Seven Years to Sin

by Sylvia Day

  “God,” she gasped, writhing in his unyielding grip. She could barely accommodate him in this position. And still he impaled her relentlessly, stuffing her full until she fought for every breath. When he was finally in her to the root, she was sobbing with the need to pump and grind and take her pleasure. The fact that they were both fully dressed except for the place where they were joined was searingly erotic. Her façade was no impediment to Alistair. It never had been.

  He kept her immobile and pinned to the bulkhead with his weight. Encircling her wrist, he pulled her hand up and pressed it over his heart. It thundered beneath her palm. His chest lifted and fell in a markedly elevated rhythm. “I have exerted myself not at all. You weigh little more than a feather. Tell me, Jess, why does my heart race? For the strenuous sex we’ve yet to begin? Or because it beats for you?”

  The fingers of her free hand threaded into his hair; her hot cheek nuzzled against his. She wanted to say something, anything, but her throat was too tight.

  “If I could,” he went on, “I would remain like this indefinitely—clasped by you, held inside you, a part of you—without moving at all. When we make love, I fight climax with everything I have. I don’t want to come; I do not want it to end. No matter how long I make it last, it isn’t nearly long enough. I am furious when I cannot hold back any longer. Why, Jess? If all I seek is the physical relief of natural lust, just as I would seek sleep or food, why would I deny myself?”

  She turned her head and caught his mouth with hers, kissing him desperately.

  “Tell me you understand,” he demanded, his lips moving beneath hers. “Tell me you feel it, too.”

  “I feel you,” she breathed, as intoxicated by his ardency as she was by the finest claret. “You have become everything to me.”

  Clasping her tightly, he pivoted toward the bed.

  Chapter 17

  Jess sank into the mattress with Alistair directly following on top of her. The descent jolted them both, his cock piercing deep as he pinned her to the bed. She moaned, perspiration blooming across her skin. He growled, fisting the counterpane on either side of her head and lunging again. The thrust was powerful, pushing her across the slippery velvet only to be stopped by his steely forearms at her shoulders.

  “No,” she gasped, on the verge of climax. If she let him, he’d hurtle her into her first of many orgasms within moments. He would ride her relentlessly, delaying his own release until she was witless with pleasure and trembling. He would undress her and himself while she was too satiated to move; then he would continue for hours, stripping her defenses with merciless determination.

  He paused, staring down at her with a gaze so hot it flushed her skin. “No?”

  She pushed up onto her elbows. “Let me have you.”

  Alistair straightened. He made swift work of removing his waistcoat, cravat, and shirtsleeves, all without leaving her body. He was forced to withdraw to remove his lower garments, his breath leaving him in a harsh rush as her tender tissues clung greedily to his length as he stepped back.

  She took a long moment to admire the perfection of his naked body. It was a sight she would never tire of. He was long and lean, so fit that every sinewy length of tight, hard muscle was rendered in stark relief beneath his smooth skin. Her gaze traveled from his shoulders to his feet and back up again, lovingly caressing him—every virile inch. He moved not at all, unabashedly affording her the pleasure of looking at him. By the time their eyes aligned, she was breathless with infatuation and potent desire.

  “You are exquisite,” she whispered, sliding her feet to the hardwood sole. She approached him and wrapped her arms around his trim hips, her lips pressing a kiss over his heart. “And priceless.”

  His returning embrace was so fierce it nearly crushed the air from her. “And yours, Jess. Never doubt it.”

  “I’m glad, because I am madly besotted with you.” She laid her cheek against his chest, breathing in the purely masculine scent that cloaked him. His heartbeat quickened at her words, proving what she’d begun to suspect—her fears were affecting him, making him anxious to cling to her as if she might drift away at any moment. An impossible notion to anyone who knew how anchored to him she was. But he didn’t know.

  “I wish you would say such things to me more often,” he said gruffly, as ever so brutally, vulnerably honest that he shamed her for being so reticent.

