The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) (32 page)

“Please, do not get up on my account, as I would join you.” Confused, he reassumed his position amid the cushions, as she sat beside him. “Might I ask a favor?”

“Sweetheart, you may have whatever you wish.” He winked. “As I am in a mood to indulge your every fantasy.”

“Perfect.” She scooted closer, until she nudged his thigh with hers. Then she settled her gaze on the robust bulge at his crotch. “I have never seen a naked man before.”

“I would hope not.” Her fascination fueled an already wicked erection, and he shifted his hips beneath her ardent scrutiny. “Our bodies are rather different, but we are fashioned to link as one, and the union is quite natural.”

“Will it hurt?” She bit her lip, and he almost spilt his seed.

“No, angel.” It was, perhaps, a testament to the depth of his regard and her influence over him that the mere discussion of coitus had him teetering on the brink of sweet release. And her surprising but most welcome curiosity only fed his hunger. “If you follow my lead, and do exactly as I say, you should feel only pleasure, as most virgin’s pain stems from anxiety.”

“That is what the Brethren wives said.” How earnest she seemed, as she studied him. “May I?”

Now that request he had never seen coming.

Incapable of forming a coherent response, he nodded. To his shock, he damn near exploded, when she unhooked his breeches and drew back the placket.

“Goodness, now I know why Sabrina calls it the one-eyed pirate, as it looks rather angry.” That gem of brilliance was just the levity he needed to break the tension investing him. As she inclined her head and made an in-depth study of his most prized protuberance, he gritted his teeth. “Might I touch you?”

She was going to kill him.

“My dear, I am yours to do with as you will.” Brave words from a man on the verge of shaming himself and his sex. When she grasped his length, he tensed and groaned, and she recoiled.

“Was that bad?” She fidgeted. “Did I injure you?”

“No, sweetheart.” He wrapped an arm about her shoulders, toyed with a lock her of guinea-gold hair, and kissed her temple. “It is just that I have dreamed of you, like this, so many nights. Now that you are here, I can scarcely believe the reality.”

“And what is this?” She smeared the drop of moisture about the plumb-shaped tip. “Is this normal?”

“It is perfectly normal.” He closed his eyes. “And it means I desire you, so very much.”

To his infinite thanks, she emitted something between a sob and a sigh and set her mouth to his in an inexpressibly endearing affirmation—just as she worked him. With her fledgling assault, he grabbed her wrist. On the second tug, his gut clenched, and on the third, he let fly an effuse volley, which shot forth in a jetting rush. Covering her hand with his, he dropped his head against the back of the
chaise
and taught her how to milk him dry, as he grunted and groaned in blessed relief.

After what seemed as hours but was only a few blissful minutes, he resurfaced from the exhilarating oblivion to discover his wife smiling at him.

“I did it.” Spattered with the proof of his ardor, she all but bounced with enthusiasm. “I am a veritable Delilah.”

“Oh, I would say you did it, all right.” Dalton chuckled, as her good humor was infectious. “And you have no idea how much I needed that.”

“And now I know I can satisfy you.” Was it his imagination, or had she appeared proud of her accomplishment? “I feel so powerful.”

“Did you ever doubt it?” When her ebullience faded, he sat upright. “Daphne, you must know I desire you.”

“But Lady Moreton said I could never satisfy you as she satisfied you,” she murmured.

“Angel, I hope this does not make you think ill of me, but I am aroused by the mere sight of you.” Standing, he secured his breeches, shrugged from his shirt, pulled her from the
chaise
, and led her to the bedchamber. “The subtle rush of your breath, the gentle lilt of your voice, the slightest glimpse of your blue eyes, and I am inspired to the heights of passion such as I have never known. I would argue the opposite is true, as no woman could ever satisfy me as you satisfy me, and we have yet to make love.” In seconds, he untied the ribbon and whisked the soiled chemise over her head. Then he knelt before her and pressed his face to her belly. “I am your most unworthy servant, Mrs. Randolph. But I shall endeavor to deserve you, every day, for the rest of my life.”

“My one true knight, you are more than worthy.” In that moment, his wife bent and caressed his cheek. Then she retreated, eased to the mattress, and flicked her fingers in entreaty. “Now make me yours.”

