The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (28 page)

She rested her hands on the floor to steady herself as she bent forward and touched her lips to his crown. Then she parted her lips, sliding them slowly over the hot, smooth flesh. He threaded his fingers into her hair and held her head.

With his other hand, he still held his erection, as though he believed she might have difficulty using only her mouth, even though he’d requested she do just that. A prickle of unease sprang to life within her belly.

She had overestimated her experience with men and sex. This she had just learned in the past twelve hours. Was she really as skilled at this manner of pleasing a man as she believed?

Freddy had taught her.

Freddy had never been further than Edinburgh and a brief stay in London in his bachelor days.

James had been all over the world. And he would have known women from different cultures, from all over the world.

Would she compare unfavorably with those others? Would she seem too inexperienced?

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse.

She froze in her position with his cock halfway in her mouth and she glanced up at him.

He let go of her hair and motioned for her to pull back and release him. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She complied, feeling his flesh slide from her mouth with a sense of loss. “I-I don’t think I am half as experienced as I thought I was.” Her voice rose at the end, turning the statement into a question. She stared at him, waiting for his response, her heart lodging in her throat.

He stared at her, his expression taut.

Heavens! What was he thinking?

“I mean how can I possibly compare to the vast experience you must have? You have been all over the world and—”

He traced along her wet lower lip with his thumb. “You’re doing excellently. Now relax for me, don’t worry. Just show me what you know.” He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Another time, I shall show you what specifically pleases me.”

She nodded. But she felt foolish inside for having worried, for having done whatever she had done to draw his attention to that worry.

He gently pushed her hair back then traced his thumb along the shell outline of her ear. “I liked what you were doing.”

She stared at him, hoping he was telling her the truth.

He traced her ear so slowly. “I liked it very much.”

She nodded again and, hoping she could redeem herself as an adequate mistress, leaned forward and opened her mouth and slid over him once more. Encompassed him. She moved slowly, oh so slowly. She loved the sensation of a man’s flesh against her lips, her tongue. She wanted to draw the sensation out, to savor it.

It had been so very long and the previous night, when he had taken control over this act, things had moved too quickly to be truly satisfying.

James’ cock was so huge, so hard. Male magnificence.

He threaded his fingers into her hair, lightly gripping her head. Though he made no other move, no sound, she could feel the tremor in his hands. She kept moving languidly, tilting her head back and swallowing until she had swallowed him whole, feeling the head snugly lodged in her throat. The sensation of being filled sent currents of joy and pure feminine satisfaction coursing through her. Her blood fairly hummed with it. She moaned.

He groaned and his hands tightened in her hair. At the sudden, sharp pain, gooseflesh rose along her nape. Her nipples drew tight. She drew back to the point where he almost popped from her mouth, and then she clamped her lips and swallowed him again, more swiftly this time. And more swiftly the next, adding a gentle suction, paying close attention to the subtlety of his responses, the change in his breathing, the throb of his flesh, before gradually increasing it.

Then his hips jerked. Once, twice. He’d been holding himself still. Still as stone. It told her that she’d hit that sweet spot between too little and too much stimulation. Or, at least, she had come very close. Though her legs were shaking with fatigue from having been so long on her knees, she repeated the exact measure of suction, the exact speed of her withdrawal and swallow.

He made a guttural sound that might have been a groan, might have been a curse, and his hands tightened even more in her hair. “Hold still,” he said, tersely.

Her heart began to hammer with anticipation.

He jerked his hips, quick and hard. Once, twice, thrice.

She kept up her suction whilst he kept thrusting. Then he froze. The surging, quaking roil within his flesh shook her. The excitement made her a bit faint. It seemed as though his hands, wound so tightly into her hair, were the only thing holding her up. He thrust hard, harder. Deep. His come jetted into her throat. He kept coming and coming. She hurried to swallow, to keep up.

He released her hair. He touched her face, lightly cupping her jaw, and withdrew then leaned his head down against hers.

She fell down off her knees, sinking to the floor, but he caught her shoulders and held her up. His harsh, convulsive breaths shook her. She had come to rest with her hand on his chest and felt the strong, rapid beat of his heart remain the same even as his breathing grew incrementally quieter.

Then his mouth covered hers, open, hungry, hot. He sucked her very breath away as he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, again and again, until she had to press her hand to his chest and plead for air.

He stood towering over her, still fully dressed in his dark blue suit, his cravat not crushed even the slightest bit. But his trousers were open, his cock jutting from them, still half-erect. He bent and gathered her into his arms. For a moment, it seemed he cradled her to himself. But maybe he was just shifting her weight as he lifted her into his arms.

He deposited her on the bed.

She sank into the feather bed. How blissful its softness felt! She had not realized how utterly exhausted she was.

Had the baggage cart arrived? Would there be time for her to catch some sleep before they must resume their journey?

He stared down at her, hooking his fingers where his cravat met his neck, tugging it down but making no move to fasten his trousers. His gaze traveled the length of her body, and as it did, his rod lengthened, becoming fully erect again.

She felt her mouth fall open. She had not realized a man could…well, surely not so quickly.

He peeled off his coat, tossing it to the foot of the bed.

Then he fell onto her, kissing one breast whilst his hand cupped the other. He pressed his erection to her leg.

He licked a nipple.

She gasped. “Surely, you can’t—I mean not so quickly?”

