Chapter 20 #2
One hand squeezing her arse, the other hooked beneath her leg, he shifted forward and entered her, inch by inch, slowly, her tight sheath adjusting to his girth and his length, until, at last, he’d buried himself inside her.
Her breath had gone shallow as she held on to him. “More, Liam, I need more.”
That was all he needed to hear. He began moving while, at the same time, allowing her to control the pace.
She was new to this, lest he forget. Lest he give in to the hot demands roaring through him and properly ravish her.
Still, his cock held out hope for a proper ravishment of Lady Saskia Calthorp’s cunny, but he would allow her these moments to adjust to him.
Soon, he felt her impatience grow as she clutched at him, her hips angling to take him deeper, her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing and pulling him tighter to her. She whimpered.
“All right, my love.”
Again, relentless, he thrust, and she gasped, then she moaned, her pleasure sinking into him, amplifying his own pleasure and his desire, too.
His desire to please her. He began moving with steady, deliberate intention, his own satisfaction a distant second to hers, as he moved inside her, his control increasing with every stroke as hers dissolved into mindless abandon.
Perhaps this was the height of selfishness in a way, using her desire to gratify him.
The presumptuousness of it…the arrogance of it.
He was guilty, then.
He wanted her mindless.
He wanted her enraptured.
He wanted her beguiled.
He wanted her besotted.
He wanted…her.
And if his long, hard, thick cock was a means toward the end of binding her to him, so be it.
What wasn’t fair in love and war?
So, harder he took her, making her gasp…moan…whimper…cry out, “Liam,” until he sensed it. Her need turning inward, as she reached for elusive climax. He pulled back from her mouth long enough to lick two fingers of his right hand. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll see.”
He dipped his hand between their joined bodies. Slick, she was, as he found the nub of her sex, lightly grazing that sensitive place, even as his length thrust inside her. “Oh,” came a long, animal moan from parted lips. “That feels so…delicious.”
With each brush of his fingers and with each thrust of his cock, she grew wilder, her want and need taking over, transforming her into a wanton.
Her breath caught in her lungs, and he knew she’d reached that delicate in-between place, suspended inside her pleasure for one beat of the heart, then another, before tipping over and breaking with climax.
She cried out her release into his shoulder, her cunny pulsing against his fingers…
around his manhood. His release decided it had waited long enough and was suddenly upon him.
He pulled from her, holding himself with one hand and grabbed a handkerchief from a pocket with the other.
She went still, her gaze arrested, as she watched him pleasure himself. “Oh, Liam,” she muttered.
She liked that, watching him take himself in hand.
And he liked it too much that she liked it so much.
Too much, indeed, for climax burst through him, bright white light shooting stars behind his eyes, through his veins, and he was spending into the square of linen and shouting his release.
When he opened his eyes, it was to find hers unflinching upon him.
“That was…” She shook her head. “I don’t have words for it. ”
“Amazing?” A smile accustomed to charming pulled at his mouth. “The best experience of your entire life?”
Her silvery-blue eyes remained serious. Her mouth, too. “Yes.”
He’d spoken the words as a tease, but she hadn’t taken them so.
And he thought, perhaps, they hadn’t been a tease, at all.
Perhaps they’d been a test.
This evening…the words they’d spoken…the pleasure and havoc they’d wreaked upon each other’s bodies…it all held weight, and perhaps he wanted to know he wasn’t the only one who felt thus.
“Yes,” he said.
“Have I asked a question?”
“I will continue with the memoir.”
He couldn’t understand how he didn’t see it earlier.
To continue with the memoir was to continue with Saskia—and that he couldn’t not do.
Her eyes went wide. He’d surprised her. “You will?”
He nodded and stuffed the used handkerchief into his pocket. Then he stepped back and pulled her dress over her knees. “I shall finish the racing season.”
“You’re going to ride the St. Leger?”
“Aye.”
For the first time in weeks, he again felt the master of his future.
It felt good, and it felt right.
With that renewed sense of purpose, he buttoned the falls of his trousers and adjusted her bodice.
He stepped back to get a clear look at her—or as clear as he could manage given the paltry light.
But it was difficult to concentrate on how she should look—proper…
virginal—when she looked so deliciously love-tousled.
Such a sight could have a man’s cockstand returning to life—as it did now.
He exhaled and steadied himself. He knew what he must say… “You, Lady Saskia, are going home.”
“I can’t just go home,” she protested. “I haven’t spoken my farewells.”
He pointed in the direction of the manse. “Everyone in that ballroom will take one look at you and think you’ve just been ravished.”
“But—”
“And they wouldn’t be wrong.”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“One benefit that comes with being Bolton is I’m now in possession of a town coach, which will carry you home.”
He took her hand, and she hopped down from the table. The rain had, blessedly, stopped. So, as they made their way back to the stables, it was beneath a yet-cloudy, but dry sky. After he’d handed her inside his carriage, she angled forward, “Aren’t you coming, too?”
He shook his head. “Rake and Gemma threw this ball for me. I can’t leave my sister in the lurch.”
She searched his eyes, then nodded. “Goodbye, Liam. I’ll see you at the St. Leger, then.”
“London is a small town. You might just see me before then.”
With that, he shut the door and called her Sloane Street address up to the driver. Then the horses were in motion, and he was watching the coach disappear around a corner and into the night.
A familiar pairing of words came to him.
Hopeless madness.
A month ago, until this very night, that was what Saskia had been to him—a madness with no hope in it.
Tonight, he’d had that madness confirmed.
But as for hopeless… Well, this madness of his might not be as hopeless as he’d once believed.
There might yet be uses for his newly acquired title.
Wooing the sister of a duke might be one of them.