Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
R oderick couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful volume of Othello that he held in his trembling hands. This gift Clarissa had chosen and likely paid for with whatever she had left from her pin money after she’d given the rest away to her parents. It was meaningful, personal, something that called back to the first fragile link they’d made to each other back at the country estate.
He looked up at her and when their eyes locked there was lightning. Terrifying, scalding, changing lightning. The kind he had sought all his life and told himself he would find with only one woman.
It was this woman. He didn’t only like her or want her or need to protect her.
He loved her. And he could see in that same flash of revealing fire that he would only grow to love her more and more deeply as they came to know each other better over the long years of marriage.
She shifted and dropped her gaze away. “You—you’re pale.”
He shook his head. This wasn’t the time to confess this feeling. She wasn’t ready, she still had too many defenses up around her. “I don’t think anyone has ever given me a gift so precious since I lost my dear parents.”
“You like it?” she said, and her relief was palpable .
“I do.” He looked at the volume again. “Oh, it’s lovely. Perfect.”
She smiled and that expression lit up everything in the room, in the world. He set the book down to be fully explored later and reached for her. He was relieved she didn’t step away, but allowed him to take her hand and draw her close.
“I love it,” he whispered, but he didn’t mean the book. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know that yet. He could still say it as he looked into her eyes.
She lifted her lips and he met them. This was the only place she ever fully let go, when they went to bed together. For now that would be enough and he surrendered to the pleasure of her touch and the connection they would make when they made love.
He drew his fingers into her thick, dark hair, drawing satiny locks down around them as she let out a little sigh of pleasure into his mouth. He took the entry that granted him and deepened the kiss. She tasted of tea and sugar and he loved that flavor of her. Wanted to bathe in it, drown in it. Her arms came up around his neck and she leaned against him, tilting her head to give herself to him.
She was his. More to the point, he was hers. He wanted to show her that. Show her that her ardor and her feelings and her passions would never be too much for him. That she could show them without worry.
He molded her against him, groaning at the pleasure of her body pressed to his. She dug her fingers against his bare back, lifting to him, trembling as her breath became short. His was, too. He stepped back, taking her in. His wet chest had made her white gown stick to her and become more transparent. He smiled at that.
“The one time your wearing white is an entire pleasure,” he said with a wicked wink.
She glanced down and saw what he meant. She laughed even as she lifted her hands to cover herself.
“Oh no,” he murmured, and grabbed her hand, lowering it and pulling her to the basin where there was still water. “I like it.”
He dipped a hand into the water and then pressed it to her breast, rubbing a thumb against her nipple. She arched a little, a shaky exhalation of breath letting him know he was pleasing her.
He wetted his hand again and dragged it down the apex of her body, making her dress stick to her stomach. She wore a chemise beneath, of course, but it still let him see the shape of her. The wonderful curves of her.
She gazed up at him, lower lip trembling. She caught his hand, and for a moment he thought she might push it away, demand they stop this because it wasn’t proper. But to his happy surprise, she instead moved his hand lower, across her hip and then to her thighs. He could see the soft pink flesh of them where her dress was dampened and he licked his lips in anticipation.
“I think I ought to dunk you in water every afternoon,” he murmured. “Make you my mermaid. See how wet you can be.”
She arched a brow. “I have a feeling you’re not talking about my clothing. Or…or are you?”
He laughed. “You’re learning so quickly, my lady. I want you wet between your thighs, I want you aching for me. Ready for me to take you and remind you that you are mine.” Her pupils dilated and he smiled. That grip on what she deemed proper was so much lighter here in his arms. “Tell me you’re mine,” he said.
“I’m yours,” she whispered after the slightest hesitation. “I’m yours. Make me yours.”
He couldn’t play with her anymore. Not when his emotions felt so powerful, not when she was staring up at him with her eyes glistening with desire.
He found her mouth again, this time with more passion and drive, and let his hand slide down her side. He cupped her bottom and she moaned into his mouth. He gripped the back of her thigh and lifted her leg, wrapping her around him so that when he ground against her he hit that sweet cleft of her sex even through her damp clothes.
“Please,” she whimpered, staggering backward as he moved her to the bed. “Please.”
He nodded as he continued to kiss her. They fell against the bed together, him covering her body. Her leg locked around his thigh tighter and she lifted with a shivering sigh. His cock was throbbing, echoing all his love for her, demanding he pour it over her and into her. At least in this they could be one.
He found the buttons along the front of her bodice and tugged them free with one hand while he kept kissing her. When the gown parted, he shoved it aside, along with her damp chemise beneath. One perfect breast popped free and he latched his lips around the pebbled nipple, sucking as she writhed beneath him and rubbed herself against him in the same rhythm they would eventually use when he took her.
He pushed the entire dress down to her waist and sucked the opposite nipple. She drew her hands into his hair, holding him there, then pushing him down. He lifted his eyes to her, smiling against her skin.
“You want my mouth on you?” he asked.
Her cheeks filled with pink and she turned her head away. He sucked her nipple harder and she gasped and glared at him.
“I want to hear what you want,” he said. “Tell me you want my tongue on you. You want to wrap your thighs around my shoulders and rock against me until you are shattered. Tell me.”
