Demon of Mine (37 page)

She slipped a
hand between his cheek and the hard edge of the wooden chair he’d
fallen asleep in, unable to resist burying the other in his hair,
which had fallen over one closed eye in a dark arch.

His coal-black
lashes lifted from the fair skin beneath his eyes, fluttering as he
came awake. “Elsie!” All traces of sleep quickly faded from his
eyes, leaving them wide and shining. “How long have you been
awake?” His glance darted toward the bed, where the hollow in the
mattress marked where she’d slept so recently.

“
Only a moment,” she replied, unable to resist wrapping her
arms around his neck.

“
How do you feel?” He stood, resting his hands lightly on her
shoulders, as if afraid of hurting her. His hard cock shone a
little light on his forced delicacy when it brushed Elsie’s belly,
teasing her through the thin fabric of the simple gown someone had
dressed her in. It certainly offered more coverage than her wispy
shift had, but without any undergarments beneath, it was still
decidedly sparse.

“
Perfectly fine.” She crushed herself against him, pressing her
body against his.

He groaned,
finally wrapping his arms around her. His cock was trapped between
their bodies, rigid. “I was dreaming about you,” he said, as if in
explanation.

“
What about me?” She shifted against him, unable to suppress a
smile when he groaned again. Little bits of her own dream were
beginning to come back to her, causing her core to dampen as his
erection teased her, awakening desires the frightfulness of the
past twenty-four hours had mostly managed to suppress.

In
answer, he swept her feet out from under her in one deft movement,
cradling her for half a moment before depositing her on the bed.
“Would you ra
ther I
told you or showed you?”

“
Show me.”

“
Very well.” He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it
aside. She barely had time to admire the broad slopes of his
shoulders and hard lines of his torso before he peeled off his
pantaloons and stripped until he was completely naked. His erection
stretched toward her, long and stiff, surrounded by a bed of dark
curls. Her core tightened at the sight, nearly paralyzing her with
longing. When she’d dreamed, she’d dreamed of this.

“
Help me out of my dress.”

He settled on
the edge of the bed and slipped his hands beneath the hem of her
skirts, running them up her thighs and dipping his fingers into the
wet cleft between. They slid easily over her slick flesh, and he
didn’t hesitate to push a finger inside, sending a spike of sudden
pleasure through her core as he curved his finger and stroked a
particularly sensitive spot. She gasped, aching for more. She could
see his cock, as hard as ever, a drop of moisture glistening at the
tip. Her channel tingled and tightened as she thought about Damon
burying it inside her. “In my dream you were touching me
too.”

“
What?” Elsie gasped, reluctantly abandoning her fantasy of
spreading her thighs wide and feeling Damon sink his cock between
them.

He quickly
undid the few buttons at the back of her gown’s collar and pulled
it over her head. “Your fingers were wrapped around my cock.” He
took one of her hands in his and guided it to his crotch, pressing
her palm against his stiff shaft. “Let me show you.” He closed his
hand around hers.

She curled her
fingers around his erection, letting him guide her through the
first few strokes simply because she liked to watch him touch
himself, and this was the second best thing. When he pulled his
hand off of hers she slowed her pace, taking the time to run her
thumb over the thick, blunt tip and feel the hint of dampness that
had spilled from it. He moaned, the sound escaping through his
slightly parted lips.

“
Kiss me, Damon.” Her lips burned for his.

He pressed his
mouth against hers, his tongue slipping inside to claim hers. She
gladly eased herself down against the mattress when the weight of
his body pressed against her, opening her thighs so that he fit
perfectly between them, automatically brought to the brink of
entering her. She still clutched his cock and took advantage of the
fact, guiding it so that the tip brushed her damp, tingling folds,
daring him to enter her. It was every bit as much a tease for her
as it was to him – perhaps even more so. He kept his hips perfectly
still as he dipped his tongue deeper into her mouth, allowing her
to continue, but not giving in.

She brought
her hand down the length of his shaft, pushing her fist until it
met firm flesh and dark hair. He groaned, ending their kiss as he
shifted his hips, pressing the tip of his cock into her. Her
channel tightened in response, aching for more. She relinquished
her hold on his erection, freeing him to give it to her.

He eased into
her, filling her just as she’d imagined, slowly stretching her
ready flesh. It was a deliciously tight fit.

“
God, I missed you Elsie.”

Her kidnapping
hadn’t lasted long, but she understood his meaning. Worry over when
she’d see him again had made the day seem longer than it was. And
perhaps it was because they were newly wed, but even one day was
more than she preferred to spend away from him. If she had her way,
he’d take her like this, in their own bed, every night. “I love you
Damon.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tight
against her, so that his cheek brushed hers and his face was buried
in her hair. “I suppose I should thank you for rescuing
me.”

He raised his
head as far as her tight embrace would allow. “What, this isn’t
thanks?” He flexed his hips, pushing his cock deep into her. “I
assumed that leaping onto me as soon as you woke was your way of
expressing gratitude.” His lips brushed her cheek as they curled in
a smile.

“
Not really. The truth is, I’d been dreaming about you
too.”

“
Well in that case,” he said, pausing to fill her with another
slow stroke, “you should save your thanks for later. I’m afraid you
owe most of your gratitude to people other than me.”

She gasped for
a few moments, waiting for him to be still so she could reply.
Gradually he slowed, finally pausing. “Nonsense. You’re always
trying to take the blame and avoid the credit. I know you too well
to be fooled, Damon.”

“
Just wait until after this. I’ll tell you the whole story.
You’ll see.” He pushed into her, filling her quickly and
thoroughly, allowing her no chance for a rebuttal.