Again, she astonished him with her overt surrender, but he should have expected no less from his bride. Dirk had called her formidable. Surely, that was an understatement. After divesting himself of his breeches, he sat on the edge of the four-poster and brushed the hollow between her breasts with his knuckles.

“I need you to listen carefully, as I want you to know what I am going to do, so I will not startle you.” Dalton glanced at the table, collected all manner of items that might function as projectiles, and either deposited them in a drawer or relocated them to the dresser. “In order to prepare you, I am going to kiss you, right here.” With caution, he grazed the supple flesh at the apex of her thighs. “Have I shocked you?”

“No.” Despite her response, she appeared nervous. “Rebecca insists there is much to recommend it.”

“She discussed such behavior with you?” Bloody hell, he needed to attend more tea parties. “And your actions in the sitting room—who told you of that?”

“The Brethren wives sought to allay my concerns, and I am grateful for their counsel, else I might have swooned just now, so do not be angry with them.” She squirmed. “And Alex swears Jason raves about what she calls naughty finger work.”

“Upon my word.” At that, Dalton burst into laughter. “But I never knew my sisters engaged in such licentious conversations.”

“You would be surprised.” Her eyes flared, as he assumed a comfortable position between her legs, which he pushed further apart.

Slowly, he bent and expelled his breath to her soft little curls, and she shrieked. Watching his every move, she moaned, as he flicked his tongue to her taut nub. But when he probed her pliant folds, and delved deeper still, she grabbed a pillow and hugged it over her face. Savoring her unique essence, he licked her slowly, in a monotonous cadence, letting her adjust to his tempered invasion.

A series of muffled sighs played an arresting accompaniment, and he worked himself, in concert. At last, she relaxed and stretched her limbs, heavy with diverting languor, and he knew she was with him.

Dalton reached up and slid the pillow from her grasp. With her lips parted, her breathing had slowed, and her lushly lashed lids were closed, so she had not noticed he had removed her makeshift shield. Fastening his mouth to the jewel of her desire, he suckled hard. She cried out, and he flipped her onto her belly, so he could pay homage to her shapely backside, which he had admired the night of their initial acquaintance aboard the
Siren
. How he cherished the memory of her glorious derriere, as she had bent over the stores in the hold.

Sparing not an inch of her succulent bottom, he indulged every fantasy he had conjured during their courtship. And again, his wife serenaded him with a priceless audial tapestry of pants and sighs he would carry to the grave. When he feared he could take no more, he rolled her onto her back, closed his lips about her tender core and pressed on her a decadent massage intended to entice and arouse. With every swirl, swish, and swipe of his tongue, she all but melted into the downy surface, until telltale rigidity signaled she had soared into rapturous paradise.

Moving swift and sure, Dalton rose above her to witness her virgin release, and uncharacteristic tears blurred his gaze, as Daphne stared at the canopy, clutched her throat, and emitted an achingly sweet scream. Settling his hips to hers, he bent and kissed her rose-tipped breasts, as she whimpered, lost amid the throes of ecstasy. Perfectly positioned, he claimed her in a single powerful thrust.

And so it was done.

Forever, Daphne was his, and her untried sheath enveloped him in scorching slick heat. Summoning patience, and resting on his elbows, he framed her face and set a slow and steady rhythm, as he waited for her to join him in the dance.

At last, she peered at him. “So I am yours?”

“Yes, angel.” He rubbed his nose to hers and showed her how to lift her heels and hug him with her thighs. “You are mine, and I am unequivocally yours.”

With an expression of wonder, she wound her arms about his neck and bestowed upon him a feminine smile, and Dalton Randolph, rake, rogue, nautionnier knight, and the lucky one, was lost.

#

A ray of shimmering sunlight peeked through the heavy drapes, as Daphne rubbed her eyes and sat upright. Clutching the sheet to her chest, she glanced at the left side of the four-poster and discovered her husband gone. Naked, she shimmied to the floor and winced, as she ached in places she had never known she could ache. Then she walked to the washstand.

