Angel in Scarlet: A Bound and Determined Novel (24 page)

“Yes, I do think that would make sense. Are you sure you are up to playing the lady’s maid?”

“I think I will manage. Now, slide from the bed and stand beside me.”

“Yes, my lord,” she replied in her most demure voice.

“I do see you know how to behave. Perhaps I will not have to punish you.”

Why did her insides spark when he said the word
punish
? “I do like to make you happy.”

“Then obey.”

She slid from the bed slowly, letting her skirts bunch up to show her long, naked legs. His eyes followed, from calf to thigh to…No, she wasn’t letting her skirt go that high—at least not for a few more seconds.

When her feet reached the floor, she stood and turned her back. His fingers settled about her neck, stroking, encompassing. She bowed her head in surrender.

His lips touched the back of her neck, pressing tender kisses, a soft taste, a few more kisses—and then one swift nip at the side. A definite mark of ownership.

Her toes curled.

His fingers trailed down her upper back to reach her laces. A few pulls and tugs, and she felt her dress loosen and then fall. She caught it just below her breasts, prepared to turn and then let it drop the rest of the way slowly.

“No,” he commanded. “I want to see your back, see your ass.”

That tone of voice sent a burst of heat through her.

“My ass?” She’d thought he’d want to stare at her breasts some more.

He didn’t say anything but stood still and quiet.

Obediently, she let her arms hang by her sides. The dress caught for a moment of its own accord at her hips and then slid down to pool about her on the floor. She shivered. The room was colder than she had realized, despite the heat she knew lay in Colton’s gaze. Her weight shifted from foot to foot as he remained silent.

His bare feet padded on the floor. She couldn’t remember him removing his boots, but he must have, perhaps while she’d been asleep—or even before that, when he joined her in the bed. The thought distracted her, let her imagine that she was not standing there naked waiting for—waiting to have marital relations, to have sex, to be fucked. She played the last word out in her mind, trying to decide if she liked it.

It did make her feel naughty, almost dirty, but in a most delicious way.

She almost turned but forced herself to remain still, staring at the huge bed and the window beyond.

She was going to do this. She was really going to do this. She was going to give herself to Colton, completely.

It seemed almost odd with all the things they had done that this should remain such an event, but the thought of him actually inside her was still impossible to comprehend.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. She trusted him, she truly did.

“Your ass is like a ripe peach, just as I remembered,” he said. A finger traced a sore spot on her left cheek. “And I can still see where I took the first bite. Now, bend over and place your hands on the bed.”

Angela trembled slightly as she bent forward. She wasn’t showing him anything he hadn’t seen before. It shouldn’t have felt so awkward, but still she hesitated as she began to lean.

Placing her hands on the bed, she let her head fall forward. She wondered whether to lean slightly so that she could rest it there too.

His voice was low and deep and husky—and so very intimate. “You are so beautiful, so very wet and sweet, my angel. Do you like displaying yourself for me as much as I like looking at you?”

Closing her eyes, she felt the heat rise up her cheeks. At least he could not see her face. “Yes,” she whispered. “Do I please you?”

“Always. Just being near you pleases me.”

And then all was silent except for the slight guttering of the dying candles and the rising whistle of the wind through the trees outside.

His voice interrupted, hoarse and needy. “Move your feet farther apart. A little more. More. Good.”

The cool air of the cabin hit her most secret places, making her even more aware of them. Now she did lay her head forward, relaxing, waiting.

Colton’s breathing was loud. She could hear his every inhale and exhale, hear the sudden starts and stops.

Was he pleasuring himself as he had before? It was so easy to imagine his hand moving, the long slow stroke, the steady pressure, the near-purple head shiny with moisture, that single throbbing vein.

The thought made her breathless. She wanted to taste him again, to feel his weight within her mouth.

Only she wanted him in her. Her very core ached with want and need.

She could feel her own wetness on her thighs, feel the ever-tightening coil of her clit.

God, she wanted to touch herself, wanted him to touch her.

She almost begged.

Then he was stroking up her leg, his fingers massaging her eager flesh.

She started to turn.

“Stay still.”

A finger drifted down her leg, then started up again at her ankle and ran along her calf, pausing to tickle the back of her knee, circling, playing, teasing.

Then higher.

It reached the upper swell of her thigh but moved no higher before sweeping down to slowly rise again on the other.

More. She wanted more. Needed more.

A quiet moan slipped through her lips.

“Do you want more, my angel?”

“Please.”

The touch moved up to the very top of her thighs, pausing before the apex.

Another moan.

“Patience. Patience.”

All she wanted was to rub herself against him like a cat being petted.

He moved his hand slightly higher, letting it part her damp curls.

