SoundsofLove (31 page)

“Of course. You’re more a lion than a deer.”

He smiled. “Beast. You can call me Beast if you want.” Her
eyes kept darting to his cock. “That’s how I feel around you. It’s a trial being
a gentleman with you—” She cut him off by grasping his prick firmly, sending a
blast of raw sexual energy ripping through him. “Dear God, Cat.”

“Cat doesn’t like gentlemen much.” She pulled him to his
knees in the best possible fashion and gave his prick an admiring once-over. “Cat
prefers to feast on wild…meat, I suppose.” She kissed his cock and the jolt of
desire set him back. “Have I upset you, Beast?”

His cock spoke for him, pointing straight at her,
shamelessly begging for more.

“Perhaps not.” She leaned forward and opened her lips wide,
taking him into her warmth.

She had a glorious mouth, and she clearly enjoyed using it.
He relaxed into the pleasure and savored the wet heat enveloping his prick. So
sweet. She rocked back and forth, increasing the depth of her ravishment and
adding more moisture with each delicious stroke. His balls began to tighten and
he backed away reluctantly. “That was grand, pet, but—”

“More, please.” She did not release him and continued to
stroke.

He would not come like a schoolboy, after only a few
minutes, and he would not come in her mouth. She deserved better.

But, she was beyond exciting, and it had been a bloody long
week. She put both hands on him and he stiffened under her firm caress. “Oh,
Cat.” She licked her lips enticingly when he became steely hard, and the tempo
of her silken hands increased, bringing him perilously close to the edge. He
rocked back with a bolt of sheer ecstasy as his cock erupted, spurting his seed
across the stone as she milked him dry. Her eyes were wide as she watched, and
even he was impressed when his erection barely subsided. “It’s been a very long
week.”

She nodded and finally dropped her hands away, still staring
at his erection. “For me as well.”

Now that his ardor was diminished, his guilt returned. He
bent over to kiss the lips he cherished, so recently defiled. “Thank you, love,
but…you seem too good to use in such a manner.”

Her answer was a scorching kiss. His head was spinning when
she broke away. “I want to be a good wife to a lusty man. I never want you to
feel denied.” She gave him a challenging look. “I know you can satisfy my
needs, and I want to fill all of yours.”

“You are the perfect wife.”

He adjusted a towel on the stone to cover the evidence of
his overexuberance, thankful for his stamina. Cathryn would not go unsatisfied
today. He jumped back into the pool, eager to pleasure her. “You have talents I
look forward to exploring in depth.” He swam up between her legs and stroked
her soft skin. “You’re so very beautiful.”

“You’re the first person to tell me so, and I thank you very
much.” She leaned forward and kissed him. Such sweet lips, soft and full.

“I’m sure many people have thought it.” Geoffrey appeared
more the fool with each new accounting.

“You’re the only one that concerns me.” She straightened and
his attention returned to her breasts. Leaning back on the towels, she smiled
at the comfortable cushion. “Much better, Beast.” Her legs drifted apart,
offering a tantalizing glimpse of his ultimate target.

“I live to serve you, love.” His hands stroked up her legs
and spread her enough to give him access to her body. He cupped her breasts and
tugged at her erect nipples as he considered how to pleasure her in this
position. Sucking on each peak and getting harder with each of her whimpers, he
dropped one hand to part her curls and seek her sex.

“Oh, Julian, I’m ready for you now.”

“Let me pleasure you first.” His hand was at an awkward
angle, but he managed to circle her clit with his thumb, drawing long sighs of
satisfaction from her. He pulled back and probed deeper with his other hand. He
stared at her curls and considered doing something he had never done before.
Gamahuching, larking or tonguing—he’d heard the practice called all three. He’d
given it little thought, until Vauxhall. Since then, the concept had grown in
appeal. He wanted to taste her, needed to taste her. His lips were only inches
from her sex, and he’d wager she’d enjoy his mouth as much as he did hers.

He spread her legs wider and leaned in, then he cupped her
buttocks in his hands and lifted her sex towards his mouth. Her clean scent
invited him in and he nuzzled her curls, shifting to part them with one hand
while supporting her with the other. Her clit peeked out at him and he kissed
it, pleased at her whimper.

“Oh, Julian, are you certain you should?”

“Yes,” he growled and he licked her slit with his tongue.
Delicious.

“Oh.”

That was the last word Cat uttered for the next few minutes,
although she said it dozens, perhaps hundreds of times. Each cry sent a
corresponding jolt of pleasure through Julian as he tongued her. He used his
fingers to penetrate her and soon found her slick and ready for his cock, but
he was determined for her to climax before he entered her.

