The Untamed Earl (28 page)

“I couldn't imagine,” she replied, biting her lip. “But I did hope I'd get to see.”

He chuckled at that and then kissed her again, deeply, his jaw jutting out. She ran her fingertips across its rough surface. Oh, this man was gorgeous and he was hers. Or at least he was going to be hers tonight.

“I only hope I don't disappoint you,” she whispered in his ear.

He stopped, pulled back, and cupped her face in his hands. “Alex. You could never disappoint me. But I want to make it good for you.”

“What are you going to—?”

But he had already begun to move downward, and his mouth quickly found her right nipple. She gasped and nearly lunged off the bed. His wide hands on her shoulders pressed her back down. Then he moved a hand under her backside and pushed up. Her back arched and her breast strained into his mouth. She groaned and her fingers tangled in his hair. His mouth was doing things to her breast she'd never imagined possible. His teeth nipped at her. His tongue rubbed roughly against the sensitive peak. She arched her back farther, wanting his mouth to never stop.

“Owen,” she groaned. His other hand moved from her back to her other nipple, and he twisted it and rubbed it. She arched into his mouth and hand. He sucked her while she held his head, desperately hoping he didn't move away, didn't stop. Stabs of pleasure shot from her breasts to the secret spot between her thighs, and she clamped her legs together so the pressure building there wouldn't be so unbearable.

“I'm going to make you come, Alex. Do you know what that means?” His hot wet mouth circled her breast. His words were warm puffs of air against her tortured nipple.

She shook her head frantically against the pillow. “No.” But whatever it was, she desperately wanted to find out.

He kept his hand on her nipple, squeezing, pulling, nipping, rubbing, while his mouth moved lower to the juncture of her thighs. “Spread your legs,” he commanded, his breath a hot brand on her soft skin.

“Yes,” she breathed. His hand pushed against the inside of her knee, spreading her open to him. His other hand remained on her nipple. Then his scorching tongue descended into the apex between her legs—and Alex forgot to breathe.

“Owen!” she cried softly as he licked her deeply. His tongue played with her, brushing the nub that was pulsing, throbbing, responding to the thrills still shooting down from her breast. He brought up his other hand from her knee and pulled her hand to her breast. “Touch yourself,” he whispered.

She tentatively squeezed the soft mound and then her fingertip glanced over her nipple and she gasped. She flicked her thumb over the sensitive spot just as he'd done moments earlier, just as he was still doing to her other breast. “Oh, Owen, I—”

But she didn't know how to finish the sentence. Pleasure streaked down her abdomen, white-hot pulses of pure lust shooting from both breasts, fulfilled by the hot deep strokes from his lush tongue. He sucked her there, too, and her hips nearly came off the bed, the feeling was so intense. She whimpered. He brought his hand down and slowly pushed one finger inside her. Alex's head fell to the side and she groaned. “Owen.”

“Just feel it, Alex, feel it. Let go.”

His mouth between her thighs, his thumb stroking her nipple, and then his finger pressing inside her, pulling out, pressing again—the combination was too much for her. Both her hands moved down to tangle in his thick hair, and he licked her again, again, again, pushing against the spot inside her that made her cry out and shatter. She clamped her thighs against his head as shudders—uncontrollable, delicious shudders—rocked her entire body.

Owen moved up between her legs and gazed down at her. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He stroked her side, her arm, her shoulder, while Alex slowly floated back to earth.

“I can't believe—I had no idea—I am simply—”

“I adore making you speechless.” He leaned down and kissed her deeply, and Alex tasted her salty sweetness on his tongue. It was probably wrong, but it felt so sensuous. She shuddered again.

“Yes, speechless,” she conceded. “That's what I am.”

“Good.” His eyes hooded and he leaned down and kissed her once more. “Alex, I want you,” he whispered into her mouth.

“You have me,” she whispered back.

“I mean I want to be inside you.” He kissed her again, and liquid heat pooled between her thighs.

“Yes,” she breathed.