And higher still, until it hit that magic spot.

She was going to orgasm within moments. It was all she could do not to thrust her hips farther toward him, not to…Another hand came down on her buttocks, warm and firm, massaging—good, so good.

If she were that cat, she’d be purring. His fingers slipped down between her cheeks into the moisture. They ran over her—and back again, teasing, always teasing.

“Do you want to come now? Or should I make you wait for me?”

“Now. No, wait. No, now.”

“As decisive as ever, my angel.”

It was too much. She thrust her hips back, begging with her whole body.

She could feel his heat. She shifted farther, bringing herself against him, letting her behind rub the front of his thighs and…God, there it was. His cock, firm and full beneath the fabric of his breeches. She wanted it in her, wanted to be filled.

Rubbing harder, she tried to urge him, to make him do what she needed.

“Be still,” he ordered.

No. No. She was going to die if something didn’t happen soon. She wanted more, a slow fire turning into an inferno. Ignoring him, she pressed back again. She too could tease.

And then suddenly she was pushed forward until her hipbones pressed tight into the bed, her face deep in the quilts. She turned her head to breathe and—a sharp swat landed on her buttocks.

She cried out at the surprise even as the heat sped to her core, fuel for the fire that burned there.

Her legs needed to squeeze tight, needed, needed…She was nothing but need. Hot, raging need.

“I didn’t mean to do that yet—but I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it,” he whispered into her neck, bending over her, his hands tangling in her hair and tugging on her head.

“I don’t care, just make it happen. I can’t bear it anymore.”

“Soon.” His lips nibbled at the side of her neck. “I wish you could see yourself, marked by my bite, by my palm. So sweet. So willing. So mine.” He nipped her after each word, a thousand tingles of pleasure running through her, about her. “Your ass is so pale and perfect against the red print of my hand, rising and forming. You will feel it tomorrow.”

“Like fire running through me, filling me.” She pushed her hips back, wanting more and at the same time terrified of it.

She didn’t know what she wanted; all she knew was what she felt.

He pushed away from her and stood straight. His hand came down upon her behind again, this time first soothing, caressing, easing her pain, and then separating her cheeks.

“God, the things I’d like to do to you,” he groaned. His fingers slipped between her cheeks, sliding over her nether hole. Her whole body tensed. And tensed more as his fingers slipped into her juices again, wet and slick. One finger circled her entrance and then slid in a fraction of an inch, stretching. Another finger joined it. The tips barely penetrated, and she wanted more.

She was tired of need, tired of waiting.

And his hands were gone. She felt movement behind her.

Then she was turned and lifted, laid sideways across the bed, her hips just at the edge. He lifted her knees, opening her fully.

She looked up at his face, saw the strain, the desperation, the need and desire that matched her own.

And something more, something warm and caring—and loving.

I do love you, Angela
.

She had been afraid to believe, was still afraid to believe, but something in the way his eyes moved over her said more than words. He wanted her, but it was more—he needed her, but it was more. He might love what she allowed him to do, love the desire that filled her and met his own—but still it was more.

Even now she was afraid to put the word to what she saw, but it could not be denied.

“You do know this means we will wed as quickly as possible,” he stated, claiming his ownership, even as she felt one of his hands between her legs again, opening her for him.

“I do know,” she gasped, waiting, wanting, needing.

She felt the tip of his cock press against her, and both desire and fear filled her. If only she could see what was happening. His eyes were locked down, staring at that place where soon they would be joined.

He’d never seen anything so beautiful, so stirring. If he didn’t take her soon, he would explode, and for once in his life that did not feel like an exaggeration. His whole body strained, his cock ready to act on its own. He took it in hand, ready to guide it in. And still he hesitated.

This moment would come only once. There might be a thousand later moments, even better moments—although that was hard to believe—but this moment would never come again.

He stared down at her. Pink and white. So smooth and slick. Her breasts begging for his touch, the nipples red and heavy. He wanted to soothe them and tease them all at once, to drive her crazy with nothing but his lips and tongue.

He stroked the length of his cock, bending so his mouth could taste the sweetness of her breasts. Her back arched, pressing her toward him.

He wanted to linger, to play, to suckle, but his need drove him.

He pulled away, staring at those ripe breasts.

She moaned softly, begging for more.

He let his eyes move lower—the softness of her belly, made to cushion a man. And lower—she was so slick and wet, so ready for him; he could see her inner muscles clench, waiting for him. Still stroking himself, he used his other hand to run one finger over her clit. Her body jerked, her legs closing slightly and then opening again. He could already feel them clenched about his waist, her nails ripping his back, marking him as he had marked her.

He squeezed the base of his prick tight. He refused to embarrass himself before this had truly begun.

