Wedded in Sin (35 page)

Penny was not an impetuous woman. She did not make
decisions lightly. She weighed them in her mind, thinking through possibilities, testing the feel of the decision in her gut long before she acted. This decision—the one that made her what everyone already thought of her—came so easily she wondered if she was lying to herself. Was it really so easy to step into sin?

Yes, she realized. Yes, when the heart was in love. So she walked calmly with him to his flat. She had already headed them in that direction anyway with this thought in mind. And when he took her inside the building to the two rooms he let on the top floor, she felt a sense of inevitability settle around her. They had been headed here since the first day that he’d rescued her bag of likes from Cordwain.

“Penny,” he began when he’d finished lighting the candles.

Lord, would the man never stop talking? She waved him to silence as she took in her surroundings. Clutter. That was what she saw. Books, bizarre bottles, a mishmash of odd toys or tools or she didn’t know what.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t clean,” he mumbled as he grabbed a pile of papers off a bench and dropped them on top of a tray of something that…well, she didn’t know what it was. An experiment of some sort, she supposed. And a failed one at that.

It took her a moment to realize that he had almost no furniture. A table and a bench. Presumably there was a bed in the other room. Everything else was in piles.

“This is why you bought a factory to make furniture,” she mused.

He shrugged. “I don’t entertain. No need to have much.” He stepped close to her, stroking the backs of his knuckles across her cheek. “Penny, we don’t have to—”

She kissed him. She was tired of all the thoughts. His head, her head, all the words that spun around and around. It was exhausting. She had made her decision, so tonight—to make this a perfect night—she would end it in his bed.

She pressed her mouth to his, she teased his lips with her tongue, and she pressed her body against his. He grabbed her tight, hauling her hard against him, but he didn’t immediately dive into her kiss. There was a reluctance that she understood.

“I wanted this to be our wedding night,” he whispered against her lips.

She stilled, pulling back slightly as she looked into his eyes. He had said that before, but she thought it was a result of his shock. Now she looked into his eyes and saw that he was earnest. That he had planned on the when and the how to marry her.

“Penny, answer honestly. Would you marry a man who might be headed toward debtor’s prison? One who had nothing, not a groat to his name?”

Her mind was scrambling for an answer, but her body was already doing it for her. Before she could even formulate the words, her head was shaking, no. No, she wouldn’t put herself or Tommy at such risk. Whole families disappeared into debtor’s prison, never to come out. She would not marry a man who put them in such peril. She just couldn’t.

He dropped his head to her forehead, despair already in his face. “I’ll find a way, Penny. I swear it.”

Then she found the words. She knew what she needed to say, and so she cupped his face and pulled his gaze back up to hers. “I won’t marry you, Samuel, but I will love you. I do love you. And because of that, I will bed you.”

“No—”

“Yes.” She stepped backward, and her fingers found the buttons of the gown. This was one of Helaine’s designs. It had the buttons along the side, and so it was awkward, but easily undone without help. She unfastened the dress, and let the gown fall open. The shift was part of the design, and so there was nothing to stop the reveal of one breast to his gaze as a triangle of fabric fell away.

She looked up then, a little uncertain as to his reaction. One glance reassured her. He stared as if mesmerized, but his fingers jerked as if wanting to touch, but still holding himself back. And his eyes, Lord, his eyes stared at her with such hunger. He wasn’t looking at her breast, but at her face. And she could not mistake the desire in his eyes.

Then she shrugged her other shoulder out of the dress. The fabric slipped down over her arm, revealed her other breast before catching on her hips. A shimmy next, and the dress pooled at her feet. She stood before him in stockings and slippers. Then to make sure he absolutely understood, she looked him in the eyes.

“I’m sure, Samuel. I have been for a while now.”

He took a moment—a long moment—when he studied her face, then let his gaze travel the length of her. Then he just shook his head in wonder.

“You make everything in me grow silent. Everything. Silent with awe.”