Flicking his tongue across her clit, he heard her moans
intensify. Her cries shuddered and she stiffened as he deepened the pressure of
his mouth. Soon his face was pressed firmly against her, two fingers delving in
and out of her as he quickened the pace. A high keening cry rewarded him and
she stiffened for a considerable time, clenching his head between her legs as
her cries grew even higher in pitch. He didn’t stop until she grabbed his hair
and began panting wildly, pulling him away.

He’d never given a woman such a powerful orgasm. He barely
resisted the urge to pound his chest and howl his triumph. This was the best
feeling on earth. He’d never been prouder. His cock was hard as a spike, but he
should let her enjoy this moment.

He floated away and watched her lie back on the towels, her
chest heaving from her exertion. She turned her head and gave him a dazzling
smile. “Thank you, Beast.”

He swam up beside her, admiring the flush of her ripe body. “You’re
welcome, love.”

“I see that Violet was wrong…that night in Vauxhall.”

He shook his head, somewhat reluctant to admit his
inexperience. “She wasn’t wrong. Many men never…”

“Yes, not one in
Fanny Hill
.” Cat heaved a great
sigh, which echoed off the walls of the bath. “But you do…and very well, I
might add.”

He floated away on his back, his prick bobbing to the
surface. “I never had before.” This was a fine gift to her for their reunion
night. He was almost proud of his brand of virginity.

She sat up sharply. “Never?”

“Never.” His cock had always ruled the bed. In retrospect,
he’d been a selfish lover, never offering, thinking it somewhat inconvenient,
as he was eager to bury himself inside the woman’s sex. Penetration had been
what the women seemed to want.

She slipped into the water, still clutching the side. “I’m
glad you did today.”

He held out his hand and she was soon cradled in his arms.
He could hold her like this all day, but his cock was eager for another go. “I
shall make a habit of it, love. I enjoyed it nearly as much as you.”

“I doubt that, but I thank you all the same.” She flashed
him a brilliant smile that warmed his heart. “You’ve just earned more of my
love and respect.”

He lifted her out of the water and sat her down on top of a
towel. “Many women never…touch a man. You’re superior in that regard, as in so
many others.” He pulled himself up and out, dragging his hands through his hair
before reaching for her. “Are you ready to share more joy with me?” He helped
her up, his rigid prick bobbing between them as a constant reminder of his
intentions.

“Oh, yes, please. If you’re able, so soon.” Her genuine
response and blatant staring made him thicken further.

“I’m able.” He threw towels onto the wooden benches and led
Cat over. “Have you ever made love like the beasts?”

She laughed lightly. “Before you, only on my back, with most
of my nightclothes on. Very civilized coupling.”

“Not today.” Her eyes were wide with excitement as he bent
her over the top bench. “Although you can use towels—I don’t want splinters to
mar our honeymoon.”

She giggled as she complied, kneeling on the bottom bench.
Her fine ass beckoned him, and his cock wasted no time divining the source of
all pleasure. She was hot and slick and glorious. Julian wedged in several
inches with little resistance. A loud moan and the familiar chorus of “Oh
Julian” began. Her tightness needed time to stretch and he eased in and out,
cherishing the woman who would be his forever. He thrust forward and she backed
into him at the same time, causing him to penetrate deeper than he intended so
soon. Her moan seemed laced with pain and he stopped, embedded inside her. “Are
you all right, love?”

“Oh, yes, very much.”

Some women could not take all of him, and he hesitated, but
she wiggled her bottom, wreaking havoc on his senses. “Be a beast, Julian.”

A dam broke within him and he withdrew to her loud gasp,
then plunged into her, unleashing his restraint as she moved in unison with
him. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He grasped her hips and pulled her towards him, lost in the
pleasure of her wetness. “My sweet love.” He pounded her like the animal he was
inside. She screamed her enjoyment of each stroke, comfortably taking as much
as he could give. He could be his true self with this woman. She was perfect
for him. His equal. His mate.

His passion burst and his moans of release joined hers. Deep
inside her, he felt the hot gush of his seed and a dim thought of conception
passed through his brain. He wanted children with this woman, and he felt
certain they would come. Dreams of a grand life together washed through him as
he leaned over her back, thoroughly drained. Kissing her damp skin, a vision of
the two of them lounging on a beach entered his head. “Would you like to
honeymoon in the Mediterranean?”

She nodded her inclined head as her breath evened out. “I
should like to see Greece.” She straightened and turned to face him, so
exquisite she robbed him of his senses. “After our baby is firmly planted in my
womb, we can have whatever romantic adventures you want.”

