White Lace and Promises (13 page)

Before she could ask what he meant, he pressed his hand against her belly, sliding lower until the heel of his hand pressed into her nub through her clothing. Sensation shot down her legs and up through her stomach.

His mouth covered hers again. Something niggled at the corners of her mind. Oh yes…she was angry with him. For excluding her from his conversation with Mrs Hazelwood.

For being an arrogant, autocratic jackass.

But the taste of his tongue and the scent of his breath intoxicated her sleepy senses. She wanted to feel his hands on her breasts. Wanted to feel his mouth on her pebbled nipples.

Well, hell’s bells, couldn’t she be angry and quarrel with him later?

 
She arched her back again to bring her breasts, with their stiff, straining peaks, to his attention. God, she ached for his mouth upon them.

But he moved down her body, then knelt between her legs. She cupped her own breasts, rubbing her palms over the tight peaks through her thin chemise, frantically trying to gain the sensation she hungered for. She wanted him so badly. She wanted him now. Wanted his muscled chest crushing her breasts as he mounted her, his body hair abrading her nipples as he thrust into her. Wanted him to take her hard and fast.

Just like that morning.

She twisted her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and moaned softly.

He pulled her skirts up in a swift, crinkling rustle. Dying to be closer to him—as close as she could get—she spread her legs wide to hug his body. He stroked his hands along her inner thighs, sending sparks of fire up to her cunt.

He touched her inner folds with a fingertip and the jolt of sensation made her hips jump off the window seat. She cried out, the sound echoing loudly in her chamber.

“Shh,” he warned, his eyes intent upon the place between her legs.

She laughed softly.

He traced his fingertip along her folds, starting at the wetness flowing from her channel’s entrance and moving forward ever so slowly. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. He did it again, drawing the moisture over her fast-stiffening nub. She bit her lip, harder this time. God, God, God, it was so good. No man had ever made love to her like he did—like it was some kind of fucking art.

He circled her sensitive bud in a leisurely way, drawing the sensations out until the very soles of her feet tingled with the pleasure and the anticipation of more to come.

“Oh heavens.” Her whisper shook with her trembling.

“You like that?”

“God, yes.”

“And what about this?” He lowered his head and pushed his tongue into her channel.

“Oh my…” She twined her fingers into his hair and arched her hips towards the mouth that tenderly ravished her.

He eased back the hood on her nub and stroked slowly, firmly, with his tongue, up along her nub’s hidden length. The pure bliss vibrated through her belly and she shuddered and moaned. He repeated the move again and again, holding her there, right on the edge.

“Please, please,” she whispered.

He suddenly stopped, moved up and took her straining nipple into his mouth.

God, God, God.

She writhed and twisted and pressed her breast into his mouth, clutching his head. He took her other breast and squeezed. She moaned—a little too loudly.

He pulled away and moved up to face her. His eyes shone like silver coins and his angular features were sharp with arousal. “If I let you come, you’ll scream, won’t you?”

She shook her head. “No, no, no—I’ll be quiet.”

He laughed softly. “Beautiful little liar.” He kissed her nose.

“I swear, Grey, I’ll be quiet—so very quiet.”

He took her lips in a heated, hungry kiss. The taste and smell of herself, of her arousal on his lips, drove her insane with need and she writhed against him even more frantically.

He entered her with two fingers, feeling along her forward wall until he found that certain spot, and pleasure went stabbing through her. She shuddered and arched against him and cried out into his mouth. He worked his fingers rapidly inside her, pressing her there again and again. Deep, impossibly sweet pleasure went vibrating through her. Her tension crested, then broke over her in a wash of pure delight. She cried out and he sucked the sounds in, muffling them with his mouth.

With one eye open, Grey watched the expression of pure bliss consume Beth’s features. His cock throbbed unbearably, pressing against the fall of his pantaloons. The last spasms contracted her flesh around his fingers and, spent, she collapsed in the circle of his arms with a soft sigh. He lifted his mouth and cradled her head against his shoulder and waited while her breathing slowed.

He had come here, to her chamber—this servant’s attic chamber in which she’d spent her childhood—determined to put the rule of law to her about signing loans for her siblings. He’d been damned generous with the McConnells. If they couldn’t live within their new, extended means, he wasn’t about to subsidise them further.

Beth moaned and stirred in his arms, pressing her face into his shoulder.

Yes, he’d meant to chastise her over the moneylender but the sight of her here on the window seat, all warm and sleepy, had awoken his lust so strongly that it had driven rational thought away.

Devil take him, she was such a little scrap of a thing but she had to be the most exciting woman in the world.

And she was his.

Before he left this chamber, she was going to admit it. There would be no doubts between them about who was in control.

“I love you. God help me, I love you so ardently.” He wrapped a hand about the mass of her hair and pulled gently. “Say it—tell me you love me.”

She laughed, the sound sinfully sensual. She slid her hand down over his waistcoat. He caught his breath and held it as her hand reached the superfine cloth of his pantaloons. His pulse went racing away.

He wanted to fuck the very breath out of her. He glanced at her narrow little bed. How badly would those ropes creak?

 
Something brushed his straining hardness, startling him out of his thoughts. He glanced down and found her little fingers working nimbly, undoing his buttons. His erection grew harder, lengthening and straining painfully against his fall. God, he wanted to wrench the buttons open and free himself, but she looked so adorable, her delicate brows drawn tightly together, her mouth set in determination as she struggled with his buttons, that he let her have her way. Finally, she had the last button undone, and he sprang into her cool hand.

