Authors: Anabelle Bryant
“I might have helped you with that.” She scooted farther up the bed’s coverlet and turned to face him as she kneeled on the mattress, the remains of her chemise clutched to her breast. “I haven’t much left to cover myself.”
Her voice met his ear, a mixture of delight and enticement, but he would have none of it, seduction his only goal. “You are a sensual temptress.” He removed his shirt and dropped it without a care before gutting the first candle with a short puff of breath. “Edible from head to toe. Now that I have you within my reach, never to let you go, I intend to show you how delicious you are.” He extinguished the second candle with nothing more than a sharp wave above its flame, his fingers working to open the buttons at the waistband of his trousers. Her eyes flared and a half smile hitched one corner of his mouth. “I’ve been waiting so bloody long I cannot see straight for the wanting of it.”
He paused before the third candle, raking his eyes down her length in slow perusal, drinking her in and etching the image in his mind, Penelope atop his bed, her hair falling over her shoulders in silky ribbons, her pink lips curved in sensual invitation.
Time stretched until her soft voice broke the quiet.
“It’s all I ever wished for, to be loved by you.” She loosened her hold, the silk falling, lower, all the way to the sheets. No words existed that could entice him more.
He blindly pressed the third flame between thumb and forefinger, then leaned forward on bended knee, his weight causing the mattress to dip, his trousers to catch on his hips.
“You look like a lion stalking his prey.”
He advanced up the mattress with predatory grace. “You think I’m hungry?”
“No.” A sweet little shiver passed over her skin and she licked her lips before she continued. “I think you’re magnificent.”
Her answer whispered across his mouth as he captured her lips, his kiss ungentle, his tongue demanding. He grazed her jaw and nipped a path to her chin, across her cheek, then further to capture her lobe for the smallest love bite before he advanced down the line of her neck, his hands buffeting her to the bed. Her eyes fell closed in complete surrender and his cock grew harder.
He tried to ignore the heat igniting his blood, but she looked breathtaking, her beautiful silhouette bathed in the glow of one candle. Reaching forward, he splayed his hands around her waist to bring her across the silk coverlet, beneath him, her hair fanned in waves of honey brown, any scrap of clothing left in her wake. Heat flooded his groin and his body grew harder still, partially held above hers, almost completely bare and impatient with want. “Every inch of you looks so tempting, I don’t know where to begin.” He settled on the support of one arm before he feathered the graceful sweep of her shoulder with a light caress and traced her collarbone to trail his fingertips between her velvety breasts. He took care to barely touch her and coasted across her skin with torturous finesse, her nipples tight and puckered, begging for his attention. Her breath caught whenever he neared a rosy tip.
Flicking his gaze upward, he took the sweet fullness of her breast into his mouth. His tongue teased the peak, delicious beyond bearing, licking with unrelenting insistence, each stroke felt in his groin.
She moaned something, maybe his name, and he slid his palm downward, to coast over her ribs and the flat of her stomach before his fingers dipped below the edge of her silk pantalettes. He eased the fabric free, her shiver of anticipation passing through him as he found her center, sweet and delectably wet. A deep groan escaped his chest. He parted her, his fingers caressing her heat, readying her, sliding, slick and hot, rubbing and stroking with the same attention his tongue offered her breast. Dragging his mouth from her, breathing hard, he placed his thumb against the softest part of her and stroked the sensitive bud with insistent passion. Her hips shifted in anxious welcome to meet each sensual caress.
She watched with smoldering intensity, her eyes heavy-lidded, his gaze never wavering as he slid his finger within her hot sheath. She gasped with pleasure but he allowed no relief, sliding two fingers inside and stoking her heat, readying her body for him. She found her release quickly, lost on a hot tide of sensation, her muscles tensed, her legs pressed together in restless want. Every muscle in his body strained with maddening desire. He could wait no more.
Pressing a kiss to her mouth, he leaned to the side as his fingers worked to remove his trousers. When he spoke, his voice held a definite rasp. “You’re incredibly beautiful.”
He threw his pants off the side of the bed. “A beguiling seductress who has cast a spell on me so powerful I can think of little else except burying myself within you every time you glance in my direction.” He discarded his smalls and returned to her side sheltering her body with his. Shadows from the single flame danced across her flawless skin, playing hide and seek between them, and when he looked into her eyes he saw trust, and honesty, and love.
