Adam entered her slowly, conscious of the fact that it had been a while for her, as well as for him.
He didn’t want completion as much as he wanted to indulge in the act of love with Suzanne. He wanted to feel her around him and to bring her pleasure. Above all, he wanted to ensure that she would remember this, remember them, of all the memories she held in her heart.
His movements were slow, deliberate, elongating the seconds as he gently pulled out of her.
He propped himself up on his arms, brushed light kisses across her mouth until her hands reached out, locked at the back of his head, and pulled him down for a deeper kiss.
If he was mutely counseling himself to slow the moments, she was doing the exact opposite. Her heart beat so rapidly it was like a frightened bird’s.
His lips traced a path between her breasts and to each nipple in turn. Her hands slid to his neck and then to his shoulders, her nails gripping him, commanding without words.
He smiled as he sucked on a nipple. A moment later he kissed his way down to her abdomen. Her indrawn breath gave him a clue that she’d never been touched like this before.
He’d learned some things in India and he was all for using his education.
Sitting in front of her, he pulled her up to her knees and then moved her so that she sat on his lap. Her eyes were wide, her mouth curved.
“Adam?”
“You’re not a duchess here. Not in my bed.”
She only shook her head. He wished he had lit the lamp to see her.
He sat cross-legged, placed each of her legs on either side of his waist and then lifted her derriere into position. Her eyes widened even further as he entered her again.
Passion could be fun and experimental, engrossing and stirring. Passion could make you feel as if you were turned inside out, like you had never truly lived until that moment of bliss. He had the feeling that Suzanne had never felt that, never been powerless and adrift in wonder.
He bent his head and bit at her neck where it joined her shoulder. She gasped.
“Drummond.”
“How very duchess-like you sound,” he said. “If I were truly your servant I would be quivering in my boots.”
“If you were truly my servant I would dismiss you right now.”
“Would you?”
He moved one of his hands from her bottom to her breast, his thumb flicking an erect nipple, then lifting it for his mouth. He paid attention to that one nipple, and when he raised his eyes to her, Suzanne’s head was back, her eyes were closed, and she was biting her lip.
“I am so very sorry, Your Grace. I will never do it again.”
Her eyes flew open. “Now that’s a pity, Drummond.”
“I wouldn’t want to be dismissed.”
“I shall take your employment under advisement,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I may reconsider, but only if you promise to be very, very good. But it shall be on a probationary basis only.”
“How can I possibly convince you of my rehabilitation?” he asked, returning both hands to her derriere, lifting her up a little and then letting her slide back down on him.
She was biting her lip again.
He reached out and with his thumb pulled her lip free. If anyone was going to bite her mouth, it was going to be him. He matched the action to the thought, and would have smiled at the sound she made, helpless and needy, had he not been caught up in the same sensation.
It felt as if they were in the middle of a vortex, some wild waterspout of feeling. He wanted to laugh and bring her pleasure right then and there. He wanted to end it yet elongate the moments. His breath was harsh and fast. His heart was beating like he was running a race, and perhaps he was.
He put his hands on her waist, placed his cheek against hers and forced himself to take several deep breaths.
It didn’t work. He still wanted her. He still wanted to feel her shudder around him. He wanted to taste her and mouth her and teach her all those things he knew, but he hadn’t counted on his own weakness and need.
“Adam.”
When had his name become an aphrodisiac? Or was it her voice, soft and tremulous?
He lowered his mouth over hers.
“Suzanne,” he said softly. Had anyone ever felt free enough to call her something different? A derivative of Suzanne or some sweet nickname?
He wanted to light the lamp again to see her. Was her face rosy? Did her eyes glitter with passion? Were the centers of them black and deep like an ocean whirlpool?
He lifted her up again and lowered her once more before placing one hand on the small of her back and the other behind him to give him leverage. He raised his hips.
“Oh, Adam.”
“Am I doing something wrong again?”
This time she didn’t answer him, only moaned.
He couldn’t wait. He wanted her to come in his arms. He wanted to feel her gripping him.
Moving his hand, he trailed his fingers through her soft folds, down to where they joined. She gasped again and the sound spurred him on.
He wanted her. He didn’t think he’d ever desired anything more than Suzanne finding pleasure in his arms. He lifted her up and when she opened her eyes and would’ve protested further, he merely kissed her silent.
“In a moment,” he said, rolling her to her stomach and pulling her up to her knees.
He entered her quickly, so deep inside he almost came right at that moment. She gripped the sheets with both hands. She might have been unfamiliar with this position, but she acclimated herself in mere seconds, pushing back against him with her beautiful derriere.
He slid his hands up to her waist then to her breasts.
She pushed back against him again, impatient and autocratic once more.
“In a moment, duchess,” he said, his voice sounding harsh.
“Now, Drummond.”
The one thing bad about this position was that he couldn’t kiss her, couldn’t nibble on those full lips.
He pulled back until he was nearly out of her and then slid back in again, slowly. She pushed back against him as if encouraging him or demanding him to finish.
“In good time, duchess,” he said.
He pulled at her nipples, then trapped each one between his fingers, palming her breasts.
Once more he withdrew. Suzanne arched her back.
She was perfect in every way, from her breasts, to her derriere, to her long legs, to the curve of her waist. He would not have changed one single thing about her. The fact that she was eager and impatient was just one more delight.
She leaned forward, bracing herself on her forearms, her cheek against the mattress. Each time he slid forward she moaned, a soft appeal that had the effect of making him even harder, even more desperate for completion. He moved his hands from her breasts to her hips, pulling her tighter against him even as he felt her begin to shudder.
Her body trapped him, cradled him, imprisoned him in a demanding grip. He was powerless to control himself. No words on earth, no will, nothing could have stopped him from joining her in that next moment. Bliss overcame him, nearly felled him, and for long minutes he was in the center of a maelstrom, awash in a storm of sensation.
When it was over, with aftershocks still thundering through his frame, he collapsed on the bed, holding her. His rational mind surfaced, told him to release her and move away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Suzanne’s waist, his lips against her neck, needing her as much now as he had a moment earlier.
Reason enough, perhaps, to feel the dagger points of warning.