The Wedding Bed (The Sun Never Sets, Book One) (14 page)

Derek absorbed that. “Sounds like someone is getting nervous.”

“It’s true then? You mean to bring down the Custom House?”

“Not the entire branch of government,”
he returned dryly. “Just the few who’ve been stepping out of bounds.” He briefly related Inspector Nevins’ visit, his run-in with Henry Cecil, and the plight of Ram Daas.

“
Continue down this path and you’ll be starting a war.”

“No. Just finishing one.
One I should have finished long ago.”

“
All for one boy? A boy you’ve never met?”

“It’s
become larger than that.”

Jonathon studied Derek with open curiosity.
“You never cared about the lascars before.”

“I do now.”

“I see.” A beat, then Jonathon slowly smiled. “Pity the men who get in your way.” He tilted his head in the direction of the dining room. “That new bride of yours,” he said. “Still trying to decide if you should send her back to India?”

“I think I’ll keep her.”

“Very wise decision.” Jonathon put on his hat and gloves and stepped outside. “Enjoy your evening, Keating.”

“You
as well, Brooksbank.”

Derek shut the door and went in search of his wife.

Chapter Sixteen

Calla
sat perched atop a delicate parson’s chair in the center of her bedchamber. Derek stood behind her, having dismissed her maid with assurances that he would help his wife undress. But he had yet to undo a single button. Instead, he turned her to face the ornate gilt-edged mirror that hung above her dressing table.

Their gazes locked in the
candlelit reflection. While Calla had always appreciated her sisters’ beauty, she found very few physical attributes to admire in herself. But with Derek standing behind her, that all changed. She had not expected her emotions to translate themselves so profoundly onto her face. Yet they did. She read contentment there, pleasure and satisfaction, all underlain with simmering sexual tension. Her cheeks were flush with excitement, her lips parted, her gaze lit by erotic fever. The result was an image of a woman so hungry for her husband’s touch she nearly trembled with abject longing.

She had no idea raw desire could be so beautiful.

Calla recognized an almost feline quality about her pose as well, as though
husky purrs of need might issue at any moment from her throat. Or perhaps she would simply arch her back, rubbing her shoulders—the creamy skin daringly bared by the décolletage of her gown—against the dark cloth of Derek’s evening jacket. Or drag her fingers, claw like, through his ebony hair. Even that wouldn’t be enough.

S
he wanted to pounce on him, trap his large, masculine body beneath hers. She wanted to lick the salt from his skin, nibble the strong line of his jaw, kiss him breathless. She wanted to taste and tease. She wanted to shove her nipples in his mouth and lock her thighs around his waist. She wanted his thick cock inside her, stroking the slick walls of her sex over and over until her breath caught and shards of pleasure shattered her nerves like broken glass.

A week ago such thoughts would have appalled her. But
no longer. Under Derek’s tutelage, she was a new creature. A creature awakened by lust and fed by desire. She’d developed appetites she’d never known she possessed.

“
Patni
,” Derek murmured, breaking the silence that hung between them. Wife.

In the mirrored reflection, his gaze met hers. Burning w
ithin those smoky gray depths she read approval, savage longing, and an unspoken promise of what the next few hours would hold.

S
he tilted back her head to brush against him, aching for the gratification of his touch, however slight. A smile curved Derek’s lips. Moving with deliberate precision he dislodged a single hairpin from her upswept style, allowing a dark curl to spiral free and tumble past her shoulder. Another pin followed, then another, freeing her from the weight of the elaborate coiffure. He gently massaged her tingling scalp, then combed his fingers through her hair, spreading the thick chestnut masses over her shoulders, his knuckles brushing lightly over the tops of her breasts as he worked.

His hands. So large, powerful, masculine. So deliciously rough against the velvety softness of her skin. He ran his thumb lightly along the neckline of her gown, then dipped it beneath the laced edge
, lightly brushing her nipple. A jolt of pleasure shot through her. She shivered. Her eyelids fluttered shut and her head lolled back. She pressed her shoulders more firmly against the flat planes of Derek’s stomach, silently entreating him to continue.

