An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2 (15 page)

“Perhaps,” murmured Nicholas in her ear. “It’s been over a week since we last made love. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“You’re insatiable,” Abigail admonished but she was grinning from ear to ear as he bore her out the front door of Thistleton Grange and over to a waiting carriage with the Barsby crest emblazoned on the side. A footman opened the door.

“Always when it comes to you,” her affianced replied, setting her inside then climbing in after her. He issued an order to the footman that they were to drive onto his townhouse in Bath and then the door slammed shut. And Nicholas pulled her into his arms. “Now, where were we, my love?”

“You were complaining about the fact I’m wearing stays.”

Nicholas grinned. “Not for much longer though.” He gave her a swift but ardent kiss then drew the red velvet curtains across the carriage windows.

Abigail’s heart began to gallop with unbridled excitement. “Do you really mean for us to make love in this carriage?”

“Why not? It’s at least five miles to Bath. We have plenty of time.” He kissed her cheek then her neck as his hand gently palmed her breast. “I’m game if you are.”

“You know I am.”

“Here, come sit astride me.” Nicholas helped her to straddle his hips. Abigail could already feel his erection; it strained against the fall front of his buckskin breeches and rubbed against her already wet folds as she moved with the carriage. The friction was exquisite and she bit her lip to stifle a moan.

That small sound seemed to trigger something in Nicholas. His eyes burning with need, he gripped her head then pulled her down for a passionate kiss. His tongue plundered her mouth, stroking her in a measured rhythm, reminiscent of what they were about to do. Fire licked through her, enflaming her desire to blazing proportions.

She pulled frantically at Nicholas’s cravat and pushed his coat off his shoulders. Attacked the silk-covered buttons of his waistcoat and tugged his shirt from his breeches. She wanted to touch him, explore the body she loved so well and Nicholas seemed happy to oblige. They broke apart from the kiss and Nicholas discarded every stitch above his waist so that within moments he was gloriously half-naked.

Abigail sat back a little so she could admire him, traced her fingertips over the broad lines of his shoulders, the sharp contour of his collarbones, the hardness of his heaving pectorals. She bent and whirled her tongue over each bronzed nipple and smiled when he sucked in a sharp breath. How she loved making him sigh and groan. Pleasuring him was aphrodisiacal for her as well; she would never grow tired of it.

“My turn, sweetheart.” Nicholas loosened the fastenings at the back of her gown and her stays. After Abigail shrugged out of the sleeves of her loosened bodice, Nicholas wrenched down her sagging corset and shift before seizing her bare breasts in both hands. He flicked his thumbs over the tight nipples before tugging one aching nub between his teeth. The sensation was exquisite and Abigail arched into his mouth, moaning, helpless with desire. When his teeth grazed a sensitive spot on her bare shoulder, arrows of lust shot straight to her slick, throbbing quim and she ground herself against his hardness. She was making a mess of his breeches but she didn’t care.

“Christ, sweetheart, I’ll come too soon if you keep that up,” Nicholas gritted out. She stilled and he tugged at her already loosened chignon and her hair tumbled down about her shoulders. He cupped her jaw with one gentle hand and rubbed his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “Look at you. You are so, so beautiful. I can scarcely believe you said yes and that you love me. That you are all mine.”

“Yes, I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.” Abigail smoothed his tousled black hair back and dropped a kiss on his forehead, then his eyelids and strong blade of a nose. His chiseled mouth. She rocked against him. “Take me, Nicholas. I want you inside me. I want you to spend inside me.”

“God, yes.” He reached between them and ripped at his breeches releasing his cock. His hot, hard, velvet-smooth shaft slid along her throbbing cleft and Abigail felt a fresh rush of moisture well between them. She was so aroused, it wouldn’t take much for her to reach her peak either.

Grasping Nicholas’s shoulders for purchase, Abigail lifted herself up then positioned her slick entrance over the head of his cock. Nicholas flexed his hips and nudged into her, teasing her and no doubt himself judging by the hiss of pleasure that escaped him.

Her gaze locked with Nicholas’s, Abigail slid with deliberate, torturous slowness down his rigid length until he was fully inside her. Buried deep. So deep. The feel of him, so hot and thick, filling and stretching her, was almost too much. Panting, she rested her forehead against Nicholas’s. “I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I love you too. Now ride me, sweet Abigail.”

How could she resist such an invitation? Gripping his shoulders again, Abigail set up a slow, undulating rhythm, rising up and then sliding downward, over and over again. Loving him with her body and her gaze. How she adored watching his face: his eyes heavy-lidded and glazed with lust, bore into hers; his high cheekbones were flagged with color; his jaw was clenched tight, and he bared his teeth as if she was driving him wild.

She couldn’t wait for him to lose control. And this time, she would make him spend inside her. They could truly be free with one another. The notion was beyond exhilarating.

Abigail began to increase the pace of her plunging and Nicholas leaned back, thrusting his hips, pumping his thick cock in and out of her with perfect precision as he held her around the waist. Her breasts bounced as she rode him and her breath came in short ragged bursts. She’d never felt so deliciously wanton and abandoned, delirious with passion. Her orgasm was building, her inner passage tightening. She was almost there.

And she sensed Nicholas was close to the edge too. His grip on her waist was almost painful and he’d thrown his head back; beneath his dark lashes, his eyes glittered with animal lust. The sight of him so far gone was her undoing and with a cry of elation she at last shattered around him, her sheath spasming so hard, Nicholas hurtled into blissful oblivion with her. On a deep shuddering groan, he thrust upward, his cock pulsing, throbbing, his seed flooding her womb in hot, brilliant bursts.

The pleasure was blinding, the mutual joy overwhelming as Abigail collapsed against Nicholas, burying her face in his neck. His pulse hammered beneath her lips and she smiled, completely exhausted yet utterly content. She’d never dreamed of finding such happiness in this life but somehow she had.

And it was all because of this man who held her and whispered her name like a prayer as his lips brushed against her ear.

She drew back from Nicholas’s tight embrace and sought his gaze. “That was completely improper and absolutely wonderful.”

“Just like you.” Nicholas kissed her nose. “Wonderfully improper. That’s one of the things I love most about you. Indeed, that’s what I loved about you from the very start.”

Abigail smiled and splayed her hands across his wide chest, enjoying the feel of his hard, sleek flesh. The pounding of his heart, which he’d declared was all hers. “I’m beginning to think you just want me for the sex.”

He brushed his fingers down her hot cheek. “I’ll always want you for the sex. But would you like to know what I want most of all?”

Abigail shook her head. “Tell me,” she whispered, her voice husky with tears and love. The look in Nicholas’s eyes was so tender, it wouldn’t take much to make her cry.

“To always make you smile. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days doing just that, my love.”

When Nicholas kissed her, Abigail was happy to note he tasted of tears of happiness too.

* * *

A
my Rose Bennett
has always wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. An avid reader with a particular love for historical romance, it seemed only natural to write stories in her favorite genre. She has a passion for creating emotion-packed—and sometimes a little racy—stories set in the Georgian and Regency periods. Of course, her strong-willed heroines and rakish heroes always find their happily ever after.

A
my is happily married
to her own Alpha male hero, has two beautiful daughters and a rather loopy Rhodesian Ridgeback. She has been a speech pathologist for many years but is currently devoting her time to her one other true calling—writing romance.

You can connect with Amy Rose Bennett at:

• @AmyRoseBennett
  
• AmyRoseBennett.Author