The Princess in His Bed (26 page)

The moonlight hardly reached this side of her aunt’s home. It was darker and secluded by the row of shrubs and bushes they’d slipped through.

Vincent ripped off his mask and tossed it to the grass, a smile on his seductive mouth. He pulled his justacorps off his strong shoulders and tossed that to the ground as well.

A fresh wave of arousal flooded her body.

“You’re not wearing your cloak, Emilie. That pleases me.” His long skillful fingers were undoing his vest.

She pulled off her mask and wig and threw them to the ground, her eyes fixed on the male perfection before her—slowly disrobing.

He tossed off his vest and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his breeches, his linen shirt still on.

“Are you wearing your caleçons?” The darkly seductive quality to his voice made her shiver.

“Perhaps.”

He lifted a brow. “
Perhaps?
You’d better not be wearing your caleçons, Emilie. Or I’m going to have at that pert little derrière of yours before I have at your sweet sex.”

A thrill tickled down her spine. That sounded more appealing than deterring.

He took a step toward her. She took a playful step back, keenly aware of the slickness between her legs. She loved how he made her heart race and her blood warm. Everything he said, every look he gave her, made her feel wild and wicked. And beautiful. It was almost inconceivable. His effect on her was so potent, she wondered if she could ever satisfy her desire for this man with just one lifetime.

“Lift up your skirts and show me if you have your drawers on,” he said.

She felt so wonderful, it was difficult to keep a straight face. “That’s an order. And as I’ve said before, I don’t take orders.”

He bolted for her. She squeaked in surprise, grabbed her train, and ran. Vincent caught her around the waist in short order, and brought her down with him onto the soft grass.

The next thing she knew, he had both her wrists in one strong hand pinned to the ground above her head, his body half covering hers.

Staring up at his handsome face, she panted, not from the exertion of her run, but from his tantalizing proximity.

He smiled, and with his other hand grabbed a fistful of her skirts. “Now we’re going to see if you’ve been a good girl or a bad girl, Emilie.” Slowly, he dragged her skirts up her legs, the fabrics lightly brushing against her bare skin. When he’d pulled them to her hips, his smile broadened. “Ah now, there’s a pretty sight. No caleçons. Just soft blond curls . . . so very wet with your juices.” He cupped her.

Softly, she moaned, spread her legs a little farther, and arched into his warm palm.

“You want me to take you, don’t you, Emilie?” he said, caressing her sex with rhythmic strokes, but maddeningly they never reached as far as her throbbing bud.

“Oh, yes . . .”

She wiggled and arced, desperate for friction against her clit. With her wrists firmly pinned above her head in his hand, and his leg securely over hers, her movements were limited.

“I love it when you squirm,” he said. “It’s an arousing sight to behold,
ma belle
.”

He lightly flicked her clit, then returned to his previous long luscious caresses over her erogenous flesh. Her frustration erupted from her throat. She writhed and twisted, still trying to rub against his elusive palm.

He chuckled. “You want your clit rubbed, Emilie?”

“Yes!” Dear God, she was dying for it. He was driving her to the brink of insanity.

“Well, you have been very good . . . no cloak . . . no caleçons. I suppose I should reward you.”

“Good. Open your breeches and give me my reward.”

He laughed. “My, my. Aren’t we saucy.” He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “That sounded like an order. I should tell you, I don’t take orders.”

He thrust three fingers into her. She cried out, the pleasure of being filled quivering up to the tips of her breasts.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this perfect snug sex.” He pumped his fingers in and out, each stroke sublime. “As eager as I am to ride you, I’m going to taste you first.”

He pulled his fingers out. She whimpered at the loss.

Holding her gaze, he brushed his slick fingers over her bottom lip, applying her essence to it. Stunning her. Before she could react, he lowered his head and licked the juices off, then crushed his mouth to hers and drove his tongue inside. He kissed her hungry and hard. She tasted herself and him in her mouth, his intensity making her head spin.

