AnchorandStorm (3 page)

“Mmmm,” he purred, “you taste so sweet. And the petals of your sex are like the roses in my garden at home—a deep, deep pink sparkling with the dew of your arousal.”

“Edgar, ye’re embarrassin’ me now.”

He looked up at her, “the dew of her arousal”, as he called it, shining on his lips in the lamplight. “Don’t be. Don’t ever be embarrassed with me, Emily. Between two people in love, there is nothing to be ashamed of, nothing forbidden.”

She relaxed under the hypnotic tone of his deep voice. He licked all around her outer lips and Emily felt the moisture flowing out of her, more than when he had used his fingers. Then he found her sensitive nub and stroked it with his tongue. She flung her arms above her head and grabbed the headboard of the bed, as a drowning man would grab onto a floating spar. He sucked on her tender bud and she buried her head in the pillow, her groans turning to staccato cries as her crisis overtook her.

He pulled himself up to lie on top of her, his weight braced on his forearms. She felt his flesh, blunt and hard, nudging at her portal, but he didn’t try to enter her. Vaguely, she wondered why but, still recovering from her climax, she was too relaxed to put her question into words.

Edgar stroked the wet hair at her temples and licked the moisture from her brow.

“Did you like doing that to me?”

“Indeed, I did.” He kissed her then and waited to see her reaction.

She licked her lips and asked, “Is that how I taste?”

“You taste delicious, my love.”

She smiled at him and pushed him gently back against the pillows. “Now it is your turn,” she said. She pulled his nightshirt off over his head.

For a moment, she sat back on her heels and admired the beauty of his upper body. Soft, dark curly hairs covered his upper chest, narrowing to a dark line down his flat, firm belly. She was used to seeing men go bare-chested, so many of the Highland men were big and broad and muscular. Although thinner than her brawny countrymen, Edgar was sinewy, his muscles well-defined and strong. And all those beautiful muscles tensed as she licked and sucked his nipples, just as he had done so many times to her.

He combed her hair with his fingers. “Your curls feel soft as silk against my skin.”

Emily gave a contented sigh as she moved lower and lower, teasing the sensitive flesh of his belly with her lips and tongue. His cock, which had begun to soften, now rose up, throbbing and yearning. She touched it gently and was fascinated to see it twitch in response.

Edgar expected her to stop when she reached that point, but instead, she continued. She laid her head on his belly, stroking his flesh with her cheek.

Suddenly she stopped and he saw her looking at his legs. Edgar knew this time would come and he had dreaded it. He had not been naked in front of her yet, so she had not seen his legs. How would she react? Revulsion or pity? There were times when he thought pity was worse.

“So this is why you wear long pants instead of breeches.”

He nodded, unable to find his voice.

She slid lower in the bed and began to caress him from the top of his feet to his thighs. “Can you feel me touching your legs?”

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“No, not at all, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” she said, softly massaging his wasted muscles. Her lips followed her hands as she kissed the thin limbs. Edgar was close to weeping. Instead, he gave a startled cry as he felt her tongue sliding over his cock. Just as she had done earlier, he reached up and grasped the top of the bed, struggling to contain his release.

“Emily, oh my darling Emily,” he cried, as she took him fully into her mouth and began to suck his rigid shaft. He hadn’t planned to ask her to do that to him, for fear she would be repulsed even by the suggestion. Yet here she was, pleasuring him in a way he had only dreamed she would.

“You’re so smooth,” she said, as she licked the rounded head of his cock and probed the tiny opening gently with her tongue.

Where she had warmed his flesh with her mouth, she now cooled it with her breath as she spoke and that was enough to send him over the edge. “I can’t hold back! Move away, my love, quickly!”

She drew back but replaced her mouth with her hand, instinctively finding the rhythm he needed to reach his climax. He arched upward, forcing his cock against her hand, and let his release envelop him. “Oh dear God,” he cried as his hot semen shot forth, spraying the dark hair of his groin and trickling through her fingers.

As his breathing slowed, he looked down to where she still lay by his hip and saw that she was staring at the creamy fluid in her palm. “Sorry, my love. Rather messy, isn’t it?”

She shook her head. “I was just thinking what a shame it is to waste it. If I am to give you a son, we must put it in the right place from now on.”

He smiled and reached out to caress her hair. “What a superb idea. But I’m afraid it will have to wait until another night. You have quite worn me out.”

“Yes,” she replied, “I am told that it has that effect.”

* * * * *

They were married in the Val-de-Grace in Paris.

“Perhaps it will bring us luck,” Edgar said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The mother of Louis XIV had the church built to thank God for giving her a son, after twenty-three years of a childless marriage. Maybe we won’t have to wait so long.” What he didn’t say, and what he knew they were both thinking, was that they would be very lucky even to have half that time together.

It was only then that Edgar realized what he had truly done. He had made her a countess, which meant she would be set for life—no worries about money or a home or King George’s soldiers terrorizing her. But he would also leave her a wealthy widow, as so many of the other women he had met longed to be. That meant she would be easy prey to all manner of men, not the least of whom was his nephew. If she didn’t give him a son Raymond would inherit everything and he could do with Emily as he wanted—there was no guarantee he would let her live in the dower house.

Edgar resolved to find her a protector…and he knew just the man for the job.

* * * * *

Edgar waited until their wedding night to try to take her virginity.

