Simply Shameless (3 page)

Her smile faltered and she touched his cheek. "Then perhaps we should hurry."

Mon Dieu,
he was beautiful, his hazel eyes full of lust, his cheeks stained red with the rush of his desire and the cruel cut of the wind. She wanted him, his vibrancy, his life force, and his body. In her troubled life, she'd learned to savor the swift moments of pleasure and hold them close. After the horrid shock of the carriage accident, their night together would be a perfect memory to carry with her into her new life.

Helene took his arm and, laughing, they slipped and slithered down toward the inn settled in the curve of the road. Smoke poured from the chimneys, and the scent of fresh manure and horses rose to greet them as they tramped through the cobbled courtyard.

A warm blast of beer-scented air welcomed them into the taproom. Helene shivered as Philip drew her tight against his side. A thin woman with graying hair appeared at the doorway and bobbed a curtsey.

Philip cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Mr. Philip Ross. I require a room for myself and my wife. Do you have anything available?"

"That we do, sir. I'm Mrs. Gannon. I heard about the carriage accident from the coachman; such a terrible thing to happen. Are you and the lady both well, sir?"

Helene managed a quick nod and a smile in the landlady's direction and then looked down again. In her threadbare garments and patched boots, she scarcely looked the part of a gentleman's wife. Mrs. Gannon was sure to notice it even if Philip didn't.

"I'll bring you up some supper on a tray shortly. That's all you'll need tonight after the shock you've had." Mrs. Gannon continued talking as she led the way up the stairs. "Just put your wet clothes outside the door, and I'll have them back to you in the morning. My husband will try and retrieve your baggage from the coach."

"We'll do that. Thank you, Mrs. Gannon."

Helene found herself pushed firmly inside the room as Philip shut the door behind him.

Moments later, the key turned in the lock, and he pulled her into his arms. He rained kisses all over her face and neck as he struggled to untie her bonnet and strip her out of her cloak. His fingers were freezing and clumsy against her heated skin.

"God, I need you." He turned her until her back was against the door. "I need to be in you right now."

She didn't stop him, her hands working just as busily to push off his hat and outer clothing. Before she could start on his waistcoat, his cold hands were under her heavy skirts, parting her thighs, lifting her against the door. He kept kissing her even as she worked on the buttons of his breeches. She'd never felt like this before, this heat, this desperate need to have a man inside her right now before cold reality reasserted its grip.

His icy fingers delved between her folds, rubbed and fondled her into sudden intimate wetness.

Seconds later, the crown of his cock pressed against her entrance, and she gasped at the sudden pressure. Here was truth; here was the thick physical evidence of his lust. Would it be different this time because she wanted him? He paused, hands rigid on her thighs, breathing ragged, his hips barely moving. He leaned his forehead against hers.

"Take me inside; please, take all of me."

Helene deliberately relaxed her muscles and he slid inward. His passionate groan made her even wetter. He grabbed her buttocks and thrust hard, pressing her into the unforgiving door with every long upward stroke. She gripped his muscled arse with her heels and gave herself up to his rhythm, his enjoyment, his need for her.

"Come with me."

He changed the angle of his thrusts, bringing his weight onto her most sensitive bud, building her desire along with his. She strained and clung to him with a wild abandon she'd never allowed herself to feel before. But this was her night, her stolen chance to experience something entirely for herself, and she intended to enjoy every minute of it.

His rhythm faltered then grew faster and more frantic until she no longer had any control over his movements, could only hold on and experience the fury and frenzy with him.

"God, I'm coming."

He started to withdraw but she held him deep. The strength of her own climax squeezing his cock took her beyond common sense, beyond reason and care. He managed to pull out, his seed still pumping in a wet hot stream down over her belly and thighs. With a groan, he buried his head on her shoulder and set his teeth on her skin.

Helene closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his

weight slumped over her. His heart thumped against hers, the sound as audible as his breathing. The silver buttons of his waistcoat pressed into her soft flesh. He licked her neck and drew back.

