My Lady Gambled (9 page)

Nia’s peach-tinted bottom lips trembled as her light green eyes shone with the hints of tears. “You do?”

Radford smiled slowly, releasing Nia’s hands to reach for and grasp her waist. “I do.” Then suddenly, he lifted Nia and tossed her into the pile of frilly under garments. She squealed in surprise, then laughed as he climbed up on the bed after her and pinned her to the bed with his longer body. “What was this about that I adore having sex with my wife?”

“You rogue!” Nia grasped his cheeks and pulled him close for a zealous kiss.

When Radford broke the rising passion of their lips, he cleared his throat. “Seriously now, Nia, if you think on it you will realize that it has only been the last two weeks or less that I have been rude and unemotionally available to you.”

Nia looked over his face thoroughly, then reached up to caress the side of his hair. “What happened two weeks ago, Radford?”

Radford settled in more closely between Nia’s thighs, leaning to his right to lift his left hand and caress the side of Nia’s face. “Saxon told us about The Order of the Satyr and I knew that a new mission was afoot. Really, Cherie, our combined thinking misses each other completely at times.”

“It seems more than `at times.’” Nia giggled. “It never occurred to me that your loss of sight would worry or hinder you with this new mission looming.”

Radford set his chin to her chin, looking down at her, “Blind is blind, love, a hindrance for a spy. I am not the man I used to be.”

Suddenly, Radford felt Nia’s hand on his ass as she groped it warmly. “You’re better, I say Gov’,” she teased. “I wager that before ye were all soft and young. Now yer all hard, and all man!”

“You, imp!” Radford quipped as he dipped his head and licked her lips, then settled his chin on her chin again. Her hand stayed, fondling him at leisure.

“Seriously,” she said, using one of his most used segues. “It’s your mind that is of more use, from the stories you tell me. Let the others take care of the bobbing and weaving of fancy footwork. You must let them decide, when you tell them. You would have realized this if you were not so close to the situation. I know that none of them could do without you or would want to think of it.”

“Hmm.” He was too close. Too emotional. Yet, with Nia by his side, all things seemed possible and not so overwhelming. “They, well—and, I agree also-. We all decided that none of the wives or lovers can be involved with this. It is too dangerous.”

“You bounders!” Nia exclaimed, slapping his ass playfully. “Gabriella predicted that, but I did not believe her. There is no way Joelle is out of this!”

Radford chuckled. “Let one of you in and the rest … “

“We will follow!” Nia exclaimed with a tart smile.

Radford realized that he was in not a position to argue the point. Nor did he want to. His life was changing. It had changed. Different things were important to him now. The Archangels acceptance and use for him as he went blind were not as certain as Nia believed. Each and every one of them would always remain his friend, as close as brothers. Yet, his faltering eyesight could easily prove a dangerous liability. And, it seemed that he could accept that now, gracefully and without bitterness. That was because he had the one thing that mattered more, Nia’s love and acceptance, so much more important .

“Mmm,” Nia purred, lifting her other hand so that both her hands were massaging Radford’s tight, sinewy buttocks. Her husband was made so bonny fine. “Think how sensitive your touch will feel, my love, so much more intense.” 

Radford rolled his compact ass with the motions of her kneading hands. Even through the layers of her silk skirts and his trousers, she could feel Radford’s hard cock pressing interestingly into her pussy. Her bonny lord, handsome husband, was always so hard! She knew that it could not possibly be true. However, every time she looked, he was.

Radford lifted his chin from her chin, and she saw that “look” in his crystal blue eye as he reached for one dark-black stocking. Ooh, her husband’s thoughts were turning to sex! Nia watched Radford hold one end of the stocking in one hand and the toed end in the other as he lowered it toward her eyes. He stopped with the stocking material stretched out above her blinking eyes.

“Shall we try?” Radford’s voice was like a deep red mulled wine sliding down one’s throat, she thought, licking her lips.

She tried to appear hesitant before she blurted with a smile, “Yes!”

She and her husband laughed and tumbled each other out of their clothes and her corset. Then, Radford kneeled above her to put the stocking blindfold over her eyes. “We should clear off the bed,” Nia said, feeling nervous at the darkness.

“Leave it. Better to feel.” Radford’s voice was rich and sexy. “Lay back, we will use it.”

