move, and she stopped breathing. She must have read him wrong. He never wanted their flirtations to go this far. It was all a terrible, humiliating mistake.
But then he crossed the threshold. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered. "Are you?"
There was that smile again. Sensual. Wicked. "That's not usually a question I'm asked at moments like this." He held the candle up to her face and brushed his thumb across her lower lip. "I'm sure, Susanna."
Her name was a whisper of silk, a breath of air. She wanted to hear him say it again while he was inside her, but she managed to stop herself from grasping him by his shirt and dragging him to the bed. Just.
With a hand to his chest, she gently pushed. He straightened and frowned, confused. His gaze faltered, and she thought she'd ruined everything and he would storm out of her bedchamber. Or worse, out of Stoneleigh. A heavy weight pressed down on her at the thought and that alarmed her even more.
"Would you rather I called you, m'lady?"
Just like that, the tension between them burst like a bubble. She smiled, relieved. "Hearing you say my name was a bit of a shock, I'll admit."
"You're not going to tell me I get above myself, are you?"
"I should. Because you are."
"It won't change anything." He held the candle up to her face, illuminating his own at the same time. He no longer smiled, and his eyes were as inky as a moonlit night. "It won't change what I want to do to you in that bed," he murmured. "Or out of it, if you prefer."
She drew in a shuddering breath. "Anywhere. Everywhere." Her gaze focused on the triangle of bare skin revealed by his partially unlaced shirt. She wanted to lick him there. "But you need to know something first." It was an effort to talk, but she managed to reign in her galloping desire.
"There's nothing you can tell me that would persuade me to step back into your parlor and close the door. Unless it's 'no.'"
"It's not that." She thought she saw desire flicker in his eyes, but it could have been the reflection of the flame. "What happens here, tonight, stays in this room. You tell no one, and our arrangement remains the same."
He bent his head and kissed the spot just beneath her ear. Her blood throbbed in response.
"As you wish," Orlando murmured. Through the haze clouding his mind, he was aware of one clear thought: relief. Bedding Susanna was what he needed to do, right now, this moment. To hell with ignoring the desire between them—it had done nothing to alleviate the ache in his groin. The only way he could get her out of his every thought was to tumble her tonight. After that he could walk away or kill her if necessary. No regrets. No ties. No unnecessary emotions. It was the only way.
He set the candle down on a table and crossed the floor to the fire. He put on two more logs then, without further ado, picked her up bodily. She wrapped her slender arms around his neck and kissed him brutally. Her mouth was hungry, and he matched that hunger with his own. He'd never wanted to bed a woman as much as he wanted to ravish Susanna.
Without breaking the kiss, he set her down on the bed. She ran her hands through his hair, scrunching it in her fingers, making sure he didn't move.
He wasn't going anywhere.
She broke the kiss and fumbled with the laces on his shirt. In frustration, she tore it a little as she dragged it off his shoulders.
"Perfect," she murmured. Her teeth nipped his left shoulder and her lips followed it with light kisses. "I've been wanting to do that for days."
He chuckled. "Since we're playing out our fantasies..." He stretched alongside her and unlaced her nightshift. The sight of the deep V between her breasts made his mouth go dry and his pulse jump. He teased aside the cotton to reveal one plump nipple, ripe and ready. He closed his mouth over it and groaned as the taste of her orange-scented water and another aroma that was all Susanna teased his tongue.
She replied with a matching groan of her own and an arch of her back. "Yesssss," she murmured. "Orlando..."
God, but it was good to hear his name from her lips. She gripped his shoulders and hung on as if anchoring herself to him. He liked that. Liked it a lot.
He switched his attention to her other nipple, cupping her breast to push it up and out, into his mouth where he could lavish it with all the attention the morsel deserved. He rolled on top of her and hovered, careful not to crush her. Beneath him, she drew up her legs.
He leaned away, breaking the contact and she whimpered. "Come back," she said.
"I want to look at you first." The logs on the fire had caught, throwing more light into the bedchamber. She was everything he'd known she would be under the manly gardening clothes. Slender limbed, soft, round breasts topped with fat nipples, an elegant neck and the face of a goddess. Worthy of a master painter. And all his.
