Taking Liberties (6 page)

“Thank God,” he muttered.

And then he was kissing her, his mouth not merely taking hers, but laying claim as if her lips were an undiscovered country and he was in charge of placing the king’s flag. Without once breaking the kiss, he eased them both to the forest floor until he sat with his back against the tree trunk, Tish on her knees straddling his hips, his cock jutting upward between her legs.

Nash’s fingers delved into her sex, finding her most sensitive spot with unerring precision. Her climax was swift and hard but somehow unfulfilling. She needed more, so much more.

He seemed to read her mind. Breaking their kiss, he grasped his cock in one hand and slid the other to rest on Tish’s hip. “Lower yourself onto it, my love.”

Even though she had no confidence that such a thing could work, as she was quite certain this was not at all the proper way to go about this—she did as he bid her. She was too needful to do otherwise.

He angled his cock so that, as she eased downward, the pliant tip rested against her opening. At that point, he released his hold on himself and placed his hand on her other hip.

“Kiss me,” he ordered.

She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, reveling in the tangy-sweet taste of his mouth. More delicious than any dessert, more fulfilling than any
hors d’ouevres
. Definitely the main course…

Without warning, he thrust upward, breaching her maidenhead and burying himself to the hilt within her. Splitting her in half.

“Ow!” Her cry of pain was muffled by his mouth. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes at the sharp, tearing sensation.

He brushed tender, soothing kisses to her lips and cheeks. “I’m sorry, love. It gets better, I promise.”

He was right. It did get better. As he continued to hold her steady, their bodies joined, the sting of invasion gave way to an intoxicating sense of fullness and an overwhelming desire to move. She shifted her hips in an unconscious effort to appease her body’s demands for motion, for friction, for completion.

“That was faster than I expected,” Nash muttered. “Christ, you are the most amazing woman, Tish Langston.”

“Blake,” she corrected, confused.

“I’m inside you, love. That makes you Tish Langston.”

“But we’re not married yet.”

“As far as I’m concerned, we are. The wedding is just a formality.” He steadied her hips with his hands. “This,” he said, withdrawing and driving back inside her, giving her exactly what she had wanted without even knowing she was asking for it, “is all that matters.”

He was right about that, too. Time and place and even Tish’s sense of where she ended
and Nash began dissolved away, leaving only the exquisite pleasure of their bodies melding into one. They moved in opposition and yet in unison, exchanged fierce kisses and tender bites, groaned both hosannas and imprecations.

The crisis overtook her first with rhythmic convulsions of rapture that stole both breath and thought. Nash followed her in seconds, stiffening beneath her, his cock pulsing inside her, bathing her womb with life and lust…and love.

Tish felt possessed…and more free than she had ever been. At last, with Nash, she had permission—even approval—to be her true self. Wild. Wicked. Wanton. And beloved.

The handsome young man gaped at Nash with a mix of horror and surprise. “You want me to…take liberties with your bride?”

Nash suppressed a grin. He couldn’t blame the fellow for his confusion. “Yes, Mr. Drayton, that is precisely what I want you to do. Kiss her, fondle her breasts, eat her pussy. Anything short of fucking her.”

“And she doesn’t object to this?”

The door clicked shut, drawing the young man’s attention. Tish stood with her back against the door, clad in a nothing but a smile. “She not only doesn’t object, she heartily approves.”

Nash’s cock rose to instant attention at the sight of her and thrilled the unmistakable look of lust that crossed Mr. Drayton’s features. Nash loved seeing the effect she had on other men, loved to watch them worship at the temple of her body.

Tish crossed to the chair in which the poor, puzzled Mr. Drayton was sitting and knelt at his feet. She ran her fingers over the placket of his trousers, revealing the thickening bulge of his cock. “May I suck him, too, darling?”

Nash arched an eyebrow at Mr. Drayton, whose eyes were now wide as saucers. “I believe that’s up to him. Would you like her to suck your cock, Drayton?”

“Er, I don’t…that is…” He let out a low, shuddering breath as Tish released him from his breeches and drawers. “Oh, God, yes.”

Tish grasped his cock in her hand and looked at Nash. “Thank you for the
hors d’ouevres
. I didn’t expect such a gift on our wedding night.”

Nash leaned back in his own chair, retrieving his whiskey tumbler from the table at his elbow. “You know I don’t care where you get your appetite, my love, as long as I am the main course.”

And so he was. And mighty tasty, too.

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