Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The words spilling from Valentina’s mouth… She didn’t understand why she needed so badly to speak them.
They would lead her down the path to ruin, if she wasn’t careful. Except…
She was too far gone down that particular path to be careful.
From the moment she’d opened her eyes to find Archie beside her bed, metamorphosed from her dream, she’d understood the inevitability of this moment.
The hand at her waist instinctively tightened.
Strong and capable, those fingers of his.
And when he tugged, she swayed forward, placing her hand on top of his, the feel of his bare skin beneath hers enough to send a flame of heat through her.
She guided him up, so together, they pulled back a panel of her night-rail.
She shrugged one shoulder then the other, and the garment loosed and fell to a silken puddle on the floor, leaving her clad in naught but a flimsy chemise.
His pupils flared, pushing his irises into thin blue rings. Desire. Her body pulsed with it.
He cupped the back of her head, pulling her down so her lips were separated from his by the scantest sliver of air. “It’s not too late to turn back,” he spoke into that slender space, his lips brushing against hers, tempting her.
“Oh, but it is,” she said, pushing forward, at last, claiming his mouth with hers. Her head went light and her knees weak. His hands slid down the length of her body. She groaned when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, leading her more fully into the carnality of the moment.
The Lord Archer she knew in the daylight was all lightness and air.
But this Lord Archer… His presence possessed a solid physicality capable of plumbing depths.
And, oh, how she wanted her depths plumbed.
The dark intention within his eyes promised he could.
His mouth found her neck, and a moan escaped her as his fingers trailed beneath her chemise, and before she knew what he was about, he’d pulled back and had it over her head, flung away.
He went utterly still as he took in her naked form. “Valentina,” fell from his mouth, “what a body you have.”
To see her effect on him, it touched a place of deep feminine power.
“May I touch you?” he asked.
“You’ve been touching me.” And a little more.
“That was before.”
She threaded her fingers through his and lifted, bringing his hand to her breast. He squeezed, and she gasped. “Do that again.”
A wicked smile curled the corner of his mouth as he took her nipple between forefinger and thumb. “Your wish is my command.”
He squeezed again, and—oh—that felt even better.
“Where else would you like me to touch you?” he asked.
He knew where she wanted to be touched, but she’d started this game and he wanted to play, her way.
“I…I…”
Oh, could she speak her desires aloud?
Was she so shameless?
“I want you to place your mouth on my breast.”
She was.
A laugh rumbled deep in his chest. As he squeezed one nipple with his fingers, he took the other with his mouth. “Oooh,” poured from her in a long, sensuous groan. Sensation, wild and glorious, soared through her as he suckled, nipped, swirled his tongue and flicked it against her.
And she’d thought his hands were talented.
She squeezed her thighs together, for the sensation that fizzed through her had settled there—in the secret place only she knew.
His head tipped back. “Is there anywhere else you would like me to touch you?”
She nearly whimpered. His words touched that place.
Could she do it? Could she guide his hand there?
How badly did she want it?
How badly did she need it?
She took the hand clutched at her waist and led it, down…across the flat of her stomach…down the dark curls of her mons pubis, his long, masculine fingers inciting a blaze of heat along her skin.
Though she ached—throbbed—for more of his touch—there—she stopped, of a sudden uncertain.
He seemed to understand. His gaze met hers. “Place your knee on my thigh,” he said, his voice a gravelly rasp.
She did as he instructed, and his thumb slid along the slit of her sex. “So wet,” he murmured against her belly, trailing kisses there.
Her eyes shut, and her head arced back. The only place she existed in the world were the places he touched—the indent of her waist…
the flat of her belly…a hard, sensitive nipple…
her quim. His thumb pressed against a nub that came alive with instant sensation.
She gasped, and her knee involuntarily opened wider.
She needed more of his touch—there. Another of his clever fingers moved along her slit and then—oh—entered her, even as his thumb continued touching her.
