Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) (21 page)

 
“Oh, Vaughn, I’ve been in hell for so long I had forgotten what it was like to live a normal life. I had settled for that, I could have been content with that.
 
But you’ve made me yearn for more.”

Vaughn remained silent for a long moment and he stared at her. She knew by his expression she had shocked him. So, he had also thought the worst of her. That knowledge cut to the quick. She closed her eyes in order to stop the tears.

“Oh, Elisa….”

She took a deep breath, battling the sobs that welled inside her at the sound of his deep, sorrowful voice. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she lifted her chin and opened her eyes. “You should go now, Vaughn. I’m certain Natasha and her mother are looking for you.”

He took a step toward her, but he did not attempt to take her in his arms. Instead he spread his hands. “Forgive me. I didn’t know. I didn’t understand how it was for you.”

“Please, just go.”

But he didn’t. Instead he took the other step necessary to reach her and slid his arm around her waist. He moved slowly, as if he was waiting for her to push him away.

She was too drained of energy to resist. His arms came around her and she was nestled against his chest and shoulder. She stood with limp arms as he kissed one cheek, then the other, before moving to her nose, then up to her eyelids.

Then he paused.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her lips, which parted of their own accord.

His eyes half closed and he gave a low groan. “God help me, I want you,” he muttered and brought his mouth to hers. He touched her softly, like a butterfly’s wings, then with the pads of his thumbs, wiped away the tears.

And despite her recent anger, despite the tears, the deep weariness that these last weeks had etched into her very bones, she felt her body stirring in response. With no man had she ever experienced such strong needs, desires that never seemed to die fully, but would spring back to life at the merest suggestion of touch, or even thought alone.

“I don’t recognize myself anymore,” she whispered a moment before she kissed him.

Elisa’s low moan goaded him, spearing his gut with aching need. As he plundered her mouth with kisses that grew harder and more demanding, Vaughn pulled her tighter to him and felt the rapid beat of her heart against his own. She wore nothing but the fragile nightgown and he could feel every inch of her soft, supple body against him. Her hair was slightly scented and tickled his chest where his shirt lay open. She was warm and utterly pliant in his arms, small and feminine.

She was driving him crazy with need.

He bent over her, one hand sliding down to curve over her rounded bottom and pushed her against him. Their hips made contact and he could feel the delicious, driving pressure against him.

Her back bowed, increasing the pressure of her hips against him. Her breasts thrust out, almost in offering. He took one in his hand, caressing it through the warm, soft silk. At once her nipple hardened to a tight little nub. Her responsiveness was exciting him even further. He bent his head to lave the nipple through the silk. His moisture soaked the fabric and molded it around the nipple, displaying her areola. When the material was completely sodden, he blew gently on it and was rewarded by her gasping groan of delight and the sight of her nipple tightening even more. Her hand was in his hair and her fist clenched tightly. She was pulling his head down to her other breast and her uninhibited demand delighted him.

Obediently, he licked and suckled on her breast through the silk, then pulled back a little to watch her reaction. Her eyes were closed and a little frown marred her forehead. He looked down at her nightgown. The wet silk was virtually transparent, leaving uneven circles around her nipple virtually transparent. The sight was maddeningly erotic.

He grasped her breast again, smoothing his thumb across the heated tip, and felt her hips push against him again. His shaft throbbed, the blood in his veins thick and hot.

Her hand was sliding down his neck, across his chest, moving restlessly. He found himself holding his breath in anticipation, for this was the first time Elisa had ventured to explore for herself.

The touch of her fingertips on his abdomen, through the opening in his shirt, made the muscles clench and quiver and drove a sharp spike of pleasure straight to his cock.

Her hand was at his breeches and she moaned as her hand flattened against his pelvis and moved lower, to the length of his quivering cock, his erection thickening and lengthening with every stroke.

God, he would burst if she continued this way! As her hand stroked him, her kiss grew more urgent, her other hand moving to his hair, her fingers weaving, pulling him closer.

It was too much for him. His fingers found the neck of her nightgown and he clenched the material in his fist. He pulled his mouth away from hers. “Stop me, Elisa. Tell me to stop, for I cannot stop myself.” His voice was thick and unrecognizable even to him.

Her own voice, in answer, was a throaty, low, “Never.”

He shut his eyes tight, as the longing in her tone pushed him past the fine edge of control. He ripped the fabric away from her body with a single tug and threw it from him.

Her naked body, lithe but with full womanly curves, was perfection itself. He covered her with kisses, caresses. He tasted her, his hands and mouth moving over her face, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, wherever he could reach, as she stood quivering in his arms. Her little whimpers and the clench of muscles in spasms of delight were driving him on.

With a groan, he lifted her into his arms and placed her back onto the bed they had only just left. She stared up at him as he pulled his shirt away and leaned over her, an arm on either side of her face. Her hands moved up his arms, squeezing his biceps, before moving up along his shoulders. He moved against her, his erection rock hard, pressing against her mound, the pressure a subtle goad to her pearl. The only thing between them was the fabric of his breeches, and they both knew that soon would no longer be a hindrance.

“Please,” she breathed, pushing against him. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and luminous with desire. Her lips were parted as she drew breath into her heaving chest.

He kissed her, long and hard, driving his tongue deep into her sweet mouth. He caressed her lips with his own, and tasted them. Then down the long column of her throat to the small hollow at the base. Her breasts were rubbing against his chest with a sinful friction that sent little sparks of delight through him.