"I'm sorry. That was hardly a good display of my so-called skills, was it? I'll try and do better next time."

He released her buttocks and allowed her feet to slide down to the ground. Her legs shook as she tried to straighten them, and she had to hold on to him for balance. With a chuckle, he picked her up and deposited her in the chair closest to the fire. She stared up at him as he stripped off his waistcoat and drew his shirt over his head. His chest was as tanned as his face, his brown nipples visible through the light sprinkle of dark hair.

He was slender, his muscles well defined and his stomach flat. With a grin, he pulled off his boots and took off his breeches and smallclothes to stand naked before her. A pulse settled low between her legs as she gazed at him. Such a handsome man, his cock already thick and full for her.

Without taking her eyes off him, she tugged at the lace fichu around her shoulders and dropped it to the ground. With a groan, he came down onto one knee, his gaze riveted on the upper swell of her breasts.

"Let me help you, madame; let me see you."

She shivered as he searched out the pins that held her bodice and skirt together, his fingers sure and deft as he worked.

"You may call me Helene, if you wish."

His slow smile was intimate. "And you may call me Philip, as long as you say it in that enchanting French way."

She shrugged, letting the bodice of her gown fall away. "It is the only way I know how to say it."

His hands slid around her waist and urged her forward. She stood and allowed him to peel off her sodden skirts and petticoats, leaving her in wet stockings, stays, and a linen shift. He sat back on his heels and stared up at her.

"You are beautiful, Helene."

Part of her hated his saying that, the comment inevitably being followed by a man's possession of her body. When she was younger, she'd fantasized about being ugly, wondered if her life would've been different. As she matured, she realized her beauty was yet another weapon to be wielded at her discretion. And yet, she believed Philip. She could see it in his eyes and through the reverence of his touch. "Lift your leg."

He cupped her heel and placed her foot on the arm of the chair, displacing her shift, leaving her open to his gaze. To her surprise, he didn't immediately shove something inside her but continued to ease her damp filthy stocking down her leg. His concentration aroused her, made her shift in the seat. He kissed her knee and then her ankle as the stocking joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Without asking, he put her left foot up onto the other chair arm and worked her stocking down her cold flesh. She studied his bent head, the high arch of his cheekbone and long eyelashes. She stroked his bound hair and enjoyed the silken sensation against her fingers. He shuddered and let the stocking fall to the ground; his mouth descended and kissed its way along the line of her thigh to her sex.

"You smell of me, but not enough. Never enough." He licked her clit, the tip of his tongue as direct as a finger. "Before the end of the night, you'll be covered in my cum, my scent, my sweat, until you forget anyone else."

Even as her body gloried in his possessive words, Helene's mind considered them carefully. Would he really be able to make her forget herself? Make her think only of him? God, she hoped so. Her past sexual encounters were nothing to be proud of. She would give a lifetime to forget them. It was a novel experience to have a man intent on her pleasure as opposed to one expecting her to entertain him.

His tongue swirled around her clit, dipped into her plump folds, and parted the swollen lips of her sex. She could smell his spicy scent mingled with her own. Open to him like this, she could only allow his touch. She gasped as his fingers followed the path of his mouth, adding pressure, teasing, probing until she writhed against him, her fingers tangled in his long hair.

He raised his head to smile at her, the faint stubble of his beard shining with her moisture, his lips swollen.

"You are very quiet."

"I am too busy enjoying myself to talk. Surely that is a compliment to your skill?"

"But I want you screaming and begging, remember? One of the things I learned in India was that most men have no idea what a woman hides between her legs." He smiled at her.

"Apart from the obvious, of course."

"That is certainly true."

He leaned forward and swirled his tongue around her clit. "One of the Indian women who tutored me in the sexual arts told me that women not only taste like oysters but have a pearl concealed in their plump folds as well."

Helene gasped as he traced a circle around her clit and then flicked it with his tongue.

"Once I understood that, I was far more able to please a female lover."

