Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women

by Virginia Vice

  “I cannot, in good faith, do that. I will never stop,” he warned. His voice was heavy. Every shallow breath he took rushed into his lungs and mashed her breasts against his chest. The peaks of her breasts poked him through the linen shift now plastered to his skin. He was losing control. He was daring, challenging.

  “Don't stop.” The whisper hit his neck, tickling his skin. It was a sinuous whisper that held all the permission he needed. It was a bold demand, a wild challenge, a straight dare. His hunger drove him to pillage her, burn her with the desire she teased mercilessly but the eerie light hovered in the air for moments after the lightning flickered and he knew he could do nothing but worship her.

  His hands grazed the tip of her left breast poking his shirt with her every shallow breath. He cupped her under the chin. His eyes fixed on hers as he descended on her lips, his first campaign.

  She had steeled herself for the touch. But how could she have prepared herself for something she had never encountered? More demand, more intensity than she could bear. His lips plundered her and made her forget breathing.

  He leaned away and looked at her flushed face. She wanted to feel every single emotion, every touch, and every nuance of desire. His hand worried one nipple and his mouth captured the tip of the other breast. He stroked it leisurely with his tongue, worried the hardened peak with tiny bite, then focusing on her face to capture her delight he suckled her. It tugged from the tips of her breast to the depths of her belly. Her muscles tightened in wanton delight and her hands, no longer content to stay by her sides, slipped to his nape to press him into her. His mouth did dangerous things to her. His teeth bit, grazed then tugged at her, working on one then the other with each bereft straining for his touch. Her ache grew worse.

  “Robert, please. This ache, it grows.” She was drowning she was sure. She needed him to save her.

  Her cry thrilled him darkly. His lover knew nothing of desire. He took great pleasure in watching her eyes glazed and her form molded further into him. She rubbed against him, fierce in her hunger, trying to ease her ache but not yet. Not yet. He leaned away. If she persisted with her ministrations he would lose his seed like a schoolboy at his first taste of desire. She was too tempting a morsel.

  “Robert, please.” She did not know what she begged for, but she couldn’t bear the pain. It was delicious, yet it drove her wild.

  “Soon. Not yet but soon,” he promised. He led her to the bed, scooping her up in steady arms. He flung the coat to the foot of the bed and deposited his precious bundle in bed. It was cold and he was sorry, but soon he would be in it with her, warming her.

  He moved away, standing by the side of the bed and a wave of shyness engulfed her. At no time had she imagined lying in bed with him. It was somewhat intimate more than him suckling her and she tried to cover herself with her hands. She did not know how she had been so bold earlier. The blush returned with full force.

  “Do not be shy with me, Amelia. You and I, we have no secrets,” he begged.

  He waited until she nodded then he made short work of his breeches. He perched on the edge of the bed to unroll his stockings. They were completely ruined of course.

  “I want to see. I want to see you.” She made the request, wondering if that was proper, asking to look fully at his person. Then she reminded herself nothing of their current predicament was proper.

  He smiled indulgently at her. She was not conventional, and she had not disappointed. He stripped off his long shirt and stood up.

  The firelight was blazing brighter now, and she looked her fill. He was standing with his back to the flames unconcerned about his nakedness. He was all sinews and muscles that rolled and stretched. His member was another surprise. It continued to twitch as she watched it but she took her time. The mystery was solved, igniting not a little amount of fear. She knew the mechanics of procreation. She had watched her beloved horses, even if the groom had stiffly insisted that it was improper for a miss. She knew his penis was meant to fit into her but not that thing, it was impossible. But she didn’t want to sound naive and foolish, so she just gulped and looked away. If she was drinking this cup she would drain it to the dregs. She could not be dissuaded from knowing.

  He caught the misgiving in her eyes, and then the steeling of her resolve. “Trust me Amelia.”

  She nodded solemnly and looked up his eyes. “You are beautiful.”

