An Affair Most Wicked (20 page)

He gave in to the pull of her hands on his arms, bringing him up to lie on top of her as before. She kissed him deeply, tasting the flavor of her own feminine arousal and losing control of all her senses.

“Please, take these off,” she pleaded, tugging at his trousers. “I just want to touch you and feel you against me. Can’t we do what we did last time, with you on top?”

“Darling, with me on top, things would most assuredly get out of hand.”

Seger felt his defenses slip, however, beneath the sheer erotic force of her plea and the pounding ache in his loins. He could not seem to locate the will that had always been his unwavering armor. It was that very will that had protected him from ambitious debutantes or lonely wives of philandering husbands. He had managed to live a gratifying eight years without ever causing an unwanted pregnancy.

Yet here tonight, he was suddenly willing to risk it all. Consequences meant nothing. He wanted this woman, who was his future wife. Couldn’t he relax just this once? God, he’d earned it. Couldn’t he begin their journey now? Why wait for the marriage papers? They were just a formality. Even if he got her with child, they could simply claim that the baby had come early. It happened all the time, didn’t it?

God, he was making excuses.

He would say anything to justify making love to her now, and being free to shoot his seed into her with unfettered abandon.

Clara, delightfully wild thing that she was, began to tug at his trousers. He grabbed hold of her hand with the tiny speck of restraint that was still glimmering faintly in his muddled consciousness.

“What are you doing, darling? We’re treading on a fine line here.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I want you, Seger. We’re engaged. Why not? I’ve heard it’s painful the first time. Why not get that over with now, so I can enjoy our honeymoon without any fears or anxieties? The time is right. I can feel it. Let’s just do it.”

She was thrusting her hips against him while she begged. God.

God.

God!

“I’m not made of steel,” he whispered into her mouth as she kissed him aggressively.

“Good.”

Then she reached down into his pants and grabbed hold of his firm shaft and toyed with his heavy balls.

“Please,” she whispered urgently in his ear, her hot breath making him even more stiff than he had been before.

The bed seemed to shift beneath him.

That was that.

He reached down in a fumbling panic that was completely outside his usual smooth approach, and ripped his pants off like a randy schoolboy, clumsily kicking his legs in frustration to get the damn pant legs off his ankles.

How much time did they have, he wondered? A quarter of an hour? Let it be more than that.

A second later he was nude and pulsing on top of Clara, pressing his erection into the soft, hot cleft between her thighs.

“Are you sure?” he asked one last time, suckling her breasts and praying she wouldn’t change her mind now.

Thankfully she nodded and nibbled on his earlobe, driving him down and down into a swirling eddy of pleasure until he was long gone, far beyond the turning point.

His whole being shook with excitement as the swollen head of his desire came to a quiet pause at the entrance to her dark, divine haven. Slowly he edged himself into the tight opening as wave upon wave of unyielding temptation enveloped him. He kissed her deeply, pressing his tongue into her mouth in a fervent attack that she met with equal ardor. Her legs wrapped around his buttocks and she pulled him into her, her fingernails digging into his firm flesh.

The throbbing sensation in his loins intensified. Her body arched into his. He shifted, hesitated for one final second, then thrust his hips and drove in, but only halfway into the sweet, tight hollow between her thighs, for he felt the rupture of her delicate opening.

Clara whimpered in his ear. He knew she was biting back a pain-wracked cry so she wouldn’t wake anyone in the house, and the idea that he had hurt her made him stop.

He kissed her neck and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She clung to his shoulders and squeezed him tightly with her legs. “Don’t be. I want this.”

Pushing himself up on one elbow, the other arm stretched across her, he lifted his head and gazed down at her face in the flickering candlelight. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes upon. So remarkably beautiful, she made his chest ache.

She took his face in her hands and stroked his cheek, then closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. A single tear trickled down over her temple, and it wounded him to see it.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, it’s not what you think. It feels good, Seger.” Then she wiggled her bottom beneath him in a bid for more of his thick, firm length inside her.

