Chapter Twelve

 

 

“HOW ABOUT THIS?” JAMES changed the angle and thrust deeper inside her.

Sensation exploded. Elizabeth gasped, her hands gripping the bed sheets as she absorbed his thrust.

“That’s good,” she managed. He retreated, and she moaned, pleasure threatening to consume her. His forearms flexed as they supported his weight, his hips pushing her legs wider as he increased his thrusts, testing out the new angle.

“Better?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

She nodded, her own voice stolen. Sensation gathered inside her, a maelstrom of need and heat and lust. Harsh breath rasped from burning lungs as his thrusts grew rougher, pushing her against the bed.

“What would give you more pleasure?” He punctuated each word with a hard thrust. She whimpered, feeling him so deep inside her she couldn’t remember a time without him. His body moved in a glorious slide of entry and retreat, and she never wanted it to end. She wanted him inside her always.

“Elizabeth.” He stopped moving, pinning her to the bed, his cock a thick intrusion inside her.

Moaning a protest, she grasped at his buttocks, clenching and releasing around him to tempt him to move. He swallowed harshly, yet still he did not move.

Trailing her fingers up his spine, she clenched again, rubbing her thigh against his hip. God, she would do anything to get him to move. The arms braced either side of her shook, but he remained motionless, the heavy presence of him inside her driving her mad.

“Elizabeth.” He faltered, his voice full of gravel. Taking a steadying breath, he continued. “Elizabeth, what would give you more pleasure?”

Restlessly arching her neck, she tried to clear her head as she attempted thought. What did she want? She didn’t know. She didn’t know.

Licking her dry lips, she instead gave the decision to him. “What do you want?”

He was watching the flick of her tongue, his expression dark. She flicked her lip again, and triumph ran through her at the flare of heat in that ice-blue gaze. Now he would move.

She didn’t count on his self-control. Instead, his attention moved to her breasts, and her flesh prickled at the caress of his gaze. “Touch them.”

Bringing her hands up, she cupped the flesh delicately, the feel of her own skin decadent, her nipples hard against her thumbs.

Watching her, he started to move, a little swivel of his hips, not deep, not hard. “Tease them.”

Pushing her tongue to her teeth, her gaze locked with his, she flicked at the sensitive nubs. Face dark, he watched her, his body still ruthlessly controlled. She wanted him to shatter, to break, his control gone as he succumbed to passion. Desperate lust roared through her, and her light touch was no longer enough. Fingers working frantically, she pulled at her nipples, squeezing them, the pleasure of the pain arrowing to where they were joined. Thighs tightening on his hips, she moaned as her hands pushed and moulded her breasts, her nipples unbearably sensitive. He was still motionless inside her, his cock thick and huge and filling her. She needed him to move. She needed him.

“James. Move. Please!” Desperation broke her voice, just as it broke him. Exploding into motion on a harshly uttered curse, he thrust into her, deep and hard, just as she wanted him to.

“Harder, James, harder. Deeper, yes, ohgGod, that’s it, just there.” Fingers still working her breasts, she arched her back, his cock ramming into her and her pleasure tangled between her fingers and his cock. It built and it built and the sensation was overwhelming, so much, too much. “James! Please, James, now!”

He swore, he cursed, he ordered her to come and she did, breaking beneath him, little pieces of herself shattering, spiralling apart only to reform into a woman in thrall to him, to his touch, his body, to how he could make her feel.

Heart slowing, breath evening, she came back to herself. A lazy smile stretched her face, satisfaction taking the place of consuming pleasure. Dear Lord, James was so very good at that.

Gradually, she became aware of her surroundings and aware of James, still thick and hard inside her. Head bowed, he was coated in perspiration, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself still. For her. He was trying to give her as much pleasure as he could. Dear, dear man.

Wickedness chased away her languor, and she set about returning the favour. She looped her hands around his arms, stroking the straining muscles delicately. Not yet deducing her intent, his head still hung between his shoulders as he held himself motionless. Undulating her hips, she began a slow seduction, her inner muscles caressing him as she moved.

His eyes flew open. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared at her, brows drawn. “Elizabeth….” A warning evident in his tone, her name ended on a groan as she flexed her hips suddenly.

