A Rogue for All Seasons (Weston Family) (32 page)

“No,” she lied, afraid he would stop if she said otherwise. The pain wasn’t that bad, just a sharp sting, really.

“Thank God,” he muttered. He covered her mouth with his and thrust deep, seating himself within her.

She hissed as the pain intensified.

Henry stilled, his stricken face looming over hers.

“I’m all right,” she reassured him, dredging up a small smile. “Truly, I’m all right.” She was telling the truth this time. The hurt was fading, replaced by a sense of fullness. “You’re inside me,” she whispered, marveling at the way their bodies fit together.

He groaned at her words. “You were made for me,” he told her, beginning to pull away.

She ran her hands over the smooth muscles of his back, holding him to her. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never.” He pushed back inside her.

“Yes,”
she breathed as he began to move on her, in her, to a rhythm that stole her reason. Every part of her body was expanding, threatening to burst out of her skin, even as she was tightening all over.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, and they both caught their breath as the movement brought him deeper inside her. She licked at his chest, his shoulder, any part of his flesh her mouth could reach. He was hot, his skin damp and salty with sweat, and he tasted more delicious than any meal that had ever been set before her. Of course, food had never made her feel as good as Henry made her feel right now. She inhaled deeply, the muscles of her sex clenching around him as she breathed him in. Male musk and heavy rain.

“Christ,” he swore. “I can’t last much longer, sweetheart.”

He plunged into her harder, faster, deeper, and she could feel herself sliding closer to that sweet oblivion. His features tight with determination, he shifted his weight to one arm and reached between them. She tracked the movement of his hand to the place where their bodies joined, and even before he touched her, she began slipping over the edge. She grabbed him, trying to hold on. She wanted to go, but not without him.

“Fly with me, Di,” he panted against her ear, as he flicked his fingers over the nub at the top of her sex.

She wailed his name as she tumbled into ecstasy, starbursts exploding behind her eyes as her body shook apart into a thousand tiny pieces. She dimly heard his hoarse shout as he followed her, spilling his seed inside her before he collapsed over her in a sweaty heap. When he tried to lift off her, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him in place.

She would keep him inside her forever if she could. He was heavy, but she welcomed the weight, savored the way his heart throbbed in his chest. Her heart pounded too, as if it were straining up to reach his. They were so close right now, and the connection went beyond the physical. In this moment, they were of one mind. One heart. One soul.

Soul mates.

She’d always thought the term referred to like souls, but she’d been wrong. Henry was nothing like her, but he made her whole. She pressed a line of kisses down his jaw. She felt ecstatic and at peace. Complete. Henry fit her as perfectly as he had promised. He’d been referring to their bodies, but he also filled the empty spaces in her heart.

Was this how all married couples felt for each other, or rather, the couples in love? This unceasing whirl of attraction, affection, and need. She wondered now how she could have ever contemplated marrying Sir Samuel. She couldn’t imagine giving herself this way to any man but Henry. She couldn’t imagine spending her life with anyone but Henry. Fortunately, there was no need.

It still seemed too incredible to be true. He’d given her so much. He’d brought her to life, tending her like a fragile flower until she bloomed. She thought her heart would burst from loving him. She was giddy with happiness, but hard on the heels of that thought came the horrifying realization that she’d tied her happiness to Henry. Once again, it was out of her control.

Her parents had once been married and in love. Did that mean her mother had needed her father like this, that he’d completed her in the way Henry completed Diana? How had she survived the loss?

Her heart ached, and tears welled up and spilled over her cheeks.

“Did I hurt you?” Henry asked worriedly as he wiped her tears away, a frown creasing his brow. “Was I too rough? ”

She shook her head. “I’m just so… very happy.” Her voice caught on a sob.

He slid out of her and rolled onto his side, bringing her with him. He smoothed her hair off her face with exquisite gentleness, and his eyes were tender as he gazed at her. She knew now with absolute certainty that losing him wouldn’t just break her heart; it would destroy her. She closed her eyes so Henry wouldn’t see the surge of terror that shot through her.

She couldn’t know the future, she told herself. She and Henry would be fine. They wouldn’t destroy any lives. She suddenly thought of the little packets of herbs Martine had packed in her portmanteau. She had no control over her own future, but she could make certain that, whatever happened, no child of hers would ever suffer the rejection she had. She squeezed her eyes tight against another flood of tears.

“Rest, love,” Henry said, tucking her against him, “because as soon as I can manage, I plan on making us both very happy again.”

H
ENRY AWOKE WITH A SMILE
on his face, happiness in his heart, and an ache in his cock that he knew just how to cure. He wasn’t sure if it was the months of enforced abstinence, the church’s blessing, or some combination of the two, but bedding Diana had been the most amazing sexual experience of his life. His wife was an innocent—though she was a fast learner—but lovemaking with her had taken him to unimagined heights. Making love—perhaps that was the difference.

He rolled onto his side to look at her, pride and possessiveness filling him. His
wife.
He was beginning to understand why some of his friends seemed so happy with their shackles. With Diana, he saw shackles in an entirely new light. He envisioned her shackled to the bedposts, helplessly awaiting his every desire…

He reached out and ran a finger down Diana’s back, tracing the delicate line of her spine. She lay on her stomach, her head pillowed on her arms, that incredible hair spilling around her. Early morning light sneaked in around the heavy curtains casting a glimmer glow on her porcelain skin. His mouth had learned every sensitive inch of her back last night. He’d set out to kiss all of her freckles, but he’d become distracted halfway down. If her yells were any indication, she hadn’t minded. And he wouldn’t mind another taste of her. He felt his smile widening, stretching across his face in an undoubtedly idiotic grin.