“Oh,” she gasped, as he began stroking in and out of her, his long finger thick and so talented. The very essence of her being was condensed into this one place, even as she felt suspended above it.
Of their own will, her hips began to move, creating a rhythm with him. A feeling tensed inside her and held her in its grip. A tension unlike any she’d ever experienced, that insisted she abandon herself to the pleasure he offered.
This feeling was a promise. The promise of an end, her body understood that. If only she could find the way.
But this man, the one who had taken her body in hand, he knew how to get her there.
The tension tightened its grasp, and the breath caught in her throat as she felt suspended between two worlds—that of the physical and another place that taunted and teased just out of reach, as she balanced on the edge of the unknown until…
It broke inside her, all that had been tensed releasing on an unruly wave that washed through her. “Archie,” she cried, arcing into him, demanding more as abandon tipped her beyond the boundaries of the physical.
She wasn’t sure how long she remained poised like that, but eventually the race of her heart slowed, and she opened her eyes to find his head angled back, his gaze fast upon her.
“How did you do that?” she asked—demanded.
He laughed.
“You’re as clever as you think you are.” She was serious.
“Valentina,” he said. “Do you trust me?”
The answer was instinctive. “Yes.”
His finger slid from her, and she moaned at the loss of him.
He stood and in a single efficient motion swept her into his arms. Her face nestled against the crook of his neck as he carried her across the room, lay her on the bed, and stood back. It only struck her now that she was entirely naked while he was fully clothed in trousers and shirt.
She propped herself up onto her elbows. Her breasts stood high and proud on her chest. The hunger in his eyes deepened. He rather liked her voluptuous breasts.
Well, they liked him back.
He slid the shirt over his head, and her gaze swept slowly across him.
Tall and angular was this man, but muscled, too, and not an ounce of excess on him.
The defined muscles of his chest were covered in a fuzz of blond hair that led down the ridged muscles of his stomach, and even further below where his fingers were loosening the fall of his trousers.
Clearly delineated beneath superfine wool was the rigid outline of his manhood.
Then fabric dropped, and it sprang free.
A shiver streaked through her.
Long, thick, turgid… Her body wanted that.
Inside her.
He dispatched the trousers with a few movements. He was gorgeous, this man. So golden and light, and yet it was the dark promise in his eyes that sent a shard of desire straight through her.
Gone was the Lord Archer out to charm the world with his smile. In its place was a wicked curl of the mouth, and a steady intent in his eyes. To be the desire of such a man was nearly as seductive as his touch. Nearly.
She came to her knees as he stepped to the edge of the bed.
He reached for her—one hand drawing her in for a kiss, the other clutching her hip, pulling her so her body met the length of his, his hard manhood pressed against her belly.
Twin threads of desire and anticipation trembled through her at the feel of his smooth skin beneath her hands, the hot tangle of his tongue with hers.
Hands tightened around her, and he lay her down beneath him. One elbow planted to the side of her head, he hovered above her, his fingers tracing across her breasts and down her stomach to the mound of her sex.
“Valentina,” he whispered against her mouth.
It was only then she realized her eyes were closed. She’d become a being composed entirely of sensation. She found him staring down at her.
“You can touch me.”
And it struck her.
What he was giving her, she could give him.
Now wasn’t the time to be bashful.
In this bed, together, they were equals.
They were man and woman.
Madly in lust with one another.
And she knew exactly which part of him she would like to touch first. She reached up and ran her fingers through tousled golden curls. “As soft as I thought they’d be.”
“You’ve been thinking about my curls?”
“All the ladies must.”
She smoothed her hands across his wide shoulders, muscles tensed as they held him above her.
They weren’t the thick muscles of some men, but lean and sinewy as they tapered into strong arms. Then her fingertips were trailing down his fuzzed chest…
down his stomach composed entirely of ridged muscles.
The feel of his skin, smooth and warm. The feel of the muscle beneath, steel and unyielding.
For all this man was glib charm, in this moment he was all solid man.
