Desire Me Always (19 page)

Amelia seemed reluctant, standing at the threshold of the door, looking beyond the parlor and then looking at him. Her indecision was clear, but she held her head high and came into the parlor, taking Nick's hand as she sat beside him on the sofa.

“When I heard Nick was awake, I had to stop in,” Victoria said, standing. “I was so thankful to hear he had pulled through the ordeal. For now, I have a hundred things I need to take care of. I will stop in again soon, Nick.”

Amelia stood when Victoria did. “I can see you out.”

“I can find my way.” Victoria slapped her gloves in her hand. “I suppose felicitations are in order, Mrs. Riley. I wish you two a prosperous marriage.”

Nick grinned. Of course she wouldn't wish them one filled with love, laughter, and a healthy family.

“Thank you for stopping in, Miss Newgate,” Amelia said, not bothering to reach out and take Victoria's hand, as friends might do.

Nick put his feet down and clumsily stood. The motion caused the stitching in his shoulder to pull. He ignored the twinge of pain and leaned into Amelia's side for support. Her arm went around his back, but she didn't act as though she was holding most of his weight against her.

Victoria inclined her head toward them both before leaving.

When his friend was gone, he pulled Amelia into his side, his hand firm at her hip. “Where have you been all morning?”

“Joshua was giving me instructions on baking a pie.”

“A pie?”

“Mrs. Coleman insisted that keeping my hands busy would help ease my worries.”

“Are you thinking of Shauley?”

“How could I not?”

Nick let Amelia go and fell back to the sofa. His breathing was slightly heavier than he would have liked. The effort to stand had been taxing.

“Nick. What have you done to yourself?”

“Strained my arm. I'll be fine.”

Amelia tugged at his trousers, trying to free his shirt so she could get at the bandage on his shoulder.

“My lady, who knew you liked a man unable to do anything more than give his lovely wife verbal commands.”

“Don't tease me, Nick. You've hurt yourself. I want to make sure you haven't opened up the stitches.”

“I haven't. Stop fretting. If they didn't open yesterday in the bath, they won't open when I stand on my own.”

“How can you be so sure?” She continued to pull up his shirt. Nick aided her where he could, but otherwise, he reserved his energy, knowing he'd need it for something more pleasurable if his wife wanted to strip him out of his clothes.

“I have pulled stitches before. I'm familiar with the ache associated with it. Everything is as it should be—I can promise you that—so stop worrying.” He leaned back against the sofa. Her hands were like fluid magic wherever she touched his skin. “I love the way your hands feel on me.”

She pulled them away, and Nick was forced to open his eyes and look at his confused wife.

“Why did you stop?”

“This is hardly an opportune time for this.”

“Would you prefer I wait 'til I'm dead?” His words were bitter, crueler than he'd intended, but Amelia didn't seem perturbed by his tone.

“The same can be said in reverse.” Her fingers trailed down his sternum and circled around his navel. “I will play along with whatever you need, as long as you don't pull your stitches.”

Amelia's hand caressed the linen that covered his shoulder. He could barely feel her, and he wanted to feel the hard press of her hands along his body. He would never get enough of her, never stop craving her.

The thought of never being able to hold his wife in his arms had the ability to render him numb. So he would take all the feeling he could get, all the time.

“I'm impressed with how high your spirits are today; you seem more lively,” Amelia mused, her fingers trailing up and down the buttons of his waistcoat, slipping them through their moorings painfully slow.

“The more I move about, the faster I'll heal.”

“I'm going to guess that line of thinking comes from the days when you used to fight.”

“It does. But it's nothing more than the truth. If you lay about hoping to get better, you won't. The sooner you carry on your normal activities, the easier it is to get back into the swing of daily life.”

“Is that an excuse to get my undivided . . . carnal attention?”

“That might have something to do with it.” He grinned at his wife. Because the only thing he needed more than his shoulder healing faster was his wife sitting astride his lap, working over the rigidness of his cock.

