Seven Years to Sin (Historical #1)

Seven Years to Sin (Historical #1) Page 28

“—Lucius,” she interjected. “They do not know you, not as I do. And they never will.”

Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his furrowed brow. “My darling. You haven’t faith that anyone can love you unconditionally, because no one ever has. But I do. How could I help myself? And over time, you’ll see that the changes you wrought in me are not reversible. I am who I am at this moment because of you, and without you I would cease to exist. I have no notion how I’ll survive the next few months until you can join me in—”

“Join you?” he asked sharply. “Where?”

“A letter from Hester arrived this afternoon. She must have sent it directly after we left, perhaps even the same day, which tells me she knew she was increasing before I departed and didn’t want the news to stay me.”

“Your sister is with child?”

“I cannot believe she could ever think I wouldn’t return to her posthaste. As I told you, she hasn’t been well for some time. She will need looking after. I must be with her now.”

“I’ll return with you, of course. With luck, I can arrange for us to sail within a fortnight.”

“I cannot ask that of you. You came to the island for a reason.”

“Yes. You. The same reason I returned to England. I traveled with you because there was no reason to stay there while you were here, and the same is true in reverse.”

Jess’s thoughts froze with surprise, remembering the night they’d spoken on the deck of the Acheron and she had wondered if he was going home for a woman. To learn she was that woman was slightly overwhelming. And deeply moving.

He must have seen the realization on her face. His jaw tensed. “My lust was fierce, you know that. I won’t say it was love, but it was deeper than flesh. My desire for you gave me hope that I could find joy in sex again, that I could approach the act with something beyond detachment and a need for base physical release. I had to have you, Jess, whatever the cost or effort.”

She stared at him, wondering why he wouldn’t say he loved her. Perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps what they had was all she would ever claim from him.

After a moment’s contemplation, she decided that whatever he could give of himself was enough. She loved him enough for the two of them.

Releasing him, she pulled away and reclined. She stretched out on the pillows, reaching her arms above her head and arching her back in blatant invitation. If his need was the only part of himself he had to give her, she would take it all.

Alistair crawled onto the dais. He straddled her, his hands pressing into the pillows on either side of her shoulders. Lowering his head, he took her mouth, his lips sealing to hers.

A warm, humid breeze blew over them. In the distance, she heard the shouts of men and the distant screeching of gulls. They were outside, where anyone could see, and that increased her excitement. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hummed her pleasure into his kiss.

“I thought,” he murmured against her parted lips, “that I might have to convince you to wed me. That it might take some time. Weeks. Months. Maybe years. I built this place to make it hard for you to run while I presented my arguments.”

She smiled. “A captive audience. How would you have stopped me from leaving?”

“Perhaps hiding your clothes and keeping you pinned with my cock. I also brought a few bottles of your favorite claret with me. I remember your being much more agreeable after a glass or two.”

“Wicked man.” Her gaze lowered to his throat and the strong pulse beating there. “Do your worst. I rescind my acceptance.”

“Ah, but you didn’t accept. You asked; I accepted.” He nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers. “And I cannot tell you what it means to me that you did.”

“You can show me.” Her fingers stroked his nape in just the way he loved.

Alistair slid to the side of her. “Roll over.”

She did as he bade, her spine tingling as she faced away from him. He released the tie at the small of her back, then deftly unfastened the buttons that secured her pale lavender gown. As the pressure of his fingers worked downward, her anticipation grew. For all her teasing about his sexual appetite, hers for him was equally fierce. After a week without him while her courses ran, her hunger for his touch and attention was ravenous.

“I want you to buy a trousseau,” he said. “Spare no expense. I do not begrudge your mourning for Tarley—I know he was good to you—but I don’t want to see you dressed in tribute to your grief whilst wed to me.”

Looking over her shoulder, she nodded, loving him all the more.

He stroked his tongue between her shoulder blades. “I should like to see you in red. And gold. Also a vivid blue.”

