Lewis couldn’t begin to imagine what else she’d surprise him with.
“I know this time between us is but an interlude of bliss. You have shown me passion beyond my wildest imagination, and I will always treasure my time with you. What I request, what I really want is to hear my real name from your lips.” Before he could respond, she quickly said, “You don’t have to give me your name. Nor any other information about you…”
Oh, he’d wondered about her real name. About a great deal more. But he’d forced himself not to ask—intent to keep a certain distance between them. Especially when he felt a pull to her that was far too fierce. But now, with her offering, he couldn’t help himself. Against his better judgment, he asked, “What is your name?”
“Ella, Lady Luella Thorndale, the youngest of four daughters of the former Earl of Claverton. A lost cause, in the opinion of my late father and sisters. I live with my Aunt Charlotte, a suffragist, and according to my father, we were the main source of his digestive issues.”
That pulled a small smile from him. He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb against her soft skin. “Ella… It is a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. A woman who wasn’t born to be ordinary, but rather extraordinary. A force to be reckoned with.” He shouldn’t speak to her like this. It could only convolute matters between them by fostering feelings. Ones he wasn’t comfortable with and repelled at all cost. But he wanted her never to doubt the truth about herself.
Those big fathomless dark eyes softened, and it melted his insides. Every time.
She threw herself against him, giving a heated kiss, her sweet tongue sliding into his mouth. Her hands attacked the buttons on his waistcoat, fingers fumbling in her eagerness. Their breathing already escalating, he tossed the jade beads onto the bed and stripped her clothing away with practiced skill, lending a hand with his until their garments were a pile on the floor. His heart thundered. His cock was already heavy and hard. He’d had her this morning, yet she had him ravenous for her again, as thoughts of what he was going to do with the beads on the bed burned through his mind.
She stopped, her gaze moving down his body, all the way to his aching erection. “You are devastating to behold,” she said.
Before he could respond to that endearing comment, she gripped his cock and gave it slow steady strokes from base to tip, milking another dollop of pre-come from his shaft. Closing his eyes, he groaned, basking in the sensations radiating along his length. He felt the distinct swipe of her tongue stroke across the engorged head of his cock. His eyes flew open, and he found her kneeling before him, her gaze locked with his, awaiting his full attention before she drew him into her hot, wet mouth.
Pulled him out.
Then drew him back in deeper, giving him a spine-weakening suck.
His head fell back, and a hiss slipped past his clenched teeth, his fingers tangling in her hair. “You’re getting too good at this.”
She released him from her mouth and lightly flicked her tongue over the ultrasensitive underside of his cock. He jerked. “I’ve had an excellent teacher. And I learn quickly,” she added, pleased with herself.
He’d never had difficulty moderating himself during any sexual encounter. Always in complete control during carnal play. But with this woman, it was a challenge. He reached down, hauled her up to her feet, and tossed her over his shoulder, garnering a squeak of surprise. He swatted her sweet little bottom, making her squeak again. “We’re not playing like that today. I have other plans for you.”
Stalking over to the bed, he tossed her down onto the mattress. She fell with a bounce, legs sprawled, her gorgeous breasts giving a little jiggle. He could see her quim was wet, inciting his blood to rush faster. Hotter.
He lowered himself between her long, graceful legs, his shoulders keeping them apart, and drove two fingers into her slick core. She whimpered her approval. She was soft and warm, so tightly clasped around his fingers, it was driving him wild. Easily locating that oversensitive spot inside her sex, he curled his buried fingers and pressed. Her hips shot up off the mattress with a sultry cry. Her thighs squeezing against his shoulders and arms.
“Beautiful Ella, surrender to it,” he soothed, pressing a little harder against the textured area, giving it short, rapid strokes. She fisted the counterpane and arched hard again, the sharpness of the sensations tearing more cries from her throat. Each breath sharp and shallow. Similar to his.
Her every sensual reaction fed his fever in a way no woman ever had.
Her sex was pink, glistening with her juices. Her clitoris was so swollen with need. Lowering his head, desperate for a taste, he gave it a soft suck. Then a light bite just to spike the sensations and make her scream for him. He played with the pressure of his fingers inside her sheath, bringing her to the edge of orgasm—letting it bloom. Then ebb.
He had her writhing and rocking her hips, moans and incoherent words escaping past her throat. He would not relent until he had her dripping wet. Until he felt those delectable little twitches begin to ripple inside her cunt once more, telling him she was on the razor’s edge again. In one quick movement, he yanked his fingers out, snatched the jade beads from the bed, and eased them into her core, leaving the large gold ring dangling from the pretty slit of her sex.