The silky things tickled and caressed different places on Nia’s body as she laid back. She felt as though she were nude to Radford’s clothed, because he could see all of her, every inch and she did not know where he was looking.

“It feels intense,” she said, with her fingers clutching silk stockings on one side.

“It looks delectable,” Radford murmured. “As though you are an exquisite feminine feast laid out just for me.”

Nia felt the heat of Radford’s mouth moving closer and closer to her lips as he spoke, then he was kissing her. Intensely. Her hands touched his bare skin and she felt the explosion of hot male flesh on her fingers and palm. The feeling was so much more profound without her sight as she rubbed Radford’s hairy chest.

Then, she felt the lightest of caresses gliding between her lower thighs, moving upward. Her skin shivered as her nipples peaked more, and Radford’s tongue filled her mouth. The delicate and enthralling touch slid over the lips of her shaved pussy. Her returning moan was rapt and excited as she began sucking long draws on Radford’s tongue.

Radford trailed a silk-stocking over his wife’s flushed cunt lips, while her hips rolled in seduction and her thighs unfolded with open invitation. Looking down at the raspberry peaks of his wife’s breasts, at her white satin skin, and her long flowing body, Radford thought she was so beautiful. He was a lucky bastard. But, his wife was as lusty and uninhab-ited as he was. Her hands trailed over his body, groping and fondling until she found his hardy cock. He’d never met a woman before that loved his cock. But, Nia did! She had taught him what it meant. It was incredible, but at times he could nearly be jealous of the stiffly engorged appendage his wife cooed and lusted over.

“Oh hh so hard. So hot, Radford,” Nia purred, with her hand and fingers taking hold. She pumped him from the head to the base, fondling his balls warmly in passing, then she gripped and drew her tight hand up the shaft again. His breathing increased as his finger found her cunt with the silk stocking in between. His mouth latched onto one of her taut nipples drawing a long moan, from her. “Oh hh, love, love.”

Nia’s pale and lush body arched beneath him as his finger covered with a silk stocking became soaked with the nectar of her increasing arousal. Her fingers battened down on his cock, drawing more rapid heat and friction.

“Lady Fire,” he moaned, humping against her hands arduous motion as he plunged his silk-encased finger into her sheath.

“Oh, blimey, love!” Nia exclaimed as her legs jerked upward, spreading out widely. “I have never felt anything so intense,” she gasped, while her hips rocked to his wet silk finger fucking her heat deeply, as her hand pumping his cock grew slick with his leaking seed.

“I want you inside me! Please, love, give me your cock,” she begged with her lips panting and her body humping against the motion of his mating finger.

There was little in life more powerful than hearing the woman you love begging for your cock, Radford thought, as he followed the pressure of his wife’s insistent hand guiding his cock to the swollen ardor of her cunt. Just the feel of her smearing and pressing the head into fitted position, extracted a groan from his throat. Nia’s heels blindly sought leverage and landed flatly on either side of his chest. Radford burned the view into his memory, to last a life time, of Nia urging his cock to her open cunt, while he pushed forward. The first ring of tightness flexed down over his cockhead and blurred the vision in his one eye with ecstasy as Nia cried her pleasure.

“Yes! Ooh hh! Fuck me, fuck me!” She humped eagerly against him with her sheath clutching and drawing on his cock as he thrust to the base. He could feel Nia’s fingers between them rolling around, touching their connection and he knew rubbing her clitoris. He grasped her left breast and pumped. “Ooh hh hh, Radford!” She followed him, meeting him with a smack in the middle. “Your cock’s so hard. So hot. Fuck me! Fuck me!” she mewled.

Nia was like wildfire, enthusiastic and earthy. She liked her man fucking her hard and deep, and she writhed every step of the way. Dragging her nails over his body, digging her toes into his chest, rocking and lifting her hips with each plunge to meet him, as her fingertips rollicked over her clitoris. They panted together as her cries became shriller, and her nails scraped him.

He could hear it, feel it, breath it. Nia’s climax was leaping to the edge, and he followed it, driving it on with hard and rapid thrusts, until she shattered. The sound punched him in the gut with pleasure and he let loose of the control he used holding his ejaculation back. He just relaxed, and his cock exploded seed, making him grunt as pleasure pounded through his body to each recurring release. Long plunges later, he came to rest over Nia’s slick panting breasts as his lips murmured against hers through his own pitched breathing.

