Wicked Little Secrets (28 page)

She wished she could marry him.

“Dashiell,” she whispered, because saying his name was like some magic spell that soothed her worries.

He slid back the edge of her nightdress, exposing the skin of her shoulder. Bending his head, he took a small nibble, letting his tongue play along her collarbone, sending hot shivers over her skin. His lips dipped lower, down her chest. Was he going to kiss her breasts? The prospect caused a heavy, wet heat in her feminine core. She caught her breath, but he stopped and started up her neck.

“We are going to kiss, that’s all,” he said. “I’m just comforting you. Understand?”

She wanted more than comfort. She wanted him. What had he said? If he ruined her, he would have to marry her.

She pulled back her robe and reached for the drawstring of her nightdress.

“No,” he whispered, but he was too late. She had already slid the gown down. She stared at his eyes, as he studied her bared breasts.

He let out a heavy, ragged exhale. “Why are you torturing me?”

“Touch me,” she murmured.

He seized her arms. His mouth took her nipple. She gasped as tremors of pleasure flowed through her body as his tongue flicked on the tip. She had never felt a sensation so sweet and intense. She held her breath and arched her back, pushing herself deeper into his mouth, craving his touch. Some urge, some raw instinct she didn’t understand made her press her feminine folds against him, like a kneading cat, trying to relieve the deep throb inside her.

His mouth released her breast. “Dear God, we need to stop. You’re making me excited. I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

Her hand drifted down to where his sex pushed against his trousers.

“Let me see you,” she whispered, kissing his neck. She was tired of the mystery, tired of Lavinia’s stories, Mrs. Hudson’s cucumbers, and all those stunted desires Amelia supposedly wrote about.

“Please, no,” he cried through clenched jaw and scooted back from her touch. Anger filled her. She wouldn’t be pushed away and left to incinerate in her own desire.

“Let me,” she said.

His chest fell with a long sigh. He closed his eyes and opened his arms by his side, surrendering to her.

She leaned closer, suddenly nervous and apprehensive. She unbuttoned his waistcoat and massaged his belly muscles with her hand. But her eyes kept drifting to his member, swollen beneath his clothes. Slowly, her fingers dipped at his trouser waistband, finding the buttons. His body stiffened, and he sucked a breath as the flap fell down. His penis rose up.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. Her hand hovered just over him, but not touching. “But how can a lady possibly get that… in… It’s so big.”

“I adore you,” he said, taking her mouth for another deep kiss. But she had to stop and marvel at his sex again.

She wanted to touch him, but didn’t know how. All she knew was what she had seen in those caricatures. The thing he said other ladies did that pleased him. And she wanted to please him. So she leaned down and took the tip into her mouth.

“Good God, Viv!”

His skin felt so soft, yet he was as hard as a stone. Not knowing what else to do, she kissed his cock, like she would his mouth, running her tongue along him. He shuddered.

“I shouldn’t let you do this,” he cried. “You need to stop.” His fingers tightened about her curls. For a moment, she thought he would pull her away. Had she done something wrong? But instead, he slowly eased himself deeper into her mouth and then withdrew. He did this again and again. She followed his rhythm. She could hear him catch his breath and let out quiet moans. Her heart swelled knowing she was pleasing him.

Still, she wanted more, she wanted to take him to a place where he couldn’t control himself. She didn’t want to hear him say
no
ever again.
Yes, Vivienne, I love you. Yes, Vivienne, I want to be with you forever. Yes, Vivienne, I’ll marry you.

She gazed up at him. “Tell me that I make you happy.”

His face tightened as if in pain. “Oh, love,” he said and ran his finger down her cheek and then caressed her lips with his thumb. “Do you truly want to pleasure me?”

She nodded, taking his fingertip into her mouth.

“Come here,” he said. He stood up and tossed his shirttail over his cock, stepped out of his shoes, and held out his hand to her. When she rose, he swept his arm under her knees, lifting her into his arms.

Was he going to love her as a husband loves a wife? She wasn’t afraid at all. In fact, she had never felt so certain about anything in her life. Looking back, to the first time she saw him when she was still just a girl, she somehow knew she wanted to be his before she could even understand what that meant.