She pressed her lips to his with a briefness that tore a growl from Nick's throat. His hand slid over her waist, holding her close. Amelia stood from the sofa, and Nick tried to pull her back but over-stretched his sore arm in the process.

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “You must stay very still if you want my complete and unworried attention.”

“Are you scolding me, wife?”

The barest hint of a wicked smile tilted up her lips. “Quite possibly. Is it working?”

She walked over to the door, shut it, and turned over the lock so they wouldn't be disturbed. Her hips swayed a little beneath her skirts as she approached him again. Nick shifted on the sofa, his cockstand straining to the point of pain against his trousers. He adjusted himself and leaned forward to shrug out of his waistcoat. The sooner they were naked, the quicker he could feel Amelia around him.

“Oh, no. Don't think I'm going to make this easy on you. We don't want to risk being caught putting your clothes back together. They stay on.”

“Fine, but I want your nipples in my mouth.”

Amelia's lips parted, her tongue darting out to taste them. The faintest hint of a blush painted her cheeks pink.

“But first, give me that tongue of yours. I want to suck and taste it,” he said.

Leaning over him, she kissed him harder this time, yet holding back everything he wanted, teasing him. He tasted the seam of her mouth, his tongue pushing against it, but he gained no entry.

“You are terrible to tease me when I'm injured and unable to take what I want,” he said.

“Shall I lecture you on the qualities of patience? I was serious when I said you had to let me do everything. You do neither of us any good if you cause further injury to yourself.”

His hand cupped her breast through her dress, the feeling not nearly as satisfying with her clothes on. Her bodice tied at the back, and with one hand not working well, he knew he'd never satisfactorily secure it again.

“As I said, we will do this with our clothes on. You can't have control of every situation, Nick.”

“Then give me your mouth. Let me at least taste you on my tongue.”

“You say the sweetest, most provocative things to me.”

But she didn't give him her mouth. No, she lifted up her skirts, placing one slippered foot on the sofa next to his thigh, opening the slit in her drawers to his rapturous gaze. His mouth watered at the slight peak of her mons and the soft down covering of her thatch.

“It can be just as alluring with our clothes on.”

“Straddle my thighs.” His voice had grown hoarse.

She shook her head, holding out her hand, palm up. “Give me your hand.”

He did without a second's hesitation. She guided it to the soft thatch of hair covering what he wanted on his mouth. He closed his eyes and cupped her for a moment. She was slick, ready for him. His fingers slid through her folds, finding the nub of her pleasure spot. He rotated her wetness around and then shoved two fingers deep inside her.

Her fingers were tangled in his hair, holding him tight, yet keeping him afar. He pulled out of her only to slam in harder. Hooking his fingers inside her, he massaged her sheath, letting the suction hold him tight. He wanted his cock stuffing her, being milked by her. He needed to be inside her.

Opening his eyes, he pulled out of her gripping cunt and sucked the juice off his fingers. Her tongue darted out, licking her lips between the panting that had her chest rising and falling in excitement.

She brought her knee down to the sofa, half straddling him and half standing on the floor as she loosened his trousers enough to free his cock. It sprang free, hard as ever. Nick reached beneath her skirt and cupped her buttocks so he could pull her fully onto his lap. The first touch of her mons to the head of his cock nearly had him going off. He let her go to fist himself hard, to keep from coming.

That was what she did to him. Made him lose all control.

Both of her hands were tangled in his hair; she yanked his head back and leaned over him to suck on his tongue at the same moment she sank down on his cock. She stopped when his whole length stretched her. His hand rubbed at her thigh; his other lay useless over his chest. God, he wanted to throw her down on the floor and fuck them both into the ground so hard that they didn't have the strength to dress and see to the rest of their errands for the day.

Their tongues tasted each other in an open-mouthed kiss. It was a kiss that familiarized themselves with each other again. A kiss that allowed them to memorize the shape of each other's mouths, what made the other person's pleasure soar, and what passion tasted like to both of them as they made love.

