Everything Forbidden (5 page)

But he managed to pull away. He stopped all his movements, kept her right at the edge of orgasm without taking her over as he stopped curling his fingers and stroking her clit with his thumb.

Miranda moaned in protest as she lifted her head to look at him. “Why—why—?”

He smiled, though the expression took a massive effort. “This is your last chance to change your mind, Miranda. The way you are surrendering to me now is just the beginning. And once this is done, it will never be undone. Once you say yes, you’ll be mine. So you must mean it.”

Miranda’s eyes were wild, the pale blue reflecting emotions so powerful that Ethan almost wanted to look away. He didn’t want to be witness to all her fear and worry and desire. It brought her too close.

But he stayed focused on her, waiting for whatever she would say.

“Yes,” she groaned, tilting her hips. “Stop toying with me. You know I’m saying yes. For me. I want this.”

Control slipped from Ethan’s grasp at her begging. Slipping his fingers from inside of her, he scrambled to his feet and shed
his clothing with little care to where the various items fell. All he cared about was being inside this woman. Now.

When he was entirely naked, he turned to take his place between her legs and found Miranda staring at him. She sat up a little on the settee, staring at the cock that was only a few inches away from her. She didn’t seem at all shocked by the sight, as he imagined a normal virgin would. Did that mean she lied when she said she’d never lain with a man?

Not that it mattered. Virgin or no, he was going to have her. And not just this one time. Once this bargain had been sealed with the joining of their bodies, she would be his until the summer’s end or he bored of her, whichever came first.

She tilted her head. “May I…” she trailed off, a blush darkening her cheeks.

“What?” he managed to grind out between clenched teeth.

“Touch it,” she finished, darting her stare up to his face. “May I?”

“God, yes.”

Her hand trembled as she reached for him. He tracked her fingers like a hawk on the hunt, waiting and anticipating the moment when her fist would come around him. When it did, it nearly unmanned him. Soft fingers curled around his length, stroking him from base to head in a timid, but utterly satisfying caress.

“Am I doing it properly?” she asked as she continued to gently stroke him.

His knees were starting to buckle from pleasure. “Perfect. And I look forward to expanding on your technique even further.” He pushed her hand away, though his cock twitched in protest. “But not right now. Right now I want to do this.”

He dropped down between her legs and threaded his fingers through her hair. Her lips parted in surprise and he took advantage by driving his tongue into her mouth. Immediately, her response shifted. She sucked him in, dueling with her own kiss that was raw and real and utterly erotic.

Perhaps he had been wrong to avoid virgins. If they could make him feel like this…

He nudged her back, covering her body with his own. She was so supple beneath him, her lithe frame molded to his, curving into the valleys of his body and fitting softness against hard. But he wanted more. More than just a superficial touch. He wanted to be inside, to be joined as one.

He pushed her legs open wider with one thigh, easing himself into position as he continued to devour her mouth like a ravenous man. He
felt
ravenous, so hungry for her that he could hardly contain himself.

The head of his cock found her entrance, wet and hot and ready. Just that grazing touch of skin against skin sent a shiver of pleasure up his spine. He reached around to cup her backside and slowly, gently pushed forward.

Ethan broke the kiss with a low, harsh moan as her inner walls pulsed around him, massaging him in greeting as he thrust home. Had any other woman ever been so damn hot? Suddenly he couldn’t remember. All he could feel was this keen pleasure.

He caught his breath as he inched forward and opened his eyes. Miranda was staring at him, mouth open a fraction, eyes wide. She looked terrified and aroused at once, her chest rising and falling on ragged breaths.

“Almost there,” he reassured her through grinding teeth.
God, he wanted to pound forward, rut with her like an untamed animal. But not yet. Not yet.

He drove further and encountered the barrier of her body. So she hadn’t been lying. No other man had ever claimed her like this. All her innocence was real, just as her hot desire and tempting abilities were natural.

“God, I am going to enjoy teaching you,” he murmured before he caught her mouth for another kiss, this time gentle.

She relaxed as he nibbled on her lower lip, sucked her tongue slowly. When she sighed with pleasure, he surged forward and broke the last barrier of her innocence.

Miranda stiffened, arching up in his arms with a gasp of pain. Though his cock was actually pulsing with desire, Ethan held perfectly still as she acclimated to the new feeling of his erection buried to the hilt inside her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair.

“No,” she shook her head as she rested her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s better now. Just…full.”