  “I don’t know how.” She leaned her head to the side as he began to unfasten the buttons securing the back of her gown.

  “You cannot do it wrong.” Alistair kissed the top of her shoulder, then bit her, his teeth sinking deep enough to border on painful. The feral act startled and aroused her. “Did you never discuss your affection for Tarley?”

  “The subject wasn’t one that came up in conversation. It was just there, between us, understood and comfortable.”

  He turned her away from him to loosen her stays. “That isn’t enough for me.”

  “I am falling so far, so fast,” she confessed in a low, shaken tone. “I cannot stop it or moderate it. I’m dizzy with it. My feelings for you frighten me, and so I expect their intensity will frighten you as well.”

  “Give voice to your fears, as I do.”

  Jess closed her eyes, knowing there was still so much to learn about him. It was her fault she knew so little about the events that had shaped him; she didn’t question him as he questioned her. She’d been trained not to pry, but she would have to break that training if she hoped to make Alistair truly happy.

  “I will try. You vocalize your affection without hesitation.” Her gown puddled around her feet. “I envy you that ease.”

  He divested her of her corset, chemise, and pantalettes with now-familiar expertise.

  “Have you—” Jess cleared her throat. “There must have been someone you cared for?”

  “Must there have been?” He stepped back.

  She looked at him over her shoulder. He waited, and she finally collected that he waited for her, anticipating the vocalization of why she’d stayed him earlier. “Lie on the bed.”

  He moved to do her bidding with sleek and graceful fluidity. He arranged himself in a half-reclined position against the pillows, his long legs stretched out before him, supremely comfortable in his nakedness. She reached the side of the bed and debated where to begin. His erection was an irresistible lure—thick and hard, curving up toward his navel—but she adored all of him.

  “Who was she?” she asked, suddenly jealous of the phantom woman—or few—from his past who’d seen him thusly.

  “You are so certain.”

  “You did not begin your sexual experience as Lucien, so I cannot be the only woman you’ve known carnally as Alistair.”

  He fisted his penis in his hand and stroked slowly, his heavy-lidded eyes unable to hide the look that said he was deliberately testing her.

  “You’re shameless,” she said in a husky voice, climbing onto the bed.

  “You’re naked. My cock aches for you.”

  And she was hot and wet for him, no longer on the sharp precipice of orgasm, but it would take him only a moment to arouse her back to that edge.

  When he reached for her, she shook her head. “I want you to lie still and take what I give you.”

  “Lie still? Are you mad?”

  “I shall tie you up, if I must.”

  “Jess … Damnation.” He glowered. “It has been seven days. Play your games later, when I’ll be more receptive.”

  She wrapped her hand around him, her breath leaving her at the heat and hardness of him. The tendons of his neck stood out in harsh relief, his teeth grinding as she caressed him far more gently than he did himself. She licked her lips.

  “No,” he bit out. “I’m too close to coming to enjoy your mouth properly.”

  “Fine.” She mounted him, tossing one leg over his hips to position her sex above his erection. She hummed a chastising sound when he grabbed her waist. “No touching.”

  “Bloody
hell. How can I see to your pleasure if I can’t touch you?”

  She smiled. “That’s the point.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but the words were strangled when she sank onto the broad, flared head of his cock. An unbidden whimper escaped her. The muscles of her thighs weakened, and she lowered, her slick sex sliding down his full, throbbing length. The entry was slow and inexorable, a fine tremor spreading across her limbs. Alistair bowed upward, grabbing her and burying his damp face between her breasts.

  His hips were already moving, circling, his arms holding her still as he screwed deep into her, seeking and finding the tender spot inside her that drove her insane.

  “Lie back,” she gasped, fighting her selfish desire to succumb to his skill.

  “Let me make you come,” he whispered starkly. “Let me …”

  “Not yet.” She shivered as he rocked her pelvis against his, applying pressure to her clitoris. “Stop. You promised!”

  He cursed and went still, his large body so hot it burned her skin. “Christ, Jess. What are you doing to me?”

