A Midsummer's Sin (3 page)

She was going to run. He knew it.

“Rose?” He spoke carefully, as if to a skittish kitten.

She bit her lip, looked down then backed all the way into the nearest tree, a large maple. A perfect picture of submission.

Sin be damned. He only wanted—no, he
needed
—two things. To feel all that young, ivory-hued flesh against his. And to plunge into her depths. With hands that had begun to tremble ever harder, he jerked the ties of his shirt undone and pulled it over his head, then he shed his boots, stockings and breeches.

She leaned against the tree, waiting demurely as he approached. His body touched hers, pressing into her softness. She laughed, a low, musical sound that carried above the slight breeze rustling the tree branches above their heads.

She didn’t raise her eyes.

So she was a little hesitant. But she remained there, seemingly pleased to surrender to his will. Perhaps she’d never fucked standing and didn’t know how to go about it. In his Oxford days, he’d backed more than one lusty wench to a wall. A tree trunk would suffice as well. He pulled her away from the tree and cupped her arse, her sweet, firm arse, then he bent his head into the curve of her neck. “I have wanted this—dear God, how I have wanted you.” He nipped at her neck, lightly. “You. Only you.”

She tensed.

He held his breath, not daring to say more.

“You have wanted me?” Her voice was soft, husky, a little choked.

“Yes… God, yes.”

Her curves relaxed against him. “Then have me.”

Her words landed like kindling on the fire in his blood. He hoisted her. “Put your legs about my waist.”

She wrapped her long limbs about him. Quickly. Eagerly. Tightly. Eliminating any lingering doubt about her willingness.

He positioned himself at her entrance and her fluids gushed forth, coating the crown of his cock. He groaned. God, it had been years since he’d known a woman to get wet like that.

Wet for him.

He breached her slightly. Her walls clenched around him. She tightened her legs and moaned, the sound resonating pure feminine hunger. He could not wait. He propelled into her on one quick thrust. She sucked in her breath, her body stiffened.

His crown rammed against her womb. She shuddered, convulsively, and tightened her limbs.

Oh damn. Her cunt hugged him like a leather glove that had been wetted then allowed to dry. It must have been a long time since she’d had a man.

“Sweetheart, oh, sweetheart,” he whispered by way of apology. Yet he couldn’t be wholly sorry.

Warmth centred in his chest. Fierce gladness.

 She must have been chaste. Maybe the entire time in New Balcombe.

He ground his lips to her cheek, closing his eyes and trembling with the effort to hold back. She was his. Finally his.

Rosalind leaned her head against Thomas’ broad, well-muscled chest. The fine hair was damp with fresh sweat, the musky, male scent intoxicating. Her body still reeled from the pleasure-pain of his abrupt entry. How sweet such a savage sensation could be! She’d forgotten what it was like to be invaded, to be consumed by a man. An utterly desirable man. Of their own will, her hips rocked against his and she gripped his strong shoulders. “Please, please haste to it.”

His answering, deep groan reverberated through his body to hers, deliciously male. Her inner walls squeezed his hard thickness with greedy hunger.

He began moving in her slowly. Shards of fire sparked within her. She moaned and rocked her hips and she clenched about him again and again. His breathing grew harsher, quicker, and so did his thrusts. Her tension increased, building… Oh, a few more strokes and, oh God, she would—

He groaned and jerked himself from her, a sucking sensation followed by a hollow emptiness. Her sex quivered with the unbearable expectation of his return. He pressed his hot, hard erection to her stomach and pumped, the velvety flesh caressing her. She moaned in protest, thinking he was teasing her. A shudder convulsed his body, followed by another and another. Wet warmth jetted against her. He put his face against her neck and groaned.

The violent expulsion of his seed quaked through the shaft of his cock as he pressed against her belly, still pumping. He was coming and coming and still coming. Her heart still thundered in her chest, her blood still sang in her ears. It was the most exciting thing she’d ever experienced.

Finally, he stilled and fell against her, panting.

Oh God, he was done.

Finished.

Over.

No, he couldn’t be. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be done. After being celibate for so long, after wanting him so long, she’d go mad.