He lifted his head and chuckled, the sound breathless. “Well, not usually. Not in many, many years.” He bent his head again and kissed her breast, his mouth open and hungry.

“Oh.”

“You do that to me. You are an enchantress.”

His rod throbbed against her, hot liquid gushing onto her flesh. Then he rolled away from her, onto his back. “Straddle me.”

At his softly spoken command, she jerked her head up and met his gaze. “What?”

“Come, straddle me.” He motioned to the area over his groin.

“I’ve never—”

“Obey me.”

She caught her breath. Desire slammed into her belly and wetness flooded between her legs.

“Catriona.”

Her name was a warning. He would be obeyed. She didn’t wish to test him. Even though she felt awkward, self-conscious and aware that he was watching her intently, she crawled over to him and moved to straddle him.

He took his cock and rubbed her cleft. At the touch of that silk-over-steel heat, her nub swelled and sparks of delight shot up through her belly.

“But why like this?” She had never thought of a man and woman being joined like this. None of her naughty novels had described it. No, they had focused on the man being atop the woman, driving into her. That seemed proper. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

“I want you, madly,” he said, echoing her words from earlier. “If I were on top, I would fu—” He paused, briefly. “I would take you too hard, too fast. You are too newly opened for that. Let’s take this at your pace.”

He held his cock and pressed it to her entrance.

She lowered herself, and his flesh slid inside her, heated slickness against heated slickness. She felt soreness but she didn’t care. Having him snug within her was simply too wonderful. It was bliss. She gasped as his crown pressed up against the mouth of her womb. She felt a little foolish. Now that she was on top of him, she didn’t know what he wanted her to do next. She drew her brows together. “What should I do?”

“Ride me.”

Glancing down, she took in his narrow hips, his flat, hard-muscled stomach, and the line of jet-black hair that led down to his erection.

His mighty, proud erection.

Had there ever been a man with more bonny form? Goodness, she couldn’t imagine it. And for now, James was all hers. At last, he was completely open to her sexually.

A thrill of desire tingled through her. But how to actually…

She laughed nervously. “I have never been much of a horsewoman.”

She thought she saw a faint smile cross his lips.

“I am sure you are more able than you think. You have lived all this time in the country.”

“But I was born and raised in the city. We always took carriages or walked. Mama said walking was good for the soul.”

He put a hand on each of her hips and gave a gentle yet firm tug downwards whilst arching his hips up. His cock pressed more insistently against her. “Do you like that?”

“Oh! Yes, I like it.” Her voice shook for he had rocked his hips again and the sensation continued. His gaze riveted on her breasts and it came to her that he was purposely rocking her for the sheer pleasure of watching them bounce.

He stopped rocking her and reached up and cupped both breasts. “Do what pleases you,” he said, giving her breasts a light squeeze.

He grasped her by the hips and pulled her down upon him, all the while arching up. His cock pressed against the very mouth of her womb. It sent the most piquant thrills through her. She gasped then pressed back, increasing the sensation.

He caught her gaze. His eyes were glowing with lusty enjoyment, and he gave her a slight smile. The sense of shared enjoyment struck her. Having a man actually inside her, knowing that he desired her, knowing his moment to moment pleasure from every twitch and jerk of his flesh embedded within her, well, she had never imagined the intensity of feeling.

The intimacy was shattering.

She gulped against a swelling within her throat and leaned forward to press her face into the angle of his shoulder. The energy had suddenly drained from her body. No, it was more that she couldn’t cope with the flood of emotions. Tears were flowing from her eyes.

He murmured something. He caressed her back.

She found herself crying all the harder. Her body went completely limp.

The warmth of his lips touched her eyelids, soft as a butterfly’s wing. The tenderness shocked her. Made her catch her breath.

He did it again. She held her breath, barely daring to breathe for fear he would stop. But he kept on kissing her with that tender, light-as-air touch. On her eyelids, her temples, her cheeks.

She released her breath in a sigh and twined her fingers into his hair.

He moved along with those soft kisses. Down to her earlobes, her neck.

Her breasts.

She sighed again, releasing not just the angst of a few moments past, but what felt like a lifetime.

“James.” She heard the softness in her voice, the surrender.

And the plea.

He groaned, a deep, hungry sound. He grasped her hips and thrust up inside her.

Fierce.

The suddenness of his change stunned her.

Thrilled her.

On a moan, she arched downwards to meet the next vigorous thrust.

Another thrill slammed into her.

Once, twice, thrice, he thrust again, so ardently that it rocked her very bones. She moaned over and over and held on, letting the joy of it rock through her. A loud, ragged groan escaped his lips. His body jerked against her. His cock quaked within her. The hot flood of his seed jetted inside her.

“Catriona.” His voice rang with awe, pleasure, satisfaction.

Happiness flooded her. Supreme feminine gratification so strong that it swept away her anxiety in the wave of passionate pride to have pleased him. She pressed her face to his chest, inhaling the slightly musky scent of his sweat and smiling with the joy.

* * * *

The rattle of the carriage, the feel of movement, should have been soothing to James. He normally enjoyed any kind of travel. But today, every bump and jolt seemed to accentuate his sense of disquiet.

Catriona appeared to be sleeping in the seat opposite him.

He didn’t believe that she was. The tension of her thoughts seemed to resonate on the air. It settled into his guts. His bones.