“A temptress, a seductress…” He captured her lips in another hungry kiss, lingering before he continued in a coarse whisper, “My viscountess.”
His mouth found hers as the words dawned and he swallowed her gasp. He had to have her, to feel himself inside her and make her completely his. It was a miracle he’d lasted as long as he did.
He shifted his weight, his forearms braced on either side, their bodies a perfect fit. “You feel like a dream.” He explored the nape of her neck with infinitesimal attention seeking the sensitive spot that caused her to melt in his arms the same way she’d melted his heart. He would never taste enough of her skin, vanilla and satin and Penelope scent.
“Oh, yes…” She whispered the words. “That is exquisite torture.”
Her breathy sigh caressed his chin.
He stole her murmur and turned it into a searing kiss as his tongue curled around hers in a delicious dance of erotic suggestion. Consideration of her innocence was fast dissolving, replaced by demanding passion. She turned her head to nuzzle his arm, all at once shy despite their sensual kisses.
“You’re so big.” She bit his bicep with a playful nip, then smoothed the spot with a soft kiss. “I’m afraid you won’t fit. I’ve been told this can be horribly painful.”
He wanted to chuckle, but noted the solemn question in her eyes, and yielded to her tender confession.
“You’re the keeper of my heart,
chère amie
. I’ll never hurt you. It’s my greatest honor to love you.”
Her eyes watered and he kissed her again to vanquish any doubt.
“We were meant for each other. I’ve no doubt we are a perfect fit.” His hips moved gently against her, the tip of his erection brushing the entrance of her body. He brought his lips to hers again, unable to stop a smile against her mouth, his courageous little coward. “It
is
what you want, is it not?” It was a foolish question, but he asked nonetheless.
“Yes.” Her sweet sexy whisper stoked his desire. “Love me.” She reached out with one hand and dragged his mouth within a breath of hers. “Make me yours.”
He eased between her silky thighs, distracting her with open-mouthed kisses, their tongues paired to match their bodies. Sinking into her sweet wetness, he pressed further, encased to the hilt in her velvet hot heat. She held him so tightly and fitted so exquisitely, he dared not move or he’d spill himself before the first thrust. But to wait was unbearable, and as he struggled to temper his motion, they fell into a rhythm all their own, give and take, need and want.
He watched her face each time he entered and withdrew, her eyes closed in sensual bliss, delightful sounds of pleasure escaping her throat whenever he filled her, and as he viewed her in the throes of passion, as she took his breath away, he fell in love deeper.
If it was at all possible
.
They moved in perfect unison as if their bodies were born for each other, no matter he was easily double her size and every inch hard muscle, whereas her slim silhouette was all delicate skin and deliciously soft curves.
He leaned down, his forehead bowed above hers, the cadence of each thrust matched by the pounding of his heart. She clung to him, her fingers hard on his shoulders. He was lost to her. She whimpered in total abandon and he raised her arms over her head to hold them with one hand as his mouth trailed fierce insistent kisses down her neck, across her shoulder, urging her to ecstasy, tantalizing and elusive. She shifted slightly, rising to meet him, and his cock throbbed in ready response.
And then, when he could withhold himself no longer, she shattered beneath him and his final thrust completed their delicious crisis. Quaking with the intensity of his release, he embraced Penelope against his body and collapsed to the bed coverlet.
Glorious. There was no other word worthy to describe making love with Phineas. Emotion swept through her heart and Penelope smiled a secret smile as she lay against the heated firmness of his chest, the rise and fall of each sleeping breath a sensual rhythm, his arm wrapped around her waist to cup her breast possessively. She had no idea of the hour, but cared little if someone looked for her or questioned why she was not in her bedchamber resting her turned ankle. She’d finally found her heart, and nothing was more important. She turned her head on the pillow to admire the man she loved. He looked even more handsome if that was possible, his hair honeyed by the flickering candlelight, the devilish cleft in his chin now roughened with the bristle of golden brown whiskers. He was a man created from a dream. A dream she’d once thought she didn’t deserve, but now embraced with her whole heart.
