Passion Over Time (12 page)

“Do what?”

“This.” He threw his hands out palms up. “Dig so deeply into everything.”

“So I am not allowed to ask questions of you? Another of your requirements?”

His expression closed off, hard as stone. “I would prefer to limit our interaction to that which concerns the two of us.”

His words hit with the impact of a door slammed in her face and she flinched. It hurt. She was pea-green with jealousy, yes. She was stupid to feel that way, yes. But there it was. No matter how illogical, she was hurt that he had kept another woman in this beautiful house. Maybe it did make her insane to feel so, but right at this moment, she thoroughly hated every other woman he’d ever been with.

But it was more than that, wasn’t it?

Of course it was.

Obviously, he had dismissed this mistress.
Dismissed.

What else could a kept woman expect?

But had this woman had soft feelings for Grey? Had it hurt her to be cast aside for his newest interest?

Beth had believed that Joshua had cherished her. Loved her.

Yet he had married someone else.

Did you really believe the fine Mr. Sexton, one of the three wealthiest gentlemen in the United States, would want to marry you? You? The dirty servant’s bastard?

She pushed the unwelcome voice down.

I want to be special. Not just the fleeting interest of the moment.

Was that so wrong? So unrealistic?

Yes, of course it was. She had met him in a bookseller’s shop and propositioned him for carnal pleasure before he’d even known her name. But how else was a girl like Beth to ever meet with a gentleman like Sexton? It had been like reaching up at the midnight sky and snatching one of the glittering stars for her own.

And she’d had her fun. Her adventure. It was coming to an end. She’d known it would end. Oh God, she was acting like a fool, a silly chit. But she couldn’t seem to stop. And she’d just come here to be bedded by him. To say a pleasurable farewell.

However, she couldn’t staunch the flow of bitterness inside. She reached back and jerked at her gown’s fastenings. “Well, then, you’ve made
my
position clear, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll strip off so we may get down to our business.”

“Beth—”

“Oh, yes, you ordered me to wear this.” She scooped the silk wrapper off the bed and clutched it.

“Damn it, Beth.” His features softened with concern and he seemed to cross the distance between them in three steps.

He reached for her and pulled her into his embrace. Her cheek ended up pressed to his chest and his heart beat strong under her ear. He put his lips to the top of her head, a soft, tender brushing.

Warmth flooded her and sent a safe, comfortable feeling coursing through her veins. Such foolishness! But his touch, oh God, his touch…

Her traitorous body was so attuned to him. She resisted the seductive spell and held herself rigid. His hands moved to her hair and loosened the pins. The sense of relaxation increased as the weight of her hair eased from her head and fell over her shoulders and down her back. It was becoming harder to resist.

For long moments, he caressed her tresses in slow, tender strokes. “Your hair is like…champagne touched by moonlight.”

There was a touch of boyishness in his voice. And even Joshua Wade had never paid her such a lovely compliment. But it meant nothing. Words were meaningless.

“I wish you would always wear it down when we are here alone.”

How seductive his voice could be, especially when he was tender with her.

“Another of your requirements?” she asked, forcing a clipped tone.

He laughed softly. “Yes, I think so.”

His hands moved over her hair in slow, steady caresses that seemed in time with the strong thud of his heart against her. Emotions cascaded over her. A desire to melt into him, to allow him to hold her like this forever, snuggled to his powerful, leanly muscled body, all safe and secure. Again, she tensed her body to deny it. What was wrong with her? He was a cold, hardened man who bought, took, and discarded women without a qualm. He wasn’t safe in the least.

“The British call a beautiful woman ‘a diamond of the first water.’ I always thought it a rather overblown phrase, until a month ago.”

His voice resonated with such—well, it almost sounded like affection.

Don’t you believe it, Beth. Don’t lose your head over this man.

She’d known she was beautiful since her girlhood. Before she had even first put up her hair, men would grow silent when she walked into a room, their eyes widening. Then they would become too talkative. They would take foolish risks to catch her alone and whisper the most outrageous, scandalous things to her. Make her incredible promises.

Mrs. Hazelwood had confirmed the truth of Beth’s unusual beauty in frank terms, then warned her of the perils of taking such a thing too seriously. Men would want to possess her, but they wouldn’t care about her welfare or her future or her good name. They would betray and abandon her.