He would lose control. She would settle for nothing less.

“Yes?” A half-smile playing about her lips, she made her reply all that was innocence, though there was nothing innocent about her actions.

“Don’t,” he groaned, his hips starting to follow her movements, the muscles in his abdomen contracting and releasing.

“Yes?” Hands drifting down his body to grasp his buttocks, she pulled him into her, wrapping a leg around his back to trap him.

Control broke. Swearing harshly, he dropped his arms, his chest crushing hers, and his face buried in her neck as he drove into her. Gripping him with every thrust, she fought against his withdrawal, making him work for each retreat. Harsh, basic words mixed with pleas and groans as he strove for his release, her pleasure forgotten in the pursuit of his own. She bit his ear, loving that she could do this to him, that she was the cause of his madness. At her bite, he stiffened in her arms, his cock growing impossibly large, and then he wrenched himself from inside her, shuddering as he came.

She stroked his hair as he calmed, his large body trembling from the force of his climax. Smug, content, she stared at the canopy of the bed as her fingers tangled and smoothed. Good Lord, how had they managed to avoid this for so long?

“That was supposed to be about your pleasure.” His words were muffled against her skin.

“I know.” She continued to stroke his hair. “But isn’t this more fun?”

He pulled back. Heavens above, he was beautiful. “You are so very odd.”

“Yes, I am,” she agreed. Cocking a brow, she continued archly, “What are you going to do about it?”

Passion darkened his features, wickedness chasing the wonder from his face and he became once more the consummate seducer, bent on debauchery and dissolution. Bent on corrupting her.

Desire, so recently satisfied, roared to life.

Intense, deliberate, he bent to her and she shivered at the intent written on his face. “I am going to fuck you until you scream.”

Everything inside her stopped. She tried to speak, but his kiss stole her attempt to reply.

 

***

 

THE MOST WONDERFUL LANGUIDNESS permeated her body. Elizabeth stared at the canopy, at peace with the world and all in it. In fact, she felt ridiculously blissful and was fairly certain that if anyone asked her anything at this moment, she would reply with charity and goodwill no matter what the provocation. This heavenly lethargy was remarkable, and when it had dissipated she would no doubt examine the feeling in minutia, but, as of here and now, she was content to lie next to James, a silly grin on her face as she allowed herself to wallow.

“Elizabeth? Are you listening?”

Muscles wonderfully loose, she turned her head. James was propped on his side, his gaze intense. Running her gaze over his bare chest, she contemplated the play of candlelight over the warm golden skin she could touch and kiss and lick without barrier. Her gaze wandered down his chest, following the light dusting of dark hair that disappeared under the sheet gathered at his waist. What would he do if she pushed the sheet down and followed that interesting trail of hair?

“Elizabeth?”

“Hmm?” A sharp tug would do it, and he wouldn’t complain if she followed her impulse. In fact, she had little doubt she could put a smile on his face in under a minute and then, when she was done, he was bound to reciprocate.

He exhaled. A frown marred the perfection of his brow, and she couldn’t help but think her lips would do a fine job of smoothing it away.

“You must listen. We have been lax in preventing conception and, demonstrably, I have no control when it comes to you. Even now, you could be carrying my child.” The lines of his frown deepened, and she found herself wanting to taste his irritation. “There is no excuse for my failing, and you should not be made to suffer the consequences.”

Listening with half an ear and much more interested in watching his lips move, she made the appropriate noises and nods. She could take his bottom lip between her teeth and lave it with her tongue.

“We must attempt to prevent such an occurrence, at least from now on. Now that this has occurred, there is no point in refraining from doing so in the future. Thus, we should protect us both from unwanted consequences.”

Damnation, she’d just experienced the most pleasurable night of her life, and he was insisting on bringing reality into it. Sighing, she pushed herself to a sitting position. The night wasn’t even over yet. Surely they could just enjoy the afterglow for a little while longer?

Languidly, she crossed her arms above her head and stretched, her back loosening with the movement. The motion pushed her breasts free of the sheet covering them, her nipples tightening at the touch of the cool night air. Catching him covertly glancing at her breasts, she concealed a grin as she twisted and sighed, every sense trained on his reaction. James was of much more interest than the negligible release of loosening her muscles.