And finally he allowed himself to look up at the beauty of her face. She was sweaty, a few loose strands of hair fell in damp curls about her face, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy. Her lower lip was puffy and he could see the marks of her teeth upon it. She was a mess—and never had he thought her lovelier.

He watched her eyes move to meet his, still dazed but also filled with understanding. She knew just what was about to happen, what she wanted to happen. She lifted one hand from beside her on the bed and slowly brought it to lie on his, to move his fingers as they touched her. Her small fingers became coated in her juices. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, licking it clean.

Again he could see the rippling response in her body, see those inner muscles clench.

She pulled her hand free and then raised her other hand as well. Bringing them between her legs, she offered herself to him. He glanced down, enrapt by the sight.

His cock jerked, hungry for its home.

He looked at her face, saw the anticipation, the desire, the need—and the trust.

This offering was of more than her body.

He focused on her mouth, bent forward and kissed her gently, pressing his lips tight into the softness of her own. His eyes lifted to hers as he tried to promise so much with nothing more than a glance.

Her lips pressed back against his, giving her own promise.

Something inside his chest clenched and then released.

He lifted his head, taking her in.

He saw her lips move, saw the words they formed, felt the words deep in his heart.

She was his. His forever.

He moved forward, positioned himself, edged closer, felt the delicate barrier.

He hated to cause her this pain and yet rejoiced that it was his, that she was his and only his.

He placed a hand on each white thigh—and thrust home hard and fast.

Her body arched off the bed, a single sharp cry leaving her lips.

That hurt. She had known that it would and yet still was not prepared. Some women had said it was not so bad; others had said it was like being ripped apart by a sword. It was certainly not as bad as that, but,
DAMNATION,
it hurt.

And then it stopped, not completely, but only the dullest of aches remained.

She closed her eyes once, pulled in the deepest of breaths. Let it out.

Yes, this was nothing—well, not nothing, but less painful than a new pair of slippers.

Her eyes slid open, met Colton’s. He had not moved the barest fraction of an inch since that one endless thrust, and concern marked his gaze.

He stood above her, braced and frozen, his eyes questioning.

She attempted a smile but didn’t quite manage it. “Please continue,” she said.

“Are you sure?” he asked, although she could hear the strain in his voice. “I could withdraw. I do not want to cause you pain.”

“No. If we do not do this, I’ll probably never want to try again, and I do not believe that is what you want in a wife. I am trusting that there is more to this than—than that.”

She felt him tense, although she would not have thought his body could grow any more rigid. He leaned forward, placed a hand on either side of her, his hips still not moving. His face was scant inches from hers. He asked again, “Are you sure? I will try to be gentle.”

She nodded.

“Then I will do my best.” His face filled with caring, his cock eased forward. She stiffened, scared of more pain, but only the ache remained. It shifted with his movement but did not grow worse.

And she was becoming aware of that other ache again, the one that coiled within her, that grew and grew until it burst. She lifted her pelvis, shifted the cradle of her hips, changing the angle. Oh, now, that felt different. He’d rubbed against some spot far within her, some spot that had her instantly aware, feeling things she had not felt before, even at the moment of orgasm. She wiggled again, trying to repeat the experience.

He eased farther in.

Her eyes widened. He was big. She could feel the stretch, her body opening to accommodate him.

The tendons in his neck were straining now, his whole body crying with the effort not to move more.

Flattening her feet on the bed, she suddenly pushed up, burying him deep within her.

Full. She’d never felt so full, never imagined such a feeling. It was odd but not unpleasant. She shifted again, trying to find that inner spot, trying to increase the contact.

“You are killing me,” he growled.

“Then quit treating me as if I will break. From all I’ve heard, the worst is over.”

He stared at her, one last question in his eyes. And then he moved. God, she’d thought she’d taken his all, but he pressed yet deeper. Withdrew. Pushed in again, hard, fast. Again. Again.

The ache of pleasure within her multiplied, filling her. His body ground against her clit as she spread her thighs wider, raising her hips. He hit that inner spot, and her body spasmed slightly.

She tightened her muscles on instinct, gripping him further.

He sank deep, pulled back, grinding against her on each thrust.

Her whole mind was focused on her body, on the sensations that filled her, wave after wave. Her whole mind was focused on his eyes, on the secrets there, on the bond between them—on his soul. Both were true despite the impossibility of such a thing. Each pound, each thrust, sent her further into those bottomless eyes, made her feel all that he was, all that she was, all that they could be.

She felt it coming then, the waves breaking upon the shore, the slide, the pull.

Her whole body clenched, rising upon the bed to meet his.

She stared into his eyes—and surrendered, letting it burst within her, emptying her, filling her, until there was no more.