He pulled away from her. His seed rolled down her belly onto her thighs, thick as warmed syrup, the scent filling the air like earth and grass after a rain.

Oh God. He was done.

A low, keening wail echoed. Inhuman, feline, wild. She realised that it came from her yet she couldn’t hold it back. She reached behind her and grazed her hands over the rough tree bark, as if the pain could distract from the overwhelming hunger burning in her loins, aching in her womb.

He walked into the clearing where his clothes lay scattered. The moonlight shimmered on the angles and planes of his hard muscled body. A body she suddenly had a whole new appreciation for. She couldn’t bear to watch him cover that masculine beauty.

Trembling with need, she closed her eyes and bit her lip.

“Rose.”

His urgent tone brought her eyes open. He was sitting on the grass in the full light then he lay back. His cock was still hard, straight up as a mighty oak. A wave of coveting weakened her knees. Her inner walls clenched in hunger. She couldn’t take her eyes off his glorious erection. He motioned for her to come hither. “Rose, come here.”

She stared at him, transfixed.

“Good God, girl, stop staring and come straddle me.”

Those words burned a vivid, shocking mental picture into her mind. Her legs went so weak they threatened to collapse beneath her.

“Have pity, Rose.”

He was serious. But he couldn’t mean that! It wouldn’t be natural to mount a man—would it? No man had ever asked her before. She wouldn’t even know how. Lust throbbed in her core, her empty, empty core. His rod twitched, seemed to grow harder, longer, thicker as if in sympathy.

“Rose.”

The plea in his voice brought her attention to his face. His features held such tender welcome, openly mirroring her need. She could never have ever resisted that. A cry tore up from her belly and out her throat. She ran to him, falling to her knees, straddling his calves and scooting up along his haired, sweat-dampened thighs.

With both hands, he grasped her hips, work-roughened calluses grating on her flesh as he pulled her pelvis down closer to his. “Guide me,” he said breathily.

She grasped his erection, and moved to position it. His wet, leaking crown grazed her swollen, overheated, soaked flesh. Dire waves of desire tore through her at the slick velvet-over-steel sensation. She whimpered loudly, her legs shaking so badly she almost fell atop him.

“Easy now,” he tightened his hold on her hips.

She gripped his sides with her thighs to maintain her balance then positioned his sex at her entrance.

She hesitated. She’d never imagined she would take the aggressive part and fuck a man. How was it done?

“Like this, Rose. Mount me.” He pulled her down firmly.

Her cunt was so wet that his thick, hard length came all the way inside in one sweet, sliding move. His girth seemed to stretch her to her limits. The delicious fullness sent waves of delight through her so strong that she gasped. He flexed his hips up and she gasped again. Sweet, it was oh so sweet and she wanted more. She had to have more. Tentatively, she rocked.

“God, Rose, God.” His voice was harsh. He slapped her buttock, a sharp smack that sent a surprising surge of heat through her. She melted for him. Her inner walls rippled over him. She worked her hips again, quickly finding just the right angle. Her fluids poured out of her, making sloshing sounds, filling the air with their sensual scent. Thrusting again and again and again, she became possessed with a single-minded, desperate determination to take all he had to give.

Her sex contracted on his hardness, fierce spasms so prolonged it seemed they might never end. She wailed like any wild thing there in the wood.

Spent, she fell against him. Her lungs hurt for breath and she panted open-mouthed. The odour of his sweat, masculine musk overlaid with something spicy and woodsy, surrounded her. It was all right. It was safe here. She belonged against him. She could spend forever like this.

He strengthened his grasp on her hips and rocked against her. She didn’t want it. Why wouldn’t he be still? Why wouldn’t he let her be? She wanted only to lie against him and float away on the bliss he had allowed her to experience.

His hand brushed over her folds. Sparks ignited in her nub. She drew a quivering little breath and gripped his broad shoulders. With his fingertips, he sought that little erect piece of her, rubbing it with light intensity. Her sex began to pull tight. Oh Lord, it wasn’t possible—it just wasn’t possible, not again. But it was happening. Her pleading moans echoed in her own ears. She held him more tightly.

“That’s it, sweetheart, give yourself over to it.” His breath tickled her ear.