Gorham House

November 17, 1838

“Our final order of business is Mrs. Burns’ discussion of
the word
murr
.” Julian addressed the overheated drawing room full of
fine gentlemen and ladies, mostly members of the Philological Society and their
wives. His hair covered his burgundy collar, and Cathryn found him utterly
enchanting, although the marchioness had declared him unkempt. The marquis and
his wife shared a couch near the door, flanked by two daughters and
sons-in-law. Fiona was notably absent but promised to be discrete at the
wedding tomorrow in Newtown Green. Rune and Violet sat beaming in a back row
with other meeting observers, in stark contrast to the many stodgy faces
present. Only Violet’s mother’s fierce objection to Americans appeared to stand
in the way of their happiness.

Julian started to step aside from his makeshift podium, and
Cathryn gathered her saffron skirt to accommodate him on the settee beside her.
“Before Mrs. Burns speaks, may I say that I have grown rather fond of the word
these past six weeks?”

Cathryn looked up to see him staring at her most
disconcertingly. “Lady Sibley and I owe our…affection for one another to this
strange new word, and to Mrs. Burns’ skillful matchmaking.”
We should have
saved the brandy for after the meeting. Julian rarely wears his heart on his
sleeve in public.
“I should like to thank her for her efforts in that
regard and for her part in our…” He glanced over to the duke and finished
carefully, “reunion.”

All day people had tiptoed around the duke and his crimes.
The gossip columns were still alluding to her abduction and his henchmen’s
involvement in Julian’s attack, dubbing him the Rapacious Royal. She caught Mr.
Clarke’s eye and shared a smile. They had completed the herculean task—the
Digenis
Acritas
was off to publication in the morning, and a fine piece of work. He
had done the bulk of the translating, supervised by her delighted father. She
had added minor edits, which even she admitted elevated the quality of the
piece.

Julian settled beside her and took her hand in his, setting
them both back into proper balance. They were simply best together, and she
shared his need to touch as much as possible. Every point of contact was a
comfort, and they saw no need to deny themselves when their wedding was
imminent.

Melina crossed the room and stared at the manuscripts piled
on a table. “I should like to point out that the gentlemen of the society are
doing themselves a great disservice barring Lady Sibley’s membership.” Cathryn
froze, squeezing Julian’s hand for support. He had done his best, but some
battles had to be fought in small pieces.

Melina glanced around the room. “Has any one of you
completed this volume of work…in four dialects?” She picked up a slim leather
book. The Greek poets. “Thirty thousand copies in the first printing—that
equals my bestselling novels, gentlemen.” Opening the book, she flipped through
a few pages before catching Lord Waldemere’s attention. “Have you read this,
Lord Waldemere?”

“Indeed. Lady Waldemere and I find ourselves gravitating
back to those verses each evening since they came into our possession.” He had
supported Cathryn’s membership earlier in the meeting, but he’d been alone in
his quest. Julian had pressed privately, but the answer was a resounding “no”
from each member. As President, he could do no more, especially when the
charter said specifically “gentlemen only”.

“Mr. Burns and I, as well.” Melina agreed. “Well, perhaps
the public success will be reward enough.” She set the book down and picked up
a tome. “Has anyone read this—the
Digenis Acritas
—other than the
charming young men from Oxford?” She walked towards Cathryn, still holding the
eight-hundred-page manuscript. “Have you read it, Lady Sibley?”

“Several times, but I was editing it.”

“Of course.” Melina held the thick volume high in the air. “Has
anyone else in this room edited a work of this stature?” She slammed the book
down on a nearby desk, flooding the room with a judgmental thwack. “She’s the
most intelligent, educated, accomplished wordsmith in the room, and you dunderheads
are too bound up to acknowledge it.” Melina was fighting mad, her eyes
flashing, fists clenched. “Her articles on literacy have inspired thousands to
read—she even volunteers to teach reading at the Chelsea poorhouse. Has any one
of you done as much?”

Her nostrils flared as uncomfortable silence filled the
room. A few men cleared their throats and ladies glared at their mates. Cathryn
sank into the settee, wishing she could disappear. Julian appeared to be
enjoying the spectacle, grinning like a fool, but Cathryn was mortified. How
could they face these men again?

Julian patted her hand before releasing it. “It’s all right,
love,” he whispered, rising to his feet. “Thank you, Mrs. Burns.” His voice was
strong and clear, with no hint of anger. “I’m sure I speak for all our members
in thanking you for that kick in the backside.”