He sighed with relief.

She stroked him with sure, deft movements, exactly the right amount of pressure. Hunger ravished him. But she wasn’t going to distract her way out of this. “I know you love me, so just say it—just once, you little vixen.”

She moved away from him, dropped down to the floor and squatted on her feet before him. She bent her head and pressed her cheek to his thigh, then glanced up. Her cheeks were flushed, and her loose hair was a bright, silver-gilt spill over his dark blue pantaloons.

“Do you want to
feel
how I feel for you?” she asked, her voice breathy and soft, her eyes smoky blue. He got that peculiar catch in his heart—the one he’d got the very first time he’d met her eyes.

He ran his hand over her hair, caressing the silken strands with his fingertips. She rubbed her cheek against his thigh and her eyes locked with his, glowing with tenderness now. The depth of emotion in her gaze struck him right in the heart. God. When she looked at him like that, what did the words really matter? He nodded.

“Hold my hands,” she said, reaching them out to him.

He took her hands, threading her fingers with his, steadying her as she leant forward. His cock surged eagerly towards her lips. She kissed the head, then moved her mouth down his length, slowly, until the tip touched the warm, moist snugness of her throat. She had not taken her eyes from his as she suckled on him. It was as if his heart and cock were linked.

I am so besotted with her.

Maybe it wasn’t the most comfortable thing for a man like him to be infatuated, but it did provide moments of stunning pleasure. And there was nothing he could do about being besotted, so he might as well enjoy it.

She released his cock, then moved her mouth along the shaft, over and over, before taking him back into her mouth and swallowing him deeply, without ever breaking their eye contact.

She pulled her hands from his, then stroked his length, gliding over his shaft slick from her mouth. With mouth and hands, she propelled him to dizzy heights. His balls, heavy now with his arousal, drew up snug to his body. He touched her soft ringlets, and caressed her satin cheek, unable to keep his hips from thrusting forward.

“I’ll come, Beth.” He took a ragged breath. “God help me, I am going to come so hard.”

Her hand quickened upon his shaft.

“I want you to.” He could hear the sloshing wetness of her mouth. It made his balls tighten even further. “I want to taste you. I want you to pour yourself down my throat.”

She put her mouth back on him, grasped his ass and swallowed his length whole.

His cock went hard beyond bearing.

“Now, Beth,” he breathed. Tremors began deep in his balls. Oh, Christ. His hips arched forward.

She tightened her hands on his buttocks, pulling him closer, swallowing him deeper.

He gripped the back of her head.
His seed shot out in fierce jets, pleasure exploding in his loins. His whole body shook with the power of his release.
God, God, God.

He opened his eyes. She was still holding him in her mouth; his erection lingered. He loosened his hold on her hair, then brushed his fingertips over her face. She leaned in to his touch, her eyes burning into his.

He loved her so fervently. He didn’t want to leave her. Maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe he could send detailed instructions to his business manager. Maybe they could just forget this business of a church wedding and get married right away. He could take her home to New York and forget the two-week wedding trip.

She released him, put her head on his thigh and closed her eyes. He stroked her silken hair. His breathing and heart rate returned to normal and, with that recovery, clear thought returned. God, for those few moments he’d been considering delaying his return home. War was upon them and any misstep he made could cause everything to be lost.

He must keep his priorities in proper order.

“I have to leave tonight—I’ve got to get back to New York.”

Chapter Seven

 
Grey’s casually spoken words cleared the sleepy, satisfied stupor out of Beth’s brain. “Wait…what?” She sat up straight. “You’re leaving when?”

“Now. I need to get there as soon as possible.” He took her hand and pressed it briefly to his cheek. Then he eased her head off his leg.

She sat back on her heels and watched as he repaired his clothing.

“You’ll stay here with Mrs Hazelwood—it is all arranged. I’ll be back in time for the wedding.”

Her head spun. Was she dreaming? Had he just said he was leaving
now
, this evening, for New York?

He reached down and scooped her into his embrace. His arms were strong and his body was warm. She couldn’t resist hugging his broad shoulders and nestling her cheek against his lapel. No, he couldn’t mean it. He couldn’t leave just when they had become so close once more.

He’d at least stay a day or two longer.

He stood and hoisted her up with one arm under her knees and one wrapped about her shoulders. Bouncing softly with his every step, she clung to him. His body heat, his strength, his masculine scent surrounded her all the more.

He lowered her gently and she fell softly onto the feather bed. His face came close to hers and he kissed her. Briefly. Chastely. He pulled away.

She gripped his shoulders. “Stay. Stay and love me.”

His expression hardened. He gently pulled her hands away and straightened. ”You must be very tired after all the tedious shopping today.”

She gaped at him. He couldn’t be serious. She was used to labouring hard and walking everywhere she needed to go. She was no delicate Juliana de Lange.

But, no, he appeared quite serious.

Did he
want
her to be delicate?

She chewed her lip as he continued, “You should sleep before supper. But first I want to tell you I placed a substantial sum in an account under your name—in case something should happen, you’ll be cared for. The money in the bank operates under a trust. It gives you a set allowance each year.”

So different from Charlie or Joshua, Grey was cautious. Deliberate. Protective. A warm curl of something settled in her belly, something so foreign she scarcely recognised it at first.

Security.

And she’d craved the feeling for so long. She’d have simply died to admit that before now. God, a girl could get dependent on such a feeling.

“In fact, Beth, it allows you only a set amount a month.” Surely that wasn’t his voice, so paternalistic and hard?