The Stanhope Challenge - Regency Quartet - Four Regency Romances (6 page)

She undulated in his lap and pressed her lips together in a moan.

He smiled but kept at his task, picking up her other hand and licking each space between her fingers there. “I shall be kind, too.”

She purred, a pure guttural sound of delight.

His brilliant eyes sparkled at her as she put one of her hands to his shoulder and the other to the muscle over one of his dark nipples.

“I will be slow, too. Was Wallace slow?”

“No. Quick, clumsy and very boring.”

“Is that so?” Adam asked with measured intensity and took to lazily examining her cleavage and both breasts. “Your lovely nipples grow hard. You seem very excited.”

“I am,” she confessed on a wee sound. “You make me so.”

His smile was sensual, dark and destructive to every maidenly instinct she’d yet retained. “I want to make you as wild as I am.”

She shifted on his thighs. “I want to be.”

“Do you?” he asked lightly as if he knew the answer. His hand cupped one breast and his thumb caressed her nipple in lazy circles. She shifted, her body swelling with want.

“You have beautiful heavy breasts.”

She swallowed.

“I like the way they tip up toward me.”

She gulped.

He grinned and a dimple appeared in the corner of his mouth. “Did Wallace fondle them?”

“No.”

“He should have.”

She nodded, eager as a girl for a gift. “I agree.”

He arched mischievous brows. “They deserve devotion.” He pinched one nipple and it beaded. Her pussy pulsed. “They should be treasured.” He stroked her. “So that they harden, like this.” He cupped her other breast and gave it the same homage. “They should be aroused so that they swell and bud. Like this.” He tweaked one and took it in his mouth.

Felice bowed up into his embrace as he sucked on her and made her moan with abandon.

“Gossamer.”

“You like them, then,” she got out. “Oh, I was so afraid.”

“Of what?” he asked on a whisper as he took the nipple in his mouth and ran his tongue around the areola.

“That they would be too big. Not the fashion to be too well endowed, you know.”

“I don’t give a damn about the fashion,” he growled and caught her nipple between his teeth then played with it with his talented tormenting tongue. “I only want to make you moan for me. Will you, darling? Moan?”

“I have already!” she blurted as he pushed her breasts together and bit one then the other.

He pulled back so quickly, she cried out. But on his dark handsome face was a fierce expression. “Undo my flies.”

Her hands shook, but she worked diligently at his buttons. Beneath the fabric, she saw the breadth of his penis. She hadn’t seen as much in the garden in the moonlight. But now, she was overcome. Her heart beat fast. Her eyes widened. Large and proud, his cock peered out at her as she pushed aside his trousers and his small clothes. Tall, rigid and red, his shaft wept for her.

She grinned down at it. His cock was a beautiful piece. She slid her fingers over the tip, the tiny droplets of his cream coating the head. He grunted.

“Did I hurt you?” She stopped.

“No. Only made me want you more. Do it again.”

She did. Eager. Happy. Tremulous.

He made an animal sound in the back of his throat.

“Again?” she asked, eager as a child.

He groaned and led her hand lower still. “All you like.”

She cupped his warm balls still encased in his breeches. He was heavy, large. His breathing rapid. “This is wonderful that you allow me this.”

He cleared his throat and laughed. “I permit you to do anything you wish.”

“Really?” She could not have asked for a greater favor.

“Truly.” He arched both dark brows. “What would you like to do with me?”

She continued to caress the tip of his cock but bent to lick one of his nipples. “This,” she said and felt a moan vibrate in his chest. “And this,” she told him as she sucked on the other nipple.

“What a nymph you are!”

A nymph for a satyr.
“You won’t hate me?” she asked, panicked that he might reject her for her advances.

He yanked her closer, her tender nipples boring into his rocklike chest. “
Hate
you?” he barked. “You come to me with this giving body and this open mind, and you think I will refuse you?”

Trepidation niggled at her resolve. “Women are not supposed to be so forward.”

“In England, yes. But in other lands?” he told her as he splayed the fingers of both hands up into the crown of her head and drew her near to speak on her lips. “In other lands, a wife is expected to be an equal partner in her husband’s bed. She can learn about pleasures and revel in them. So, too, can she ask for them.”