Melina’s wrath flipped, and she flashed a bright smile. “You’re
welcome, Mr. President.”

“Yes, I think we are all clear on your sentiments.” He
turned to face the room. “I, for one, am proud to have Lady Sibley in my sphere
of influence. I know she will improve my scholarly endeavors as she does the
rest of my character.” He looked about with a pleasant smile, as if Melina had
not just ripped most of them to shreds. “I finally know what it is to have a
better half.”

Cathryn beamed at the compliments, and several of her female
acquaintances shot her congratulatory looks.

“I suspect many of the gentlemen in this room have an
equally high estimation of their own wives and daughters but tell them so only
in private.” A ripple passed through the crowd as women and men exchanged
meaningful glances. “Gentlemen…and ladies. I must agree with Mrs. Burns. We do
ourselves a disservice. Indeed, we do society a disservice, when we ignore the
contributions of able women.” His eyes darted from one capable female to the
next as he circled the room, and his voice deepened with emotion. “We place
every obstacle in their way…deny them access to higher education…treat them as
playthings and shackle them with arcane laws that limit their freedoms—making
them little more than slaves.” His hands clenched as he spoke, and when he
looked at Cathryn, she saw the flame of repressed rage he depended on her to
douse. She nodded encouragement and hoped her love showed on her face.

He inhaled deeply before continuing, his voice softer. “And
yet, we cherish them and trust them with our hearts and souls.” He smiled at
Cathryn, and the others disappeared. From across the room, she felt his
connection, and she saw only him—impossibly handsome, brilliantly gallant and
as desperately in love with her as she was with him.

He broke his gaze away with an awkward chuckle, and she
realized they had made a scene with their public display of attraction. She
opened her fan and tried to cool her ardor, terribly inappropriate for this
distinguished reception. Julian cleared his throat and turned with a grand
sweep of his arm. “We are at a turning point in history, gentlemen, and I, for
one, would rather have the ladies on my side as we plunge forward into the
industrial revolution we are clearly powerless to keep in check.”

He gave the crowd time to settle, keeping his heavy eyes on
Cathryn. “Lady Sibley and I plan to visit Greece in the spring, and after that
my new interests relate to…domesticity.” He loved her from across the room in a
blatantly sensual manner that should have embarrassed her but didn’t in the
slightest. This was her man, and she was proud he claimed her so openly. She
wiped away a tear of joy.

As if thinking aloud, he straightened and smoothed his
lapels. “I hereby resign my presidency of this fine society, effective…as soon
as a replacement is found. It’s been a privilege and an honor having served
you.” His sincere smile didn’t falter as he gathered his few papers from the
meeting. “If there is no more business for the general membership…” He glanced
around at the stunned assembly, leaving Cathryn as astonished as the others. “You’ll
have no trouble finding a new president, please send nominations to Lord
Waldemere.”

Why is he doing this?
Cathryn’s mind was awhirl with
this new development.
Is he doing this in protest? Or is he doing what he
says when we’re alone—that he wants to enjoy our love in relative seclusion for
a few years?
Julian and children, without the politics of London, without
Fiona. That was her deepest desire, and he had done his part. Her chest
constricted and she wished her corset looser. In the country, she would forego
the tight style and wear only more comfortable garments.

Waldemere stood and addressed the group. “A round of thanks
for Lord Ahlquist. He’s been a fine leader and we wish him, and Lady Sibley,
well.” Polite applause broke out among the gentlemen, but the ladies rose in
unison and clapped loudly for an unfashionably long period of time. Cathryn
looked around and saw tears streaming down the faces of many of the women.
She’d thought herself the only one soaking a handkerchief, but it seemed an
epidemic. Pandemonium erupted as ladies pushed forward, ignoring their
husbands.

Julian looked at her across the crowded room, caressing her
with his warm gaze for a long moment before the female stampede hit them both.
Cathryn accepted the high-pitched accolades wordlessly, grateful when Julian
braved the herd and made his way to her side. He circled her waist and pulled
her close.

She turned her head and whispered, “You’ve just earned a
great deal more of my love and respect.”

His smile dazzled her, and she wished them back in the
baths. “It’s a fine goal to have. Makes my decisions much easier.”

She melted into him, ignoring the clamor that surrounded
them. He was her shelter in the storm of life. United, they would realize both
their dreams.

A kiss was out of the question in this milieu, but she
nuzzled her head on his shoulder, raised her face and
murred
her
contentment.

He returned the sound as he pulled her even closer. “Perhaps
I’ll write a novel of my own, so I can use that word in print.”

The end.