“There are many ways we could prevent conception. I have already ensured I did not release inside you, apart from the first.” His tone distracted, his eyes followed her every move. Lazy arousal wound through her, somewhat startling after the last few hours. They had made love, had sex, fucked, so well and so often she was surprised her body could even respond.

He cleared his throat and, with that, broke her hold on him. His expression once again intense, he continued. “A vinegar soaked sponge is probably our best option. I can secure French letters as well, just to be on the safe side. In fact, it was a horrendous oversight I did not have them on hand and I apologise profusely.”

Elizabeth dropped her arms. “French letters? What on earth are they? They can’t be what they sound like. Can they?”

The slight frown smoothed as amusement lit his eyes. Bloody hell, he was laughing at her. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, James. You know I don’t know much about all this.”

“I would never laugh at you.” The solemnity of his words made her roll her eyes and, of course, that increased the amusement in his. “But to answer your question, French letters are sheaths made of animal intestine that prevent me from ejaculating inside you.”

“Good Lord. Don’t they hurt?”

His brow raised in inquiry. “How do you mean?”

What masochist would come up with such a thing? “Well, how tight must they be to prevent you from, well, you know?”

James stared at her for a moment, his face incredulous, and then an expression that was very close to outright mirth crossed his face.

He may as well have laughed at her.

Elizabeth wrapped the sheet around her and wished the rest of the bed covers hadn’t been shoved to the floor. Obviously, she had said something horrendously wrong, and he was kind enough to alert her to the fact by laughing at her. Fine, maybe he hadn’t actually laughed, but he may as well have. Setting her jaw, she wished he would wipe that smirk off his face. Or better yet, that she could smack it off.

Crossing her arms, she refused to look at him, feeling like the veriest twit and wishing she could take back the last few minutes.

Placing his hand on her shoulder, his fingers lightly stroked her skin. “I should have explained further.”

“Yes, you should have. I don’t appreciate feeling the fool, James. I comprehend that I don’t know anywhere near what you do about this. That is made clear to me constantly.”

His voice, his beautiful wine-dark voice, was of a sudden chill, each syllable precise. “Are you complaining about my teaching technique?”

Cold perfection once more. Even the golden glow of his skin had taken on an icy edge.

“It has nothing to do with your teaching technique.” The peevishness in her voice irritated even her.

“Then what, pray tell, madam, do you have to complain about?” A note, a hint of something gave her pause. Had she heard uncertainty? Cold gaze level upon her, he appeared relaxed, and yet she could swear he had braced himself.

Her shoulders slumped. She didn’t want to fight with him. He had done so much for her, and she’d repaid him by acting like the fool she didn’t want to be. To add insult to injury, it was all over nothing, an offhand comment that held no real censure and thus no real reason. She was a fool.

“James, I’m sorry, I just—I have always felt I—” Frustration burned within her. Bloody hell, where were the words when she needed them? “I just hate feeling the fool.”

Cold silence greeted her. Her thoughtlessness had caused this tension between them. Even her explanation, pitiful as it was, did little to erase the divide.

She really was a fool.

Finally, he spoke. “You are not regretting what happened between us?”

“What?” Surprise sharpened her tone. “No, of course not.”

“Truly? I have broken one of my own stipulations.” To her, he still appeared unaffected. Why then did she know he was not? “And after I was so adamantly opposed to it.”

True, he had not wanted to…how did he phrase it? Achieve penetration. One only had to recall the events of the other evening to find the truth of that. Now that it had happened, and so spectacularly, surely he had no objections. “Why are you bothered by this?”

He remained silent, but no longer so impassive, a hint of uncertainty bleeding through his unnatural calm.

Finally, he shrugged and looked away. “I have no desire for a child and I assume you are of the same mind. Therefore, abstinence was the better option. Now, however, we will have to rely on preventative measures.”

Why did she feel as if that were not the reason? She studied him, trying to glean the answer from his impassive features. An exercise doomed to failure. For some reason, the next part of that long-ago conversation flitted across her mind.

“So, you aren’t going to marry me then?”