He hooked his finger upward and forward and sucked on her clit at the same time. Caught between the two firm pressures, she teetered on the edge of a sharp climax. A moan escaped her as she spasmed with pleasure, gripping his head to hold him there. He fought free and emerged to grin at her.

"And then she taught me how to do that. Much better, but I'm hoping for more."

"And will you scream too?"

His expression intensified. "I intend to. It's impossible to drive you wild without taking myself there as well."

She gave him a superior smile, aware of his cock nudging the inside of her thigh, leaving a trail of precum on her skin. He frowned. "What?"

"You've never wondered if any of the women you've bed-ded pretended to experience ecstasy?"

He knelt up and began to unlace her stays. "I would know."

His confident tone amused her. "You would not." His fingers strayed over her full breasts, teasing her nipples

as he removed her stays and shift. "We'll see about that. Stay there."

He gathered all the clothes and headed for the door, giving her a fine view of his slim buttocks and long legs. Helene remained on the chair, her body open to him, her nipples already tight and anticipating his touch.

When he returned, he sank down onto his knees in front of her again and sighed. "It seems that I have a lot to prove to you about my lovemaking skills. Are all Frenchwomen so demanding?"

She found herself smiling down at him. When had sex ever been fun for her? This lighthearted banter and amorous teasing, this... connection? He knelt between her legs, cupped her breasts, and carefully thumbed her nipples. Situated as she was, right at the edge of the chair, his furred stomach rubbed against her wet sex with every ragged breath she took.

He leaned closer and let his lips brush her flesh. She tensed as he circled her nipple with his tongue and then sucked it into his mouth. Helene closed her eyes. He was so careful of her pleasure, so willing to bring her joy. She let his body slide against hers as he suckled each breast in turn, so wet now and so hot that she wanted him again.

His cock lengthened and fitted itself between her splayed thighs, the side of his shaft moving between her swollen pussy lips, pulling his foreskin down to expose the thick, wet purple

crown. She tried to lift her hips to engulf the head but couldn't manage it.

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes narrowed with passion. "Not yet, Helene. I haven't finished with you."

She caught the black ribbon and untied it, allowing his hair to settle around his shoulders.

Such a beautiful man. Such an innocent in so many ways. Memories of all the faces that had come before him rose to taunt her. With all her resolve, she shoved the images away and concentrated on the texture of Philip's hair and the pull of his mouth on her breast.

His hand curved over her hip and then inward to slide between their heated bodies. She shivered as he delicately fingered her clit, circling it with the tip of his finger, making her strain against him. He kissed the space between her breasts and then the gentle swell of her stomach before burying his face back between her legs.

She was already swollen from his lovemaking, and her flesh yielded instantly to the pressure of his mouth and fingers. Pleasure spiked, made her gasp and call his name, made him laugh low against her sex and drive her even further along an unknown path of delight. Her focus narrowed to the play of his fingers, his mouth and the exquisite sensations unfurling within her. She climaxed again, desperate now to feel him inside her.

"Please, Philip, I want you." She almost couldn't believe her own words. Had she ever begged a man to fuck her and meant it?

When she opened her eyes, he held his dripping cock in one hand, his thumb massaging the thick flesh of his shaft. He guided his cock between her legs until the crown was inside her and stopped. Helene licked her lips as he considered her.

"As you said, how will I know whether you really come for me when I'm inside you?"

She stared down at his cock, silently urging him on. She

Wanted to cry when he withdrew until he was barely inside her It all.

"How will I know, Helene?"

"Because I will scream your name?"

His smile was both tender and full of sexual anticipation. "But you could pretend to do that, couldn't you?" He stroked her swollen clit until she shuddered. "How, Helene?"

She simply stared at him, her mouth dry, her body poised on the edge of the unknown.

His smile disappeared and was replaced by shocking raw eed. "Because inside you, I'll feel you gripping and releasing ,y cock like a fist, making it well nigh impossible for me to pull out in time when I come."