Tempting a Proper Lady (18 page)

He took her chin in his hand and stroked his thumb over her lip. “Please.”

She went to the bed and lay down on it, a quick dart of guilt shooting through her at the thought of placing her shoes on the clean coverlet.

He began to unfasten his trousers. “Spread your legs. Don't be shy, sweetheart. I think you're beautiful.”

Hesitantly she opened her legs, blushing at the lewd display she must be providing him. But he never took his eyes from her as he discarded the rest of his garments and then approached the bed. His rod rose proudly from the nest of hair between his thighs, stiff and much, much bigger than she had expected.

He knelt on the bed between her legs, pausing a moment to nudge her knees into a bent position that seemed to open her up even more, then shifted and settled with his hardness pressing against the core of her. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, then pushed inside her.

She had expected pain, not this hot, wild stretching. His eyes closed, and he groaned, then he grabbed her by the hips and held her fast as he plunged inside her to the hilt.

She arched her hips instinctively, allowing him to set the pace as he began to move. She could barely think, could only feel. This was different, she thought briefly. This was good. Then thought spun away on a tidal wave of emotion.

His muscled body surrounded her, pressing her into the mattress as he drove them higher with strong, urgent thrusts. She clutched his shoulders, torn from within her small, safe world to ride on the wind
with him. His eyes were closed, his face a rictus of concentration. She watched him, the only stable force in her world at that moment.

Suddenly he stiffened and cried out. He slipped from inside her and grabbed himself, shuddering as he spilled his seed on her belly.

Protecting her, she realized.

He opened his eyes, his rod still in his hand. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I couldn't wait for you.”

She smiled. “It was lovely, Samuel.”

He barked a laugh. “Lovely? We're nowhere near finished, darling. Don't move, and I will show you.”

S
he lay where he left her as he got off the bed and went in search of a cloth. Between her naïve ignorance about sex and her sinful-looking body, he was amazed he had lasted as long as he had. His climax had come harder and faster than he had anticipated. Hell of a teacher he was.

He found the towel beside the washbasin and wiped his cock, then turned back to her. She lay where he'd left her, his semen gleaming on her belly. A primal surge of satisfaction surged through him. She looked incredible, naked in his bed with his claim upon her.

But they weren't finished, not by a long shot.

He joined her on the bed and wiped up the fluid on her belly. She watched him with those huge dark eyes, patience and curiosity evident on her face. He set the towel aside and bent to kiss her lips. “Your turn now, love.”

The word slipped out before he realized it. Even as she frowned, he slipped his hand between her legs and began stroking her. He could tell she was close. Her juices flowed over his fingers, her flesh
swollen and warm. He teased her clitoris, watching the awareness and surprise flicker across her face. It didn't take long; if he'd been able to resist her for just a few more minutes, he would have seen to it she finished before he did. But there was time for that. They'd barely begun. And there was something to be said for having taken the edge off his appetite so he could enjoy the pure shock that rippled across her face as she climaxed.

She arched her hips and let out a long, low moan, her eyes drifting closed as her loins exploded in his hand.

“Good girl,” he whispered, and kissed her slack lips.

When Cilla came back to herself, Samuel was stretched out beside her, his head propped on one elbow as he idly stroked his hand along her torso.

“Oh,” was all she could think to say, and he burst out laughing before leaning down to kiss her.

“I hope that means you liked it.” He kissed her again, nibbling on her lower lip for a moment before releasing her.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Is it always supposed to be like that?”

“It depends on the people involved. I try to make sure my partner enjoys herself as much as I do. It's no fun otherwise.”

“I do not think all men feel the same way.”

“Your husband?”

She nodded. “He was always very quick and rough.”

He frowned. “A man needs to prepare a woman
for sex or else it will be uncomfortable for her.”

“I believe you are correct. This was not uncomfortable for me.” She reached up to stroke his face. “This was beyond wonderful. Thank you.”

“Oh, sweet Priscilla.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. “There's a whole world you cannot even imagine.”

She gaped at him. “More than this?”

He chuckled. “Much more.”

“My heavens. How does anyone do anything else once they have discovered this?”

He roared with laughter, rolling backward onto his back. “Good Lord, Cilla, you amaze me.”

“Why?” She shifted up onto her elbow, amazed that she felt not the slightest bit embarrassed about lying next to him, both of them stark naked. “I am curious is all. Had I been more careful in my choice of husband, I might have discovered all this earlier.”