The look of horror on his face should have been amusing.

Smiling brightly, she ignored that something that flared inside her so fiercely at his expression. She would even neglect to name it. “Besides, we don’t need to be concerned about preventing pregnancy anyway.”

“Indeed?”

Well, she had started the conversation, she couldn’t abandon it now. “I was married to Rocksley for eight years, and I was never with child. I think it’s safe to assume I’m barren.”

“This is what you base your notion on? Your idiot husband’s inability to impregnate you?”

“How can you dismiss it?”

“Easily. How often did you fuck?”

She blinked. Some devil prompted her to answer, “Never.”

Incredulity stole the calm from his features. The expression was so foreign that she couldn’t help but find it diverting. She tried to conceal a grin but was sure she had failed miserably.

“Never? So you were virgin before tonight?” He was all that was sarcasm and disbelief.

“No, of course not. Remember, I had a lover?” He looked nonplussed. Delight danced through her that she could disconcert him so.

She continued on blithely, as if she hadn’t wanted to torment him at all. “Rocksley and I, we had polite marital relations. We never...fucked.” A shiver ran through her as she uttered that deliciously wicked word. “And, I suppose, it wasn’t that often, especially after the first few years.”

“Well, there you go.” He folded his arms against his chest. His bare, golden chest that was begging for her tongue. Hmm. “See? Idiot.”

“I didn’t become pregnant that other time, either,” she reminded him.

“You are basing your whole argument on infrequent bouts of sex with men who clearly didn’t take the time to appreciate you. We will take precautions.”

He was so very adamant.

Cupping his cheek, she forced his gaze to hers. He resisted, seeming determined not to look at her direct.

“James.”

Reluctant, he raised his gaze to hers.

She smiled gently. “If it means so much to you, we will take precautions.”

He looked away, swallowed, and when he looked back, he had locked his fear away.

Trailing a finger down her cheek, he said, “How could your husband have left you alone? He really was an idiot.”

She scowled. “Don’t call Rocksley an idiot. You didn’t know him.”

“’Tis plain he was an idiot. He obviously didn’t know how to pleasure you.”

“Still.” Now it was her turn to look away, the thought of Rocksley still holding bittersweet memories. “I loved him once.”

With the wisdom of hindsight, she could see now that they had been too young and too bound by convention to marry. Stupidly, she had thought the dictates of society’s expectations of more importance than her own convictions, and Rocksley had been the same. They had been so very young.

How romantic it had been, to be sixteen and wed, a runaway bride after she had pleaded and pressed and convinced Rocksley to steal away with her. The romance, however, had lasted only a few months before it became terribly obvious how ill-suited they were. Once the wild passion of new love had passed, it had been plain Rocksley did not understand her, nor she him. His calm, sedate nature, which had fired an inappropriate passion in her young breast, had been at odds with her inquisitive soul. In fact, it had become all too clear that all that wild, inappropriate passion had been on her side, that Rocksley had simply allowed himself to be carried away by her enthusiasm. Oh, she knew she hadn’t forced him into marriage, but if they’d had a long engagement, had waited until after her debut as he had wanted, they might have discovered long before it became irrevocable that they did not suit.

They had never seen eye to eye. He never understood anything from her perspective, stubbornly clinging to his own standpoint and never conceding that she might have a different opinion to his own. Of course, to be fair, she had never understood his viewpoint either. They had never fought, never yelled, simply because Rocksley refused to. If they disagreed, he had calmly weathered her emotion until she was spent, and then would do what he thought best. Unsurprisingly, the last third of their marriage had been spent apart.

And, well, they never could figure out the intimate part of their lives. She smiled sadly. They had missed out on so much through ignorance. She wasn’t even sure Rocksley had found passion with someone else, but she hoped he had. She hoped he had found some pleasure before he died.

His death had been such a stupid accident, such a terrible waste. It hadn’t been the horse’s fault, of course, and Rocksley had never been reckless. The horse had simply misstepped, fell and Rocksley had been crushed, his bones broken and his life forfeit. That had been three years ago now.

Now she looked at James, studied him. He had shown her so much, introduced her to such a myriad of pleasures. But for all that he’d come to mean so much more to her than a mere tutor, she’d no notion why he’d become her tutor.

