Authors: Tiffany Clare
She was so goddamn perfect as she swallowed his cock with more vigor, as though this was the only thing she needed from him. That regained control was slipping from his grasp.
“Fuck,” he muttered, voice hoarse as he pulled out of the sweet haven. “I won't last a minute if you keep taking me in your mouth.”
Releasing his grip on his cockstand, he took Amelia's hand and guided her to her feet so they stood face-to-face. He caressed the side of her cheek, his cock flexing against her stomach, needing to be satiated, but he wasn't ready to finish this just yet; he was only getting started.
“There is nothing I wouldn't give to stay in this room, like this, for the rest of our days,” he said, meaning every word.
That earned him a small, shy smile. “And what of your friends? Your family?”
“You are the most important person in my life and possess an uncanny ability to chase away the darkness inside me.”
“Nick,” she said breathlessly as she pressed the tip of her fingers against his lips. Right before his eyes, he watched her shed the daze of arousal.
Goddamn it. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have fucked her until they were both senseless. He pressed his forehead against hers and inhaled the fresh scent of lavender oil still permeating her skin from the bath they'd shared the night before.
“What happened this morning?” she asked.
“Nothing that can't be forgotten. I came back to lose myself in you. I like forgetting the larger world around us. I like it when the only worry we have is the two of us seeking mutual release.”
Amelia's small, slender hands pressed against his chest, guiding him backward.
“Let me take care of you, then.” Her voice was gentle. Soothing, even.
She led him to an oversized chair and gave him a little push when his calves brushed against the material of said chair, and he fell into the comfortable seat. Amelia looked down at his lap before meeting his gaze. When he reached for her waist to pull her closer, she smacked his hand away.
“Someone once told me I needed to learn the art of patience.”
“I can't wait to have you, Amelia.”
“I can promise the feeling is mutual. But I need to do this on my terms.”
She lifted his hand, palm up, and placed it between her thighs. He nearly exploded when his fingers slicked through her cream; she was so ready for him. He buried his fingers deep, unable to hold himself back, even though she wanted to take control. She didn't pull away.
“Do you feel what you do to me?” she said.
“I want to suck the juices from your cunt.”
She shook her head and placed one of her feet next to his thigh on the chair, opening herself to his ravenous gaze but still keeping herself far enough away that he couldn't do all that he wanted. Nick shoved two fingers deep into her sheath, pulled them out, and licked them off. Her breath hitched, and the cloud of desire ate up the blue of her irises once again.
Still . . . she waited.
Nick studied her carefully. “You're contemplating your next move.”
“Perhaps.” She nibbled on her lower lip, covering a grin that said he was exactly right.
“You are rethinking your strategy, because the thought of me licking that tight, throbbing clitoris has you dripping wet.”
“And if it does?”
“Let me pleasure you.”
She shook her head and lowered her hand between her thighs, opening the lips of her sex, like a clamshell ready to be devoured when she revealed the swollen pearl hidden inside.
His mouth watered, desperate for a taste.
“Touch yourself,” she said, firmer, more sure of herself.
Nick caught her gaze. “You first.”
She shook her head. “You forget who is in charge. I want you to stroke yourself, Nick.” With her free hand she plucked at her nipple, further elongating the already firm peak.
His hands curled around the arms of the chair, and he started to lift from the seat. Amelia placed her foot square in the middle of his chest and pushed him back down.
“I asked you to touch yourself. I want to see how you rub your cock. How you pleasure yourself.”
It wasn't the words that had his cockstand firm as ever and throbbing of its own accord; it was the fact that she blushed when she used the coarse words he had taught her. Catching her gaze, he fisted his hand around his erection and squeezed it.
“Your turn,” he said.
Amelia dipped her fingers into her sheath, and Nick nearly came. He had to squeeze his cock so hard that he thought he might pass out. She left her fingers inside her and sucked in her bottom lip as she watched his hand slowly loosen.
“You're close,” she observed.
There was no denying that truth. “Straddle my thighs, Amelia. I want to be inside you.”
She pressed her knee down next to his thigh and climbed onto his lap. He released himself, his cock jutting against the wet folds of her sex as if his instrument was in control. She sank down on him, a sigh passing her lips as she did so. Amelia reached behind him and clutched her hands around the edge of the chair for purchase as she started moving over him.
Nick gripped her hips in his hands, guiding her, setting a pace that was both indulgent and frantic. Her breasts bounced in front of him, the nipples a strawberry pink and darkened at the hard tips.
“Fuck. You're so beautiful.”
She thrust her breasts toward his face, and he didn't hesitate to suck one tip and then the next into his mouth, letting his teeth graze around the tight peaks as she rode him. Nick wrapped an arm around her back, curling his hand over her shoulder to slam her harder into his body as she lifted and sank down on him. His other squeezed her breast as he rolled the firm tip around in his mouth. Her hands were tight around his shoulders; her head thrown back as sounds of ecstasy fell past her lips without care or thought that they would be heard.
That he did that to her . . .
He released her breast with a suctioned pop and shouted something incoherent as his seed let loose in hot, heavy jets while her sheath clenched around him, like a fist fucking his cock.
She collapsed against him, the walls of her sex still flexing around him as she tried to get her breathing under control. Neither said anything as he lightly kissed the red marks he'd left on her pale skin from the scruff of his beard.
“I want nothing more than a repeat performance,” he said.
She lifted her head from his shoulder, her hands cupping both sides of his face, her thumbs rubbing over his beard.
“I don't think my legs can move another inch.”
Nick grabbed her thighs and rocked her along his semi-hard cock, already reawakening with desire.
She chuckled as she placed her arms loosely around his shoulders. She hadn't an inkling of just what she had done for him this morning.