“Well, now you know what to look for.”

His voice sounded strange, and she belatedly wondered if it was
de trop
to speak of one's late husband while naked in bed with another man. Inconsiderate at the least, she decided. “You are an extraordinary lover,” she murmured, and leaned down to kiss his mouth.

He caught the back of her head when she would have retreated and held her in place, deepening the kiss as her hair fell down around them. Even when he broke off the kiss, he held her where she was. “Can you take me again? I don't want to hurt you.”

Excitement exploded in her belly. “I will tell you if you do.”

“Agreed. Come here.” He dragged her on top
of him, but her shoes banged his shins and suddenly seemed to her like a terrible hindrance in her lessons.

“Wait.” Rolling back, she sat up and quickly unfastened her shoes, then threw them both over the side of the bed before lying back down again. “Now I'm ready.”

The fond smile on his face made her heart melt as he pulled her on top of him once more and took her mouth in a long, slow kiss that left her dizzy. “You're going to ride me, sweetheart.”

“Ride?”

“Yes. Slide yourself down on me and make yourself feel good.”

“I'm not sure how.” She bit her lower lip. “Though I do like the way your rod feels inside me.”

He chuckled. “My rod? Hell of a term. I call it a cock, sweetheart. And I like the way it feels inside you as well.”

“You will have to help me.”

“Just sit up and brace yourself on my chest until you can get my—”

“Cock.”

“—cock inside you. Do you know how arousing it is to hear you say that word? Not a lot of women will utter it.”

“Cock. I like it. Short and to the point.”

“Not too short, I hope.”

“No.” Following his instructions, she succeeded in lowering herself down on the rigid length of him. “Not short at all.”

“Glad to hear it.” He guided her with his hands
on her hips, showing her the rhythm he wanted.

She picked it up quickly, bracing her hands on his chest so she could retain more control over her movements. Being on the top was an unusual experience. She experimented a little bit: slowly versus quickly, easing backward so he went a bit deeper, grinding forward so he rubbed against that spot between her legs that had brought the explosion of pleasure. Each time she altered her movements, his expression changed or he would utter a sound that she took to be approval. She rapidly learned which pace pleased him the most.

He reached up to play with her breasts, and his thumbs rubbing against her nipples started a fire burning in her loins that nearly distracted her from what she was doing. She began to work her hips in a way that made his rod…cock…rub against her center of pleasure. His whispers of praise encouraged her. She forgot about everything but feeding the growing hunger, building it into a demand that could not be resisted. It exploded inside her, making her arch her back, her cry nearly a scream, before she collapsed on top of him.

She came back to herself moments later. He was whispering to her, kissing her forehead, running his hands in soothing strokes down her back.

“Oh,” she murmured, and he laughed, the sound echoing in his chest pressed against her ear.

“Is that what you will always say when you reach your climax?” he asked, amusement still heavy in his voice.

She glanced up at him but couldn't see much past
his chin, and the lethargy of utter satisfaction kept her from lifting her head. “I suppose so.”

Moments passed while he stroked her hair. His heart beat in steady rhythm beneath her ear. Warm in his embrace, she nearly dozed. Then he gently disengaged their bodies and eased her to the side.

She startled back to full consciousness. “What…?”

“Hush, it's all right.” He kissed the top of her head. “You can sleep if you want.”

She lifted her head to look first at his groin, then at his face. “You did not…what's the word? Climax?”

“No. I nearly did because watching you explode like that was too captivating for words. But I don't want to get you with child, and the best way to avoid that for now is to not spill my seed in you.”

“I certainly appreciate that. Though it seems unfair that I took my pleasure but you did not get yours.”

He chuckled. “That is easily remedied, sweetheart. I'm very close, so if you will help me, the score will be even once more.”

She eyed his erection. “How?”

“Just take your hand like this…” He guided her fingers around his shaft. “And stroke it like this.”

She ran her fingers up and down as he had shown her. “Like this?”

He let out a hiss of pleasure and closed his eyes. “Just like that.”

“You must tell me if I do it wrong.” Curious now, she stroked him, watching his flesh respond, listening to his whispers of encouragement that quickly gave way to mutters of barely intelligible words. Beneath
her fascinated gaze, his cock hardened even more, responding to her slightest touch. Then he closed his hand over hers, jerking once, twice. A long, low moan escaped him as he arched his hips and his seed exploded out of him, splattering over her hand, his chest, and his belly. His hand stilled, and she went to stroke him again, but his grip tightened, halting her.

