Private Passions

by Felicia Greene

  No. Before she could say anything, or even think beyond that single word, Brenda let the flowers fall to the floor. She threw her arms around him, clinging to him, hot tears stinging her eyes as she whispered against the soft linen of his shirt.

  ‘I am determined to ignore it, but I cannot. I am determined to deny it, but I cannot. I was determined to lead—lead a life of solitude, and good works, knowing that to set one’s cap at a titled gentleman is nothing more than an obscene form of subjugation—’

  ‘Did it feel like subjugation, being with me?’ There was desperation in Selby’s voice. ‘Does it feel like subjugation being with me, here, now?’

  ‘No.’ Brenda murmured the word, sighing with broken, abandoned pleasure as she felt Selby’s arms move around her waist. ‘It feels like—like Paradise.’

  How strange it felt, telling the complete truth. She had expected it to feel as if she were giving something up, leaving her core empty. But as Selby looked down at her, his expression glowing with shared joy, Brenda realised that she had never felt so happy. So complete.

  She had never seen Selby so full of passion. So vibrant with frustration, with need, that his raw stare seemed to burn with inner fire. Brenda, her body full of a sensation so delicious that she felt as if she were floating, pulled his mouth to hers with a hunger that would have shamed her past self.

  She half-expected his kisses to lack a little of the fire that she had felt on the bed. How could any of those kisses ever find an equal, raw and searching as they had been? But Selby, pushing her against the wall of the dressing room with a strength that filled her with savage, intimate delight, began kissing her lips with all the lascivious, attentive focus that Brenda had longed for.

  A waterfall of kisses became a flood. A sweet, dark flood that pinned her to the dressing-room wall, deliciously helpless, as Selby lavished her mouth and cheeks and neck with kisses. Kisses that became licks, bites, as he pulled the wedding gown roughly downward until her shoulders and chest were bared to him.

  ‘Not that it matters, but why are you wearing Matilda’s wedding gown?’ Selby stopped for a moment, looking at her with a humorous twist of his mouth.

  ‘We were deciding if it was to be stored in the attic or used again.’ Brenda writhed in his arms, letting the dress slide further downward; it felt right to be bared to him again, however illicit it was to do so.

  Selby’s eyes moved over her bare breasts, his pleasure evident in his gaze. ‘And what decision was made?’

  Brenda smiled shyly. ‘Storage.’

  ‘Good.’ Selby kissed her again. ‘Then they will not find out what I have done until years from now.’

  As Brenda gasped in shock, he ripped her free of the constrictive bodice. Her arms were suddenly bare, scraps of delicately embroidered sleeve falling to the ground like autumn leaves.

  ‘Oh!’ Brenda looked at him, scandalised. ‘You are most callous!’

  ‘I am in most desperate need of your naked skin.’ Selby didn’t seem in the least bit guilty. ‘And now that I have it, in abundance, I shall pay for any and all damages that have been incurred. Once they are discovered, of course.’

  There didn’t appear to be anything left to say. Brenda threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him with a passion that was as ferocious as it was vast. Moaning in welcome as Selby’s mouth moved lower, her eyelids fluttering as his lips danced over her shoulders, then collarbones, then breasts, she tried to remember what he had promised her the last time destiny had pulled them together.

  Was it that he would kiss her here—that he would run his tongue over her nipples, just as before, the feel of him causing a firework-blast of sensation at her core? No, it was perfect, but it wasn’t that. Was it that he would hold her tightly in his arms, his hands moving to her thighs, holding her so firmly that she knew he would never let her go, not in his mind, not in his heart…

  No. It wasn’t that. What had it been?

  Selby’s hand moved to her inner thigh, brushing over her curls, making her shiver. All of a sudden, Brenda had her answer.

  ‘You said that you would kiss me here.’ She brought Selby’s hand to her mound, brazenly holding it to her entrance, biting her lip at the sweet, perfect warmth of his palm. ‘Do it. Please. I am ready.’

  Selby looked up at her, his tone doubtful. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I—’ Brenda huffed, her dignity vanishing in the face of her need. ‘Do not make me ask twice!’