  “I want to make you come,” she said, unwrapping his arms from around her. “I want to watch you when you do.”

  Alistair sank back into the pillows with a groan. With his eyes closed, he shoved his hands through his hair. He had beautiful arms. The bunching and flexing of his biceps made her sex flutter with appreciation around his rigid penis. He cursed, his abdominal muscles lacing tight with strain.

  Jess bent over him and pressed her parted lips to his. As personal as he claimed his orgasms with her were, he didn’t share them. Not truly. He ensured she was exhausted from pleasure and barely lucid first, then he climaxed with his face pressed into her neck and hair, clutching her tightly even as he hid from her. Even when she brought him pleasure with her mouth, he tilted his face up and back, hindering her view.

  He caught her head in his hands and angled it, taking her mouth the way he needed to, breathing in her quick exhalations as he stroked his tongue across hers. Her toes curled. Her nipples tightened in a silent plea for similar attention. His kisses were indescribable, the emotion behind them enough to break her heart. He kissed her with such passion, his lips clinging to hers, his tongue licking erotically.

  Deep inside her, she felt him lengthen and thicken. It made her stomach flutter to think he could climax just from kissing her. He broke away, panting, fighting the inevitable.

  Catching his wrists, she pulled his hands away and straightened. She laced their fingers together and lifted, sliding her sex along his cock in a satiny-slick caress. She lowered her body slowly, using his upraised arms as leverage, keeping them occupied so that he couldn’t shield his face behind them.

  Alistair’s breath hissed through his clenched teeth, his blue eyes so dark they looked like sapphires. He was flushed, his lips swollen from her kiss, his black hair tousled by her grasping fingers. She’d never seen anything as extravagantly beautiful in her life.

  Her heart swelled and caused her chest to ache. Rolling her hips, she lifted again. Lowered. Listened to the soft liquid sounds that betrayed her own raging desire. She watched him from beneath her lashes, searching for clues to his pleasure. How fast to stroke over him, how deep to take him, which angle made sweat bead along his hairline.

  “Jesus,” he gasped when she thrust down hard, his body quaking at the jolting impact. He was deep, the broad crown of his penis touching the end of her. The tension, strung wire-tight through his powerful frame, was tangible.

  Jess tightened her grip on his hands and began to ride him in earnest, pumping hard and swift, tightening on the upstrokes, releasing on the downstrokes. Taking him to that deep place inside her that made his head thrash and his legs kick restlessly beneath her.

  “Wait—” He struggled to sit up. “Damnation … Slow down!”

  “Let go,” she coaxed breathlessly, reaching behind her and between his legs to tease the taut heavy sac of his testicles. “I’ll hold you.”

  “Jess.” Alistair yanked his hand free of her grip and grabbed her hips. Holding her immobile, he pounded upward, his hips pistoning with such speed she could only grip his forearms and let him have his way.

  He gave a feral growl at the first wrenching spurt of semen and released her abruptly, his arms dropping to the bed so his hands could fist the counterpane. His back bowed up from the bed, his neck arching. The ferocity of his orgasm was magnificent, the way he bit out her name even more so.

  “Yes,” she urged, riding out his climax, holding off her own so that she could absorb every nuance of his release. She was riveted by his pleasure, awestruck that she could make him feel so strongly about an act he’d once disregarded completely. “God … you’re beautiful.”

  And totally vulnerable. Undone. Emotions raced across his face—pained ecstasy, need, love … even anger.

  Alistair rolled them both, taking her to the edge of the bed. He was thrusting before she could catch her bearings, grinding against her, the friction of his thick cock forcing the orgasm from her overstimulated body. She cried out as the spasms flowed through her, her fingers gripping his sides, her legs opened wide to accept everything he had to give her.

  His mouth covered hers, muting the sounds they made as they climaxed violently.

  I love you, she exhaled into his near-frantic kiss, no longer able or willing to contain the words or the sentiment behind them.