  He looked at her then and perhaps there was the tiniest of blushes as he smiled. It could have only been a shadow. “Is that not something I should say to you?” he asked with a brow arched in surprise.

  “Your eyes tell me already,” she said with a cat-that-got-the-cream smile.

  He smiled wider at her then. “Bold piece of goods is what you are. Have you looked your fill?”

  “Yes.”

  Then her Adonis turned into a stalking beast. He did not hurry and the hunger in those eyes made her shiver. He knew and he enjoyed her response, the heavier pant and the leg that jerked open, then closed. He climbed from the foot of the bed, parting her thighs until he nestled in them, but he ignored her center and reached for her face, lifting her to him. She angled up her lips and he covered them with warm lips. He kissed her closed lips once then delved into the hot cavern of her mouth.

  “Kiss me back,” he urged. He returned to stroking her tongue until it traced the joined seam of their lips and at last duelled with his. The first kiss had not prepared her for the heavy sweetness of this one and she wondered how many variations there were to that one intimate touch.

  He strolled lower, showering her neck and shoulders with kisses until she whimpered. He palmed one globe of moon glow and pinched the tip of the dark pink areola. Her back arched, mashing her body into his. He teased her even more, flicking his tongue against one nipple then another, his fingers busy caressing the other. Her head shook from side to side on the bed. Then he pressed one nipple into his mouth and paid full attention to it. She arched again, moaning and whimpering. The fire singed her again. Every time she thought she could take it no more, he took her flying again but the ache remained. A frantic beast that clawed at her lower belly and deep within her.

  He abandoned her breasts with a quick kiss and a soft sigh before he followed the trail of his hands down her stomach and towards the thatch of dark hair. His breath stirred the hairs and he slid even lower. She tensed trying to close her legs. Surely he was not going to kiss her there? It wasn’t proper!

  “Allow me to show you,” he pleaded, looking up into her eyes. His torso was lifted by his elbows resting on either side of her. She nodded. She wanted to feel him. There was no place for propriety in this debauchery. He fell upon the hot flesh. He parted her legs again and delved in. His fingers separated her petals and she shuddered as his breath teased her. Then one slow tongue dragged through her dripping center.

  “Robert!”

  Too much. She couldn’t think, didn't even think to breath. Thick air expelled from her body in an aroused cry but he did not stop. He applied himself to licking her private place. His tongue drew strange desires and wanton responses from her again and again. His touch probed every recess of her, lapping at her petals, grazed her bud and flicked at her throbbing hole. First she was still, rigid like stone, then she was thrashing from side to side with her eyes shut. He patiently worked, enjoying her responses until she was sobbing with the force of desire coursing through her. He nudged the bud and she screamed his name. Her eyes widened and her arched body almost threw him off with its fervor.

  “Robert.” She murmured when she returned to her senses, descending to earth. His hand stroked her bud again and her leg jerked, brushing against the hard flesh between her two thighs. She looked back at him in question.

  He chuckled at her wide-eyed question. “We are not done, my sweet.”

  “You have not found your pleasure.” Even now, after everything they had shared, she blushed.

  “If you do not wish to continue...” He made to move away from her but sh
e snared him, arms and legs holding on.

  “Please Robert, show me all,” she pleaded.

  “I will. I will.” He subsided, capturing her lips in a brief kiss before he moved to support his body on one elbow.

  His erect member has been complaining for the past interlude, since it had nestled between her thighs for a while. He guided himself carefully into her and drove in with caution. She was a maiden yet.

  It was foreign, then it was familiar, as if he was made for her and her for him. They fit. “Yes. Oh yes.” It filled, completed her. A warm wave filled her to satisfaction.

  She pushed into him then her eyes flew open at the lack of pain. “What? No pain?”

  He chuckled at her appalled airs. “All that riding, I suspect.”

  She started to explain, “Truly, I am...” but he cut her off.

  “There is no need for words, Amelia. I know,” he soothed.