  Selby’s answering laughter was quite the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. She laughed in response, her joy deepening her desire, watching in loving curiosity as Selby sank to his knees.

  She waited, her heart in her mouth. Her skirts were raised, the soft froth of the gown enclosing her like an embrace... and oh, lord, there was his mouth, kissing her thighs with the same ardency that he had lavished on her mouth.

  'Oh…' She couldn't resist a soft, wondering sigh as his kisses moved higher. Her thighs had never been touched with such tenderness; she was quivering, quivering as she had in the second bedroom where Selby had moved his fingers inside her, as his mouth climbed to her hot, needy core.

  'Ah!' She was right to have been scared, before; it was too good, too powerful, too perfect as his tongue delved between her curls, parting her lips, kissing and lapping at her most intimate self. She would melt. She would shatter into a million pieces, or wash away, or float into the air, because it was utterly impossible to stay still with Selby kissing her there, licking her there, his tongue flickering against her bud like a sweet, delirious flame. Brenda dimly realised that she was clutching at his hair, tangling his dark curls in her fingers as she yielded to him, her thighs spreading wider and wider as she lost all control over her desires.

  She didn’t want what had happened yesterday - that overwhelming, impossible feeling of coming apart - to occur when Selby wasn’t looking at her. Brenda knew it was probably strange, but the urge to see him as her pleasure took her was too strong. She needed to have his steady gaze trained on her, just as she needed his still, sardonic presence in every other area of her life, a constant companion…

  ‘Ah!’ Oh, how was it happening so soon? How could simple kisses feel so powerfully intense when they were between her legs? Brenda, her knees buckling, pulled Selby up through the mass of her skirts with shaking fingers.

  ‘I… I want to look at you. Take me. Ruin me.’ She had never expected to say those words; moments such as these were meant to be promised and then avoided, dangled as bait with marriage as the ultimate gambit. Now, listening to the mute pleading of her body, Brenda wondered how she had ever considered treating such want like a game. ‘Do it now. I do not care.’

  ‘Do not say that. Do not say that you do not care.’ Selby fumbled savagely with his breeches; Brenda gasped as his stiff, proud cock was revealed. He slid his member along the slick, wet channel of her entrance; a savage throb of pleasure shot through Brenda, making her thighs tremble. ‘I care, Brenda. My God, I care, and I know you care, and you will say it.’

  ‘You know what I meant, you frustrating man, I meant that I do not care about all of the things that are meant to follow moments such as—’

  ‘I do.’ Selby pressed against her bud; Brenda whimpered, helpless, clutching at him. ‘I do. And if you do not admit you care, I will walk away.’ He whispered in her ear, his voice husky with passion. ‘It will kill me. But I will walk away.’

  ‘I care.’ The thought of him leaving was unthinkable. Brenda tripped over her words, desperate, caught between agony and ecstasy. ‘I care.’

  With a deep, yearning kiss, Selby silenced every last one of her doubts. Slowly, ruthlessly, allowing her no quarter, he began to sink himself inside her as Brenda gasped.

  He was too big. She was too new. This could not, under any circumstances, possibly work… but even as Brenda acknowledged her doubts they burst into stardust, faded to ash, as a new shock of dark, transforming bliss flowed through her. The worries became fals
e before she had even finished thinking them; there was pain, then there was a raw mixture of pain and pleasure… and then, then everything was pleasure. Everything in the whole world.

  ‘I could spend forever here.’ Selby was still for a long, gentle stretch of time; with his first measured thrust, Brenda shuddered as sparks of pleasure raced through her. ‘It… it feels like being home.’

  ‘Yes.’ The pure physical bliss of him inside her was so strong, it was difficult to speak. ‘Or… or like destiny.’

  ‘Yes.’ Selby’s eyes danced as he thrust again. ‘Like destiny.’

  Yes. This was destiny, true destiny; not subjugation, not slavery, but true union. Union with a man who fit her perfectly, in every sense—a man who could tease her, and please her, and counsel her, and protect her, and - and love her. All at once.