“I want to do those things. I want to be a wife like that.”

“Do you, my darling?” He gazed straight into her eyes.

“I am not a woman who simpers and demurs.”

“Then you are one of a kind.” He wound one of her curls around a finger. “And if you wish to give pleasure as well, then…”

“To you? I do.”

He studied her a moment, and if he measured her veracity, she welcomed it. For what she told him was true. With no other could she have embarked on such an intimate journey. No other did she know so well. So comfortably.

“Well then, you shall have what you wish. No coddling. Only lessons in love.” He shifted beneath her. “Stand up, my sweet.”

She slid off his lap and stood before him, her breasts aching for his mouth, her core pounding, her thighs moist. Her toes wiggled in her stockings, digging into the carpet in expectation.

“To love another’s body, you must first learn to love your own, Felice. Touch your breasts for me.”

She tilted her head, not sure she had heard him.

His turbulent gaze seized hers. “Do it.”

She lifted her breasts, thumbed her nipples and bit her lower lip as a shot of satisfaction rammed through her loins.

“Circle your nipples. There, feel how they swell and point. Tell me in your own words, darling, what you think of that?”

She caught a breath. “I like it. Love the feel of them puckering. Tingling. I need the sensation. Need more of it.”

“Pinch yourself.”

She did and bucked.

“Very nice. Again, my sweet.”

She did and moaned. Her eyes drifted shut.

“Superb. Now stroke your ribs. Yes. And your hips. Strong hips.”

“Not too wide?” she asked, eager for more approval, lost in her own caresses.

“No. Hips are for a man to hold. Yours are lush, meant to have a man’s kiss here.” He bent and placed his lips at the hollow of her hip near her thatch of hair. He gripped her, his fingers sinking into her buttocks. “You smell divine, too.” He kissed her once again. “Now thread your fingers through your pretty nether hair, my darling. Yes, like that. Splendid.”

“Adam?” She pressed her thighs together, her insides gushing with warm desire for him and pulsing, demanding to be filled. “Is this wrong to enjoy?”

“Not at all, my dearest. You prepare yourself for my touch, my kiss, my body inside your luscious one. Now, be a good wife and spread your legs apart. That’s wonderful. You want me, sweet. Say it.”

“I want you. I flow with need for you.”

“Show me.”

Gone was her despair he’d never wanted her. Quaking with knowledge that he admired her assertiveness, she wanted more of his praise. More of his love. More of anything he wished to give. And share. She spread herself wide, opened her lower lips, delving along the smooth skin, silky with creamy fluid and so sensitive to her own touch. She could not find any satisfaction suddenly, and she panicked.

He took her fingers and set them on the nubby spot he’d caressed in the garden. To touch that round spot sent lightning through her and she shuddered. She did it again and could not stroke it quickly enough. “What
is
this?”

“A bundle of nerves meant to heighten your pleasure. There, you see? You buck and thrash so artlessly. Do it again.”

She complied and thrilled to her own touch. “This is torment.”

“Because you are aroused now, prepared and eager to be filled by me.”

Her eyes shot open, and she saw him, his cock in one hand caressing the tip which gave off drops of fluid. “Send two fingers deep inside yourself.”

She gaped at him.

He smiled with gentle reassurance. “Do it, darling. You will be pleased. Have you not been by what I have taught you thus far?”

She sent two fingers deep into her core and found no words to define the sensations that raged through her.

“What do you feel?”

“Wet. Swollen. Wanton!”

He chuckled. “Now stop.”

She froze. Then she watched him stand and step out of his shoes, breeches and hose. Naked as she, he wrapped one arm around her waist and sent one hand travelling over a breast, a nipple, her belly button to her seam to caress the nub of nerves. She had had the pleasure of his fingers inside her before. This time, she absorbed even wilder delight from his caresses.

“I feel that demand building once more,” she said on a tremulous voice. “What is that?”

“Your urge to our ecstasy. You come so easily, darling.” He stroked one special place along her inner walls, and enchanted, she tilted up her hips into his hand. “Your husband never pleasured you to completion, did he?”

She shook her head. “No, never this wondrous feeling. Oh! Adam!”

