“I—I don’t know.”
“You do. Say it.”
“In-inside me.”
A guttural groan rumbled in his throat. “I can ease the ache without taking your virtue.” His hand moved to the waistband of her breeches, and he undid both buttons. “Is that what you want, Helen? Will you surrender yourself to me? Let me watch you find your release?”
The questions conjured a host of erotic pictures in her mind. “Yes. I just want to feel close to you, Nicholas.” She wanted to join her body with his and remain entwined for all eternity.
“Then be prepared to feel a cool breeze across your buttocks.” He pushed the garment past her hips, knelt behind and drew her breeches down to her ankles. His shocked gasp was unexpected. “Mother of all saints! Your thighs are covered in bruises.”
While in a lustful daze, she had forgotten about the ugly purple marks. “Yes, from the carriage accident, but let’s not talk about that now.” She wanted nothing to spoil this blissful union.
She heard his resigned sigh and almost sagged in relief when he removed her breeches and cast them aside.
He didn’t stand but remained on his knees.
Firm hands gripped her hips as he kissed both buttocks. “Even in my wildest dreams, I have never imagined a scene quite like this.” Then he caressed her inner thighs, moving a little higher with each stroke until his fingers slipped over her sex.
No man had ever touched her there.
No other man would ever touch her there again.
Those wicked fingers moved in teasing strokes, reminding her how much she needed him, how empty she felt inside. Dizzy with desire, she swayed to his rhythm, though she feared her legs might buckle.
Nicholas pushed to his feet, raining kisses along her spine, then he scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her to bed.
He lowered her down gently onto the pretty blue coverlet, his gaze devouring her naked body, his breath coming in ragged pants.
“Hurry. Take off your clothes.” She wanted to see him in all his wondrous glory. The rippling muscles in his abdomen. The tempting trail of dark hair that drew the eye below the waistband of his trousers.
He shook his head. “My clothes are the only barrier to me taking you completely. Relax, let me pleasure you. There will be time for more later.” He grinned. “Besides, I like having you at my mercy.”
She scanned his all-black ensemble. “Dark clothes suit you. You look every bit the dangerous rogue, not the man with the impeccable facade.”
He raised a brow. “Do you like dabbling with danger?”
“Only with you.”
“Good, as things are about to get wicked.”
He knelt on the bed, bracing his hands on either side of her head, and claimed her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss that left her panting and writhing beneath him.
“I mean to explore every inch of you,” he whispered, his lips blazing a trail of fire over her left breast, moving to scorch the flesh on her abdomen. “I mean to feast like a king.” And then he was on the floor, kneeling between her thighs, hooking her legs over his powerful forearms and spreading her wide.
The kisses started at her knee, moving slowly up her inner thigh.
Lord have mercy!
He pressed his mouth to her sex and breathed in her essence.
“Nicholas!” An exquisite shudder raced through her when he licked her and sucked the aching bud.
Lillian said a man might kiss a lady’s intimate place. She had not mentioned he would drive his tongue deep into her channel, that the licking and sucking would cause her body to stiffen, that he might wind the inner coil so tight, she would shatter into a million pieces.
Helen clutched the coverlet in her fists. “Nicholas.” A wave of sensual pleasure rippled to her toes. And while her release brought a satisfaction she had only dreamed possible, she longed to feel Nicholas buried inside her.
The thought brought to mind the mystic’s prediction. Indeed, she would spend her life shovelling cow dung to spend one more night with the man she loved.