Alex's Angel (13 page)

But she was just a harlot. In a city full of them. And he wasn’t a man who could be particularly trusted with anything precious and rare.

* * * *

Voices intruded on the sense of warmth and safeness. Emily moaned and turned over, nestling deeper into the incredible plushness of the feather bed. Sloshing sounds echoed from the next room. She sat up with a start. Candlelight shone through the cracks in the curtains of the huge four-poster bed.

She had pulled them earlier, thinking that she didn’t want to be surprised.

She was in Alexander Dalton’s rented rooms. In his bedchamber, sleeping in his bed.

Earlier, Zachariah, Alex’s valet, had left her alone with the food and the steaming copper tub and told her that if she needed anything, he would be waiting outside in the corridor.

“Goodness, he expects you to wait there…like a sentry?”

The tall, slender man with pale brown skin and coal-black eyes had frowned. “Excuse me, miss, but do you think I’d be leaving a young lady like yourself alone in place like this—even if he didn’t ask?”

“Pardon me, I meant no insult. I simply…”

She hadn’t been able to think of what to say, for his frown had deepened and he had straightened his spine, tugging at the bottom of his fine, maroon-coloured waistcoat.

“Mr Alex is a good, fair man and I don’t question his directions.” He flashed her a stern look. “Neither should you.”

He had walked to one of the bookshelves located on either side of the hearth and picked a thick, leather-bound book embossed with gold. Then he’d pointed one long, thin finger at the door. “I shall be outside, miss, if you need me.”

He’d taken one of the straight-backed wooden chairs and his lantern, then left the chamber, closing the door behind him.

What a strange man. He certainly hadn’t seemed to approve of her, and to know that he was just going to be sitting out there, alone in that dreary corridor… She’d shivered at the thought.

But the small table had been set with a meal of roast chicken, fresh bread, cheese, claret and a selection of fruits she hadn’t even realised anyone could procure this late in the season. After months of blood pudding and stale bread, she’d pushed all her uneasiness about Zachariah aside and eaten until she was pleasantly stuffed.

Afterwards, she’d dallied in the copper tub until the water had grown cold. It had been many months since she’d enjoyed an actual tub bath. So much steaming water cost money. Then she’d wandered into the bedchamber and curled into this bed. And floated into the deepest sleep she’d known in a very long time.

Now her time was nearly up.

He was bathing in the next room. Preparing himself to come in here and—and—

She swallowed, hard. Her body went all tingly, a mixture of fear and excitement.

She pulled together the edges of the dark blue velvet wrapper she’d found waiting for her on the bed. It was obviously a garment of Alex’s, and it swallowed her up. Carefully gathering up the hem, she crawled across the expanse of bed, then left the cocooning warmth of the bed curtains.

She glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece. It was almost one in the morning. Alex had told her that he had some supper party to attend and he’d come here straightaway afterwards.

Footfalls echoed on the floorboards in the other chamber. One floorboard that sounded terribly close to the threshold of the bedchamber squeaked loudly and her heart leapt into a rapid beat.

The bedchamber door came open.

She looked up.

He stood in the doorway, his hair shining pale gold against his dark blue banyan. Dear Lord, he was so handsome. If she had to lose her virginity in this way, she could have picked no one more appealing.

He gave her a small, relaxed smile. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded as her hand drew up of its own accord and pulled the gaping neckline of the dressing gown tight.

“Dark blue becomes you.” He held out his hands. “Come here, sweetheart.”

At his words, her tummy seemed to drop lower, with a tugging sensation. Moisture began to flow between her thighs and her legs went weak.

She approached him slowly, a little wobbly, her mouth going dry with both fear and excitement. He took her hands and pulled her close.

Heavens—the moment already.

Her legs started trembling. Her mind scrambled for some postponement—anything to gain a moment’s delay. The scent of whisky clung to him and he looked slumberous, as if he were a bit tipsy. It made his face look younger.

“Wait.” She placed her hand on his chest. “How old are you?”

He started, as if her question were unexpected. “Twenty-eight.”

“Oh…but I thought you were at least thirty-five.” She sounded so foolish. She laughed to cover her nervousness. The sound echoed back, so stilted and forced that she winced inside.

He was going to guess.

Oh, God—he was going to guess that she wasn’t experienced.

His gold brows drew together. “Does it matter, sweetheart?”

“No.” Her voice sounded so small and husky.

“Well, thank goodness.” He flashed her a heart-stopping smile, then lowered his head, his eyes growing dark with desire. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. Knowing that he was closer to her own age did nothing to make the situation any less intimidating. He was still so handsome, so charming, so worldly.

And he was about to take the last of her innocence.

He kissed her. Not in the hungry, impassioned way she’d read in his eyes but slowly, almost tentatively, brushing along the edges of her lips like a butterfly touching down and lifting off, moving until he had traversed their entirety. The sensation was so sweet that she sighed and closed her eyes, giving herself over to pure bliss.

“Dear God, you have a lovely mouth,” he whispered in reverent tones. With his tongue he followed the path his lips had just travelled, using the right amount of moisture to create a silken, velvety slide.

She shivered with delight. Why had she feared this? It was divine.

“Emily.” He ran a caressing finger over her bottom lip. “Will you do something for me?”

Wetness flooded between her thighs like nothing she’d ever known. She wanted to please him. Not just because of the money but also for some reason she couldn’t fathom at the moment.

“Anything.” Was that really her voice, so submissive and breathy?

“I want you to take me into your lovely mouth.”

Chapter Six

At Alex’s request, Emily’s heart skipped a beat and she gasped as she grasped his meaning. He wanted her to take his…his
cock
into her mouth. The notion shocked her. Did people really do such things? Moreover, could
she
do something so wicked, so perverse?