  There could never be enough of him. Not in a day, not in a week—not in a lifetime. When James Selby was concerned, too much was never enough.

  ‘More.’ She whispered the word even as her pleasure grew. ‘More, darling. More.’

  The rug of the dressing room was divinely soft. Brenda lay happily upon it, the faint scent of dust and wax polish tickling her nose as she snuggled closer to Selby. Minutes could tick by, hours, days… why, perhaps a search party could be sent up. The house was large enough to keep them happily concealed for quite some time.

  ‘Well.’ It felt strange, disturbing the air with her voice. Almost as if she were speaking in a church. ‘Now I know what it is like, surrendering to destiny.’

  ‘Yes.’ Selby raised his head to look at her, his face showing a touch of the caution that Brenda felt. ‘And… and how did you find it?’

  Spectacular. Earth-shaking. Utterly, utterly divine. Brenda considered all the descriptions that came to mind, dismissing each one as unspeakably embarrassing, before choosing the words that came closest to the truth.

  ‘Wonderful.’ She pulled Selby closer; there was no need to be elegant, or restrained, when revelling in the man’s naked skin against her own. ‘But… but however long we stay here, surrendering to destiny only once feels far, far too brief.’

  She felt Selby stiffen. Brenda swallowed, preparing herself for disappointment, before sighing with relief as Selby’s arms tightened around her.

  ‘And if we welcomed destiny for a slightly longer time?’ Selby nuzzled against her shoulder, his teeth grazing slyly against Brenda’s skin. ‘Only a little while longer, of course. What would become of us then?’

  ‘Oh, goodness. Ever-so-many things.’ Brenda, swallowing, decided to be brave. ‘From what we have seen, destiny is pushing us towards arenas other than beds.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Selby looked up, his eyes shining with the same tentative curiosity that Brenda felt burning in her own soul. ‘Like… like altars.’

  ‘Exactly.’ He had said the very word that Brenda had been too frightened to think of; she held him closer, her voice suddenly full of a shy excitement that rippled through both of their bodies in a soft, delicious wave. ‘We would be very churlish to deny destiny the view of us in a church.’

  ‘With flowers, and family around us, and a kindly vicar.’ Selby gently kissed her shoulder, holding her tighter. ‘What is one day given to destiny, really? People give far more time to Seasons, and hunting excursions, and any number of lesser things. One wedding would barely be a gleam in destiny’s eye.’

  ‘Oh, I quite agree. We would barely be putting destiny out at all with one small marriage. If anything, destiny probably requires a little more of us.’ Brenda paused, inexplicably nervous again, before plunging onward.’Perhaps the marriage would need to be quite—quite long.’

  ‘Oh, I would say so. At least a lifetime.’ Selby kissed her shoulder with more force, his words tinged with a touch of the awe that Brenda felt. ‘Perhaps two.’

  ‘Two at least. And can it really be called welcoming destiny, truly surrendering oneself to it, if there are no children? Possibly—but I wouldn’t wish to take chances.’

  ‘I ascribe to your caution. We should have as many children as we wish to, congratulating ourselves on having made the excellent choice to briefly give into destiny.’ Selby’s smile filled Brenda’s heart with something that shone so very, very brightly. ‘And Winston, of course, along with a menagerie of other beasts, including a small horse whose mane can be plaited with ribbons—’

  ‘I love you.’ Brenda let her lips rest against Selby’s skin, sure that she was making a mistake by saying it. Nothing could be this good for this long; nothing could leave her intact in her own self, yet giving everything to another. ‘I do.’

  ‘And I love you, Brenda Hartwell. More than my own soul.’ Selby kissed her neck, his voice full of fervent, trembling feeling as he rested his head against her breasts. ‘And I love destiny as well.’

  ‘So do I. But not as much as I love you.’ Brenda smiled ecstatically, leaning back against the rug with a sigh. ‘And if you begin to love destiny more than you love me… well. I shall have to be very angry indeed.’

  THE END

  If you’d like to read more of Felicia Greene’s work, check out her previous collection: Wicked Whispers, available to download now!

  Wicked Whispers: The Steamy Romance Collection

  Happy reading!