Then he laid her upon his bed. She sank into the mattress. He untied her robe and spread the sides like wings from her body. His gaze drifted from her face, slowly down to her breasts. She loved how he studied her, how her body heated and shivered under his intense gaze.

He buttoned back his trousers and then reached for his cravat and undid the knot. “You pleasure me when you wrinkle your nose and laugh.” He slid the cravat off his neck and let it fall on the floor. “You pleasure me when we walk side-by-side talking about nothing.” He removed his coat and waistcoat. “You pleasure me just by being near me.” He leaned down, one knee on the bed, and brushed her lips with his. She ran her hands under his shirt, lifting the fabric until she could see the contours of his taut muscles around his belly and the rise of his chest. He yanked the shirt over his head, revealing his strong shoulders and arms.

She put her hand behind his neck. “You’re so handsome,” she said, drawing him to her for a languid, deep kiss. His lips drifted down her neck and to the breast he had neglected before. He teased the hard tip with his tongue, making her writhe under his touch. She clutched his biceps, wanting to pull him onto her, feel him on her—inside her. Do something to sate this hunger.

He lifted his head. A devilish twinkle lit his eyes, as if he were playing, knowing full well the need he elicited in her body. He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, bunching her night dress around her waist. He looked down at her most private place. The back of his jaw tensed, and he let out a low sigh. Suddenly, she felt shy and vulnerable.

“Are you going to do those things from… from James’s caricatures?” she asked.

He curled the side of his mouth. “Maybe a few of the more gentle pleasures.” Then he grew serious again. “But I won’t penetrate you. I won’t ruin you. What happens tonight will be our little secret. I’m just going to help relieve you of this tension.”

He drew up one of her knees, opening her wider. Vivienne released a deep breath, feeling nervous and excited to be so intimately known.

“You’re exquisite,” he said quietly, then ran his finger between her folds. Her gaze flew to his face. A slow smile spread over his lips as he began circling that small peak between her thighs.

Her muscles tensed, and she opened her mouth, but couldn’t make a sound but the tiniest whimper as an intense pleasure wracked her body.

“Just don’t fight the feeling,” he advised, moving his finger faster.

Tremors shook her body, and she arched her back, pushing herself against him. “It’s so sweet.”

He continued working his magic. She could scarce keep her breath as pleasure mounted in her like compressed steam. Her legs began to shake, even as the rest of her body became rigid.

He leaned down and gently sucked her nipple and then flicked his tongue across its tip. She released a high, soft cry as tiny spasms broke over her body. She wanted more, something she couldn’t articulate, his scent, his feel, all of him. She reached up and grabbed his shoulders, toppling him on top of her.

“I want to feel you,” she gasped.

“Dear God, you’re undoing me.”

She felt his cock, straining against his trousers, and began to rub her mound against it, wrapping her legs around his. He moved with her, matching her rhythm, urging her to go faster.

“Tell me to stop,” he hissed, his voice hoarse and thick. “Say ‘no, Dashiell.’”

Her nails dug into his arm. Her knees trembled as her heels pressed into the mattress. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Dammit, woman, I can’t control myself.”

She felt him pull away. “Don’t!”

He was back again, but this time his trousers were pulled down, just the bare skin of his sex rubbing her peak. His breath was hard against her cheek. She could feel the power of his body pushing against her. She writhed beneath him, her desire stoked and desperate for some release. She was almost there. Almost… Her mind went silent as pleasure like waves crested through her. She clutched him, sliding her swollen lady parts against his hard cock, milking the sensation.

Vivienne’s climax resonated to his core. He could hear the thoughts in his head, warning him not to do what he was about to do. But some primal beast had taken over. He couldn’t stop himself.

He covered her mouth with his, her fingers threaded his hair. His penis was so hard, it hurt. He thrust, feeling her virgin barrier resist and then slowly give.

She stiffened and her body rose up. For several seconds, she was still. He was terrified that he had hurt her. Then her lips curled into a smile, and she released a long, soft moan, relaxing around him. “At last,” she sighed.

He clenched his teeth.
Yes, at last.
All those years of pent-up yearning, now flowing forth like a wild, foaming river. He tried to restrain himself to a slow pace, but couldn’t. She was so tight, so amazing, and so beautiful in her wantonness. He thrust and thrust, ravenous.