She moaned,
tightening her grip around his neck and brushing her lips across
his cheek as a wave of pleasure rolled through her core, promising
more. Her nipples were hard, peaked and tingling beneath the
comforting weight of his body. She pressed her face into his hair,
breathing deeply, taking in as much of his scent as she could.
There was no reason not to be greedy – he would always be there for
her, whether she only wanted to feel his embrace or needed rescuing
from a kidnapping. He was her husband, after all, and the benefits
of being Mrs. Damon Remington clearly outweighed the
dangers.

5
Months Later

“
Elsie, there you are. I’ve been looking all over the house for
you. I have wonderful news.”

Elsie turned
from where she’d been sitting in a chair by the bedroom window,
working on a bit of embroidery in the lilac evening light. She
wasn’t very good at needlework, but it was Lucinda’s latest craze,
and she’d given Elsie a basket of supplies as a gift. She put down
her pathetic attempt at a rose pattern and smiled at Damon. He’d
been out on business with his father all day and she’d waited for
him at the London house, eagerly anticipating his return. “What is
it?”

He was looking
unusually cheerful for having spent the entire day with his father.
Usually he came home from such a day tired and discouraged, ready
to flee to the country house for at least another fortnight. She’d
quickly discovered that the easiest – and most enjoyable – way to
cheer him up on those occasions was to pull him into bed. He hardly
looked as if he needed that now, though the gleam in his dark eyes
and the excited curve of his full, sensual lips caused her to
glance askance at the large four-poster anyway.

He crossed the
room in a few long strides, resting a hand on her shoulder and
pausing to politely admire her lackluster embroidery. “Father and I
had a very serious discussion today.”

Elsie’s
interest peaked. Damon didn’t usually smile while making such a
statement. “Oh?”

“
Yes. Elsie, he’s going to America.”

“
America
? Is it
some sort of business trip, then?”

“
Not a visit, no. He’s means to set up there. Indefinitely. He
wants to pursue new business opportunities in
Philadelphia.”

Elsie’s
stomach lurched, and she shot a cautious glance at the excited
gleam in Damon’s eyes. “Does he mean for us to go with him?” She
gazed at the cityscape that stretched beyond the window, already
feeling homesick. Surely Damon didn’t hate London enough to want to
abandon England and start over in Philadelphia…did he?

“
No, no. He and mother are going alone. We will remain here,
where I will take charge of all our business in London.”

Elsie leapt up
from her chair, throwing her arms around Damon. “Truly?” She’d
watched him agonize over the ruthless way his father ran his
factories often enough to know that this was a dream come true for
him.

“
Yes. He’ll be leaving for America in one month. After that,
I’ll be left to manage the factories here.”

Tension Elsie
hadn’t realized she’d been carrying left her as she considered
Damon’s news. It had been five months since they’d married, and
although Damon’s parents had come to accept her as his wife and
part of the family, she was never completely comfortable during the
relatively little time she spent in their presence. With the
Atlantic Ocean between them and peaceful, if distant, relations
still maintained… She couldn’t keep from smiling. She would have
felt guilty over her gladness to see her mother and father-in-law
go, had Damon not been so obviously overjoyed. And then there were
London’s factory workers to consider, who would benefit from the
humane standards Damon had spent years waiting to introduce. “This
is all so perfect.”

“
I
know.” Damon pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his cheek
against the top of her head. “Let’s go out,” he said, pulling away
from her after a few moments and turning his gaze toward the
window. “It’s a beautiful night. Will you join me for a walk to
celebrate?” He extended his hand in invitation.

“
Do
you mean it? Weren’t you going to go out tonight?”

“
It’s Lucy’s turn.”

Elsie placed
one of her hands in his, snatching up a bonnet and a spencer jacket
with the other. “I thought you two were taking turns every other
night?” The crime level in London had returned to the realm of the
ordinary after Lord Griffith and Véronique Renard had met their
ends nearly five months ago. Still, Damon continued to patrol the
nighttime streets, though he was no longer alone in his task. After
helping to rescue Elsie, Lucinda had decided to continue ‘lending a
helping hand to the oppressed’, as she put it. Rumors had begun to
circulate around the city of a beautiful ‘avenging angel’, spoken
mostly in hushed, almost reverent whispers. Lucinda took pride in
the title, and while Damon seemed to find the stories amusing,
Elsie knew he was grateful for her help.

So was Elsie.
Damon’s moods had improved markedly since his sister had joined him
in his crime-fighting efforts. He blamed himself for less and had
seemingly finally accepted that he was not responsible for every
misdeed that was done within the city’s limits.

“
She’s been eager for extra nights lately,” Damon replied. “I
think the avenging angel rumors have gone to her head.”

“
She had her favorite dressmaker come today to measure her for
some new black gowns,” Elsie said, smiling as she pulled on her
jacket.

Damon helped her by tying her bonnet’s wide emerald green
ribbon –
the
color to
be seen in, according to Lucinda – beneath her chin. “Ha. I’m not
surprised. She’ll use any excuse for a new wardrobe.”

“
Where shall we walk to?” Elsie asked as they strode out into
the hall.

“
Over London Bridge?” Damon suggested. “The moon is full
tonight – we’ll be able to see its reflection on the
Thames.”

Elsie agreed
as they descended the staircase.

Jenny was
crossing the foyer with a small stack of linens tucked under one
arm. A steel ring hung from her apron, jingling with dozens of
keys. The previous housekeeper had retired a few weeks ago, and
Mrs. Remington had chosen Jenny – at Elsie and Lucinda’s suggestion
– as a replacement. She was probably the youngest housekeeper in
London, but she was more than competent in her new role, and the
Remingtons had never been known for being hampered by tradition
anyway.

“
I
heard the news,” Jenny declared, smiling. A thin white scar crossed
her throat, but the wound had healed cleanly, and she bore no other
evidence of that night in the townhouse.