After scrubbing her face and cleaning her teeth, she strolled to the window and peered at the world beyond the glass. The sky boasted a brilliant cerulean backdrop dotted with puffy white clouds. And then memories and bits of time flashed in her brain. Bodies bumped and grinded, hands caressed, lips met, and tongues tasted, accompanied by a heady concert of Dalton’s husky grunts and groans and her feminine pants and sighs. Revisiting cherished memories of all her husband had done to her, all he had given her, she hugged herself and smiled.

“Good morning, my gorgeous wife.” She started and whirled about, just as her husband, bare-footed and wearing only his breeches and a navy silk robe, rolled a trolley into the room. “And it is a very good morning, indeed. Hungry?”

“Starving.” Prior to last night, she would have been distressed, to say the least, by her state of utter nudity, but her knight had made it clear he preferred her sans clothing. And the heat of his stare, even now, galvanized her courage, and she thrilled to the power she wielded over him. “What is for breakfast?”

“You mean lunch?” He lifted the silver domed covers, to reveal slices of ham, gooseberry cheese, Bath buns, black butter, and white grapes. “It is almost two, my sleeping beauty.”

“What?” She returned to the bed, as he prepared a tray with two plates. “I have never slept so late. Then again, we were awake for the better portion of the night, engaging in your favorite activity.”

“And I intend to lock you in here, today, as I have yet to sate my senses with you.” He poured a cup of tea, served her, and then sketched a bow. “So eat your fill, as you need to replenish your strength.”

“You are shameless.” Her pronouncement might have been convincing had she managed to stifle her grin.

“That is not what you said last night.” Dalton swaggered to his side of the bed, stripped from his robe and breeches, and joined her. With a quick swipe, he nabbed a plump grape, bit it in half, and offered the juicy morsel to her with his lips. Of course, the simple gesture soon spiraled out of control, as he kissed her—and kept kissing her. And then her belly grumbled. “Bloody hell, it sounds as if you swallowed a monster.”

“I did, in the wee hours, with your precipitate tutelage.” And in the heat of the moment, she had forgot Sabrina’s instruction, using a rather large banana, and had scraped his stout pirate with her teeth. That had brought their close action to an abrupt halt, but he had compensated admirably, with a rapidly deployed diversion. Despite efforts to the contrary, Daphne giggled. “I hope I did not cause permanent damage.”

“Not at all, as I am rock-solid whenever you are within reach.” He tempted her with a bite of ham. “And to show you I hold no grudge, we can attempt another lesson, after we eat.”

She cooed. “How magnanimous you are, my handsome husband.”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea. And I intend to be generous with my knowledge and expertise, well into the evening.” Waggling his brows, he smeared strawberry jam over her nipple and proceeded to lick her clean. “While I am loathe to spoil our wonderful meal, I must apprise you of the arrangements I have made on our behalf.”

“Oh?” She returned her cup to the saucer. “What manner of naughty business have you been about?”

Dalton opened and then closed his mouth. “My saucy wife, I like the way you think. But I am in earnest, as I would keep you safe from harm, and we have yet to identify the blackguard threatening you.”

“I am so sorry.” The ugly reality of her predicament intruded on their sanctuary, and her appetite waned in an instant. “Would you think me silly if I said I wished we could stay here, in your private apartment, forever?”

“On the contrary, I find you unutterably alluring and winsome.” He fed her a nibble of bread. “And it is all I can do to grant you a brief respite, as making love to you is my new favorite pastime. With the goal of increasing my proficiency in said hobby, I directed my solicitor to sell the townhouse, and I engaged a broker to help you select our next residence, as I will purchase nothing that makes you unhappy.”

“But what of you?” Given the significance of his gift, her heart sang. “Have you no requirements? And where shall we stay, in the meantime, as it could take weeks to find a new home.”

“I have but one demand, my angel.” Grasping her wrist, he drew her hand beneath the covers, whereupon she found him hot and hard. “We will share a master suite. However, if your choice does not meet my stipulation, we will hire a contractor to make the necessary renovations, if you approve. And Dirk and Rebecca have invited us to remain at Randolph House until we locate a suitable property.”

“Then everything is settled.” Daphne pulled free, pushed back the counterpane, lifted the tray, and conveyed it to the trolley. Then she paused, glanced at her gallant knight, and retrieved the porcelain jam pot. Driven by boldness learned in his ardent embrace, she returned to the bed and scooted next to her husband.