He was on his feet in an instant, gripping his cock and with a stroke, coating it with her juices soaking his hand.
A sound burst from her lips in protest. “Now! I need you,” she panted out.
He fucking needed her too. Too damned much. More than his next breath. That perfect quim adorned with the gold ring was more than his sanity could take.
“I know what you need.” He flipped her onto her stomach and rammed a pillow under her hips, tilting them up. Her mouthwatering, pert bottom was now on full display for his viewing pleasure.
She came up onto her elbows, looking over her shoulder at him, unsure what he was about.
“Trust me,” he said, kneeling between her legs. Grasping the ring, he slowly pulled out the beads—now slick from her sex—then breached her puckered little hole with the first bead. She jerked with a gasp and a sharp squirm. “It’s all right, Ella… Just relax.” Reaching down with his free hand, he captured her clitoris between his fingers, giving it gentle pinches and light strokes. Giving her enough sensations to keep her keen, but not enough to let her come. She stilled and mewled into the mattress, allowing him to press the second bead in, then the third, until the final fifth.
He’d never been this hard. His cock had swollen to painful proportions, feeling heavy as lead. Leaning forward, he pressed his palms down on the mattress on either side of her shoulders. “You’re going to take my cock now,” he growled, barely able to speak anymore, unsure she was the only one trembling at the moment. She gave him a shaky nod.
He wedged his cock at the entrance to her sheath, wet heat suddenly surrounding the tip of his prick. He clenched his teeth, knowing she was new to this, knowing he had to go slow. Fighting against his own feral need that had mountained inside him. He sank in an inch, groaning in bliss. Eclipsing her moan. Steadily, he tunneled in deeper and deeper. Gripping the bed linen with clenched fists, he could feel the beads on the other side of her vaginal wall rippling along the length of his cock in his descent. Suddenly, she dug her knees into the bed and arched hard, sinking the rest of his length into glory.
The sound of pure pleasure shot out of his throat, his eyes practically rolling back in his head.
Christ, she was clasped so tightly around him, he was actually throbbing. He began to thrust, tentative at first. Looking for signs of discomfort. But she was wildly arching, trying to meet his every downstroke. Without missing a stroke, he lowered himself on top of her, driving in deep and hard. Giving her the solid thrusts she wanted. Making sure that each plunge and drag of his cock stroked that extra sensitive spot inside her cunt.
Then it started. Those little spasms inside her core, telling him she was close again.
He gripped her hair and against her ear, murmured, “Come. Come for me right now.” He was on the edge of madness. His brain and body torched with desire. The stunning sensations pulsating through his cock were nothing short of mind bending.
Suddenly, she squeezed sharply around him, and screamed out with a shudder as her orgasm slammed into her with force. Her core convulsively clutching and releasing around his thrusting cock. He rode through each sublime spasm. Determined to savor every single one, holding on with dwindling control, until the final contraction ebbed.
His restraint finally snapped. Come shot down his cock. He yanked out just in the nick of time. Pressing his mouth in the crook of her neck, he crushed himself against her back. And roared out his pleasure as he purged his prick. A sense of deep draining relief rolled through his body. Sapping his strength. Leaving him floating in ecstasy.
* * *
Naked, buried under warm bed linens, lying on her side, Ella slipped her hands beneath her cheek and watched the firelight play on Joseph’s handsome face. Propped up on his elbow, he too was on his side, his fingers absently playing with a lock of her hair. She was afraid to read anything into the soft look in his eyes. The tender touches he gave her. Given her failings with Octavius, she wasn’t proficient at deciphering romantic emotions from men.
She’d decided to live in the moment. To bask in the afterglow of yet another exquisite experience with this breathtaking man.
She’d savored every single one they’d shared, every single day she’d spent with him so she could retrieve the memories at will, years from now. And cherish each one. Not just memories of their passion, but of their lively debates that now occurred at every meal. Some on matters of women’s suffrage and the need to make amendments to the Matrimonial Causes Act. Others on more frivolous subjects that often dissolved into laughter. She adored that she could make him laugh, and he could do the same to her.
Soft emotions were threatening to take hold. She found herself fighting them harder with each passing day.
“Well, I stand corrected in thinking I was gifting you a jade bracelet of some kind.” She smiled at her mistake and enjoyed his chuckle.
“It was the best gift I’ve ever received.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “Ella…tell me about your paper.”
That took her by surprise. They hadn’t discussed anything remotely related to Octavius, or the reason she was there. She raised her brows. “You really want to know?” God, how she loved hearing her name from his lips.
“I really do.”