“It's been too long since I've tasted you,” he said. And she pulled herself up on his length only to sink back down.

“Only yesterday.”

“Too long. I want to laze about in bed for weeks, take you hard, and then take you slow. I want to fuck you every imaginable way possible, learn what makes you scream loudest, what makes your cunt weep around my cock the hardest.”

He sucked her tongue into his mouth, playing with it like he wanted to play with her clitoris.

“I can taste myself on you,” she groaned, breathless.

“I like how you taste and want to make a feast out of that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Amelia's pace quickened. Her ardor rose with each stroke of his cock inside her. He could tell by the way she pulled away from their kisses to arch her neck and stretch her body back that she was surrendering to their moment of passion. Letting go and taking everything he could give her in his limited ability to move.

“The next time we do this, we'll both be naked.” He pressed a kiss against her cloth-clad and corset-covered breasts. What he would do to suck her pert nipples into his mouth right now.

“For now, we do this my way.” She punctuated that statement with a slam of her pelvis against his and then rotated her hips over him, working his cock in such a way that he came before he could pull back. He shouted something incomprehensible, pumping his cock deep inside her until he was wrung out.

Nick rested his forehead against her sternum, giving himself a moment to catch his breath. She felt so damn good. Too good to be true. And yet she was his wife. She had married him and without a second thought.

Spitting on his thumb—not that he needed to make her any wetter—he pushed his hand under her skirts again and rotated the pad of his thumb around her clitoris. Her hands were in his hair, holding him tight, pulling so hard that he felt the tug at the roots. She went off like fireworks, panting and moaning around his mouth, until she couldn't breathe and had to stop moving her pelvis altogether. She jerked in his hold a few times, her sheath clasping his semi-firm cock, bringing him back to life.

She collapsed on top of him as her orgasm ebbed. His cock still flexed against the clasp of her sheath. He could stay like this all afternoon. Wouldn't that be perfect? But the next time they did this, it wouldn't be a quick coupling.

Her breathing evened out, and she pushed herself into a sitting position. When she made to pull off him, his hand squeezed her leg. “You are so beautiful when you come for me. Stay for a bit. You feel good around me. And feeling good takes away all the pain.” That, and he felt a trickle of wetness slide down his bad arm. He did not want to be lectured just yet on tearing his stitches.

“You have a devil of a tongue, husband.” She wiggled her bottom in his lap, his hand caressing the round globe and squeezing it. “And very wicked hands.”

“All the better to make you scream, wife.”

She shook her head and eventually climbed off his lap. His cock wasn't so easily sated and rested on his lap in a semi-hard position. If she sucked the head of it in her mouth, just for a second, he knew he'd be hard in an instant.

She wore a silly grin on her face, one that said she'd just spent time being intimate with her husband. He'd put that look on her face, even though he hadn't been able to do much of the pleasuring. He vowed the next time they were together he'd taste every inch of her skin.

Her gaze slipped to his arm, and her smile faltered. “Nick, you're bleeding!”

“It's nothing.”

“It's
not
nothing. We need to get you upstairs so I can properly look at it.”

“I pulled it. The skin is tight, and if I don't exercise it, my arm will be stiff.”

“I would rather take a look at it than take your word right now. I shouldn't have listened to you at all.”

With quick efficiency, she got his trousers back on but not before making his cock stand to full attention again. She pointed at him, scolding. “Not a chance. We'll resume those activities when you are better. You've only been out of bed two days, Nick. And I won't risk your having another fever because you pulled out the stitches and reopened the wound.”

“I will be fine,” he promised. He'd been in worse shape than this.

He grabbed her hand before she could leave him sitting on the sofa like an invalid. It was odd how his shoulder and arm were the only parts of him to be damaged when his whole body felt like it had been dragged behind a horse.

To prove that he was indeed all right, he let Amelia pull him to his feet and then followed her to the door.