He laughed softly. “It’s probably rather piggish of me to ask so soon, but you see…” Again he ran a caressing fingertip over her lower lip and his voice became husky and sensual. “I spent the better part of last night picturing it. I cannot wait.”

He pulled her tightly against his body. Through his wrapper and hers, his erection was huge and hot and throbbing. Weakness washed over her and, in its wake, she began to tremble with anxiety and pleasurable excitement. Her heartbeat quickened with fear. Why had she thought she could sham her way through this?

She didn’t know the first thing about pleasing a man. What if she did it wrong? What if he guessed that she was an untried virgin and expelled her from his rooms? She’d have to go back to the Blue Duck and find someone else. Maybe someone as repulsive and cruel as Green. Her heart began to pound against her chest wall as her panic threatened to spiral out of control.

No, stop it. Don’t give in to fear. You’ve made it this far.

She took a long, slow breath, trying to steady herself. She’d have to give a believable performance. She’d have to get control over her rising panic.

He undid his belt and pulled the garment open to reveal his nakedness. She dropped her gaze to his well-muscled chest, covered with sandy-coloured hair and the nipples, his flat, hard, muscled stomach, his narrow hips where the hair tapered to a thin line. Then her gaze moved lower and her mouth went completely dry and her breath stopped. Yes, men were shaped a great deal like stallions. But even though she’d already felt it both last night and tonight—she hadn’t expected it to be so…large. So erect and rising from its nest of pale gold hair to crest high against his front.

Her eyes flew back to his face and she found he was watching her. The moment suddenly became too intimate to bear and her face flamed. Oh dear, that wasn’t very convincing for a seasoned harlot. She reached out a trembling hand. She would grasp him and show him how experienced she was. But at the last moment her heart hopped up into her throat, choking her nerve away.

Her hand hung there, suspended, until she re-gathered her gumption and placed it on his abdomen. She moved it along the silken hair. His muscles tightened under her touch and something hot and slightly moist brushed her hand. She jumped and withdrew her touch and jerked her gaze down. His cock twitched as if it were alive. She stared, transfixed by its pure, masculine beauty.

He wrapped his hand about the base, holding his cock up so that it appeared even larger than it otherwise might. With his other hand, he swept her hair aside and caressed the back of her neck.

There was a new tension between them. She sensed that he was waiting. Waiting for her to comply with his request. Her heart pounded harder still and the chamber seemed suddenly overly warm. A wave of dizziness flirted over her. But she realised something else. She was also wet—dripping, gushing down the insides of her thighs. She wanted to do this thing that he wanted her to do. Because he was so utterly male and because he wanted her to do it. Because he was so beautiful. He was the first man she’d been close to—the first one she’d wanted to be close to like this.

And she did want this closeness. He had made her want it. But how was it properly done?

As if sensing her confusion, he gently touched her shoulders. “On your knees, my lovely, claret-haired girl.”

His voice was soft like a caress and her heart fluttered in her breast. She’d do anything he asked in that voice. Anything.

Closing her eyes, she dropped to her knees. His large hand cupped her face. His touch was warm and tender. She pressed her cheek into his hand. Then she opened her eyes and caught her breath. It looked a lot larger from this vantage point. And it appeared to be leaking some kind of fluid. Her heartbeat raced on a brief but dizzying sprint. Oh God, was she really going to do this?

Panic slammed into her again. She didn’t know how to do this!

Gently, he moved her head forward. The crown touched her lips, wetting them with that fluid and sliding along her mouth. A thrill shot through her, rocking her to her core and her panic faded, only to be replaced by stunning excitement. She gripped his powerful thighs and held on to support herself. He groaned, then murmured something. She couldn’t hear him over the roar of her blood in her ears. He moved his cock and she intuitively grasped his desire and ran her lips down the shaft on the underside.

He cupped his hand on her jaw, moving it to plunge into her hair. “Use your tongue.”

She opened her mouth and complied, running her tongue along the path her lips had just taken. He groaned and tightened his grip on her hair. The dull discomfort wasn’t unpleasant but instead sent delicious chills through her, making her nipples bead. He leaked milk-white fluid in an almost constant flow now, just as her own wetness continued to flood. She put her mouth to the head and licked the juice away. It was thick and salty and like ambrosia on her tongue. She closed her eyes and focused on the sheer pleasure of licking his smooth, silken flesh, learning his every contour and crease with single-minded intent.

He released his hold on her hair, touched her shoulder and pushed her back. “That’s enough of that.”

The abrupt loss of his closeness shocked her. She sat back on her heels, reeling. “Did I…did I do it wrong?”

He laughed, cupped her jaw again and brought her face to his thigh. “You did it very well—too well.”

She pressed her cheek against the lightly furred skin of his thigh, breathing in his musky scent. She’d never smelt anything so intoxicating. She caressed the back of his thigh and moved up along his hard buttock. He was so muscular, so very masculine. Beautiful all over. She wished he hadn’t asked her to stop. She ached to please him but had no idea what else he might want. Her bashfulness about sex seemed silly now. If this was sex, then it was the most heady, wonderful thing in the world.

“Come, now.” He helped her to her feet.

She gazed up at him tremulously, then gasped as cool air assaulted her body. The dressing gown pooled at her feet.

She was completely, utterly naked. Heart thudding, she began to tremble all over and immediately covered her pitiful breasts with one arm. Her other hand covered the red triangle
 
of hair between her legs.

He took her hands and moved them away from her body. Eyes glued to his face, she let him. He quietly studied her, his gaze roaming slowly down her body. What was he thinking? His expression gave no hint. Her legs quaked so hard she feared she’d fall over.