“To match your eyes. I would like that. Perhaps you should come with me to the modiste’s.”

“Yes.” His strong hands reached into the parted halves of her gown and gripped her waist. “You’ll be half-dressed while they measure you. I would enjoy the view.”

“At the moment, I would enjoy being undressed.”

He squeezed her gently, then rolled to his back. “As you desire.”

Jess slid off the end of the dais and stood.

Tucking a pillow behind his head, Alistair settled more comfortably. He bent one knee and set one wrist atop it, presenting a relaxed and somewhat insolent pose. The multitude of colorful pillows and the netting between the posts reminded Jess of the story she’d told about a desert adventure and a lusty sheik.

She lowered her head deliberately, affecting a meek and submissive posture. Lifting her hand, she caught the neckline of her gown and tugged it over her shoulder. First one side, then the other. The bodice caught on her breasts and she stilled.

“You could ransom me, Your Highness,” she whispered. “The price you could fetch for me, in addition to the spoils from the caravan, would certainly outweigh whatever pleasure you might have from me in your bed.”

The surprise Alistair felt was tangible. For a moment, he held his silence, his chest lifting and falling with studiously steady breaths. Then, “But you are the reason I raided that caravan, my lady. Why expend the effort if I only intended to give you back?”

“For the fortune you will gain upon my return.”

“The only treasure that interests me is between your thighs.”

A rush of heat swept over her skin.

He jerked his chin imperiously. “Take it off. Let me see you.”

Jess licked her dry lips and took a heartbeat longer to obey. Catching her skirts in her hands, she tugged downward gently, as if she was shy about revealing the body he knew better than she did. The dress slipped from her arms and torso, and pooled on the planked floor.

“Now,” he said gruffly, “the rest.”

“Please …”

“Don’t be frightened. In a few moments, I will give you pleasure such as you’ve never known.” His gaze narrowed slightly. “Nor will you again after me.”

Jess shifted from foot to foot, glancing at him furtively. He reached between his legs, brazenly stroking the thick length of his erection. A voluptuary to his bones. Skilled … far more experienced than she would ever be. Unless he remedied that lack of knowledge, which she doubted he would unless she pushed him. She suspected he feared corrupting her any more than he believed he already had, while she feared his boredom in her bed.

“I cannot say the same,” she said softly.

Alistair rose gracefully to his feet, moving with a sleek and predatory fluidity. “Yes, you can.”

He rounded her, as if examining her charms. Then he drew to a halt at her back, sliding his arms under hers and embracing her from behind. In a swift possessive grasp, he filled his hands with her breasts, startling a gasp from her.

Her head fell back onto his shoulder. “But you’ve had so many concubines who are more adventurous than I know how to be. What will become of me once the novelty wears thin?”

“You underestimate my desire for you.” His lips moved against the shell of her ear. He pulled her against him, making her feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal. “Feel how hard I am for you? I’ve wanted you too badly, for too long. I’ll never have enough of you.”

“Before the raid, did you imagine having me? Did you dream of how you would have me?”

“Every night,” he growled, his fingers clasping around her taut nipples.

Turning her head, she pressed her cheek to his. “Show me how you dreamed of me. Teach me all the ways I can please you. I want to learn.”

One hand slid down her stomach, then between her legs. “You no longer wish to be ransomed?”

Jess gasped as his fingers slipped into the slit of her pantalettes and parted her. With fingertips roughened by the woodworking required to build her this place of seduction, he stroked over her clitoris, knowing just how to touch her to make her writhe. “If you do, who will quench this fire in my blood?”

“No one else.” Alistair’s teeth nipped at her earlobe. “I’d castrate any man who tried.”

Maddened by the rolling of her nipple and the sudden slide of a long finger into her grasping sex, Jess rolled her hips and whimpered. A second finger joined the first, thrusting slow and easy. She sucked in a deep breath, intoxicated by his sun-warmed scent. “Please …”

“Bend over.” He punctuated the order by pushing her down.