Feeling a passionate jolt in his loins and awakening from what felt like a dazed stupor, Seger paused for a moment to think, realizing this was only the second time in his life he had taken a woman’s virginity. It had been twelve years since the first time, and he had not thought about it in ages. Tonight, he felt almost like a virgin himself.

Lowering his mouth to hers, reveling in the drenching sensation of their lips and tongues meshing together, Seger pushed firmly, all the way into her soft, hot depths. Clara whimpered again and clutched onto him. He could feel her muscles tensing around him, then a second later they relaxed. He thrust again, careful not to hurt her, but needing to appease the stinging excitement that was pulsing inside him.

She opened her legs even wider and thrust her hips to meet each of his own gliding penetrations. Together they moved in harmony, seeking a satisfaction they had both been craving since the first night they’d met and kissed under the stairs.

They had come so far since then. She was his now. Forever. She would be his wife and he would make love to her just like this every magnificent night for the rest of their lives. He wanted it to begin now. He didn’t want to wait two months, but this was how the world worked, he supposed.

Suddenly a pounding wave of pleasure crashed down upon him and he quickened within Clara, feeling an impossible rush of need. He began to stroke faster, and at the same time, she dug her fingernails into his back and pushed her hips upward, squeezing around him, clenching tight until her head came off the pillow and slammed back down.

He felt her orgasm as it pulsed around him. The sight and sensation of her pleasure drove him into his own private heaven, where he quaked and spilled forth in pure, unparalleled ecstasy.

Just then, he heard a clock somewhere in the house chime four times. He collapsed upon her, completely and utterly spent.

Clara wrapped her legs around him even tighter. She tried to lift her head off the pillow, but it fell back. “You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered.

“But you made me promise,” he replied, ribbing her on, without withdrawing from the tight, sopping heat of her womanhood.

“This is one time I think I’ll let you break your promise.”

“The only time, I presume.”

“Yes, unless we are in this same situation again, in which case I hope you will do whatever I ask.” Her voice trailed off. “
I had no idea
…”

He kissed her cheeks and nose and felt a great, splashing torrent of affection.

She’d said
she
had no idea, when in fact it was he who was bewildered beyond any imagining. He had just made love to a virgin—a virgin he had already proposed to— and he felt joyful. Wholly content. All was right with the world, except for the fact that he would have to rise from this bed very shortly and walk away from her.

His gaze roamed possessively over her face, then he gently rolled off her.

He was more than a little accustomed to this routine— rolling off a lady, then reaching for his trousers and making himself scarce—but tonight it felt wrong and frustrating and the reaction was completely foreign to him. He felt like he was already home and he should not have to leave.

Home. This wasn’t even his house, dammit, and if anyone discovered him here, the dangerous Duke of Wentworth would probably beat him to a pulp.

Yet Seger felt like he was home. He was farther gone than he’d thought.

Clara rolled over to lay her cheek on his chest. “That was wonderful, Seger.”

He spoke very quietly. “It wasn’t too painful for you?”

“Only for a moment, then the way you moved inside me… It was the friction I believe. It seemed to make the pain go away.” She lifted her chin and rested it on her hands, which she laced together on his chest. “When will we be able to do this again?”

He couldn’t help chuckling. “Sooner rather than later, I hope. Let’s not wait until September.”

“How soon are you thinking?” she whispered.

He lifted his eyebrows. “Tomorrow would be nice.”

“Tomorrow would indeed be nice, but my mother arrives tomorrow.”

“Then let’s not wait until September to get married. What about next week by special license?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “All of my family needs to be here.”

“They could get here within a week.”

She stared at him for a moment, considering it. “Your stepmother is making plans for September.”

He touched her cheek. “Plans can be changed. There is no reason to wait. In fact, it’s dangerous to wait because I am sure I won’t be able to stay away from you, and we can only risk our luck for so long. We’d get caught eventually, and on top of that, we’d each go insane. Well, I would at any rate.”