He remained standing behind her
, a rock in the stormy sea that threatened to sweep her away, his posture one of utter control. His fingers flowed over her exposed skin, warming her flesh. Moving with infinite care, he unfastened the row of tiny buttons that ran down the back of her gown and gently tugged the garment, along with the silk chemise she wore beneath it, past her shoulders, leaving her naked from the waist up. He cupped her breasts and massaged them, hefting their soft weight in each palm, his touch both teasing and firm. She bit her lip and arched forward, straining for more, thrilled by the sensation of the rough calluses of his palms rubbing against the tight peaks of her nipples.

Bending down
, he caught her earlobe between his teeth and tugged lightly. The stubble on his jaw scraped against the sensitive column of her throat. A thousand tiny pinpricks of pleasure pulsed down her spine.

“
Patni
,” he whispered again, his warm breath rushing over her ear.

Her senses swam. His voice, so rough and low, washed over her like a caress.
Calla clutched the seat of her chair and rocked, forward and back, unconsciously tightening her muscles, her body as brittle as a bow that had been strung too tight. She strained to turn and face him but he wouldn’t let her. His hands locked her firmly in place, facing forward, away from him.

“
Not yet,” he said. “Let me show you how beautiful you are.”

Kneeling behind her chair, he reached beneath her skirts and lightly grasped her ankle.
He traced his fingertips up her calf, drawing the fabric of her gown with him. Calla caught her breath, watching in the mirror, mesmerized by the soft rustle of silk and taffeta as it flowed upward over her leg, revealing her silk stockings. He stroked her ankles, her calves, the tender underside of her knees, then drew his fingers up her legs, gently caressing and exploring. He reached the ribboned garter on her thigh and stopped.

Sweet, heavenly torture.

Pleasure mingled with tension. Heat pooled between her thighs. They’d only been married a week, but he knew her. He knew how to touch her, how to thrill her, how to lead her to the dizzying edge of erotic bliss and leave her dangling, panting, begging for more.

He tugged the ribbons from her garters and rolled her stockings down her legs, letting them pool about her ankles. Leaving her pale, satiny flesh entirely exposed. His hands slid up her thighs. Finding her feminine core, he eased two fingers inside her. With his thumb, he teased the tight pearl at the entrance to her sex. She bucked, her hips slid forward. She pressed herself into him, welcoming his touch.

Derek withdrew his hand. A fine sheen of moisture coated his fingertips.
The scent of her arousal perfumed the air. In the mirror, his eyes locked on hers as he brought his hand to his mouth and lapped her sweet dew from his fingertips. 

Calla gasped, then took a deep, shuddering breath.

He nuzzled the velvety skin of her throat and whispered in her ear. “Look.” he said. “Look how extraordinary you are.”

Unable to do anything but obey, she gazed in the mirror. Staring back at her was a woman she barely recognized. Her
indigo gown was twisted about her waist, her stockings a silk puddle at her feet. Her hair fell in wanton disarray, a dark cloud swirling loosely about her shoulders. Her nipples were peaked, her breasts twin ivory globes, swollen and sensitive. Her legs had fallen apart in wicked invitation to Derek’s touch.

Calla trembled. It wasn’t her own appearance that
flooded her emotions, but that of her husband. Immaculately dressed in evening attire, his rich mahogany skin looked even darker, his brooding features more fiercely Indian. He stood slightly apart from her, gripping the back of her chair, his expression coolly aloof—except for the abject longing burning in his gaze.

Her passion took on a sudden, urgent edge.
Thus far Derek had always taken the lead in their love-making. But Calla couldn't wait. She gained her feet and spun about, resting one knee on the chair for balance as she captured his mouth with her own. She had to tell him what she felt, and this was the language in which they communicated best.

There was no softness in her embrace, no slow, bud
ding desire. Her need was too overwhelming to allow for grace or modesty. She poured all her hunger and longing into that single kiss. She kissed him with all her heart and soul, kissed him as though they were about to be swept away from each other forever unless they could find some common ground to which they could cling.

She felt
Derek's initial shock at her embrace quickly fade, his response escalating with the same primitive urgency that had seized her. He locked his arms around the small of her back and pulled her even more tightly to him, returning her embrace with a possessive fervor that sent fiery tremors racing down her spine. Calla burned with longing and lust. She wanted to touch him everywhere at once, and to feel his hands caressing her naked flesh in kind. She tore at his jacket, his shirt, tugging them from his limbs, battling the garments as though they were enemies to be subdued and vanquished.