For tonight.
A blush crept up her throat and she drew the edges of her nightshift together. He stayed her hand with his own. "Don't. You're beautiful."
She winced. With pain? Disappointment? Hell. What had he said? Women liked to hear they looked beautiful. He should know, he'd told enough of them in just such a moment. None had looked as extraordinary as Susanna, though, and none had reacted like her.
Fear squeezed his insides. Fear that she would end this before it had begun. So he kissed her again. It wasn't as hungry, but it was just as urgent. Her long fingers pushed his hair off his face and kept his mouth right where he wanted it to be. On hers.
She hadn't changed her mind. Thank God.
But the kiss wasn't enough. He needed to see the rest of her, needed to feel her naked body sliding against his. He broke the kiss and stood, pulling her off the bed with him. Wordlessly, he undressed and reached for her to help her out of the nightshift, but she put a hand against his chest.
"My turn," she said, her voice throaty. She stepped back, crossed her arms and her gaze stroked him from head to toe and back up again, lingering on his cock. It jutted out, hard and pulsing for her touch.
She licked her lips and his mind fled. He went to her, but again she held up her hand.
He groaned. "Are you trying to torture me?"
With a devilish smile playing on her lips, she circled her finger in the air. He turned. Her hands on his shoulders stopped him when his back was to her. Slowly and somewhat painfully for his waiting cock, she traced his spine with her fingertip all the way to his arse. Both hands cupped his cheeks, and her thumbs stroked the curves of muscle slowly, deliberately, as if she were studying him and was fascinated by what she saw.
"Can I
turn around?" he rasped.
"No."
"You really are torturing me."
Her fingers slipped down and he parted his legs so that she could toy with his balls. He bit down on his lip against the jolt spiking through him, centering on his groin. He tasted blood and didn't care. He could feel nothing except her fingers on his heavy sacks. Along his shaft. Up to the tip of his cock.
Everything in him tightened, like a trap poised to spring. A long, loud groan filled the room as he held the tide back. Not yet. Not yet. He reached up and grabbed the bed's tester to stop himself stumbling forward, to give himself something solid to hold in a room spinning out of control.
"Stop..." But he didn't want to stop and she knew that, the vixen. Her thumb circled the head of his cock, slick with his own juices, and he wanted to beg for release.
Then suddenly her hands were gone. His head fell forward and, unbalanced, he gripped the tester harder. "Susanna...?" he muttered. He couldn't form the question, his tongue wouldn't work.
The rustle of cotton behind him gave him all the answer he needed. Before he could turn, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned into his back. Her luscious, lovely breasts pressed against him. No way was he going to have her naked in his presence and not look at her.
He turned in her arms, and his cock throbbed at the sight of her. If he'd been capable of thinking and speaking, he might have said something poetic about her loveliness but he wasn't and he didn't know if she wanted to hear it anyway.
She reached for his member, but he moved away and shook his head. Another touch and he would explode. When he was certain she understood, he moved close again and, keeping his body a little apart, kissed her gently.
Her response was to grab his shoulders, pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He slipped his hand between them and cupped her sex. She was hot and wet, her nub swollen, and when he thrust his middle finger inside, she cried out. Another finger slid in easily and she broke the kiss to throw her head back. Her breathing came hard, fast, making her beautiful breasts quiver, begging him to take them in his mouth.
He did. His cock thickened and dripped. Not yet. Not yet.
His fingers set a slow, steady rhythm but with a moan of frustration, she thrust her hips and quickened the pace. He switched to her other breast, suckling, and her fingernails raked his shoulders in response.
"Now," she mumbled almost inaudibly. "Take me now."
Those were words he didn't need to hear twice. He pressed his cock to her opening then sank into her to the hilt. She gasped and thrust up to meet him.
He stopped. He wanted to stay there a moment. Feel her wrapped around him and the throb deep inside her. Wanted to savor it lest it never happen again.
It lasted all of a second or two, and either she or he began to move against the other, or it might have been both together. She lifted one leg up until her knee touched his hip, allowing his cock to reach deeper. He kissed her, swallowing her cry, and picked her up, his hands supported her neat round arse. She wrapped her legs around him and hooked her feet at the small of his back. He felt like he was cocooned in her.