Her hands ventured farther. To his taut arse. She gave it a squeeze. Humor flickered in his eyes.
“You can touch me,” he rasped, serious, imploring.
She knew the me of which he spoke. His manhood, hard and thick and waiting…for her.
The heat that pulsed through her wasn’t from a blush, but from a desire to do exactly as he implored.
Touch him, as he’d touched her.
Fingertips that trembled traced down his hard, velvet length, and she nearly gasped at the craving that sparked within her.
A groan sounded at the back of his throat, only emboldening her.
Her hand wrapped around him, and the breath caught in his chest. To have this man so completely in her thrall…
Seductive, feminine power slid through her.
His fingers reached down and grazed along her slit. She, too, was in his power. This abandon to each other was unexpected, and she wanted more of it. To give over completely to whatever it was that bound them.
But, oh, how hard and full he was in her hand.
How wet she was for him. “I need you inside me,” she uttered. Now it was her turn to implore.
On primal instinct, her legs widened, and he moved between. His gaze met and held hers, the tip of his manhood pressed against her sex. Her hips angled up, straining for what he withheld. On a slow, deliberate stroke, he began entering her, stretching her as he filled her.
He suddenly stopped, alarm in his eyes. “You’re a virgin.”
“And?”
“And I’ve never been with a virgin.”
“Then it’ll be your first time, too.”
He stared down at her, doubts unshaken.
So, she took his face in her hands and drew him down so his lips touched hers, the act intimate—almost as intimate as the other act they were poised upon. “I need to be filled by you,” she whispered against his mouth.
“Valentina,” he rasped, his arse tightening as he pushed through her maidenhead.
She gasped at the spike of pain.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, concern clouding the clear blue of his eyes.
She shook her head. “I feel like…” Oh, how to say what she felt… “It feels like everything all at once.”
And yet she wanted more.
His hips began to move, one slow, testing stroke after another, allowing her to adjust to the feel of him. She’d never felt so…full. A bead of sweat dripped down his chin onto her chest as she sought more of this pleasure mixed with pain, and he delivered.
A feeling—the feeling from minutes ago—again began to climb inside her. It tensed and coiled and left her no option but to center her entire being toward the satisfaction of it. This feeling, it placed demands on her, and oh, how she wanted to satisfy it.
Her arms tightened around him, and she groaned her frustration—her need—into his neck.
He angled his head so he met her eye. “Valentina, you can trust me. I’ll get you there.”
His mouth began trailing along the column of her neck, tightening her nipples, making her wild beneath him. And still he thrust into her, an unrelenting drive that filled her and sent waves of lust licking through her, even as more was promised…
Feeling burst inside her, lightning streaking through her sex as it pulsed around his hard manhood. His gaze went interior as his own climb toward release overtook him, and he withdrew from her, rolling to the side and spilling his seed outside her.
He collapsed back, joining her in this state that felt as if her body was floating in a cloud of ether. How could such a deeply physical act be so completely beyond the bounds of the corporeal at the same time?
And yet with each breath and slowing beat of her heart, she sank back into her body and the reality of the man beside her.
She turned her head and found his gaze already upon her. “You’re no longer a virgin.”
She could see it was weighing on him. “It’s different for us.”
His eyebrows crinkled together. “Us who?”
“The riff-raff.”
His jaw clenched. He didn’t like that answer.
“A woman’s maidenhead isn’t as important to my class.”
It was mostly true. If there was a babe, well, that was a different matter. But, thankfully, he’d taken precautions.
Her words, however, did seem to assuage him a small bit as he gathered her close and snugged her into the curl of his body. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow,” he muttered into her hair. Not long after, his breathing became even in the cadence of sleep.
But Valentina’s gaze remained obstinately fixed on the canopy above.
We’ll discuss it tomorrow.
And with which Lord Archer would she be discussing it?
The one always on the lookout for a lark and a laugh?
Or the one whose arm was presently providing a pillow for her head? The one with hidden depths?
Or was it possible they were one and the same?