He had come in here needing to forget the morning, the past that had been dredged up before he was ready to look it in the eye. And that had only been a small, unintentional glimpse he'd run across. What would he do when he truly had to face those demons once and for all?
“I've lost you to your thoughts again, Nick. Tell me what happened this morning.”
He rubbed his hand along her thighs, and as much as he hated to end their morning interlude, he lifted her from his lap. She scooted off the chair and stood in front of him, unabashed and taunting him not to look.
He looked. The flush in her skin was fading and should be reawakened until it couldn't so easily abate. The ruby tips of her breasts beckoned him to suck. The dark thatch of hair covering her mons veneris . . .
With a sigh, he brushed his hair back from his forehead as he gave her a measured look.
“Intercourse will not deter this conversation,” she said and crossed her arms, plumping up her breasts.
“Are you sure about that?”
“I want to help you, but I can't if you keep locking me out.”
“It's not intentional.”
He stood and walked over to the bell pull to call for a servant. He tossed her dressing gown toward her, and she caught it and slipped into the satin material. She didn't say anything. She was waiting for him to explain himself. Nick pulled on his trousers just as a soft knock landed on the door.
Nick opened the door for the housemaid. “Have the hip bath brought up and hot water. We'll need a breakfast tray as well.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Perhaps he could explain to Amelia why he hated Highgate so much. Give her an understanding of why this place had the ability to make him beastly.
“I thought we were going to attend breakfast with your friends.” She was at his shoulder, her hand light against the scars that crisscrossed his back.
“We will make luncheon with them.”
“What do you hope to accomplish, hiding away in our room?”
He turned toward her and lifted one of her hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of her palm. “No one will think anything of it, Amelia. We are newly married. It's expected that we'll be insatiable for each other and antisocial.”
“I will only agree if you'll talk to me about this morning.”
There was no skirting around this issue, as she would have him figured out soon enough. Honesty might very well be his best defense. It wasn't that he wanted to lie to his new bride; he just wished he could forever keep her in the dark on his purpose for coming to Highgate.
“Landon and I rode out to the manor house. He hadn't had a proper look at it since arriving.”
“I would have come with you, had I known,” she said with a teasing lilt, trying to lighten the mood.
“You were sound asleep. And you need your rest for what I have planned for us.”
He thumbed her chin and tilted her head back to give him easier access to press a kiss against her lips. He didn't linger; otherwise, they'd be lost in passion before either of them could stop. Not that that wasn't a preferable state of being to what he needed to tell her; the question was how much should he tell her?
“Nick . . . ”
“When we were there, I saw someone I once knew. He was one of the teachers at the school I attended.”
Her countenance grew fierce with a need to protect her husband. “Was he the one responsible for your scars?”
“No. He had the ability to stop it, but he didn't even try.”
Amelia already knew a great deal more than he'd told another soul about his youth. It had been a short time in his life that he'd attended the all-boys school, but it had felt like a living hell he couldn't escape at the tender age of eleven.
“What did he say to you?”
“He didn't see me.”
Amelia took his hand in both of hers and clasped it over her heart. He caressed the side of his other hand down her cheek.
“Perhaps you should confront him,” she suggested.
“I intend to.” While he planned to face the man responsible for the scars on his back, he hadn't expected the monk to still be here. Two demons he must destroy. He wasn't sure if that was luck or something to further torment his dreams.
A knock came at the door, interrupting their stolen moment of solitude. Nick and Amelia broke apart as a maid came in with a tray of food and the morning newspaper.
“Did you prearrange breakfast? I'm surprised they had something ready so quickly,” Amelia said when the maid left.
He shook his head. “I wouldn't put it past the Lady Burley.” He picked up an envelope tucked under the tray that was addressed to his wife.
“How odd,” she said as she took the missive. His wife blushed as she read the contents.
“Are you going to tell me what is written?”
She blushed a darker shade of pink. “Merely that we should take all the time in the world since we are just married. But she did ask that we meet them for lunch.”
Nick grinned. “What will you do with the knowledge that everyone knows why we want to stay in our rooms?”
She was nibbling on her bottom lip with indecision. Nick lifted the cover from the food, revealing a bowl of various berries, a dish of pastries, and another of bacon and sausage. “A breakfast fit for strenuous exercise.”
“Nick.” Amelia's voice was breathless.
He walked toward her, forcing her back to their bed. She didn't protest, and the look of hunger that ate up her gaze was exactly what he needed to see right now.
“There is no better way to spend our honeymoon.”
“Don't couples generally travel to the Continent?”
He shook his head. “It's not about where we travel but spending as much time in delectable sin as we can manage.”
He caressed her arm. Her whole body seemed to come alive at his touch. Amelia's eyes slipped halfway closed, and she swayed marginally closer to him. Her lips parted, and her nipples peaked hard beneath her peignoir.
“I
do like the idea of remaining in bed all day,” Amelia said. How was it that she could be sated by their lovemaking one moment and be desperate for his touch immediately afterward?
At least her husband had revealed what troubled him. A month ago, she wasn't so sure he would be so forthcoming with what bothered him. They had come so far.
Nick tugged the string that tied her robe in place. The delicate material gaped open, making her shiver. She was already slick between her thighs, from both their juices. Amelia took Nick's hand and placed it between her legs.
“You're not sore, are you?”
They had made love nonstop for nearly a day. That he was concerned and had asked had her smiling. “It's a good sore.”
“Then we will play until the bath arrives.” He tossed her down on the bed, coming over her but not entering her.
“I feel empty inside when you put me in this state.”
“Perhaps this will help.” He lowered his head to her breast and flicked his tongue against her sensitive nipple.
She arched her back, trying to get closer, begging him silently to take it into his mouth, hard and fast. He only pressed light kisses there.