Just where he wanted to be.
He laid her on top of the bed and pounded into her, not wanting it to end but wanting so very much to feel that thrilling rush of climax.
It started with the heat. It spiraled inside him and he could feel it coming off her in waves. Then came the trickle of tingles, a teasing, sweet torture. It lasted but a moment until Susanna stiffened in his arms and only her thighs and hips moved, jerking involuntarily.
"Orlando!" she cried, arching into him.
There was no hope for him after that. The flood came and he rushed to pull himself out of her, to spurt his seed on the floor, but she pressed her feet into his arse, holding him there.
"No need," she gasped.
He stayed and exploded into her. His body shuddered violently and he pressed his face into her shoulder as every last drop was milked from him.
They stayed like that for several furious heartbeats until their breathing calmed, and then he rolled off her.
It was over. They should part. He should return to the mattress on the parlor floor. But he didn't want to go and she didn't tell him to leave. Indeed, she rested her cheek on his chest. Her fingers stroked his arm.
"Lie with me," she said. "So that when I wake I don't have to fetch you."
He laughed softly and she snuggled beside him, her head resting on the pillow of his arm, one leg over his. The curves of her body fit neatly into his side. He kissed the top of her head and drifted off to sleep.
Sometime later, he awoke. She was watching him. The fire had died down again and the candle had gone out but despite the dark, he could see her eyes glistening. He wondered if it had anything to do with what she'd said earlier when he'd tried not to spurt his seed into her.
No need.
The note of sadness had been small, but he'd heard it, despite his preoccupation. She'd been married twice, and yet there were no children. It was likely she was barren, and that pained her.
He touched her cheek and she turned her face into his palm, kissing it. That simple gesture set his heart racing again and his cock hardened.
"Susanna," he said, levelly, "I want you."
She looked at him. Her eyes seemed full but there was a firm, determined set to her mouth. "I want you too."
They made love again, slower, taking their time, exploring each other. He found she liked to be licked, everywhere, and she discovered that his nipples were as sensitive as hers.
Afterward, she lay with her hand on his chest, her fingers teasing the hairs there. "Whatever happens next," she said, "I want you to know I'm glad we had this night together." She stopped twirling and spread her fingers out, over his heart.
He kissed her forehead. He wanted to say something, reassure her that he agreed.
But he couldn't.
He wasn't glad or satisfied or reassured. Making love to her was supposed to ease the longing that dragged at his limbs.
But it hadn't. It had only made it worse.
He closed his eyes and willed himself to be still, his mind to be silent. But it didn't obey and wandered down paths he did not want it to tread. Could not allow it to tread.
She yawned, oblivious to his turmoil. "Orlando, where did you go this afternoon? And don't tell me you went for a walk."
The question came from nowhere and slapped him out of his melancholy. He was so grateful he decided to answer her directly. "I went to Sutton Hall to find out more about Mr. Monk. I want to make sure he's not our intruder before we allow him to work here."
"That's very good of you." She yawned again. "And did you find out anything useful?"
"No. It might have been him, or it might not. Considering he's the only stranger to the area aside from me, I'd wager it was Monk though."
"Not necessarily." She shifted so that her head rested on her own pillow, but her leg remained draped over him and her hand still rested on his chest, over his heart. "I forgot to tell you earlier. Two more strangers arrived in Sutton Grange today."
"Two strangers? What did they look like?"
"Like a pampered gentleman and his fat servant." Her eyes fluttered closed and she smothered another yawn. "But it couldn't have been them here that night. They only arrived today."
He stared up at the bed's canopy and listened to the silence of the night as Susanna drifted off to sleep. Eventually he slept too, but only lightly. The whoo whoo of an owl woke him some time before dawn. He sat up, careful not to wake Susanna, blissfully asleep with a small smile on her lips and her tousled hair covering half her face. He gently brushed it back and his cock stirred at the sight. Her lips curved into a pout and the hard edge of her jaw had softened as sleep relieved her of the day's burdens. His hand hovered at her cheek but he decided against touching her. Outside, another whoo whoo sounded.
He dressed quickly and silently went downstairs to meet Hughe and Cole.
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