“I would, too.”

He held her soft cheek in his hand. “Then marry me in a week. Put me out of my misery.”

“There would be talk.”

“You know I don’t care about that sort of thing.”

Clara sat up. “Why are you so persistent all the time? I can never say no to you.”

He held a finger up to his lips to remind her to speak softly. “I don’t want you to say no. I want you to say yes.”

“I already said yes. To everything so far. We have to draw the line somewhere.”

He frowned. “But why draw a line? Why deny ourselves? Why not simply have what we want?”

She stared at him in the candlelight, then her face changed. Her voice lost its playful tone. “You’re used to that, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Taking what you want without considering the practicalities or social restrictions. Must everything be about pleasure and self-gratification? Is that all you want?”

“Clara,” he whispered as he sat up. “Don’t.”

She continued whispering angrily, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Can you not abide by society’s rules just this once and suffer through the usual betrothal?”

She reached for her nightgown and pulled it on over her head, then climbed off the bed and walked to the window. She stood before the drawn drapes.

Seger raked a hand through his hair. “Something tells me there is more to that question than the obvious.”

It almost seemed like she wanted to make him wait in order to use their engagement to test his ability to resist temptations.

She only shrugged.

He climbed off the bed and went to her. He stood behind her, feeling the soft fabric of her gown against his nude front. He tried to ignore the urge to take her into his arms, carry her back to the bed and plunge into her again, to go back to the way they were feeling only moments ago.

“I don’t deserve this, Clara,” he whispered. “I have never taken what I wanted from you when I had every opportunity. Even tonight I would have resisted, if you had not been so persistent.”

The fact that he was actually discussing this was astonishing. Any of his previous lovers would be shocked to see him defending himself. It was a huge concession, and he wished she knew that.

She dropped her face into her hands. “Maybe you should go.”

“Go? Why?” He tried to keep the shock and anger out of his voice because he was afraid that if he didn’t, someone might hear them. He had to keep this argument to a whisper. “What’s this really about?”

She said nothing for a few seconds, then she turned to face him. Her eyes were filling with tears. “I’m nervous about marrying you.”

He tried not to let her comment aggravate him, but it did. It damn well did. He had come forward leaps and bounds to reach this point with her. He had proposed, for God’s sake!

She bowed her head. “You can’t blame me for being unsure. I am a prime target for fortune hunters, and you have made it clear that you don’t truly love me. How can I be sure you will be a good husband?”

He backed away from her. “I am no fortune hunter. You know that.”

She merely stared at him.

“This is about my being faithful to you,” he said.

God, women were so bloody complicated. Normally, he would walk away when his bed partner began to talk like this, or even hint at talking like this, but with Clara, he couldn’t. He was in for the long haul and there was no turning back now. Not after what they’d done tonight.

Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep intake of breath. “If you can’t make it through two months, how can I be sure you could make it any reasonable length of time in a marriage? Sometimes there are temptations, and I’m afraid you are not even going to bother to try and resist them. What about when I am enormous with child and unable to perform my wifely duty? What if I become ill? I won’t be attractive to you then. Will you go back to your usual entertainments?”

He turned away from her and picked up his trousers. “Maybe I
should
go.”

She watched him pull them on. The volume of her voice rose a fraction. “Wait, Seger.”

“The servants will be up soon.”

He put on his shirt, then sat down on a chair to pull on his boots in a hurry. He wanted to get out of there. He felt her hovering over him. Women never did that to him. They knew better than to push. They knew that if he was going to return another day, they would have to let him go without a fight.

He felt impatient with Clara, for he was not accustomed to rules or controls. For eight years he had lived freely. He had steered away from responsibility and commitment.

He didn’t like feeling impatient with Clara. She was different from the others. He didn’t want to feel this way with her, but he supposed that deeply ingrained responses were not easy to change.