He shifted closer and pressed a kiss to one shoulder. She didn’t stir, so he hooked a finger in the sheet pooled around her waist and pulled it off her. She had one knee hitched up, and his heart leapt—along with his cock—at the sight. Even in slumber, she offered herself to him.

Henry slid his arm around her waist and rolled her onto her side so her back fitted against his chest. He rubbed his chin against her silky hair as he lightly trailed his fingers over her ribs. She wriggled and batted at him as if he were an insect. The press of her buttocks against his aching flesh had him groaning with wanting to be inside her. His fingers slid to the rounded swell of her hips, over the soft flesh of her belly and then down through those scandalous flaming curls to her core.

“Wake up, Di,” he whispered between pressing feather-light kisses to her temple, her cheek, her chin. “It’s time for me to love you again.”

She made a sound that was at once incoherent and definitely negative, kin to the one he’d heard yesterday in the carriage. His wife didn’t like having her slumber disturbed. He made a note of it, and then proceeded to ignore it.

He chuckled as he raised himself up on his forearm. “I’ll have to change your mind then.” He skimmed his teeth over the shell of her ear and lightly nipped her earlobe as he cupped her sex, rubbing his palm against her. He knew the moment she awoke; her muscles tensed and her breathing hitched.

“Good morning, wife,” he murmured against her neck. “And it’s about to get better.” He probed at her entrance with his middle finger and found her tight, but hot and damp. She gasped as he began to slowly press inside and moaned as he retreated.

“Are you sore?” he asked.

She shook her head. He hadn’t seen anything yesterday when he’d bathed her woman’s flesh, but she’d been a very unwilling participant in that inspection. He’d never seen her turn quite that shade of red before. Still, he’d torn through something to make her bleed, so after the first time, he’d restricted his loving to his hands and mouth. He’d been a gentleman, and he was proud of himself. He was ready to reclaim his status as a rogue.

He stroked up her cleft to circle the bud at the peak of her sex, setting up a steady rhythm. She rewarded him with an erotic symphony of breathy cries and guttural groans, pierced now and again by the keening wail of his name and a great deal of blasphemy.

Stroking his hand over a sleek, freckled thigh, he caught hold of her knee, lifted her leg and rested it atop his. He placed the tip of his cock against her and rolled his hips, slowly working inside her. He gritted his teeth at the exquisite sensation of being wrapped in hot, wet silk. Her inner muscles pulsed softly with the echoes of her pleasure, trying to coax his seed from him.

His breath caught at the thought of watching Diana’s stomach grow round and taut with their babe. He’d teased her about children before, but he’d never thought much beyond conceiving them. Difficult to believe he was thinking past that right now, but mixed with his need was an exuberant joy that took the face of a chubby-cheeked child with copper curls.

How incredible that he’d complained of feeling adrift only months before. His life had direction now. He had a purpose. He had an estate, a stud that would prosper and thrive under his guidance. He had a wife. In time, they would build a family together.

He gathered Diana closer, rocking their bodies in a gentle, easy pace, trying to prolong the pleasure. His hand rose from her curls to toy with her breasts as he nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck. She smelled like orange blossoms and sated woman.
His
sated woman.

“Di,” he murmured.

She turned her head to look at him, her hazel eyes reflecting all the need and desire he felt. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. He leaned forward to kiss her, knowing he would never grow weary of her taste, never tire of hearing the hitch in her breathing when his tongue touched hers.

When she began to push back against him, his fingers sought out that tiny bud once more. He swallowed her moans as he drew lazy circles. Diana writhed in his arms, torn between the need to press back and take him deeper or to press forward against his fingers. He made the decision for her as he pulled himself from her velvet grip and urged her onto her knees. She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide with yearning and a touch of apprehension.

“Trust me, love. You know I would never do anything to hurt you.” He placed a tender kiss at the base of her spine, just above the lush swell of her bottom. She nodded, her hips tilting in a subtle invitation that he was more than willing to accept. He positioned himself at her entrance, grabbed her hips, and slowly pushed into her. After a few easy thrusts, he pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed home.

Diana cried out, her sex clamping around him like a satin fist. Her arms buckled, and she collapsed to her elbows on the bed. He paused, but she shook her head. “Don’t stop.” She ground her head against the mattress as she clawed at the sheets. “Don’t stop. Oh, God, don’t stop.”

He surged into her, riding her through her climax. He fought the urge to spill his seed, desperate to make the pleasure last as long as possible, but he knew he wouldn’t last long. He placed one hand down on the mattress and molded his chest to her back, wanting to be as close to her as possible. He reached beneath her with his free hand and stroked her nubbin, already swollen with desire.

“Henry—” she gasped. “I can’t— It’s too much!”

“Again,” he insisted stubbornly. He began to pluck at the sensitive flesh, willing her to go over the edge once more. His spine tingled in warning as his ballocks drew up. With one last hard thrust, he let out a hoarse shout and gave himself over to the demands of his body. Diana cried out a moment later, her inner muscles drawing his seed in a rhythmic caress that left him entirely exhausted and utterly replete.

Henry had just enough presence of mind to withdraw from her and collapse onto his back beside her so he wouldn’t crush her beneath him as he had before. Even as he struggled to catch his breath, he found himself reaching for her, pulling her near. The satisfaction he knew when she curled into him and laid her head on his chest was as heart-stopping as the physical pleasure had been.

“I think you’ve killed me,” she muttered.

“Likewise.” He groaned and patted at her hair, which was all the movement he could manage. “I understand now why marriage is a sacrament, Di. Making babies with you is the closest I’m going to get to heaven on earth.”