She didn’t know how to answer, so she didn’t. She just felt the way her blood simmered in her body in response to him. The way her nipples tightened and her legs grew weak. This man—this brilliant, mad toff—was looking at her as if she were a goddess. And—

Her mind stuttered to a stop and she squeaked in surprise. Faster than she thought possible, he had closed the distance between them, scooped her up, and now was carrying her to his bed. She was lifted in his arms, well able to kiss him. She did so as soon as she could capture his face. And he returned it with a thrust that left her breathless.

She didn’t know what she expected at this moment. She had heard any number of stories from her married friends. She certainly didn’t expect to be lowered reverently to his bed. She didn’t know that he could do that without breaking the seal of their mouths. And she also hadn’t expected the sudden power in her very gentle toff.

He possessed her mouth with a kind of command, just as his hands began to possess her body. She couldn’t explain it with words, just that this time when he stroked her body, she felt it as a caress
and
a brand. When he shaped her breasts, she felt the exciting touch of passion, but she also felt as if he was laying claim to her. When his fingers pinched her nipples, she gasped as fire shot to her womb, but she also felt as if her nipples where his to tweak, to brush, to suck. And he did all of those things while her body gloried in his possession.

So caught up was she in the sensations that she didn’t even realize when he left her mouth and her neck. He’d been kissing her, stroking her skin with his tongue, but when his mouth found her breast, she began to gasp with such hunger. Her skin was on fire, her legs restless, and her back would not stop lifting and lowering as she ached to have him closer.
Deeper.

He was sucking on her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, pulling on her strongly. Each pull had her lifting off the bed, each stroke of his tongue had her toes curling in delight. And when he nipped at her tip, she cried out. Oh, God, she never wanted it to end.

She tried to touch him. His face was tucked away from her, but she stroked his hair, flowed her fingers down his neck.

“Take off your clothes,” she gasped. “Please.”

He lifted off enough to shuck his shirt and cravat. She saw pale skin turned golden by the firelight. He was a lean man, but she saw muscles gloriously defined, corded and strong. She stroked across his torso, knowing the feel of him already, the scent that was him, and the power that lay in his frame.

“All of you,” she said as her hand tugged at his trousers.

He shook his head. “Not yet. I will go too fast.”

“Samuel—”

“In this,” he said firmly, “I know best. Relax, Penny. Let me show you what you can feel.”

“I—”

He found her nipples again. Pulled sharply on one of them, and she cried out at the lightning that seared through her blood. His other hand was not so far behind, stroking and shaping her until her breasts were like twin flames, molded and owned by him.

Then he let his hands slip lower. Her legs were already restless, and so he easily knelt between them. His hands flowed over her belly, pressing deep into her muscles in such a way that her entire body tightened then released. Tightened, then released open. So wide and aching for his touch.

His fingers touched her hips, her thighs, and then slid underneath her knees to lift them up. Then before she could process the vulnerability of her position, his thumbs slid between her cleft.

She cried out, shamelessly lifting herself into his caress. He took his time, and again she felt the echo of his demand. His every stroke seemed to ask questions:
Who owns you? Who has the right to touch you like this?

She answered silently.
You do. Take me, I am yours.

He rolled his thumbs up and down in the longest caresses. High up, making her gasp as her body thrust down against him. Then lower, deeper, and inside. She had felt this before, but now she wanted it with a desperation that was completely mindless. She simply wanted. More. Thicker. Deeper. Harder. Yes.

Soon, it became just
yes.

His mouth replaced his thumbs. She felt his fingers deep inside her, while his tongue began tracing, licking, thrusting. Again, he owned her. Every inch, every place. She was spread wide before him, and he took thorough command of every part.

He licked, and her body hummed. He sucked, and she arched. His tongue was a constant delight, and her body climbed higher and tighter.

Then one last push with his tongue, and she flew.

Pleasure suffused her. Like a wave of light that flowed through every cell in her body, she was alive with joy. But it didn’t last, and it wasn’t complete. And it was something she experienced alone.