What
the
hell
are
you
doing?
He had just taken her virtue. And not the way it should have been done. Not slow and gentle, but desperate and fevered.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cried in her ear.

“But it’s sublime.” She shifted under him, raising her knees higher, allowing him deeper inside of her. Her thighs moved with his rhythm, racing him, teasing him. She kept her eyes, darkened and glossy with desire, fixed on his face and her lips parted, tiny soft whimpers escaping from her throat. Everything was happening too fast. He couldn’t rein himself in. She might come again, but there was nothing he could do to help her along. He was too close to the edge of orgasm.

She cried out his name as her nails dug into his biceps. Her back arched, her legs started to tremble as she bucked wildly against him. The mattress was creaking, the bed posts slamming against the wall.

From some dark corner in his mind, a tiny, rational voice called “Pull out” just as she climaxed, her vagina contracting around his cock. The pleasure was too intense. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking that panicked voice of reason screaming for him to withdraw. White light flared in his head as he released his seed, his being, into her womb.

For a moment, neither spoke. A quiet awe filled the bed. Then slowly he came to rest on her body, now damp and languid from lovemaking.

She wrapped her arms about him. “I love you.”

A sweet, complete peace radiated from her touch that melted his heart. He pulled her tighter, feeling raw and afraid. His soul was naked, all his defenses breached.

He couldn’t muster the playful or teasing postcoital words he usually told his lovers. Vivienne was innocent and trusting. She didn’t understand that what had just happened was different for him. He hadn’t loved her correctly. Not as he supposed a man should make love to a virgin, gently and carefully. He was wild and unrestrained.

“Tell me you love me too,” she whispered.

The perspiration on his skin grew cool. He bolted up. “What the hell have I done?” he cried.

She squeezed his arm. “What’s the matter?” she asked. Her voice was still drowsy and soft. Her eyes were so tender, so trusting. She shouldn’t look at him that way. He wished he were a decent man who could hold her and tell her nothing was wrong. But everything was wrong. A shameful urge came over him, telling him to flee.

He reached for the waist of his trousers, which were crumpled around his knees. He hadn’t even taken the time to pull his trousers off, he was so mad with passion.

“You needn’t worry,” she said soothingly. “I will marry you.”

Something in her inflection, beneath the softness, sounded almost scheming. He felt as if he were being choked and reached to tug at his cravat, but he wasn’t wearing one.

“What did you say?”

“I will marry you. You said if you ruined me, we would have to marry.”

For a moment, all he could do was stare. “Is this what you wanted?” he finally asked, in a tight voice. “To marry me?”

She smiled, a beautiful grin, a gentle light coming to her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to marry you.”

He felt like he had just had taken a hard blow in the gut. “Did you…seduce me?”

Her lips trembled. “W-what?”

“John jilted you, so you came running to me?”

“No!” She rose up to her knees on his bed. Her nightdress, bunched about her waist, slid down, exposing her belly. “It—it just happened. Perhaps I thought you might marry me, but—”

“Was that when your mouth was on my cock or when you were begging me to ravish you?”

Vivienne gasped.

He couldn’t believe he had said those words. What the hell was wrong with him? He was out of control. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it. It’s just, dammit, Vivienne, I all but told you I couldn’t marry you.”

“No. You said you weren’t capable of making a good husband, but now—”

“You aren’t so picky.”

Her face crumpled as if she were about to cry. “I think you would make an excellent husband and… and father.”

Husband? Children?
“I have to get away from here.” He swung around, looking for his coat and cravat tossed on the floor.

She pressed her hands to her belly. “But I might have a child now. Isn’t that what we’ve done?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh God. You don’t know anything, do you?”

Of course, no one had instructed her on the feminine arts. She hardly knew how babies were created, much less how to prevent one. Still, a scary thrill ran through him at the idea of Vivienne having his children. In his head, he pictured her holding a newborn to her breast, like a beautiful Madonna. Then a black rage filled him. Images of his own mother replaced the Madonna. And inside he felt hollow and terrified like that little boy left alone in the darkness of his enormous chamber with instructions from whatever nurse just to let him cry.