Chapter 20 #2
She turned her head slightly, her eyes bearing a lambent gaze of arousal coupled with awareness. The lady hadn’t been replaced by the harlot. Instead, the lady knew the strength of her own allure, the price he’d pay to drive both of them to madness before this was finished.
Anything.
“You’re perfectly dressed and proper, Veronica,” he said. “I wish Elspeth would enter now and see us sitting together in such accord.”
He could feel her thighs clench at the thought and moved a little in reward. His restraint was nearly at the breaking point, and they’d just begun. She was motionless, hot, and wet, so tight that even her breathing was an unbearable friction.
His hands dove beneath her skirts again, pulled on both sides of her pantaloons until they ripped apart. He reached for her, trailing a circle in the wet between her thighs, her moans driving him mad.
She pressed both palms flat against her bodice, just below her breasts, her breath coming fast.
“You want me to touch your breasts, don’t you, Veronica?”
She nodded.
“That wouldn’t be proper.”
She shook her head.
“Even asking me to suck on your nipples would be wrong.”
She nodded, caught up in the game. “Very, very wrong.”
His thumbs met, stroked softly as her eyes closed.
He wanted to move, was nearly desperate to move, but he remained where he was, solid and hard inside her. She was so damn hot, he felt scorched by her heat.
“Are you thinking of the Empire?”
“Yes,” she said, breathlessly. “All those ships.”
“Sailing around the world.”
“All those very tall masts,” she said, leaning gently to the side and accompanying the movement with an inward squeeze.
He grinned at her talent, drew his hands from beneath her skirts and placed them on both sides of her clothed waist, and lifted her up, then down. A reward, then, for her wholehearted participation in this game.
“Such strong, thick masts,” she murmured, clenching him again. This time, she placed both hands on the arms of the chair and levered herself up slowly, then just as slowly down.
“You’re not being the least proper, Veronica Fairfax,” he said, when he could breathe again. “I shall have to punish you.”
“Please,” she whispered. “No.”
She turned her head again; the look they shared was one of lovers.
“Don’t leave,” she said. “Please.”
As if he could leave her.
She’d turned the game neatly on its head, overpowering him by simply enjoying herself.
Her face and neck were flushed, her lips full as if he’d kissed them swollen, her eyes wide and hinting at green.
She began a rhythm between them by planting her feet full on the floor and lifting herself up and down and to each side, using him.
He was so damn pleased with her he could have laughed.
Instead, he placed his hands on her hips and urged her higher, raising up when she lowered herself, glorying in each of her soft moans.
“You aren’t being proper at all, Veronica,” he said, before leaning forward and scraping his teeth against her throat, breathing into her ear.
“I know,” she said, turning her head. Wicked delight showed in her eyes.
“Faster.”
“Yes,” she said, a sibilant murmur of need. “Yes.”
He wanted to tongue her, taste her, bite her nipples, and suck her into his mouth. All he did was sit there, allow himself to be taken, used, drained. He felt himself gush into her, the exquisite pleasure so powerful it stopped at the barest edge of pain.
Her climax was announced with a keening moan. When she was done, when her rhythmic contractions eased, and her breathing was long and slow, he lifted her and carried her to his bed, staggering a little, but feeling as if he’d conquered the whole damn world.
When dawn woke him, Montgomery watched Veronica as she slept, the rising sun casting an orange glow over the room.
Passion was wrapping a net around both of them, yet he had no intention of fighting free. From the beginning, he’d been startled by her complete surrender to him. Now, he was beginning to know the woman herself, and knowledge of Veronica only bound him closer.
She knew a little about his past but not the whole of it. The truth was a tale filled with tragedy and stupidity, and wasn’t a story he wanted to tell.
He had a feeling, however, she wouldn’t rest until she’d heard all of it.
What would she say? Would the knowledge change her response to him?
Her hair was mussed around her face. Her lips were pink, her complexion was rosy.
What is it about me that displeases you? Why had she felt so lacking?
She knew about Caroline. Yet in the past weeks, she’d never said a word.
He reached out and placed his hand on her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his palm. Even in sleep she was alluring. Or perhaps she was simply as elemental as air currents to his ship. He needed her.
Her eyes blinked open.
“Come flying with me,” he said, feeling as shy as a boy.
“Flying?” she asked, stretching. “When?”
“Tomorrow.” He amended that comment after a glance at the window. “Today.”
She looked worried.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” he said. “I’m taking the balloon up to test the air currents.”
“I’m not afraid,” she said, but he suspected she was. Veronica had a core of stubbornness to her, one that would refuse to admit any fear.
He waited, patient, tracing a pattern on her arm with one finger.
Slowly, she nodded.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
She nodded again, accompanying the gesture with a smile.
“If for no other reason than to prove to me you’re not afraid,” he guessed.
Her broadening smile was worthy of a kiss.
“Passion becomes you, Veronica,” he said, pulling back. “Your cheeks are pink, and you look well loved.”
He pulled her into his arms again, and any further conversation was lost beneath a tide of pleasure.