Jess tumbled forward, stemming her fall by extending her arms. Alistair straightened, allowing the breeze to blow over her back. He pushed down the stockinette of her pantalettes. Perspiration misted her skin.

“So pretty,” he praised, running his hands over her derriere. Cupping her sex, he massaged her with his palm. “So swollen and slick. Do you need a cock to fill you, my lovely captive? Do you ache with emptiness?”

She was so vulnerable like this, unable to watch his face or movements. “Always.”

There was a faint rustle of displaced clothing, then the wide head of his cock notched against her. It was the only warning she had. Gripping her hips, he yanked her back as he thrust, piercing deep with a single lunge of his hips.

Crying out, she fought to keep her arms steady and extended.

“Christ.” He rolled his hips, nudging against the end of her. “I’m so deep in you, Jess. Do you feel how deep I am?”

Her eyes closed on a shaky exhalation. She felt the doeskin of his breeches against the backs of her thighs and the cuffs of his shirtsleeves against her hips. When she looked down, she saw his muddy boots. He was fully dressed, shielded from exposure, whereas she was mostly nude and mounted. The lascivious image in her mind of how they would look to a bystander spurred her desire. Aroused beyond bearing, she rippled along his length. Alistair’s answering groan carried on the breeze, but she didn’t care if anyone heard them. Her focus had narrowed to the point where they joined and the tender flesh that quivered around his thick penetration.

He began to move. Not with the rough, pounding tempo she’d expected in such a primitive position, but at a leisurely pace. Deliberate. Taking her with long, sinuous glides of his thick penis into her clenching depths. He devastated her when he took her like this. He was unhurried. Rhythmic and graceful. Wickedly practiced. He worked her hips in time to his thrusting, circling, rubbing, and stroking over every tender spot.

Her legs gave out. She fell to her knees on the dais, and he slipped out to the tip, then rammed deep as he followed her down. She cried out … conquered. He kneed her legs wider, quickening his rhythm. His heavy sac smacked against her wet flesh again and again, the cadenced erotic slapping against her clitoris adding an entirely new level of sensation. Her arms lost their strength and her shoulders sank into the pillows, angling her hips even higher. Nothing impeded Alistair’s possession of her now, but still he kept that controlled and steady pace that had her clawing at the silk around her.

“God, you’re tight like this,” he said hoarsely. “And so wet. I want to come in you now …”

“Yes!”

“Not yet. I’m going to fuck you until I can no longer stand.”

His crudity surged through her in a violent shiver. She climaxed in a heated rush, her body vibrating with the force of it. He cursed as she milked him with ecstatic pulses. He held still and ground against her, staving off his own pleasure. His fingers dug into her thighs with bruising force. And she loved it. Loved that she could break his steely control just by taking whatever he needed her to take.

Jess surrendered, letting the orgasm flow through her unchallenged. Alistair’s grip lightened as she relaxed, his hands soothing her with gentle caresses and soft murmurs. She was so lost in the languid afterglow of her climax, it took her long moments before she realized he was too still. Opening her eyes, she turned her head and found him looking down at her with a clenched jaw having nothing to do with desire.

“What is it?” Her pleasured haze receded in the face of the darkness sweeping over his features.

His voice came clipped and furious. “What are these marks on your skin?”

Jess winced, hating that he’d seen the thin silvery scars marring her derriere and upper thighs. If they hadn’t been outside in the unforgiving sunlight, he might never have seen them. Although she detested the truth, she gave it to him. “Surely you recognize the marks of a switch?”

“Bloody hell.” He curled over her, mantling her body with his own, his grip around her torso like iron bands. Fiercely protective and obstinately comforting. “Do you bear other scars?”

“Not on the outside. But, regardless, they no longer signify.”

“The hell they don’t. Where else?”

She hesitated, wanting nothing more than to leave their painful pasts behind them.

“Where, Jessica?”

“I cannot hear in my left ear,” she said softly, “as you know.”