She wiggled a little, squeezing him experimentally.

Ethan growled with the pleasure that shot up the length of his erection and tightened his balls. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up getting fucked and fucked hard this first time.

“Don’t play games,” he whispered as he swiveled his hips gently.

She pulled back and met his eyes with a decidedly wicked smile. “You
like
games, Ethan.”

“Oh, yes, I do,” he admitted as he swirled his hips a second time. “And by the time I am through with you, so will you.”

He cupped her harder against him and thrust forward, driv
ing into her with as much gentleness as he could muster when her pussy was already starting to flutter with the first hints of the release about to come. She clenched at his shoulders as he thrust, digging in her nails and giving little mewls of satisfaction as he took her.

Every time he drove forward it was like pleasurable torture. A balancing act where he tried to remain steady for her sake, even as his own body screamed for rough and wild claiming. He had never struggled with his own pleasure so keenly. Normally, he could set aside his needs to give his partner her release first. But with Miranda, he wanted to be rough and selfish.

But the fact that it was her first time kept him from surrendering to those base desires. He swirled his hips to be sure to stroke her clit with every movement. Her breaths came harsher now, harder and her hands dug deeper into his shoulders. She was trying to match his driving cock with her own hips, squeezing and lifting against him each time.

Finally, her eyes rolled back and she let out a gasping, keening cry that echoed in the room around them. Her body exploded in a mass of shaking, trembling, clenching heat that drove him over the edge of control into madness. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He pounded through her orgasm, reveling in the tightening of his balls, the building dam of pleasure that made everything that much sweeter, that much sharper.

With a roar of possession, he drove deep into her and came before he collapsed into her embrace.

Miranda lay in Ethan’s arms, half on and half off the settee, their panting breaths mingling in the quiet room. Now that the trembling of her body had subsided and her heart rate was returning to normal, she could finally comprehend what had just occurred.

She had surrendered her innocence, that commodity she had, from an early age, been taught was her only bargaining chip. And she’d given it to Ethan Hamon, the only man she’d ever fantasized about.

Did she regret the choice? No. It had been as powerful and pleasurable and life-altering as she had always dreamed it would be.

She stretched against his chest with a smile before she tilted her face up to look at him. His head rested on the arm of the settee and he was staring up at the ceiling with an unreadable expression.

“Is it always like that?” she asked quietly, studying the strong line of his jaw.

His lips thinned and he jerked his gaze down to hers. With a quiet curse, he maneuvered away from her body and got to his feet. Snatching up his discarded trousers, he said, “Yes. That is sex, my dear.”

Miranda’s teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she watched him dress with jerky, controlled movements. He never looked at her. He hardly acknowledged her at all except to occasionally hand her an item of her clothing that had become entangled in his own. He was cold, distant.

Her stomach sank with every silent moment that ticked by. What was wrong? Had she not pleased him? He had
seemed
to enjoy her touch. He’d found release with a shout much louder than any she’d heard from him in the years she spied on him. But now he didn’t seem happy in the least about his conquest.

Perhaps conquering an inexperienced virgin hadn’t been as satisfying as he’d thought it would be.

The heat of embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she quickly detangled her chemise from her wrinkled gown to pull it over her head and regain some semblance of decorum. Now the voices of doubt crept in, reminding her that Ethan Hamon was no man of honor. He could easily change his mind about the bargain they had struck, leaving her with no virtue
and
no hope for her family. He might even tell the world about her surrender, the consequences to them both be damned.

Struggling to her feet, she shook out her gown and stepped into the folds of worn fabric. She refused to look at him as she began to refasten her front buttons with shaking fingers.

“Here.”

She jumped as Ethan’s voice interrupted her work. She looked up to find him finally facing her. His shirt was half undone, his feet bare, and his hand was extended toward her, motioning her to his side.

Heart throbbing, she moved to him. “Yes?”

“Let me.”

He caught the gaping sides of her gown and went to work on her buttons with the same efficiency as he had torn them open, but far less passion. The action felt sterile, distant, like she was some child he was assisting, not a lover.

Miranda bit her lip. She wasn’t going to become upset in front of him. A man like Ethan wouldn’t want some hysterical woman sobbing in his parlor. Doing that would only prove that she was more trouble than she was worth.

“Ethan,” she whispered, hating how her voice broke just a little.

He hesitated before he slipped the last button into place. Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers and a flicker of heat stoked deep within his eyes. Dark and dangerous, but it gave her hope. He still wanted her.