He went to his knees. “Open your thighs, my sweet. I want to pleasure you completely. Let me roll you open, darling.” And then he put his mouth to her private places and tasted her with a dancing tongue. This ecstasy was as rich as wild as on the garden bench.

Still, she needed more.

She clutched his shoulders. “Adam, I cannot stand.”

“Mmm, of course you can, sweet. Christ, you are drenched in cream.” He licked her again, rolled her open more widely, and the cool air of the room hit her flesh.

She shivered in mad need of him. “Adam?”

“Yes, darling?” he got the words out between titillating kisses to her folds.

“I…I love this.”

She could have sworn she could feel him smile against her skin.

“I know you do, pet.” He sent two fingers inside her core and stroked her. “You would not be so wet or swollen, so soft or supple if you did not want me badly.”

“I need more,” she demanded. “I want you. Buried deep within me,” she said to the rhythm of his caresses. “Now!”

He pushed her to the chair he had vacated, spread her out, her body entirely open to him, her thighs out wide, then lifted her knees to drape over the armrests.

Beyond reason, she marvelled at her wanton position, spread wide only in love of him.

“Watch me savor you,” he said and bent to put his handsome mouth his to her nub of nerves. She yelped, but he settled her with two hands to her inner thighs. “Watch me suck your pretty lips.”

One hand to the chair cushion, she writhed in erotic torment. “If you don’t fuck me soon, I shall die.”

At her use of the four letter word no woman uttered, she gasped. He lifted his face to stare at her.

She was done now. He’d hate her. Reject her. Leave her in this maddening state, crying from sexual deprivation.

“My darling wife, you astonish me with your vocabulary.”

“I know I am impetuous and—”

“And delightful!” He chuckled and rose up on his knees. “Your pretty
chat
cries for me inside you and I will give you everything.” His face went rigid in stark need as he took his cock in one hand and put it to her intimate flesh. “You are frank. And lusty.”

He sank inside her with a slow drive. He stretched her channel wide, his shaft hot, satin iron. She threw her head back and let out a cry of fulfillment.

He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. The ecstasy she saw on his face as he opened his eyes and began to move inside her, astonished her. He seemed transported, possessed and he gazed at her as if she were the only woman he had ever desired. What’s more, he moved like liquid fire inside her.

Wiggling, loving the bliss, she sought to hold him there.

“Darling,” he objected, “you are so swollen, so tight, I cannot move. Let loose, my pet, or we will have no ending that pleases us. Yes, there!” He grunted and began again to pump her in a rhythmic flow. “My god. You are talented at this, do you know?”

“No.” She swallowed loudly. “Don’t stop. You won’t, will you?” She could not help herself from watching how his long red cock disappeared inside her aching core and emerged, shining with her juices. “Never stop.”

He laughed through his exertions.

She chuckled, too, but caught herself short, as he pumped inside her.

“Never,” he said, “made love to a woman who was laughing.”

A wave of ferocious need rolled over her. “Laughter be damned, Adam Stanhope! I want to scream.”

He grabbed both her wrists and held them to the cushion. “Allow me then to help you.” He drove into her then with such a thunderous rhythm she felt the full length of his rod claiming her to the hilt and heard her juices sluicing over him. Joy ripped through her as wave after wave of the most glorious pressure built and pounded through her loins. She broke apart in the deluge, vibrating in the storm.

He rammed her, head thrown back, transported in a fury of his own making. He cried out, as he released his own essences into her.

At last.
She drifted in euphoria. She was his wife. In deed as well as word.

She melted backward against the chair. One hand sought his arm as she stroked him in languid repletion.

He withdrew his body from hers in a slow glide that had her moaning in protest.

He gathered her into his arms. “I know, my darling. My body fits so well in yours. We must rest for a few minutes. Or rather, I must.”

She licked her lower lip in anticipation of revelling in such bliss with him again. Smiling, she drew forth the coquette in her nature, so long suppressed. “And then…might we do this once more?”

He snorted and planted a kiss at her temple. “Of course, we will. You have the penchant for multiple orgasms, my pretty wife. A rare and scintillating quality that I plan to nurture.”