And hadn’t that worthy lady already been proven correct?

Why did Beth find it necessary to chase rejection and pain like this?

Ha! Special indeed! Take your pleasure and then walk away without a glance back—as
he
will.

He touched her back, began unhooking her gown. It fell down her arms with her petticoat.

“Here,” he said, taking the wrapper from her and tossing it aside. “You don’t really need this. I prefer you without anything at all.”

Deftly, he unlaced her stays, his angular face hard with the determination of a man set to a delicate task. Soon she was completely naked. All right. This she could handle. Sexual arousal and pleasure. It was why she was here and why he wanted her here. Better to just get on with it. She reached to encircle his neck but he pulled away.

“Would you excuse me a moment?” he asked, all formal and polite.

Moments later he returned, clad only in a black dressing gown.

He handed her a flat rectangular box, his expression so serious, she was almost afraid to take it.

“Well, open it.” Boyish earnestness made his handsome face that much more gorgeous. All thumbs with the latch, she dropped the box.

He picked it up, unlatched the box, and handed it to her. She opened it. Inside, against plush red velvet, lay a double strand of luminescent pearls, small and perfectly matched. Her finger traced over them. She’d never touched anything so lovely in her life.

She knew such things didn’t come without a price.

Chapter Seven

“I don’t need these.” She stared at the pearls, her heart hammering.

“But I want you to have them.”

The edge in his voice made her jerk her head up. “Where would I wear them?”

“You could start by wearing them for me.”

He picked the box up, removed the necklace and came behind her. Brushing the hair off her shoulders, he placed the strand about her neck. The pearls lay cool and heavy against her collarbone and chest.

He traced his fingertips across her nipples. “See how erotic the pearls are against your beautiful breasts.”

She glanced down. His dark hand contrasted with the twin rope of pearls gleaming against her pale flesh. Her channel clenched and wetness seeped between her legs.

“Come here.” He led her to the mahogany Chippendale dresser, then cupped her face and kissed her deeply. After several moments, he lifted his head and turned her to face the framed mirror and hugged her from behind. She’d never seen herself like this. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the image of her pale, petite nakedness and his strong arm latched about her waist. His dark head fitted into the curve of her neck.

He slowly pulled the necklace backwards, the smooth beads a cool, continuous slide along her skin. Snug against her throat, the pearls made an expensive looking collar. He brought a hand to rest beneath it at her collarbone. His other hand rolled the pearls against her back, a slow and steady silken sensation. Her nipples drew into tight pink points, as if jealous of the attention he lavished on the necklace.

He traced the clasp in front with a fingertip, bringing her attention to it. She hadn’t noticed it before but the latch wasn’t a simple latch. It sparkled with fire. Tiny diamonds surrounded an oblong, deep-blue stone, gleaming with the slightest hint of violet. She sucked in her breath.

A sapphire—oh, but surely not real. No, it must be paste.

However, he didn’t strike her as a paste kind of gentleman.

She opened her mouth to speak but he stroked her breasts in feather-soft circles, driving whatever she intended to say from her mind. Until all she could do was long for him to touch her aching peaks. But he seemed to be purposefully avoiding them.

Finally, he brushed them. She whimpered for more and he gradually increased the pressure, pinching them between his thumbs and forefingers.

In the mirror, she watched his hand slide down her belly to the pale blond hair at her junction. He traced her outer lips, an unhurried counterpoint to the urgent throb of his erection against her bottom. At the barest touch of his fingertip to her nub, she writhed, wiggling her bottom against his cock.

“Plead for me, Beth.” His voice was smooth as sin.

She laughed huskily. She wouldn’t beg. At least she hoped she wouldn’t.

She shook her head vigorously.

“You will,” he assured her.

“I doubt it, not this time.”

He sank two fingers into her, giving her what she needed. Pressure, speed—driving her into an unbearable tension. Any moment. Oh, oh, oh, any moment now. She caught her breath, closed her eyes, her mouth falling open, waiting for the perfection to claim her.

He stopped and she remained there, on the edge of ecstasy. His large, warm hand rested lightly over her aching flesh. She pressed against it, rubbed. But it wasn’t enough. Her desire was too built up now. She needed him inside her, filling her up, taking her hard. A moan escaped her.