“
Calla,” he said. Just her name. Just once.

He pulled back, breathing hard. Stared at her.
He scooped her up into his arms. “Not here,” he said. He carried her into to his adjoining chamber. In the past, they’d made love in her bed, then he would adjourn to his own room. This was different. She dimly recognized there was a significance to the gesture that she should note. But her emotions were too overwhelming, her mind too dizzy to puzzle it out.

He dropped
her gently on his bed and hovered above her, over six feet of glorious, dark masculine beauty. He traced his hand lightly down her side. She shivered.

"
Are you cold?'' he murmured against her hair.

"It doesn't matter."

"I can light a fire."

"Don't leave me."

The command was primal, necessary. She pulled mindlessly at the buttons of his trousers, her fingers shaky and clumsy with desire. He followed her lead, fumbling impatiently with the tiny hooks and eyes that fastened the waist of her gown. Somehow they managed to rid themselves of their clothing. Trousers, gown, boots, stockings, drawers, chemise, all of it lay crumpled and abandoned in a disorderly pile at the foot of the bed.

As they renewed their kiss,
Derek’s hands moved voraciously over her skin, caressing and exploring, heating her flesh with his touch. Calla mimicked his motions, almost desperate to return the pleasure he was giving her. His body was corded muscle and sinewy strength, a thrilling combination of pure male power and raw, lusty heat.

After a moment he tore his mouth away from hers. He nuzzled the sensiti
ve skin at the nape of her neck and nipped at her collarbone. He lowered his head to her breast and laved her areola with long, lush strokes, finally taking her nipple into his mouth and suckling, swirling around the sensitive tip with his tongue. Calla cried out and arched beneath him, dragging her nails along his back. Derek retreated but didn’t stop. He kissed her belly, her thighs, and the back of her knees. Every place his lips brushed her skin felt inflamed, singed by his touch.

Needing more than to passively accept the mere touch and feel of
Derek's kisses, she pressed her mouth against his neck. His skin was coarse satin beneath her lips, the taste salty sweet on her tongue. She kissed his chest, the broad planes of his shoulders, his flat male nipples. She felt his muscles leap to life, subtly tensing wherever she pressed her lips. Emboldened by his reaction, she brazenly explored his body with her mouth, licking and tasting and sucking, reveling in that newfound source of pleasure.

She moved farther down, across his ribs and belly, then abruptly halted at his stiffened
manhood. She cupped him gently in her palm, experimentally running her fingers over the silky skin of his penis. His member throbbed in reaction to her touch. But did she dare kiss him there? She cast a questioning glance at her husband, only to find his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, and his jaw tightly clenched, as though he were exerting every ounce of his will to hold himself back.

Overwhelmed by carnal curiosity, she reached a bold decision. As he had not objected to the touch of her fin
gers, surely he would not object to her kiss. She bent low, lightly pressing her lips against the tip of his throbbing member.

She heard
Derek's sharp, quivering intake of breath, a sound that was more reflective of pain than pleasure. But the low moan that followed assured her otherwise, as did the way he dug his fingers through her hair, as though urging her on.

She drew him into her mouth, lightly swirling her tongue around his hardened
cock. He felt silky smooth on the outside and yet rock solid within, pulsing with life. A deliciously erotic combination of masculine contrasts. She traced her tongue up one side of his penis until she reached the dewy slit at the crown. Then she eased her jaw open, taking him in the warm, silky cavern of her mouth.

Derek’s hips bucked. He gave a long, low hiss, then clamped his
mouth shut. A muscle flexed on the side of his jaw. Interesting. Calla watched her husband’s reaction with unreserved fascination. She brought him into her mouth as deeply as she could, then drew back, only to move forward again, establishing a slow, steady rhythm with her lips and tongue. She would have drawn the experience out longer, but all too soon she heard him give a hoarse groan and subtly shift away from her.

"
Calla—" he managed, but even that single word seemed to be an effort, torn from deep within him.

He reached for her and pulled her upward. Bracing himself on his elbows above her, he kissed her with deep, savage possession. His hands moved over her body in an almost frenzied pattern, tracing her every curve and hol
low. A tide of hot, quivering desire churned within her, mounting and building with each passing second.