“I want that,” she gasped out. “I want you to…to…to lick me. Please, please.”
He could see how difficult it was for her to ask for what she wanted and so it was good enough. A little step forward, one he would cling to.
He drew his mouth down, tugging her dress as he did, hearing some of the fabric rend as he shoved it away with his bare foot. He expected her to protest, but she only moaned louder as he settled himself between her legs and began to draw the words “I love you” against the wet, trembling flesh of the wife he adored.
I f she had been asked before her marriage, Clarissa wouldn’t have ranked heated ardor as one of her highest desires in a husband. She wouldn’t have even understood what it meant. But having Roderick perched between her legs, his big hands pressed into her thighs to spread them wide, his tongue working in a rhythm against her tingling clitoris, the ardor was everything. He was everything.
She pushed that thought aside and focused instead on the mounting sensations created by his expert tongue. She lifted into him, rising with the intensity of the waves of pleasure building deep within her. She reached for it, knowing it well by now, needing it and the release it would give. Release he gave from all her troubles and thoughts and worries. When it hit, she gripped the coverlet with both hands, legs shaking and gripping around his broad shoulders. He didn’t let up, continuing to suck and lick in the same endless rhythm until her cries faded and her tremors subsided.
Then he leaned forward, caging her in with his body, his mouth finding hers and letting her taste the slick, wicked proof of her loss of all control. She reveled in it, this brief respite from responsibility. She wanted more, she was greedy for it, and so she lifted against him, feeling the proof of his desire hard and thick against her thigh through his trousers.
He chuckled against her mouth and then straightened, shedding the rest of his clothing swiftly before he settled back against her. He was watching her now as he aligned his cock to her, studying her as he took her in a long, smooth stroke.
She cried out again as he moved through her, but when she tried to turn away from the intensity of his stare, he cupped her chin and held her there gently, forcing the eye contact. Forcing her to hold on him as he took her slowly, gently, almost tortuously. The pleasure was easy to find the second time. It lingered from his mouth and was stoked by the grind of his pelvis to hers. But he denied it, keeping her on the edge instead of letting her fall over as she wished to do. She lifted harder, trying to demand, and he smiled.
“That’s right,” he whispered .
He caught her hips and rolled on the bed, shocking her by moving her over him. They were still connected, his cock still buried deep, and she couldn’t help but arch her hips against him. Her eyes widened. This position felt different. She controlled where his cock hit her, how she found her pleasure and gave his.
He was still holding her gaze and he nodded. “Take it,” he urged. “Let go and use me.”
She shivered at those two words. Use me . What a concept that she could control him, make him dance on her string, take only what she desired without thought of consequences. She rested her hands on his shoulders and rose up a fraction, changing the angle of their joined bodies once more.
“Such a good girl,” he growled.
Her body rolled with pleasure and she barked out a little cry from it. She did it again, again, taking him, increasing the pace, thinking of nothing but the building pressure between her legs. He lifted to meet her, his pupils almost black they were dilated so far from desire.
She came, crushing her mouth to his as her hips thrust out of control and he dug his fingers into them, marking her with his power even as he gave her her own. He groaned against her lips, coming deep within her, the heat of him only stoking the flames of release.
But at last she collapsed on his chest, panting with the exertion of pleasure. It had been different this time. Something had shifted between them, but she couldn’t name it. All she knew was that when his arms came around her she felt…safe. That was a fallacy, but she sank into it regardless, smiling when he gently kissed her temple, her cheek.
His fingers traced patterns along her back and she shivered at that touch. The things this man could do to her. Make her forget. Make her want.
She shifted and he let her go as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. The kissing couples painted in relief there were taunting her. None of them looked troubled by thoughts.
“I don’t think we should go downstairs,” he said, rolling on his side. His hand settled on her hip, gentle, warm weight that once again drew all those thoughts away far too easily.
“No?” she asked, forcing herself to look at him. God, he looked so handsome mussed from all those sinful things he did to her. How could he look so perfect when he was imperfect while she felt nothing but pressure when she did the same?
“No. I want to stay here all afternoon. All night.”
“In this bed?” she said with a laugh.
He nodded and wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t teasing. He meant it. “I want to stay in this bed with you, Clarissa, and test how many ways I can make you moan my name.”
“Oh,” she said softly, her body already tingling at the thought. “And what about supper?”
“I already had mine,” he said with a wicked wink.
Her laugh increased at his cheek and she swatted him lightly with her palm. “You cad.”
“When we’re hungry, I’ll call for something to be brought up. We’ll feed each other and drink a little too much wine and then I’ll lay you down on the rug in front of the fire and make you forget your name as you beg me for release.”
She stared at him. The heaven of what he suggested was so tempting, even though she knew that the surrender he was talking about violating at least some of the rules of propriety. But in that moment, she didn’t give a damn.
“What if I want to make you forget your name?” she asked, and heat instantly filled her cheeks at the bold question.
He tugged her against him. “Oh, I have so many things to teach you that will make you do that, my lady. So many things.”
She groaned as he kissed her and forget everything else, at least for a little while. She could return to reality soon enough. There was no other choice.