His hand was at her bodice, finishing the job he’d commenced in the corridor. Pulling and tugging with practiced haste until he’d opened her bodice. Then his hand and mouth were gone. She opened her eyes to find him kneeling between her legs, pressing his palms against the grass on either side of her head. “I’m going to remove the gown and the stays.”

Alarm shot through her.

He must have seen it. He brought his mouth down onto hers, his hand slipping inside her bodice, where he found her raised nipple and pinched it through her chemise. She cried out into his mouth, his perfect twists and tugs spiking her fever.

He broke the kiss. “You want to come, don’t you, Emilie?”

She closed her eyes and let her head loll to one side, the sensations at her breast echoing in her clit. “Yes.”

“The sooner we remove the gown and stays, the sooner that will happen.” He pinched the nipple, drawing another cry from her throat. “I’m going to make you come with my mouth. Then again with my cock.” Holding her nipple captive, he pulled her chemise down, tucked it under her other breast, and drew the excited tip into his hot mouth. The voluptuous sensations streaked from her breast down to her aching core. Her sex responded with a warm gush.

She was trembling with need, with uncertainty, her mind awhirl.

“
Dieu
. Every part of you tastes so good.” He released her breasts and gazed into her eyes. “I’ll leave you in your chemise, but this night the gown and the rest go. What say you, Emilie?”

“I . . . I don’t think—”

He pressed his fingers against her lips, silencing her. “You trust me, don’t you?”

She gave him a shaky nod.

“You don’t have to think . . . All you have to do is lie there just as you are, on your back, and enjoy,” he said, removing his fingers from her lips. “What say you,
ma belle
? The chemise remains. Will you let me remove the rest?” He cupped her breast and gently grazed his thumb across it. “Say yes . . .”

If she stayed on her back, he wouldn’t have access to the ugly marring.

She swallowed, her desperation to have him giving her the fortitude to push the word off her tongue. “
Yes.”

His pleasure at her response showed on his face. Vincent wasted no time removing her gown, pulling the article off with her aid and very little trouble, and tossing it aside.

“If it gets ruined, I’ll buy you ten more,” he said, attacking her stays and discarding them with as much ease. He tucked the loosened neckline of her chemise under her breasts and pushed the hem up to her navel, then sat back on his heels.

“Ah, Emilie . . . you are so very beautiful,” he marveled.

Emotions tightened her throat. She couldn’t respond. She was grateful for whatever miracle brought this man to her.

He spread her folds and lightly scored his thumbs up and down her slick sex. “You look utterly delicious. A treat no man would pass up.” He lowered himself and nestled between her thighs.

Emilie braced for the thrill of his mouth.

Warm lips pressed against her inner thigh. She flinched on contact. He trailed light bites and hot kisses toward her sex, getting closer and closer. Her pulse racing, she tensed, knowing what he was about. This was something she’d told him she wanted in one of her letters. Had asked several questions about it after learning of it in one of her books, but never—ever—had she actually imagined it happening—with
him
.

He lowered his mouth onto her and gave her a luscious soft lick from her opening up to her throbbing bud, sending her arching off the grass with a cry.

“Emilie—” He reached up and toyed with her nipple until she focused her eyes on him. Her breathing was labored. “As much as I like your heated reactions, and they are delicious,
ma belle
, you’re going to stay very still for me and let me savor you.”

“Savor quickly.”

Amusement entered his eyes, despite the clear desire reflecting back at her. “Was that an order, Emilie, because I don’t take—”

“Please . . .”
she quickly added. Damn him. He was toying with her when she was on the verge of expiring on the spot with lust.

“A plea for pleasure . . . That I can’t deny.” He lowered his dark head, eased his tongue inside her, and slowly drew it out. Sucking her. Kissing her. Licking her. The light sensations over her ultrasensitive sex making her whimper. She fought not to squirm, not wanting to give him any reason to stop.

He licked around her clit. She fisted the grass and squeezed her eyes shut, sensing his next move. Waiting for it. Desperate for it. Her legs trembled near his shoulders.