“We don’t need sight,” Nia gasped, then their lips meshed.

Kit woke to a loud pounding on her hotel room door. Her mind immediately tripped to the two burly men that had assaulted her the day before. Her heartbeat thudded to the repeated forceful knocks as she stood and then stumbled, reaching for the gas lamp on the wall by the bed. Her shaking fingers managed to turn the light up as she gathered her senses. It would not be her earlier assailants. Certainly not! Not knocking at her door.

Kit heard a muffled voice saying, “Miss Montoya.” Kit cautiously walked to the door as though its locked presence could somehow burst open at any moment.

“Who is it?” Kit called loudly, stepping up to the door and leaning close, expecting an answer. Instead, more loud raps sounded, reverberating through the solid wood and causing her to jerk backward.

But, then she heard quite clearly, “Bloody hell, woman, you dinna send for a man with an urgent message that we must meet, then not open your bloody door!”

Mr. Duneagan! Kit gasped and leaped back to the door, turning the key and tugging it open. “Why did you not answer me when I asked who you were?”

“Sorry, lass. I dinna hear you.”

Kit barely had a chance to take in Lord Duneagan’s appearance before he was past her, stalking into the room, leaving scents of wind, rain, leather, and clove, but mostly male.

“Why the hell are you not packed and gone by now? Do you really want worse to happen to you than already has?”

Kit sputtered as she shut the door haphazardly. “Are you threatening me, Lord Duneagan?”

She now knew that he was an English Baron and a Scottish Laird, by the note she had received from him. His first name was Brynmore, and the note had said very tersely that she was in danger. It said he would find her brother, and she was in danger and should go home. He had signed it with his full name and titles, either to impress her or to assure her that he could back up his high-handedness.

Brynmore Duneagan was quite large and very hairy, with a bushy brown-red beard, longer hair, and when he turned his body, his vivid green eyes flashed over her. Kit’s fingers clutched for the edges of her robe. Then, she realized that she had forgotten to put it on as Brynmore Duneagan’s dynamic green eyes assessed that fact. They traveled over the too revealing gauzy material of her long flowing nightgown. Kit realized that one loose shoulder had fallen down as her cheeks heated, and she was held suspended with a feeling of embarrassment, but also something else that she had no wish to examine closely. She finally broke the spell, crossing her arms over the dots of her perked nipples, and then she moved quickly, going for her robe.

The electric alertness of Brynmore’s gaze, the part that made him a male, watched the feminine outline of Kit Montoya’s heart-shaped ass as she turned, reaching for her robe. All his senses were wide awake to the fact that Kit Montoya was nude beneath the sheer nightgown she wore. From the urgent message that she had sent to him, he now knew her first name and the false name she used to register at the hotel.

However, that was meaningless beneath his first unadulterated look at the woman. No hat and veil to hide her short wavy blonde hair, the color of white gold, smoky blue eyes, and light freckles over sun-kissed skin. No voluminous skirts to hide a lithe shape that undulated with curves over slender hips, cup-shaped buttocks, and shapely legs. No cloak to hide the swell of firm breasts with dark pointed nipples. The lass was exquisite, with a feminine, yet athletic aura that suggested his frame could lift her with one well-padded arm, but that she could agilely challenge him.

Nevertheless, she looked at him as if he was a large woolly bear invading her space, and he supposed that was true. He was a hairy brute at the moment. “Not a threat, lass.” His voice boomed overly loud, perhaps to hide the effect she had on him as a man. “But, I see yer not packed, and that is as daft as a pixie poking a dangerous beast!”

Miss Montoya’s dusky blue eyes darkened at his pronouncement, and he watched every speck of her, until she had her robe pulled on and tied closed. She was a wee bit of feminine feast to his gaze, and he was perturbed that he let her know he liked what he was seeing—and that he was looking. Looking until her high cheek bones turned pink again. Then, belatedly he remembered that he barely knew the lass, and he remembered what had happened to her. They could have raped her for all he knew. Bloody hell, he was a pig!

Brynmore turned his gaze far too late to be considered a gentleman as he heard Kit’s clear Americanized accent. “I-I appreciate your concern Mister, or Lord, or Larid … What do I call you?”