They returned to their rooms after a late evening dinner. Weston met his master at the door and took his coat. Emily followed Edgar into the room—she was his wife now and no longer needed to hide the fact that they spent their nights together.

“Lord Callander won’t be needin’ yer services tonight, Weston. Thank you.”

The manservant stuck his nose up in the air and turned to Edgar, for confirmation Emily supposed. “Yes, Weston, that will be all for tonight. My wife can assist me.”

For a moment, Weston gaped at them. Then he said, “Very well, my lord.”

After he was gone, Emily said, “I dinna think he cares for me overmuch.”

“Bah,” Edgar replied, “he’ll come around. He just isn’t used to me having a woman. As I told you, it has been awhile.” Edgar sat down on the side of the bed took Emily’s hand, bringing her to stand between his legs. He reached up and caressed her neck, coaxing her face down close to his. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I care for you very, very much.”

Emily smiled and placed her forehead against his. “And I care for you very, very much. But there is one problem.”

Edgar drew back.
Oh God, no,
he thought.
Have I made a mistake? Is she going to be like all the rest of them—now that she has my name and wealth, will she reject me as a man?

But before he could question her, Emily continued, “We both have too many clothes on.”

Edgar wondered if she could hear the relief in his laughter. “Well, fortunately,” he said, “that is a problem easily remedied.” He slipped the sleeves of her gown off her shoulders and kissed the swell of her breasts above her corset. “Dear God, Emily, your skin is like silk.” Her only answer was a deep sigh. His cock began to swell and ache for her. “Turn around.”

She did as he commanded. He pulled impatiently at the laces of her gown and slid her bodice the rest of the way off. He almost ripped the strings on her corset to get to the smooth flesh underneath. With that removed he encountered her chemise. And he hadn’t even gotten to her lower body yet. He growled and said, “You most definitely have too many clothes on. I had forgotten that women wear so many layers.” With that he tore the thin cotton shift in two.

Emily gasped. “Edgar, my chemise.”

“I’ll buy you a hundred more, a thousand more, for I cannot promise I won’t be ripping more of them off you in the future.”

Her laugh was cut short when he reached around to caress her breasts. Her nipples were already hard as tiny stones, the areolas pebbled. Edgar rested his head against her back and reached down to adjust his cock, which now pressed tightly against the buttons of his trousers. Then he untied her overskirt and hoops, tossing them as far across the room as he could in his eagerness to get her naked.

“God in heaven, woman, a man could come in his pants before he even gets to your skin!”

Emily giggled. She tore her shift the rest of the way down and let it fall to the floor. She stood with her back still toward him, clad only in her stockings and garters. “Lord,” Edgar said softly, “what a lovely sight.” He brought her closer to him and caressed her buttocks.

Emily felt the slight roughness of his beard as he rubbed his cheeks against her. In the next moment, he slid his hand between her legs and his fingers probed her swollen, moist womanhood. The sensation of him caressing her from front and behind was so overwhelming, Emily thought her legs would give out. He must have sensed this for he wrapped his other arm around her waist. He continued probing and stroking her until he brought her to a shattering climax and she did drop to her knees. She rested her head against his legs, eyes closed, trying to catch her breath.

“Are you all right, Emily?” Edgar asked. She heard the smile in his voice.

“No, ye’ve killed me again with pleasure.
La petite mort,
aye?”

He laughed out loud then. “Indeed, yes, the little death.”

She looked up at him. “Dinna laugh. Ye’re next.”

“Promise?”

She turned to face him, still kneeling between his legs. “Och, aye, that’s a promise.” She stood and started to remove her stockings, but Edgar said, “No. Leave them on. You look ravishing.” As she unbuttoned his shirt, she kissed him. His high forehead, his soft brown eyes, his strong nose, his sculpted lips, his square chin, no part of his beloved face was neglected as she worked her way down to his darkly furred chest. She pulled his shirt out of his trousers and helped him off with it. Then she gently pushed him back so that he lay on the bed with his legs over the side.

She rubbed her cheek against his erection through the material of his pants, then put her mouth there and blew softly through the fabric.

Above her, Edgar groaned. “Emily, you are driving me out of my mind.”

Her only answer was to slowly unbutton his trousers. She nuzzled her nose deep into the thick thatch of hair around his erection. She licked off the drop of clear moisture on the tip of his shaft and took him into her mouth. As more and more of his flesh was exposed, she moved her mouth down until he felt his cock touch the back of her throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so hard. “Oh God, now, Emily, now.”

He took her arms and urged her up onto the bed. “Straddle me.”

She climbed over him and positioned her legs on each side of his hips. He took hold of his hardened flesh and with it stroked her cleft.

The honey poured from her, she was ready for him.

“Lower yourself onto me, love.”

She did as he directed and he pushed himself inside her. He felt more like a man than he had in years and his confidence grew. He ran his hands all over her body, cupping her beautiful breasts, stroking her back. When he could stand it no longer, he held her hips, directing her up and down on his rigid shaft. When he entered deep enough to touch her maiden barrier, he raised his hips and thrust into her again, harder. She gave a small cry, of pleasure or pain, he didn’t know but he was almost beyond caring. He pushed again and again and finally felt the barrier give way slightly. “I’m sorry, Emily, I have no wish to hurt you, but I must…” he panted. He arched his back and squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of anything he could to delay his release.