He closed his mouth over her engorged bud. She bit back her wail of delight; her body jerked as he gave her soft steady sucks. Each pull of his mouth raced her closer to a powerful orgasm that was ever-nearing. Unstoppable. Barreling toward her. Then he lightly bit her.

Ecstasy exploded inside. She drove her hips up hard against his mouth, pleasure flooding her senses, her sex contracting in rhythm with her wild heart.

He continued to lap at her sex, her juices, cherishing her private flesh with an unfed hunger. Tirelessly enjoying her until she quieted, boneless, her legs leaden and sprawled apart.

She didn’t care if she was lying on the grass, exposed to him. She felt no shame. Just an overwhelming sense of bliss.

Vincent rose to his feet between her legs. Holding her gaze, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, and licked his bottom lip clean of her essence.

“I love the way you taste,” he said with such raw hunger in his eyes, it sent a quiver through her womb. A surprising reaction given the magnitude of her climax.

She watched him strip off the remainder of his clothing, luxuriating in his strong chest, his rippled abdomen, her gaze moving all the way down to his large cock. It held her attention as he knelt down between her knees. Memories of his talents with that particular part of his male anatomy swirled through her system.

She sat up and reached for his shaft. Wrapping her fingers around its base, she stroked his sex up to the crest of his cock and back down—in the very way he’d described in his letter when she’d asked where and how men liked to be touched. He briefly closed his eyes.

“I want to taste you, Vincent.” She felt him tense.

Gently, he pulled her hand away from his prick and leaned into her, forcing her onto her back once more, and lowered himself on top of her. “Two things, Emilie. First, I don’t like the name ‘Vincent’ much. I don’t want to hear it during sex.”

Before she could comment on his rather absurd statement, he stroked his cock along her wet folds, grazing her clit and making her gasp.

“Second,” he continued. “As much as I’d love to have my cock in that beautiful mouth—and I most definitely will next time—I have to get back inside that slick tight sheath of yours. Now.” He lodged himself at her entrance and pushed.

She lost her breath the moment the crest of his shaft slipped inside her. A groan rumbled out of his chest, shimmering through her. He bore down on her, deliciously forcing her sex to stretch as he fed her a glorious inch at a time. His slow and steady possession incited a fresh, fierce hunger.

“
Dieu
, I love how you’re even tighter after an orgasm.” His voice was hoarse.

He withdrew, and just as he was sliding back in, she became impatient and jerked her hips upward, forcing the head of his cock to collide with her womb, making them both gasp.

He growled her name and buried his face in her hair, his labored breaths matching her own, warming her neck. Softly he said, “You feel so good . . . I’m throbbing so hard.”

So was she. Her feminine walls pulsed around his large thick cock.

Lightly, he bit her earlobe then the sensitive spot under her ear. “Lovely Princess Emilie, you are an enchantress . . . and more heaven than any mortal man has the right to.” He began to slide in and out of her.

She laced her arms around him.

She didn’t know how he did it, but his words were like a balm. Taking away years of pain. Transforming her. Had any other man uttered those words, she would have dismissed them, convinced he was mocking her. But from Vincent’s mouth, he made her believe the unbelievable.

Because she trusted him.

Because she loved him.

She sought out his mouth and kissed him with a mix of love and lust. Pulling her arms from around his neck, he pinned her wrists to the ground, picking up the pace, giving her deep solid thrusts. Pinned under him, all she could do was take each one, sensations radiating out from her core to her entire body in dazzling waves with each downstroke. She reveled in his strength, in every plunge and drag as he rammed her with unbridled abandon. Violently aroused, she was swept up in his sensual storm.

Light pulsing inside her sex signaled the beginnings of her climax. She strained against him, trembling on the edge. “I’m going to . . .”

Her orgasm slammed into her, ripping a scream from her throat, sending violent spasms through her core and around his thrusting cock.

He growled and grunted, driving into her unrelentingly until the spasms began to ebb. Then he jerked his cock out, crushed her to him, and groaned long and hard against her neck. His body shuddered, his muscles tense and taut as he spent himself on the grass between her legs.