*   *   *

“Touch me,” Owen commanded. He pulled her hand down between his legs and wrapped her fingers around his cock. Sweet Jesus. The feel of her hand on him was torture. He closed his eyes and groaned. He moved her hand up and down, showing her exactly how he liked to be touched.

“Is this right?” she asked in a shy voice.

“Oh, love, it's so right.” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, hard.

He increased the tempo, wanting to plunge inside her but not wanting to frighten her or hurt her. His hips rocked to the rhythm set by her torturous hand. He thrust into her palm again, again, again. His hand moved between her legs to ensure she was ready for him; he slid one finger inside her. “You're so hot, so wet. Do you want me, love?”

“Yes.” Her eyes were tightly closed but she nodded and she still had the hint of a satisfied smile on her gorgeous face.

“I want to make you fly,” he whispered into her ear, his tongue dipping inside the sensitive shell. She bucked beneath him and he pushed his hands to her hips, holding them to the mattress to steady her, readying her for him.

“Let go,” he commanded, and Alex's hand fell away from his cock. He twined his fingers through hers and pushed her hand high above her head against the mattress, pinning her beneath him. “I've dreamed of this for so long,” he breathed, pressing himself into the wet heat of her. “I've dreamed—” His words were lost in his own groan as he pushed inside her. Her eyes flew open from shock, and he knew the second he'd breached her maidenhead.

She clenched her jaw, and a small wince appeared on her fine features. He kissed her nose, her eyelids, her cheekbones, her forehead. “Did I hurt you? Are you all right?”

She shifted beneath him. “I think so.”

He didn't want to laugh, but the scowl on her face was adorable. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you,” he murmured, pulling out slowly and pushing back inside. “I love you,” he repeated each time he pulled out and pressed home.

Soon Alex's head was flitting from side to side on the pillow. Sweat lined her brow. Owen's hips pumped into her again and again, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming too soon. He wanted to make it good for her again. He lowered his hand between them and circled the tiny nub of her pleasure. Her eyes flew open and widened. “I didn't know we could—”

“We can do anything.” He nipped at her shoulder. His forehead was slick with sweat, and he groaned against the desire to rock into her one last time and lose himself in her. “I want you so much, Alex. Come for me, love. Come for me.” Her hips were rocking, too, of their own accord, matching the rhythm of his hand. Her breath was coming in fitful little spurts and her hand moved up to stroke her own breast, just as he'd taught her.

“That's right, touch yourself, come for me, Alex.” He moved his head down and sucked her nipple and bit it lightly. She arched off the bed, her thighs squeezing him tightly, his name on her lips.

Owen moved his head back up and kissed her deeply. His tongue plunged into her mouth and owned her. He cradled her face in his hands as his hips pressed into her once, twice, a third time, before he let himself go completely, his orgasm shaking him so badly, he cried out against her mouth and collapsed atop her gorgeous sweat-sheened body.

Moments later, Owen rolled over and pulled her atop him. Her magnificent hair was down around her shoulders, and he leaned up and pulled her neck down so she would meet his mouth. He kissed her again, long and slowly.

“I'll never get tired of kissing you,” she said when he pulled away, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“I hope you never do. And I'll never get tired of making love to you.”

She pressed herself to his chest and snuggled her head under his chin. “I hope not, Owen. I know you're a rake, but—”

He pushed himself up on one elbow and took her chin in his hand. “No. Listen to me. I mean it. I will never give you cause to believe I've been unfaithful. I've sowed all my wild oats, and I'm quite through with it. What we did here tonight was a first for me, too. We made love. I'm entirely committed to you, Alex. I love you.”

Alex sighed and laid her hand against his heart. “I love you, too, Owen.” She ducked her head and blushed beautifully. “Now, do you think we could do that again?”

 

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Alex couldn't stop smiling. She smiled at the coachman who drove her back to London. She smiled at the footman who opened the door for her once she and Hannah arrived on her father's doorstep, and she smiled as she fell asleep that night, knowing that Owen loved her and intended to ask for her hand. In marriage.
Marriage.
She was going to
marry
Owen Monroe. And Mother and Father couldn't possibly object. Not even with Lavinia unmarried. Not after what she and Owen had done.