“No,” he muttered.

She would have to ask him to explain that later, she thought as she looked at his now peaceful features. But she had to admit that it had been an education watching him reach his climax. Was that how she looked?

She took her hand away, and he opened his eyes. “There should be a towel on the bed somewhere.”

She glanced around and found it amid the sheets, then wiped off her hand and turned her attention to him, gently cleaning off his belly and chest. When she was finished, she got up from the bed and set the towel on the bureau, then opened the top drawer and found more towels. She poured some water from the pitcher into the basin and washed her hands, drying them with the clean towel.

She turned back toward the bed. A flash of movement caught her eye, and she glanced over, then stood stock-still, arrested by the sight of herself in the mirror across the room.

She looked like the veriest wanton. She was stark naked except for her stockings and garters. Her hair was tangled about her shoulders and her lips were
slightly swollen from his kisses. A gentle flush lingered in her face.

She looked soft and relaxed and extremely satisfied.

“You look incredibly wicked, Priscilla,” Samuel said. When she glanced at him, his lazy smile of approval warmed her from top to toes.

“I cannot believe I made love with my shoes on the first time.”

“Can you not?” he teased.

The smile spread across her lips before she could help it. “I suppose I forgot about them quickly enough.”

“I suppose you did.” He gave a great sigh and stretched, his lithe body rippling with muscle like some kind of jungle cat. “If you are finished with me for now, my lusty wench, I find that I am starving. Do you suppose we might salvage the stew?”

She propped her hand on her hip, that strange playfulness sweeping over her once again. When had she become such a flirt? “So now that I have eased your lusts, sir, you are demanding I cook for you as well?”

“You haven't eased my lusts completely.” The flash of desire in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat. “That was only the beginning. And I'm a passable cook myself, so don't assume that just because you are the woman that you will be forced to prepare the meals.”

“That's a woman's usual role, isn't it?”

“Perhaps.” His wicked grin spurred heat back into her cheeks. “But there's another ‘usual woman's role'
I have in mind for you, and I prefer you save your energies for that.”

“Samuel!” She picked up her chemise from the floor.

“Oh, no.” He jumped off the bed and took the garment from her hand. “No clothing for you, my lovely.”

“But I thought we were going to eat?”

“You don't need clothes for that.” He took her by the hand and turned toward the door.

She dug in her heels. “I cannot sit at the dinner table naked!”

“You're not naked. You're wearing your stockings.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Why the shyness? Who's going to see you besides me?”

Well—” She stopped herself, realizing he was right. “There are no servants here, are there?”

“No.” He lifted his hand to her lips and brushed a kiss against her fingers.

“And John will not return in the middle of dinner?”

“No.” He tugged her close and dropped a kiss on her mouth. “He knows better.”

“Thank heavens for that.” Her blush burned her face from forehead to throat.

“Now, don't be embarrassed.”

“I cannot help it.”

“That's something we can work on.” He squeezed her fingers. “You must not be ashamed of your body, Priscilla. You're beautiful.”

“No one has seen me without at least my shift since I was a babe.”

“Not even your husband?”

“Especially not him.” She shook her head. “I always wore my nightdress.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no wonder you came to me.” Samuel pulled her into his arms. “Don't you like it?” he murmured. “How our bodies fit together?”

“Yes.” Her whisper came so softly she barely heard it herself. “Does that make me a whore?”

“Good God, no!” He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. “There is a vast difference between a passionate woman who simply enjoys sex and a woman who sells it for money. There's no shame in liking what we do together, sweetheart.”

She bit her lip, doubt and guilt nipping at the memory of the pleasure he had brought her. “I will try to remember that.”

He let out a sigh. “You, my dear Priscilla, are thinking too much. I can see it is time for another lesson.” He went back to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “I would like you to take off your stockings.”

“But—”

“And do it slowly. A man likes to watch a woman disrobe for him.” His steady gaze brooked no argument.

“All right.” She bent over to unfasten one garter.

“No, not like that. Turn sideways so I can see more of you than the top of your head. In fact, prop your foot on the bed just here and slowly roll off your stocking.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “I am not a performing animal, Captain!”

“No, you're a beautiful woman who can seduce me with the simple act of removing your stockings.”

She blinked at him. “I can?”