  In answer, he caught her close and crushed the air from her lungs.

  The dipping and swaying of the ship felt apropos to Alistair, whose existence was similarly rocked. His fingers tangled in and out of Jessica’s luxurious hair, his thoughts focused on the three little words he was almost certain she’d said to him.

  He knew from experience that women said such things in the throes of powerful orgasms and paid them no mind later. He knew she’d been flush with her own feminine power, finally understanding how easily she could unravel him and strip him bare. He couldn’t fight it when he was with her; he had no idea how to.

  And now she was so quiet curled up against him, their skin cooling and breaths slowing. For the moment, he was well and truly spent; the dearth of arousal left him with no distraction from his turmoil.

  Why wasn’t she saying anything? Why didn’t she repeat the words aloud?

  He began speaking only to save his sanity. “I began my sexual experiences as most randy adolescent boys do: with anyone who was pretty enough and willing.”

  “Dear God.” Jessica laughed softly. “I expect girls were throwing themselves at you shamelessly.”

  Though it was true, Alistair said nothing to that, having no desire to rouse any misplaced jealousy. “My eldest brother, Aaron, took me carousing with him one evening. I was nearly fifteen, and I wanted so much to be as worldly as he seemed to me. We eventually found ourselves at a small gathering in the home of a demimondaine.”

  Her head lifted. She looked at him. “At fourteen years old?”

  “Nearly fifteen,” he reminded. “And not very innocent, if I ever was. Remember, my mother was forced to explain early on why Masterson couldn’t bear to even look at me.”

  She folded her arms across his abdomen and rested her chin upon them. “He is the only one who could ever feel that way.”

  His fingertips drifted along her delicate jaw. “There was a courtesan at the party. I caught her eye, and she caught mine.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “She was slender. A blonde. Delicate looking, with pale blue eyes. Depending on her mood, they occasionally appeared almost gray.”

  “Oh …” Jess’s eyes became stormy. “Fortunate for me that I fit into your preferences.”

  He held back the smile certain to get him into trouble. “Actually, it was you who’d recently set my preferences, a fortnight before, when I met you. She just happened to fit them.”

  Confusion marred her brow, then a dawning awareness moved across her expressive features.

  “She was a poor substi
tute, I’m afraid,” he went on, his gaze lifting to the wall beyond her shoulder. “Nowhere near as refined as you. She’d long ago lost the ability to care for anyone more than she cared about herself, which suited me fine. I didn’t have to like her to want to fuck her.”

  Jess jolted softly at his crudity, but held her tongue.

  “For a short time, our affair was ideal. She found relief from her boredom in instructing me how to bed a woman properly, and I was an eager pupil. She taught me how to focus on the mechanics of the act, most likely in an attempt to prevent me from becoming emotional over her.”

  “Did it work?”

  “After a fashion.” He shrugged. “Perhaps not enough, because one day I arrived and found she had an acquaintance with her. Another courtesan. She wanted me to service them both, which I did.”

  Her arms came around him, slipping through the small gap where his reclined back curved away from the affixed headboard.

  “Soon one friend became two,” he said. “Sometimes she didn’t participate at all. She merely watched. There were other men as well, when she felt like having two or more cocks in her at once.”

  “My God,” Jessica whispered, her eyes big and dark in her pale face. “Why did you go? Why didn’t you leave her to her own debauchery?”

  “Go where? Home? My presence caused tremendous strain between Masterson and my mother. She was made miserable when I was around. Regardless, I never acted against my will. It wasn’t odious, Jessica. At that age, I had a cockstand damn near all the time, and her bedsport provided plenty of opportunities to alleviate it.”

  His voice was carefully light, but she must have recognized the underlying emotion. Her cheek rubbed back and forth across his stomach, her nose nuzzling through the thin strip of hair bisecting his abdomen.

  “I should not have pushed you so hard today,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

  Alistair snorted. “I cannot accept an apology for giving me the best orgasm of my life.”