  “Oh.” She was speechless.

  “Oh?” He pulled all the way out and surged back in.

  It was strange. It was beautiful, and it filled her with a wonder and raked all her senses to life. She opened her eyes again to find him staring intensely and directly into her soul. She could not look away. She licked salty sweat from his shoulder and touched his back shyly, then boldly palming his rolls of muscle.

  Her pleasure mounted and he knew he was looking control. She was warm, tight and her muscles fisted his flesh in a stranglehold. The look in her eyes was pleasing, hungry and demanding. He knew the moment he lost control.

  He looked at her. Supporting himself on one hand, he reached between them and teased her bud. “Fly with me.”

  The hoarse words tipped her over. Her pleasure ran deeper and seared her mind for delicious moments as she screamed his name, her fingers gripping his back.

  He thrust wildly like a wild thing, a mad thing claiming its mate. He surged into her again and again while she rippled around him, flooding with hot liquid. His long drawn-out groan mingled with her own cries as ecstasy over took him and he spilled his seed into her body. He tried to draw out and spill outside of her, but she clenched in a rigid hold and demanded his surrender, increasing his pleasure wildly. “Amelia, my Amelia.”

  The darkness swallowed her and she could faintly hear him calling her with a degree of urgency. He slumped between her breasts and fell into heavy sleep.

  A while later he woke and moved off her, hoping not to wake her. She barely stirred and he rolled her onto him and covered her bare flesh with the coat. He hardened and tried to move out of her but she protested, murmuring in her sleep. Even sleeping his woman was of a strong opinion!

  He shifted, capturing her murmur in a sleepy kiss before surrendering to sleep again.

  Chapter Nine

  Amelia woke in a state of peace and pleasure that turned into momentary confusion. Someone had just called her name, a hand insistent on her arm.

  She blinked once, then again before she looked up to see Lord Windon, Robert.

  Just like that, the events of the night before flooded through her and she smiled, lifting her hands up.

  Her enthusiastic lover of the night before was gone, a cool mannered man replaced him. This man thrust her clothes into her outstretched hands. “Your clothes are dry. The rain has stopped for awhile now,” he told her with a touch of asperity.

  “It must be dreadfully cold outside.” What perfectly boring conversation to be having after such a night as they had both shared.

  “It is, but the wood lasted through the night and we are quite warm. In any case we should be getting ready to return to your hall,” he advised quietly.

  He made perfect sense. His logic was undeniable, but she would have loved a kiss, a kind word. Some sign that the night before was not an obvious regret. Maybe she had been unsatisfactory. She bit her lips at that. “Of course, Your Grace.”

  “Robert.” He answered her shortly. “I am sure the horses will want to be returned to their stables.” He could not believe himself, grasping at excuses to cover his guilt. Horses?

  “Of course, Robert.” She was appropriately chastened. She had failed to take the needs of the horses to heart, and maybe the man wanted his meal after a night in a place not suitable to his needs at all.

  She stood up from the bed. Her covering of his coat rolled off and the colder air pebbled her nipples. She looked up, but his attention was stoically focused elsewhere. She dragged on the chemise herself and found her stays. She tried to tie the laces in the back. Her fingers fumbled for awhile before his hands stopped them and tied the laces expertly.

  She should be grateful for his help but she could not help but think that he must have a lot of experience undressing and redressing women. The moment passed in silence. She stood stiff and immobile as possible with him fastening the garments she donned with an economy of motions.

  She sat on the bed and tied her garters. Her dry shoe sat near her feet. His hand flashed by her. For a moment she thought he wanted to touch her and she stilled, but he only plucked his coat off the bed before turning smartly and walking out of the room.

  She kept her shoulders high and her manners aloof until he left the room, but as soon as his back faded from sight she wilted. She propped her head on her open hands. She was consumed with regrets and not a little amount of shame.