Late the next morning, Alex was startled awake by a sharp rap on her door.

“Come in,” she called, and was surprised to see Lavinia stroll in. Her sister was wearing a lemon-colored gown with matching ribbons in her hair. She carried part of a newspaper in her hand. It had to be the Society pages. That was the only part of the paper her sister ever showed any interest in.

“Good morning, Lavinia,” Alex called, stretching her arms high above her head. Even her sister's sour disposition couldn't spoil her mood today. “What time is it?”

“It's nearly eleven,” Lavinia said in her usual pinched voice. “How was your trip to Bath?”

Still smiling, Alex sat up straight and fluffed the pillows behind her. She was ready to launch into every delicious detail with her sister. Who cared that she and Lavinia had never been close? Today she wanted to shout her happy news across the rooftops of London. Why, she'd discuss it with a fence pole if she thought it would listen. “Oh, Lavinia. The most wonderful thing has happened. You'll never guess.”

Lavinia's mouth spread into a tight smile. “I have some wonderful news of my own.”

Alex paused. “You do?” Years of experience had taught Alex that Lavinia intended to tell her story first, but Alex was tired of Lavinia always coming first. “That's wonderful, but let me tell you—”

“I'm engaged!” Lavinia blurted out.

Alex gasped, her own news temporarily forgotten in her shock. “You are? Oh, Lavinia, how absolutely perfect.” Alex's smile widened. Things could not have worked out any better. If Lavinia was also engaged, that would immediately put an end to her mother's only objection to her own engagement. “I'm so happy for you. Who is your bridegroom?”

Lavinia smoothed her hand over the paper. “Why, it's Lord Owen Monroe, of course.”

Alex's breath caught in her throat. She tried to speak, but no words would come out. She
must
have heard her sister incorrectly. “Lord Owen Monroe?” she finally managed to croak.

“Yes. That's right.” Lavinia's face was blank with only the hint of a curl at her lips. “It was quite sudden, really.”

Alex struggled to pull air in and out of her rapidly deflating lungs. Her sister was lying. Lying or wrong or mad. One of the three, for certain.

“See?” Lavinia tossed the paper onto the bed. “Here is our engagement announcement.”

Alex grabbed the paper and scanned the page. It didn't take long to find it. Lavinia was right. There it was, clearly printed for all of London to see. The engagement of Lord Owen Monroe to Lady Lavinia Hobbs.

Lavinia made her way over toward the window and stared out.

“There must be some mistake,” Alex murmured. “This can't be—”

“Lord Owen paid a call yesterday afternoon,” Lavinia said, contemplating her fingernails. “He said he had to know where my affections lie.”

“He was here? Yesterday?” Alex hated the smallness of her own voice.

“Yes. He said he was prepared to ask another young lady to marry him. But he couldn't make the commitment to do so until he knew for certain there was no hope whatsoever with me. He explained to me that our parents wished it. Apparently, he decided his father's wishes and his allowance meant more to him than he'd originally realized.”

Tears—hot, fat, ugly, awful, shameful tears—stung Alex's eyes. She savagely wiped them away “He said that?” Her voice cracked.

“Yes,” Lavinia replied, still gazing out the window. “Of course, it was a surprise to me that I'd accept him. You know how I've felt about him in the past.”

Alex could only nod, even though she knew her sister couldn't see her. “Yes,” she managed.

“But the truth is, I've had a change of heart lately. You and Mother were so adamant about his being suitable, and he seemed so intent upon wanting me, well, I can hardly blame the poor man.” She laughed an affected laugh. “At any rate. I decided you're right. He's handsome. He's eligible. I cannot remain a maiden forever. He must have been eager to announce the news because he went straight to the papers, apparently.” Her sister took a breath. “Of course, I remember you saying you might try your luck with him, but I assume you decided your affections lie elsewhere, given
your
good news.”

Alex wiped away the latest set of tears as her sister turned fully around.

“We're planning a spring wedding,” Lavinia finished.

“A spring wedding?” Alex echoed.

“Yes, I've always wanted a spring wedding.”