As if he had read her mind, he cupped her chin and tilted her face, letting the rough pad of his thumb drift along her bottom lip. The passionate sensations that had just come to a sparkling, spectacular head a few moments before began again, teasing Miranda with the promise of release. She was shocked by how quickly she could want, despite her aching body.

“What now?” she whispered, darting her tongue out and slipping it over his questing thumb briefly.

“Damn it,” Ethan muttered as his arm came around her waist. He yanked her flush against him and then stood there, staring down at her. His face was intense and still, his eyes and expression dark and indecipherable beyond that burning fire of desire.

“You
are going home,” he finally croaked out as he let her go and backed away. He held out his palms to her like a shield. “Go home, Miranda.”

Panic gripped her as she sucked in a breath. “But we—our agreement—”

“Friday,” he barked, his sharp voice silencing her protests. “Your Fridays will be mine this summer. Come back in two days time and we’ll begin this bargain in earnest.”

Miranda stared at him for a long moment. Part of her was relieved he didn’t wish to break their bargain before it even began. Still, his attitude kept her from feeling any comfort about her future.

“Very well,” she stammered as she turned away.

He wanted her gone and she had no leverage to argue that point with him. They had come to terms, they had sealed their arrangement, why wouldn’t he become businesslike and cold? Ethan Hamon was known as a man of passion, not compassion. For him, this experience was not emotional. Desire was not overwhelming. And she would have to follow his lead in that view or find herself lost entirely.

She forced her tone to become as calm and detached as she could manage. “I will return Friday morning.”

“Not too early,” he said as she opened the door to step into the foyer. “And Miranda?”

She turned back.

He was watching her, his gaze focused firmly on her face. “A warm bath will ease the stinging. Have your maid draw one for you when you arrive home.”

She stared at him, cheeks flaring. Perhaps there was some compassion to the man after all. “Thank you, my lord. Until Friday.”

Then she shut the door behind her and fled.

The moment the door closed behind Miranda, Ethan went to the bar and poured himself a very tall, very strong glass of whiskey. He downed the first tumbler in two swigs and poured another before he went to the window to look out over the front grounds.

He pursed his lips. He couldn’t deny he was looking for Miranda. And he found her, stumbling across his lawn toward the lake and the shortcut through the fields to her family home.

Even now, when she was little more than a diminishing figure heading toward the horizon, his body tensed and tightened and swelled at the thought of her. He could still taste her on his tongue, despite the drink. The scent of her, now mixed with the musk of sex, hung heavy in the room and taunted him with overwhelming images and feelings.

He downed the second drink and went for a third.

She’d asked if “it” was always like this. And he’d lied and made some callous comment about sex that had hurt and shut her down. He wasn’t proud of that, but he certainly wasn’t going to admit that the answer to her question was most decidedly no.

Ethan had been with many women over the years. Beautiful,
skilled lovers who knew exactly what to do with their mouths, their hands, their breasts, their pussies. Yet nothing in his experience had prepared him for what happened in this parlor today with a virgin. A
virgin
for Christ’s sake.

He’d lost all semblance of control.

With difficulty, Ethan moved away from the window, determined not to stare like a lost puppy after Miranda’s retreating form. He slumped into a chair across the room and looked at the rumpled settee instead. It served as a reminder of the way Miranda had surrendered to him.

Perhaps that was it. It was the combination of her total surrender and her virginity that intrigued him so. They were a novelty. He’d never deflowered anyone, in fact he’d avoided such things in the past. And he had already admitted to various friends that he was growing tired of the practiced passions of the more experienced ladies who offered him a place between their legs.

The real passion and the uniqueness of being Miranda’s first had affected him more than he expected, but now that he understood why, he could fight it. Dear God, he certainly wasn’t about to be mastered by an innocent. In fact, on Friday he would begin the process of utterly owning
her
.

Doing so would put an end to this off-kilter feeling he was experiencing now. And if, after this was over, Miranda did indeed want to become a mistress, his tutelage would be a kindness. He could teach her so much about desire. About passion. About pleasure.

He shivered at just the thought of it. And at the thought of Miranda being someone’s mistress. He’d scoffed a little when she first proposed it, but now…

Now he was beginning to think she could be very, very good at it.

Miranda stood at the edge of the veranda stairway and looked up at the house she had lived in her entire life. For the first time, she was hesitant about entering. She wasn’t the same woman who had left just hours before.