  In the light of the moment he had been willing, happy and, she dared to think, driven with something more than mere lust, but in the light of day it was another matter. It didn’t matter. There was no reason to follow their night of intimacies with his cold manner and the silence that cut her.

  The neighing of the horses brought her away from her dark reverie. She would bear his censure but as soon as they returned she would avoid him unless it was strictly necessary.

  The second shoe was pulled on. She stood up from the bed. One hand brushed against the fabric of her ridding gown but it was wrinkled beyond care. Not that it mattered, speculations would be rife. If they were caught, their options were being forced into marriage or she would be completely ruined.

  His initial proposal was the only tether that stopped her mind from succumbing to the rush of guilt, but that consolation was no salve. From his manners now, how could she never bear to be married to him? Marriage would be hell. Truly she had wanted to marry for love. Something that a more practical mind would shun, something that was the reason her London Seasons had failed. It was the best protection if she was to live in the shadow of her husband without rights. Now she would be married with her rights intact and no love.

  The long ride was accomplished with heavy tension. Even the animals were aware of it. They shied and were a bit difficult, but that could be because of the night in the rain. Amelia rode with her spine and her chin raised in challenge. Robert rode at her side in a similar pose. The horse responded to the expert handling by eating the ground in eager bursts, but that could easily be attributed to the lure of the stables and warm hay.

  When the stone walls of the hall were suddenly looming over the horizon she breathed a sigh of relief and doubled her speed. At the stables, she caught the grooms in a group, obviously going to search for her. Mary was among them, fretting heavily and afraid. She was assailed, no doubt, with images of her lady in a ravine somewhere.

  When Lady Amelia appeared a cry of relief came up and she alighted smartly.

  “My lady, we were all afraid,” Simmons called out above the din of concerned voices.

  “As you can see Simmons, I am in good health.” She turned to her maid who was waiting to be addressed. “Mary?”

  “We were so worried. The storm blew in so quickly and lasted through the night.” The lady’s maid clenched her hands to her side in obvious effort.

  “We were quite safe. We found shelter with one of the tenant families,” she finished curtly and as airily as possible to dispel the concern and the fear. It had the desired effect of taking their minds off the matter and to other more present situations.

  “Oh, I am all a dithe
r when I should be attending you.” That was a sure testament that she was worried out of her mind. Mary was never slacking in her duty.

  “Well?” The arch word spurred them into action. The undergroom collected the reins of the horse from her and the rest backed away systematically. Amelia hated having to use a haughty tone with her household, but more than anything they had to refrain from their thread of conversation. She couldn’t risk Lord Windon appearing and facing their speculative eyes. She had grown up with most of them and nothing could persuade them to leave her alone if she pandered to their concerned enquiries even for a single minute.

  “Let me go see to your bath.” Mary answered with a nod and she hurried off with that suggestion ringing in her wake.

  “Lord Rochester?” The question was understood by Simmons.

  “Your father, his lordship. has no hint that you did not return earlier. He was quite tired and spent the day indoors and retired early,” Simmons supplied with a look of reproach, but Amelia ignored it. Only the head groom could take such liberties with her.

  “I am pleased. Make sure this does not reach his ears,” she ordered as she turned away from him. She was unwilling to witness the cool reproof in his eyes. The orders were strange to say the least, but Simmons was too well trained to show his disapproval with more than a discrete look.

  “Rub down the horses. Give them plenty of fresh hay and warm mash,” she threw over her head. “And Simmons?”

  “Yes, milady?” His disapproval was a solid cloud on his brow now.

  “He must not hear a word of this, Simmons. The household will hold its tongue or suffer my wrath.” In an uncharacteristic move, she swept into the house regally. Even if she wore wrinkled clothes and her person was a trifle rancid, no one could mistake Amelia St Clair for anything other than gentry. She wore her station well.

  Chapter Ten

  Lord Windon returned a little slower than her. While she was eager to return to the bosom of home and the familiarity of her hall, he tried to take his time thinking on what had happened and what steps he would take now.