So when she at last settled enough to breathe, when she collapsed boneless and sated on the bed, she looked at Samuel and gave him a wistful smile.

“Come with me. Love me,” she said. It was as much as request as a command, and she watched as his eyes lightened with delight.

He straightened up from the bed and stripped off his trousers with quick, efficient strokes. She watched his glorious body appear, and she wanted to touch him, but she was too relaxed, still floating in a warm pool of delight. About the time when she was beginning to feel the cool air, he returned to her. He kissed her ankle and then her knee as he drew it up.

She started to sit up, reaching finally to touch him, but he held her off.

“If you touch me, I shall explode.”

“But—”

“Shhh,” he said as he kissed her silent. Then when he broke away, he whispered into her ear. “Trust me,” he said.

She did. In everything, she already did. So she let him push her back into the bed. She watched in curiosity as he pulled a French letter out of a tin and slowly rolled it onto his organ. He was very large, she thought, and she wondered for the first time if this was even possible. But she didn’t ask the question. She knew that the smallest show of doubt from her and he would stop. So she kept silent as he gently knelt between her legs.

One leg was drawn up, bent at the knee, and he began stroking that leg. Long, sensuous caresses that had her sighing in delight. How could a touch be both too light and absolutely perfect at the same time?

He drew up her other knee as his touch went deeper, into the muscles of her thighs. His hands crept higher and she felt herself tense. But she was no match for the steady kneading of his fingers.

Upper thigh. Inner thigh. The crease between groin and leg.

By the time he was stroking the flesh there, her buttocks were tightening into his touch, her breath had grown short again, and her skin was flushed.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss into her belly. She felt her flesh quiver beneath his caress, and then he moved to one tight nipple. One breast. The other breast. And then, up to her mouth. He thrust his tongue into her and she all but sucked him inside. She wanted him in her. She wanted the play of teeth and tongues.

But then she felt him down below. Hot and thick and right at her opening.
Finally!
She pressed against it, smiling as he slipped easily in. A bit. A bit more.

She had stopped kissing him, so intent was her focus on what he did below. So he rained light touches against her eyes, her cheeks, before whispering into her ear.

“Say yes, Penny. God, please, say yes.”

“Yes.” The word came without thought, and then he slipped farther in.

He was big. Huge even. Or so it felt. She gasped at his invasion, and he stilled, waiting as she breathed in tight pants. Another gasp as he pushed deeper still.

Her hands clenched his back, then slip upward, wrapping around his shoulders to draw her up and away.

It was too much. He was too large.

Then he pushed in a little more.

“Ah!” she cried, though it was more of a gasp than a cry.

He stilled again. He found her lips again. She had no breath for anything, no awareness of much beyond him thick and hard inside her.

“Look at me, Penny.”

She did. She had no strength to refuse him.

“I am yours,” he whispered. “Forever.” Then he thrust the rest of the way in.

The pain was real, but it was also very quick. She cried out. She must have because, a moment later, he was kissing her face and whispering soothing words. She had no comprehension of what he said, only the soft sound of his voice, low with concern but also husky with desire.

At first she responded to the soothing notes, but in time the pain faded. In a moment, she began to feel him thick inside her and not so unpleasant. In a minute, she wanted to experience something a little different, so she shifted her hips. The friction that created was nice. The press of his hips into hers was very nice. And his weight—ah, his glorious weight—was extremely nice as he pressed against her.

She came into more awareness of his whole body, most especially his mouth right next to hers.

She kissed him, sucking on his lip when she could not get an angle to nip at him. She felt his reaction tremble through his whole body and straight back into her, deep inside where he was embedded.

It was so wonderful she wanted to do it again, but she didn’t have the chance. With a groan, he began to slide back out.

“No!” she cried. She liked him where he was. But then she liked the slick friction. “Samuel?” she whispered.

“Trust me.”

“Yes.”