The pressure to tear off his pants and drive himself into her was nearly unbearable. He tortured himself deliberately, wanting to revel in the anticipation of what that first thrust would feel like, the fierce satisfaction in pushing into her and watching her squirm in pleasure, her eyes closing in joy.

He played with her breasts, his long fingers surrounding as much of the soft globes as he could reach and then drawing them outward, until they met at the nipple, and tugged a little at the erect, rosy flesh. He wanted to push her to the same level of intolerable need he was feeling. As she writhed and moaned, he took first one tight nipple into his mouth, then ministered to the other. He could feel the flat plane of her stomach contract tightly and knew she was reaching the same frenzy as he.

Soon. Soon….

Sweat was beading his brow and his heart was thudding loud in his ears. At any moment he would go up in flames, so heated was his desire.

But first…

He stroked the skin of her stomach, feeling the telltale quiver ripple through her. He moved down to the tops of her creamy thighs, feeling them tremble and move restlessly. They parted, beckoning.

He caressed the hot, moist folds of flesh edging her cleft, stroking upwards and inwards and marveled at the incredible heat of her. What would it feel like to slide himself into that molten core?

He realized that he, too, was trembling, as continuous little ripples of pleasure wracked him.

Vaughn slipped his fingers inside her. And as she lifted her hips , she groaned. She clenched around his fingers. The power of that spasm astonished him.

He lifted his thumb to rest against the tiny nub of flesh above and stroked it gently. She gave a gasping cry and her hand buried itself in his hair, clenching. As he sucked and gently tugged at her nipples with his teeth, he continued the rhythmic stroke and felt her vibrate against his fingers. The deep, deep wave of release was nearly upon her and unerringly, he coaxed it closer and closer.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and her breath coming in gasps. Her climax locked her body tight against him and he held her as she pulsed against his fingers and her body shuddered.

The need to be inside her at that moment, to feel her clench around him, was all he could think of. But he held himself back, knowing the wait would make that moment exquisite.

She collapsed against him, as if her bones were made of butter. As he pulled away from her she did not even lift her head from the coverlet.

“I have not finished with you yet, my sweet Elisa,” he told her and his voice was strained, hoarse with dammed-back desire.

He let his lips trail a path down to her stomach. He laved her belly button, then moved lower, making a precise trail down to her overly sensitive flesh. He could feel her coming back to life beneath him.

“Vaughn,” she said urgently and he was not sure if she wanted him to stop or to continue ravaging her.

He lowered his head and tasted her pearl of pleasure, caressing her with his tongue.

She flexed like she had been jolted and gasped, her dry throat rasping. She moved to push him away and he grabbed her hands and wove his fingers through her own as he continued the delightful kiss, thrusting his tongue deep into her cleft, then sliding it up, to whirl around the nub of flesh, stroking it.

She raised her hips off the bed, almost involuntarily, offering herself to him.

Vaughn’s blood roared in his ears as he tasted her. His body was as painfully sensitive as her own—only a little more stimulation and he would arrive at his own climax. He was shuddering with the need for release.

He had never held himself back like this before. He had never suspected how powerful a stimulant selflessly pleasuring a woman could be. He was drunk with it, and had no intention of stopping until he could truly stand it no more and Elisa begged for release.

Then he heard it. The handle of the door connecting this room with Rufus’ was rattled impatiently.

How long had he been trying to get in? How much had he heard?

He stood abruptly, pulling Elisa with him. Her face was flushed, her stare wild, but as he motioned toward the door she nodded in understanding.

He grabbed her wrapper from the chair at the foot of the bed and threw it to her. As she struggled to put it on, he picked up his shirt and shoes and stepped over to the armoire in the corner.

“Elisa!” The call was full of fury.

She raced over to the door and shook out the disguising folds of the gown around her naked body.
 
Vaughn pulled the door of the armoire open and looked back. She had her hand on the key to the door, her wide, frightened eyes looking to him.

He nodded, stepped into the armoire and shut the door.

Muffled and effectively blinded, his hearing sharpened.

“I am sorry, Rufus. I was asleep.”

“For god’s sake, woman. Why do you dally about in bed all day?”

“I did not sleep well last night.” Her voice was shaky, husky.

“Have you seen that son of mine?” Rufus’ voice was coming closer. “He’s not in his quarters and it doesn’t look like he’s been there at all during the night.”

“I haven’t stirred from this room since you escorted me here last night,” Elisa said. Truthfully. “Perhaps he left the manor last night,” she added. “He did not seem to be happy about being interrupted on the terrace.”

“His belongings are in his room.”

“Maybe he spent the night with another?”

Vaughn smiled to himself in the dark. Elisa had a wicked sense of humor.

There was a pause and he strained to hear what was happening, but no sound came.

“Why do your thoughts turn to such an unfit subject?” Rufus asked softly.

Vaughn rubbed his temple. What was the mad bastard working up to? The quiet way he’d phrased the question made imaginary hackles rise on Vaughn’s back.

“I…I don’t know what you mean.” Elisa’s voice was full of sudden wariness. She saw the menace, too.

“Is it not enough to be shamed and humiliated in one evening, but you must also insist upon my correcting your attitude the next morning?”

“Rufus, it was simply a suggestion. Vaughn is a young man, after all.”

“Such an idea would never have occurred to a true lady,” Rufus responded.

Vaughn closed his eyes. It was too late. No matter what she said now, she was condemned in Rufus’ eyes.

“I am truly sorry, Rufus. I am trying to behave properly.”

Her contrite voice, the ringing note of honesty should have swayed him. It was a valiant try to coax him into a more jovial mood. But it was Rufus, not any other man. Such feminine wiles would not work with him.