A few short hours and yet it seemed like everything had changed. Would everyone be able to see? Would they guess the truth the moment she met their eyes?

It seemed like that was possible. She
felt
different. Even now, her body ached from what she’d done with Ethan, like it was mocking her with the memory of his hands and mouth on her. His body invading and claiming her own in the most primal way possible.

She shivered at the memory and was shocked that behind the deep ache were tingles of pleasure. What a little wanton she was to still need more after all she’d already done. And now she would repeat that experience over and over again. Once a week for three long months. Twelve full days that would belong entirely to Ethan and his whims.

It hadn’t seemed like so much to bargain away when she began…but now…now it was an overwhelming prospect.

“Miranda, there you are!”

Miranda jolted as her fog was pierced by mother’s voice from the veranda above. She looked up to see her mother and sister Beatrice coming down toward her. Her mother did not look especially pleased, not that she had for months.

With a sigh, Miranda prepared herself for the onslaught just as the two women reached her.

“Where have you been, child? And why in the world do you look like such a wreck?” her mother barked.

Miranda’s hands went reflexively to her hair. She’d done her best to smooth her appearance on the long walk home from Ethan’s estate, but she’d known it wouldn’t be enough.

“I know where she’s been,” Beatrice said with a smirk.

Miranda’s eyes went wide as she shifted her gaze to her younger sister. Surely that wasn’t true! Even Penelope didn’t know where she’d gone, Beatrice couldn’t! But if she did…

“Penelope said she went on one of her walks. Looks like she went through a bog,” her sister finished.

Their mother pursed her lips. “For heaven’s sake, girl, why do you insist on those long walks through the woods? You know you could better spend your time making calls and garnering invitations for us.”

Miranda sighed, partly in relief and partly in annoyance. It seemed her secret was safe, but only in exchange for the same speech she’d heard a hundred times before.

“The fresh air is good for me,” she argued as she made her way around her mother and sister and headed up the steps to the veranda.

“It makes you freckly,” her mother insisted. “And what if someone had seen you looking like this?”

“Who could have seen me, Mother?” Miranda sighed as she stepped inside the parlor.

“What about Lord Rothschild?” Beatrice offered.

Miranda skidded to a halt and spun on her sister. “Lord Rothschild?” she repeated past a suddenly dry throat. Her head was beginning to pound.

“Oh, is he back?” their mother asked with a groan.

Beatrice nodded. “I heard from Susanna Carlton that he is back in the county for his annual visit. Sometimes
he
roams about the woods.”

“Likely looking for unsuspecting young girls to seduce,” their mother said with a tsking of her tongue. “You see, Miranda, if you had stumbled into his path, you might not think the outdoor air was so very good for you after all.”

Miranda folded her arms, overcome by a sudden desire to defend Ethan against her family. “You dislike him, yet you always accept his invitations.”

Her mother blinked like she didn’t understand the point. “Of course. He may be a scoundrel, but he’s a well-connected one. And until he has the decency to quit the country, why shouldn’t we take advantage?”

“Oh, Mother!” Miranda cried as she began to rub her temples.

Her mother caught her hands and drew them together, squeezing almost to the point of pain. Miranda looked at her in surprise and caught just the faintest hint of fear in her mother’s wild stare. She’d never seen that before, not in all the times they discussed their financial problems. Miranda had always assumed Dorthea really didn’t understand the straights they were in.

Perhaps she did, after all.

“Miranda, you may judge me and my methods, but I do not want to wait for fate. We must take control of our own destinies.” Her mother released her hands and the emotions were wiped clean from her round face. “Now, please go upstairs and tidy up.”

Miranda nodded slowly and did as she’d been told.

As she moved up the stairs to her chamber, she thought of what her mother had said.

“We must take control of our own destinies,” she murmured.

That was what she’d been trying to do today by asking Ethan for help. And by accepting the terms of his agreement. But she hadn’t been in
control
at any point of their encounter. Ethan had seduced and pleasured and dominated her from the moment he entered the room to the moment he told her to go.

She had allowed him to do so, giving in to what he wanted with little argument except for her one stipulation of limiting their encounters to once a week.

If this were a courtship, she wouldn’t worry about the issue of control all that much. It was expected that a gentleman would rule in a scenario where he would end up married to a woman.

But this arrangement wouldn’t end in marriage. It wouldn’t end with a trusting, or even loving, bond, despite the surrender of her body to his whims. If she allowed Ethan to control her at every turn, she could end up hurt.