Seven Years to Sin(89)
“Alistair …” She clenched tight around him, the tiny muscles rippling greedily.
“My God, you feel good,” he breathed. He ground against her, teasing her clitoris with fleeting pressure, his cock so deep in her that she was utterly possessed. “I can feel my semen in you. You’re soaked with it. But I have more to give you.”
She was panting now, maddened, misted with perspiration. She needed hard, driving strokes, a deep relentless pounding that would give her the friction she craved. What he gave her was painstakingly slow withdrawals and leisurely surges. Like a liberally oiled apparatus, tireless, his hips smoothly pistoned, shafting her tender sex with his iron-hard cock. In and out, the rhythm so fluid and precise it rivaled Maelzel’s metronome.
Arching, she fought to quicken his pace, her body strung tight as a bow. He covered her mouth with his hand, muffling the sobs of pleasure she couldn’t contain.
With his lips to her right ear, he murmured, “We are surrounded by dozens of people, and I’m f*cking you.”
She shivered, her passions raging beyond all reason. In a distant part of her mind, she heard the voices of pedestrians just outside the carriage. She heard the rolling of passing carriage wheels and the laughter of the passengers within. The very real threat of discovery was akin to throwing kerosene on an already raging fire. She was insensate with lust, reduced to a primitive state in which only the quest for orgasm mattered.
“If only they could see you as I do,” he purred, “sprawled across a carriage squab with your skirts around your waist and your sweet, slick cunt drenched in my ejaculate and crammed full of my cock.”
She met his gaze over the hand covering her lips, seeing a fierce love and aching tenderness in the aqua depths that belied the coarseness of his speech. There were so many sides to the man she loved—some smooth as river rock and others rough as gravel; some innocently vulnerable and others wickedly depraved. She couldn’t imagine living without any of them. Together they made up the whole that completed her.
He rocked his hips, touching the end of her. “Your wantonness is a gift to me, Jess. You are a gift, and I know it. I know the breadth of trust and love required for you to give of yourself in this manner.”
A lush, expert stroke took her to the edge. She hung there, arched and rigid, breathless.
“And I love you for it,” he growled, taking advantage of a rut in the road to deliver a hard, ramming thrust that hurled her into orgasm. “I love you too much. More than I can bear.”
Jess quaked violently beneath him, her sex clutching and sucking at his throbbing erection. He climaxed with a serrated groan that he muffled in the sweat-slick curve of her neck. They clung to each other, grasping and writhing, straining for the closeness they required but couldn’t attain while dressed.
Lost in each other while surrounded by the teeming city.
My sympathies to the debutantes hoping to snare the magnificent marquess. The previously icy Lady T, now widowed and ablaze in red, drew the mesmerized Lord B to her like a moth to a flame. Dear Readers, the heat was palpable.
So scandalous. Now infamous. Decidedly delicious …
Michael finished reading aloud and lowered the paper, staring at Alistair with brows raised.
“What?” Alistair asked, before enjoying a long drought of ale.
“Don’t be coy. I saw Jessica last night. That dress … What have you done to my sister-in-law?”
“Why don’t you ask what she has done to me? That answer is far more profound, I assure you.”
Alistair’s gaze swept over the great room of Remington’s Gentlemen’s Club. His casual perusal was met with many nods and smiles. He now understood the interest that had baffled him the week before. Everyone had known of his change in circumstance before he did. He was still catching up. Still reeling.
He’d called on Albert’s widow earlier in the day, attempting to ascertain her circumstances and offering whatever assistance she required. She had been left with a large bequeathment, but she’d loved his brother and she would need more than coin and property to see her through the immediate future. She would need a strong shoulder to lean upon, and he offered his to her, knowing how vital a loved one could be to the simple acts of rising in the morn and breathing. In return, she had given him something that could change so many things. He held her gift close to his heart, debating what to do with it.
“Your name, paired with Jessica’s, is all I have heard all day,” Michael groused.
“The announcement of our engagement will appear in tomorrow’s gazettes, smothering all prurient interest with the blanket of propriety and respectability. The notices would have appeared today, but I was … detained last night.” Alistair had decided he was going to keep that carriage for the rest of his life. He and Jess would christen others with their passion, but that one would remain in his carriage house forever, waiting for him to ravish Jessica in it long after the equipage lost its usefulness in serving its original purpose.
“What of your parents?” Michael asked. “They looked less than ecstatic.”
Alistair shrugged, feeling a sharp pang of regret but no responsibility for it. “They will manage.”
The crumpling of the newspaper drew Alistair’s attention to Michael’s clenching fists. He wondered what he’d said to elicit such a response. Then he noted that his friend was looking beyond him. Following the line of Michael’s gaze, Alistair glanced over his shoulder and saw the Earl of Regmont enter the room with a boisterous pack of cronies following swiftly on his heels.