Jesus, but she tested him. He could barely breathe, but somehow he choked out, “Last night, when I took you…that is what you should do with your hand or your mouth. That’s what feels…good.”
Her face was serious, like she was studying French literature or mathematics and was trying to pass some kind of test. “I see. Let me try and you tell me if I’m doing it right, yes?”
He nodded, silent because his voice was gone. He watched, shaking, as she caught him in her palm. She stroked him from tip to base, and he couldn’t help but lift up into her.
“Tighter,” he gasped out. “A little faster.”
She adjusted, and when she stroked a second time, everything was perfect. Her soft hand held him exactly right, she glided down his length and he couldn’t hold back a long, low moan of pleasure.
Her face lit up, and for a little while she simply stroked, working his shaft as she looked into his eyes, her lips slightly parted and her own breath short. He realized that touching him was exciting her, that whatever need he had slaked by licking her was returning.
And her responsiveness excited him even more. Whatever else was between them, whatever she thought of him or accused him of in her mind, the physical connection was stronger than any he’d ever had before. And he wanted more and more and more of it. He wanted to teach her wicked things. He wanted to do things to her that most men wouldn’t even consider sharing with a blushing bride.
He wanted to ruin her in the best possible ways, because he sensed that she would respond to it. Like it.
“I want to taste you,” she whispered.
Her dark head lowered and he rested a hand gently on the back of her chignon as he watched her pink tongue dart out. She was hesitant as she licked the head of him. Slowly at first, unartfully due to her lack of experience. She glanced up, and the sight of her watching him as her tongue swirled around him almost unmanned him right there.
“Take it into your mouth,” he grunted.
She drew in a long breath and then did so. She sucked gently, then withdrew. Her eyes widened, and it was clear she now understood what he wanted. She shifted, balancing herself differently so she could grip the base. She worked him with her hand as she began to slowly thrust her mouth over him. Her tongue stroked the underside of his cock.
It was…spectacular. No, she wasn’t practiced in the art, but she was a quick study, a natural at pleasure. He dipped his head back against the carriage seat and drowned in the sensations that shot from her mouth through his cock, through his entire body. Waves of pleasure, hitting hard against the shores as he surrendered himself to her entirely.
His balls tightened and he knew the end was near. He looked down, picturing the day when she would drain him entirely. But not today. That would be too much.
As his seed began to move, he caught her arms, dragging her up his body to kiss her. Her hand continued to pump over him and he spent, grunting her name against her lips as he did so.
Their breathing matched, hard panting, as the pleasure slowly subsided and he dared to open his eyes again. He was ready for her to look shocked or unhappy, but instead she had a sleepy, proud smile on her face. She tucked herself against his shoulder, resting her head there as he pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and tidied himself.
“Was that right?” she asked at last.
He laughed and tilted her face to look at him. “If it wasn’t clear, I will certainly show you how right it was later.”
“Why later?” she asked, eyes wide and just a tiny bit wicked.
He shook his head. “Because even a man who wants you as much as I do needs a break after something like that. But it was most definitely right. And now my mind is as clear as I hope yours is.”
She smiled before she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and moved back to her own seat. After he fixed himself, she handed over his papers and pulled a book from her reticule. Before she began to read, she said, “If that is the way you want to clear our minds, I will never object to chaos again.”
He smiled at the light she naturally brought to everything. He had felt so dark for so long that it was almost blinding. But he couldn’t be blinded. In the end, there was still much between them. Including the fact that she believed herself to be in love with his worst enemy. Including the fact that Hugh had lied to get her into this marriage. Into his bed.
And right now that felt worse than ever.
Chapter Twelve
Hours later, Hugh glanced up from the supper that had been laid out for them at the inn and looked across the table toward Amelia. She was staring intently at her plate, moving the food around with her fork. Passion had bonded them in the carriage, but in the hours since that encounter, he had felt her begin to slip away. The walls between them couldn’t be surmounted through orgasms alone.
And he had no idea how to connect with her otherwise. Or even if he should. After all, he had not married her because he wanted her. Loved her. Even knew her.
It had been to save her. To thwart Walters.
She sighed, as if the silence between them made her just as uncomfortable as it did him, and glanced up from her venison. “Do you only have one sibling?” she asked.
He blinked at the sudden question. The one about Lizzie. The one that made him tense and want to throw up even more walls to protect himself and to protect his sister.
“Yes,” he said, and gave no more information.