She sat up and tucked her hair behind her ear, so delighted to speak about her work. She explained about the Difference Engine and the Analytical Engine, both created by the late Charles Babbage. They were marvels of engineering invention. The first capable of calculations, while the second was capable of infinite computing possibilities. She told him how the government had withdrawn its funding. How his son, Henry, was still working on the Analytical Engine. She explained intricate details of the machine, and that in her paper, she’d shown how the Analytical Engine was capable of computing the Bernoulli numbers.
“Bernoulli numbers are, in essence, number sequences that are found…” She stopped, realizing she’d spoken for almost ten minutes and was about to delve deeper into her mathematical analysis. “I’m sorry. I do get carried away about my work. I have sufficiently bored you, no doubt.” Oddly, he didn’t look bored. He seemed to have listened the entire time with rapt attention. Or perhaps that was simply what she wanted to believe. Only others in mathematics and science were interested in such conversation.
Not to mention a certain insufferable scoundrel who stole the work of others.
“If you are having difficulty sleeping, I could carry on,” she jested and slipped back down under the covers.
“If it hasn’t been made plain, I don’t tolerate conversations I’m not interested in.” Though that was the sort of blunt statement he tended to make, he’d said it with a smile.
And it made her laugh. “That’s true.”
“I’m saddened that there are those in your life who’ve made you believe your work was dull. I find it fascinating. I find the Analytical Engine fascinating. I am in awe of the sheer brilliance of your mind.”
She thanked him. Those tender stirrings welled up inside her again. She shoved them down as quickly as she could and propped herself onto her elbow, mimicking his pose. “Now you must tell me something about yourself.”
He cocked a brow.
“It doesn’t have to be your deepest, darkest secret. Something. Anything. Hopefully something more in depth than ‘I am fond of cheese.’”
He tossed his head back and laughed. It was infectious and a delight to her ears. “But I do like cheese.”
“Come, now. Tell me something about you I don’t know.”
* * *
Lewis gazed at her sweet face. He’d memorize that adorable constellation of freckles on the bridge of her nose. Every part of her, in fact, was ingrained in his mind. He should have left after each sexual encounter. He should not have asked her to stay in his bed every night.
He always left once the fucking was over.
But he couldn’t seem to deny himself the pleasure of her company, of having her there beside him. Once she left in two weeks, this would become merely a memory, and his perfectly ordered world would return to normal.
A small voice deep inside him whispered to the contrary. He shoved it away.
“I think I may have been a romantic once.” His lips quirked, attempting to hide a smile.
She burst out laughing and fell back against the pillows, drawing a grin from him. Her reactions were so delightful.
She propped back up onto her elbow and stuck that adorable face of hers into his. “That is not something I didn’t know. Tell me something new.”
He took a moment, then, completely out of character, he said, “My father died on Christmas Eve. He was one of the thirty-eight casualties in the Birdwhistle Hall fire at Lord and Lady Chellingworths’ Christmas ball.”
Her smile dissolved. “I’m so sorry. You were close to your father?”
He nodded. “Very. He was a good man. A kind man, loved by everyone. I don’t know a single soul who didn’t care for him.” He could feel a knot forming in his throat, even after all these years. The suspicions and rumors of the fire being deliberately set were something he couldn’t bring himself to ponder. It was less painful to believe that it was a mere horrific accident, and not some demented individual who would purposely commit arson. “As his heir, I pray that I have executed my duties in a manner that would have pleased him. You’ve told me your real name. I’ll give you mine—Lewis Joseph Ambrose, Duke of Ansford.”
She didn’t seem surprised and simply nodded. “I didn’t know part of your name was correct, but I knew you were a duke. Your staff is lovely, and they tried…”
“And failed miserably,” he concurred with a rueful smile.
“I understand now why you dislike the holiday.”
“It’s not just that. The Christmas before my father’s passing, I thought I was in love with a certain lady. I’d made my intentions known to her father. I was going to propose marriage right after Christmas. At a Christmas celebration that year at the Earl of Tessington’s home, I found her with my closest, dearest friend in the drawing room. Her naked breasts were in his greedy palms. I’ve blamed myself for my father’s death for years. I’d refused to attend the Christmas ball the following year at Birdwhistle Hall because Elizabeth and Mark would be there. They were married. They were among those who survived the fire. If I had attended, I might have been able to save my father’s life.”
There was pain in her eyes. Understanding. She could relate to the sense of betrayal and had compassion for his loss.
“Lewis…” she said softly, and wrapped her arms around him. For some reason, it felt good to hear his name from her lips. To his surprise, he didn’t pull away. Nor did he regret sharing what had happened those Christmases.
He wrapped his arms around her in turn and held her close.