Her cunt spasmed, contracting on his flesh again, harder than before. Her body convulsed. Pleasure coursed through her, so fiery and fierce that she screamed with it.

She came back to herself slowly. His strong arms were cradling her. He stroked her back in long, leisurely motions. His breathing sounded heavy. His cock throbbed within her, still erect.

He murmured something then withdrew, his thick length sliding from her.

She whimpered at the loss of fullness. At the loss of him.

He rolled her onto her back. The scent of earth rose. The grass was soft and cool, contrasting with his hard, warm body as he lowered himself on her. He bent and took one of her taut nipples into his mouth, laving it, his tongue like wet fire. She clutched his head. He suckled on her tight peak. Shafts of delight stabbed down through her belly to her core. She arched her hips and all the while uttered pleading moans.

She hadn’t imagined this would be so…so very sumptuously sensual.

“I want you.” His voice was husky, urgent. “All of you. Now.”

He lifted his body. She opened her eyes. He was holding himself in his hand. Stroking slowly. He was so huge. She’d known that, of course, having had him inside already. But seeing him like that, held for display, made it seem all the larger. He took his cock and rubbed it against her most sensitive part, sliding like velvet against velvet. Unbearably sensual pleasure. She writhed and strained for more of the sensation and her nub grew erect yet again.

Her core felt hollow. Empty. She craved him. She needed him.

“Please, please, please…” She tossed her head on the mossy grass.

He lifted his head. His eyes were like green flames, glittering. Moonbeams cast highlights and shadows over his face. “Give me my name. I will not be just any man to you.”

 She reached up and touched his cheek, tracing the angles of his cheekbone, his jaw line. “Thomas, Thomas, please, please, take me, fill me.”

“Show me.” He put his hand over hers and pressed it to his cheek. “Show me how much you want me.”

He dropped his hand and leant back.

She caught her breath. Other men, wealthy gentlemen and aristocrats who had purchased her favours from Mr Boger for an hour or two, had ordered her to display herself. A cringingly humiliating experience.

But she had yearned for Thomas from afar and never thought to have him. He was her choice. Her dear love. Without further demure, she grasped her knees, pulled her legs apart and up to her chest, spreading her nether lips. She wanted him to see how much she craved him inside her. To see how the wetness seeped over her swollen inner lips.

And he did see. His gaze fixed between her legs. He inhaled, loudly. His eyes looked like huge dark pools, his features taut with desire. Something crossed his expression, something that made him look younger, vulnerable. She felt a tugging in the centre of her chest.

He’d never appeared more handsome to her.

He growled. The sudden, feral sound made her jump. His visage sharpened and he lunged forward, then put his cock to her moist flesh.

At the welcomed return of him, she sighed with bliss.

He eased himself in, slowly, steadily. The return of fullness and pressure took her breath and she wiggled, trying to drive him as deeply as possible.

He put his hands under her, cupping her buttocks, lifting her. Her inner muscles tightened as she lifted her hips, assisting him. He stared straight into her soul, holding her spellbound. She felt totally under his control, his to do with as he pleased. And apparently it pleased him to please her. He moved her hips to and fro on his hard, thick length, manipulating her until his crown stroked against the most sensitive spot, deep inside her.

She cried out, pressing her bare feet to the ground and arching her hips.

“There, sweetheart?” he murmured, rocking against that spot with a slow, sensual motion.

“Yes, yes, oh yes.” On a low, long moan, she let her eyes drift shut.

He seemed inexhaustible, gradually increasing his speed, fucking her endlessly there on the soft grass, in the spill of brilliant moonlight. He seemed to become harder, to swell thicker. Pressing all the most sensitive spots more intensely. Pleasure trembled through her, a letting go, a surrendering to him. To his will. His pounding cock. Her insides melted into pure ecstasy unlike anything she’d experienced before.

If she could, she would merge into him. Forever.

“Oh God.” His voice carried to her, seeming from far away. A fierce shudder racked his tall, powerful frame. He shouted, harshly. His seed pumped into her body, his knob thudding against her womb. The hot, fierce jets of his juices into her deepest recesses was the most sensual, satisfying thing she’d known. She opened her mouth and gave a long, soft wail, her insides melting again, dissolving into ecstasy.