“Plead for me, Beth,” he repeated, his voice deeper, huskier this time.

He was the source of all pleasure, pain, and relief. She wanted only to feel him inside her. Whatever it took.

“Yes, Grey, please. Please fuck me now.”

With the words still leaving her lips, his hand on her neck, he nudged her to lean forward against the dresser. She put her palms down upon its smooth, flat surface.

His hairy, muscular leg tickled the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she opened to him. She sighed, her anticipation increasing as the heat of his cock glided along the crease of her bottom, forwards along her slick slit to tease her nub. She’d never felt so empty, so desperate to have a man inside her. Moaning hungrily, she arched backwards. Would he never hurry?

He lifted her leg and bent it to the side, then his hardness filled her, stretched her. The joy of it made her catch her breath. He lowered her leg, then pressed his face into the curve of her neck. He pulled almost all the way out. She cried out and he thrust in deep again, his hands squeezing her breasts with a glorious roughness. He nipped at her neck and moved in and out of her, a long series of hard, powerful strokes. In the mirror, she watched her body shake with the impact of it, again and again. Never had the sight of anything been so exciting.

His fingers brushed her nub, sending sparks of fiery pleasure racing through her that cumulated in a swift and violent orgasm. She leaned back against him, cradled in his strong arms, with his lips pressing her temple while she waited for the world to stop spinning.

This was all that mattered. These stolen moments. Because it was all she could have of him. All she could afford to have of him.

He hadn’t come. She could feel his stomach muscles still tense with longing against her body, his cock still hard within her. The afternoon was just beginning. He withdrew.

“Let’s go to the bed.” The passion in his voice resonated deep in her belly. He took her hand, led her to the bed.

She fell onto it sideways, sinking into a featherbed as soft as a snowdrift. He took her ankles and drew her body toward him until her legs dangled. Kneeling between them, he cupped her bottom, lifted her up. Holding her breath, she watched him lower his head until his face almost touched her sex. Slowly he exhaled, warm moist breath into the pale blonde hair. His tongue stole out, flicked her erect nub. Her hips jerked but he held her still to the warm strokes of his tongue.

He sucked her tight nub. Ran his tongue round it. Grazed it lightly with his teeth. All while she rolled her head on the pillow, her eyes closed, lost to sensation until her tension grew to the point before pain.

She tried to thrust her hips, to show him her need, but he held her so she could not move. Her feet pressed hard into the featherbed, her hands fisted the bedspread and she whimpered. “God…Gre…” She shivered with need. “Please, oh
please
.”

He thrust a finger into her and then two, finding that sweet, sensitive spot and giving it repeated determined, delicious pressure. She twined her fingers into his thick, silken hair and let herself go, pressing and spasming against those angular, patrician features.

When she came back to herself, she was aware of his cheek resting against her mound, his fingertips tracing her hipbone.

The bed rocked as he moved.

“Come here.” He motioned to his hard-muscled midsection. “Climb on. I want to watch you ride me. I want to see your pretty breasts bounce while you’re wearing your pearls. I pictured it when I was purchasing them, and it very nearly made me rock-hard to think on it.”

She crawled to him then straddled him, lowering herself until her cleft brushed his straining cock.

Arching her back, she raised her arms above her head, displaying herself to best advantage. Aware the whole time of how he watched her, she leisurely lowered her arms then cupped her breasts and pressed them together.

He motioned for her. “Come down here where I may pay proper attention to your beauties.”

Holding his gaze, she lowered her head and licked her breast.

He made a pained face. “Don’t be a tease. Come here.”

“Beg me.” She licked herself again.

He grasped her hips and pressed his cock against her. “Can’t you feel me begging?”

She shook her head with slow, deliberate motions. “I’ll need to hear it.”

“I could write you a bank note.” His eyes twinkled.

“Oh, no, that’s not good enough either.” She rubbed her nipples, closing her eyes, letting herself shudder and squirm on his erection. He throbbed against her and she moaned with exaggerated affect.

“All right, Beth, would you please, please bring me your beautiful breasts?”

She opened her eyes. He was grinning.

“These?” she asked, cupping them again.