And her mother’s cameo. Phineas had proven her hero in more ways than she’d ever imagined. Reluctant to leave his warm embrace, but curious, she slipped from the bed and wrapped herself in an extra sheet, only to realize she had nothing to wear, her chemise, corset and gown torn beyond repair. She riffled through Phin’s massive wood bureau in an attempt to locate sleeping clothes, but it proved a wasted effort. After a thorough search, she settled for his white lawn shirt and slipped it over her head, unable to resist the delicious temptation of bringing the soft cloth to her face and inhaling deeply, the fabric an intimate reminder of the man. She closed her eyes in a prolonged blink of pure happiness.
“What are you up to now?”
She turned to see Phineas watching from the sheets, propped on one elbow, his hair handsomely tousled from their love play.
“I couldn’t find your bedclothes.” She clasped the gaping collar of his shirt closed in a belated show of modesty.
“I don’t own any.”
His husky reply robbed her of reasonable thought. “Oh.” Somehow the admission did not surprise her. He was as natural a male as she’d ever encountered.
“My clothes are beyond repair.” Her eyes dropped to the floorboards, darting around the room where her ensemble lay strewn in pieces.
“You look far more fetching than I’ve ever imagined. Women’s fashion needs to take a nudge from men’s tailoring.”
She lowered her hands and dared a small smile. “I’m in your shirt.”
“I want you in my arms.” He smoothed his palm across the mattress. “Come back to bed. I can easily think of one hundred ways to love you and the night is young.”
“There are different ways?” She tilted her head in consideration of his suggestion and scurried toward the bed, anxious to be warmed by him. He loved her. The thought sent a shiver of delightful anticipation straight to her heart.
“Oh, yes, sweet love. Many different ways, and I’m anxious to explore each and every one of them. Now come back to bed.” He crooked his finger to lure her forward, his mouth turned in a seductive half smile before he dropped to his back.
“What if someone’s looking for me?” She realized her question was for naught, as she had already climbed into the massive bed and nestled against his warmth even as she spoke the words.
“Aah. Afraid we might get caught with our hands in the cookie basket?”
In less than a breath, he captured her to his side and rolled her atop him, her body tangled in the silky sheets, their limbs intertwined in a heavenly combination of man and woman.
“Somehow, my sweet, I believe you and I are what everyone in this household has wanted all along. There really was no hope for me after the first moment I met you. I doubt we’ll be interrupted. Now come closer so I can taste those delectable kiss-swollen lips.”
He reached up and caressed her cheek before he lowered her mouth to his. Very soon after Penelope forgot to think; she only wanted to feel.
Several weeks passed and life became simple again. Phineas reclaimed long mornings spent fishing and it seemed the best course of action. The townhouse bustled with activity. With a wedding to arrange, his mother entertained a steady stream of visitors, as well as musicians, florists and decorators. While the event would occur at Betcham Estate, Maman thought it prudent to interview the most talented candidates while in London. Fortunately, Chef Pierre agreed to travel to the countryside and prepare the wedding meal.
Phin mused that while his mother remained a force among the
ton
and would manage every minute detail before returning to their country home, the longer she stayed at the townhouse the longer he’d have to endure Mon Ami, the squawking parrot’s vocal aggravation a continual note of disharmony in his newly calmed existence. Although Maman did promise she would work with haste, making no secret the sooner he and Penelope were wed, the sooner she could hope for grandchildren.
His future viscountess appeared at ease with his mother’s grandiose planning and while at times Phin became overwhelmed in a house full of females, the notion of becoming a husband appealed beyond his wild imaginings. It would be a relief when his father arrived home in a fortnight and provided another male opinion within the household. Apparently Phineas had much to learn about weddings and the intricate workings of the female mind.
In the end, everything found a way of mollification. Ridley was gone, launched on a ship headed for the continent and the Dilgano cameo returned to Lady Livingston. Penelope never knew of its monetary worth before the misfortunate theft and as a reaffirmed believer in romance now that her heart’s every wish had come true, she wanted Dorothy to keep the piece. In turn, he’d surprised Penny with a cameo commissioned and carved in the likeness of her late mother, created from the small miniature he’d found on her bed coverlet.