“Why are you doing this?”

He gave her that look, the one he was so good at, the one that said you were insignificant and why were you bothering him with such trivialities? “Doing what?”

She gestured at the bed. “This. Teaching me. It can’t be that interesting for you to train such a novice.”

He shrugged. “Boredom will compel a person to do worse things.”

“Oh.” Strangely hurt, she looked away. She had not expected any sentimentality to his answer, but such an expectation did not prevent his response from cutting deeply.

Silence stretched, unnatural tension weighing heavy upon it. She shouldn’t expect more. She didn’t expect more.

It was that picnic, stupid impulse it had been. The thought of it had occurred to her while in the country. The festivities had done little to excite her, the sense of something missing dogging her every step. In truth, she had been glad of the excuse to return to London, and to him.

He had been so surprised to see her, but also, she thought, glad. The night had been wonderful, and she had enjoyed herself so much. No indication of any deeper feeling had ever been displayed, nothing other than that of passion, lust, and the impersonal nature of a teaching relationship. Not even after the picnic. But she, fool that she was, would insist on seeing something that wasn’t there.

“That was the catalyst.” His abrupt words cut through her thoughts, startling her. “Nothing could amuse me. And thus, your education was suggested. However, I am finding it…diverting.”

Her stupid heart leaped at his words. “Really?” Crawling over to straddle him, she grasped his hands in hers. “I do believe that is the nicest compliment I’ve ever received. Diverting. I must remember to record it in my journal.”

Spread beneath her, he looked a veritable feast for her senses. “Please ensure you record the proper inflection and delivery. I would hate for the moment to be lost to the ages through poor description.” And yet, his fingers tightened on hers.

She laughed, her heart buoyed. She even felt the ghost of a smile on his lips when she kissed him.

 

***

 

“ARE YOU TUTORING ANYONE else?”

James kept his gaze trained on her hand. Tracing the lines on her palm, he made a little pattern only he could discern. Holding her breath, Elizabeth could only hope he would answer soon and wish she didn’t care quite so much.

Dawn was approaching. It had been the most glorious night, exceeding by far her wildest expectations, and somehow an intimacy beyond the lovemaking had risen between them. So much so that she’d felt brave enough to ask the question that had been tormenting her for months.

Finally, he spoke. “Yes.”

She flinched. James’s grip on her fingers tightened infinitesimally, as if to stop her from jerking her hand from his.

“I see.” That had not been the answer she’d been hoping for. Which was stupid. She knew what he was. It was why he had been chosen. Her throat closed on the torrent of words she wanted to unleash on him and yet, she didn’t. She didn’t want to know who, how often, where.

Forcing herself to relax, she reminded herself, again, that he had no ties to her.

All was silence between them, with not even the tick of a clock to mark the passing moments. The night was waning, and soon there would be the cry of market men, peddling their wares to servants as they made their daily rounds. Soon she would have to leave. Soon, there would be no reason, no excuse for her to stay. It would be for the best. They were tutor and pupil only.

“That is, I was.” The sudden words startled her, making her jump. His tone, though, was steady, his gaze still trained on her hand. “I found it was growing stale, and the trysts had dwindled in recent times anyway. I hadn’t attended for weeks.” He traced that pattern again. “And there were our lessons to consider.”

“Oh?” she said carefully.

Tension grew as he stared at her hand, his thumb following the same path over and over. Tracing her knuckles, he explored every bump and groove before pulling her hand to his mouth, placing a hot kiss in the centre of her palm. She shivered as his tongue tasted her flesh, his eyes gleaming over the top of her hand. A willing thrall to his seduction, she swayed toward him and he leaned closer, his mouth inches from hers.

“Care to be diverted?” he asked, wickedness a husky companion to his wine-dark voice.

She allowed him to distract her, to gloss over his revelation as if it meant nothing. Truth to tell, she didn’t want to think on it. Besides, when he was kissing her as he was now, his lips and tongue rousing her desire so very easily, she couldn’t think.

Tonight he was hers. Only hers. She pulled him into her, hooking her leg around his and gave herself up to him.

That was really all that mattered.