“Yes, smother me with them.”

Leaning down, she let her breasts dangle over his face, teasing his lips with the erect peaks.

* * * *

A desperate hunger seized Grey; he couldn’t get enough of the taste and feel of her hard little nipples on his tongue. Straddling him, naked in those pearls, she was everything he’d imagined and more.

She sat back, resting her weight on her knees to each side of him. Her kiss-bruised mouth, the color of dark pink roses, was open and laughing. “You will pay for earlier. For making me beg.”

“Will I?”

“Oh, yes,” she promised, her eyes closing to slits as she moved backward down his body, her silken mound brushing his belly. She touched his erection, her fingers soft and cool. He caught his breath.

She guided him to her entrance and lowered herself onto him. He watched as she took his length inside, inch by inch. Wet lusciousness engulfed him in a soft, sucking caress and he caught his breath sharply. Her internal muscles tightened and an impulse to come at once made him grit his teeth. His hands tightened on her hips and he groaned deep in his throat.

Reaching backwards, she placed her hands on his thighs, stretching her legs until her feet rested on either side of his shoulders. Leaning back, she moved her hips, not just up and down but back and forth and all around, swiveling them like something out of
The Arabian Nights
. All the things one could imagine a harem slave girl would know.

The sensation of her hot, wet channel twisting on his cock—not to mention the way it made her breasts bounce and bob and move in circular motions—made his heart thunder against his chest wall like he didn’t think it could without damaging itself.

He should have known that nothing would ever be predictable or simple with her. She could put her unique stamp on anything. Christ, the excitement was probably going to kill him but he didn’t care.

The sucking caress of her orgasm caused violent tremors deep in his balls, radiating outwards through his entire body. He shouted as his ejaculation ripped through his cock.

* * * *

Beth leaned against the window ledge, clutching the silk wrapper over her nakedness. She glanced down at the rear garden, watching the birds play in a stone fountain as she picked the last piece of meat from a chicken leg. She dropped the bone to her plate.

“You don’t like that wrapper,” Grey stated.

“It has too much lace.” She wrinkled her nose. “It itches.”

”Then you shall have something else.” He took her plate and placed it on the tray, which the housekeeper had used to leave a meal of cold chicken, bread, and cheese. The tray appeared to be silver. It reminded her of her childhood at Mrs. Hazelwood’s. In the kitchen, she had spent long mornings munching apples and watching the maids polish the silver. There had been a time she hadn’t even realized people did more with silver than polish it.

The dirty servant’s child eating from one of those fine silver trays? Alone with a gentleman in his bedchamber, wearing the expensive robe and pearls he bought for her? Wouldn’t Mrs. Hazelwood frown?

The pearls began to weigh heavy upon Beth’s neck.

Grey approached and handed her a napkin.

She took it. The silken nap of the linen bespoke its high quality. Gilt caught the light. Gold threads adorned the edges in a whipstitch pattern.

Even the napkins in his mistress’ house were elegant. Everywhere she looked, from the heavy velvet drapes and the white, sheer panels pulled back with a tasseled cord, to the mahogany wainscoting and the wallpaper detailed with colorful birds and flowers, to the large brass-framed mirror. Luxury surrounded her.

And this was just a dressing chamber.

She smiled. “You don’t have to buy me things. We should simply share ourselves and enjoy the moments we can share together.”

He touched the pearls. Did she imagine that flare of possession in his eyes? Just the barest flash, but…an intense shiver shot through her belly. Alarm? Excitement?

He glanced up and gave her a grin. “But I want to buy you things. I want to spoil you.”

She forced a laugh, soft and seductive. “You want to spoil me?”

“Terribly.” His grin widened.

She caught her breath and held it as a wave of tingling giddiness swept over her. Heavens. The effect of that grin. How foolish—the way it still made her heart wobble. She released her breath slowly. “I suppose you spoil all your women.”

He traced the dip in her collarbone. “Some more than others, Beth.”

His feather-soft touch sent delicious frissons of pleasure over her skin, racing down to make her nipples tighten. She resisted a reactive shudder. “And how do I rank?”

He chuckled. The deep, sensual sound vibrated in her belly. “Now, my beautiful darling, how do you think you rank?”