In the Widow’s Bed (5 page)

Selwood’s fingers slid along her arm, drawing heat from every pore of her skin. To her horror, she could feel moisture flooding from between her legs. Phoebe pressed her thighs together as Lord Selwood moved closer.

“Look at me.”

Hesitantly, Phoebe glanced up. Lord Selwood’s dark gaze burned into her composure. Her breasts grew heavy, nipples hardening to painful peaks under her thin day gown. Selwood’s gaze swept across her chest—lingering on her breasts in a most unsettling way. His smile grew. “No corset.”

Phoebe dragged in a breath as his hands moved. He didn’t touch. He was only teasing her with the idea of it. Yet her body believed what it wanted to. She burned for more pleasure.

“In case you miss me, ma belle, I’m not adverse to a daytime rendezvous. I am under Warminster’s orders to stay for the entire house party so I’ll be in my bedchamber, and at your disposal, for the whole afternoon.”

Phoebe’s mind whirled. Selwood was staying in the house, in the bedchamber next to hers for the whole week of this godforsaken house party. She’d have to lock the doors to keep him out.

“Now, as much as I’d like to continue our stirring discussion, you must excuse me. The conversation between your son and my sister looks to be reaching a critical point. Warminster might do better with his head on his shoulders. Lizzy appears incensed.
Au revoir
.”

While Phoebe blinked away the effects of Selwood’s verbal seduction, he strode off, collected his furious sister, and disappeared around the ornamental pond.
 

Good God. Phoebe was doomed.

With just a few short words, Selwood had reduced her to a mass of quivering need. She couldn’t get the images he’d planted in her mind to go away. The idea of the young, muscled man pleasuring her in the garden brought greater yearning coursing through her. She wanted him. She wanted to come again against that talented mouth, on the thick cock she’d surrendered to last night. Damn it, she wanted everything.

Warminster stalked past her on his way to the house. “Bloody confounding creature,” he muttered. “I doubt I shall ever understand those Olivers.”

Silently, Phoebe agreed with him.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jonathan stretched on the wide bed with a deep, satisfied groan. That sleep was just what he’d needed to face the house-party activities of the evening, and an evening spent in the delectable countess’ company. He tucked his hands behind his head and grinned. Phoebe was every bit as passionate as he’d suspected. Even more so. He craved her soft body again already.
 

His cock swelled at the memory of last night’s adventure. He rolled from the bed and headed for the washbasin. The jug of cool water should dampen his desire for now. He scrubbed and washed with brutal efficiency, dousing any lingering lust.
 

Voices outside caught his attention. He snatched up a towel and moved to stand by the window, hiding his naked state behind the heavy velvet drapes. From his vantage point two floors up, Jonathan could see his sister and Lord Warminster deep within the maze. Lizzy appeared angry again, if her clenched fists were any indication.

Warminster took a pace towards Lizzy and then he disappeared from view. Jonathan stretched up on his toes to see what’d happened. Warminster staggered up from the ground as Lizzy sweep round the corner of the maze.

He shouldn’t laugh at Warminster, but for a spy, he was damned unprepared for an attack. Lizzy must have used her favorite trick and swept his feet out from under him. Poor bastard. He’d be livid if she’s sullied his pristine attire.

Since his sister didn’t require his assistance yet, Jonathan turned back to the room. To his delight Lady Warminster stood at the connecting doorway, one hand on the knob, mouth hanging open.

She stared, gulped, but didn’t say a word.

Despite Jonathan’s intention to remain cool-headed around the woman, his cock filled. The countess licked her lips.

“Ah, Lady Warminster, Phoebe, did you require anything?”

Her gaze remained fixed at his groin. Trying to hide a pleased smile, Jonathan strolled toward her, circled behind, and then pushed the connecting door shut. Just to be sure they remained uninterrupted he turned the key in the lock too.

Jonathan re-crossed the room at the same lazy pace and sank into a low armless chair. For good measure, he widened his stance, displaying himself.

Phoebe’s cheeks pinked. She gulped and then dragged her gaze up to his face. “Put something on.”

Instead of complying, Jonathan ran a hand across his bare chest, over his abdomen, and clasped his cock in a loose grip. “I’ll put
you
on if you like. Come over here, ma belle. Let’s see if you still fit me.”

Phoebe gulped then slowly crossed the room. For the moment, he didn’t mind that her eyes remained on his throbbing cock. He didn’t mind that she saw him only as a means of receiving pleasure. He wanted her to see him as a desirable man, not the awkward youth he’d been. They were already friends. Everything else was a delicious bonus.

Jonathan leaned forward to capture her blue muslin gown with both hands and tugged her closer. When their gazes connected, Phoebe’s eyes widened. “What am I doing? I shouldn’t be here.”
 

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t want to frighten her off by discussing the rightness or wrongness of their liaison now. So he tugged again until she fell into his lap, and buried his face in her delicious white skin. He kissed and nipped at the column of her throat hungrily, keen to distract her with desire.

Phoebe’s hands fluttered over his skin then she held on tight. A quick glance at her face revealed that she’d closed her eyes against the image of what they were doing. Jonathan didn’t care for that, but for now he’d let her have her way. He stretched to find the bottom of her skirts and swiftly captured her restless stocking-clad leg, massaging her knee, curling his fingers into her soft flesh.

At her gasp of pleasure, Jonathan shifted her on his lap so she sat astride him.
 

Wide pale-green eyes stared at him then snapped shut again on a whimper.

With both hands now under her bunched up skirts, Jonathan had unfettered access. He let his hands smooth her skin in gentle sweeps, and then dug his fingertips into her bottom to move her closer to his erection. At the contact, Phoebe whimpered and squirmed, seeking to get closer.

He buried his face in her neck again to hide his smile. She could easily become addicted to the pleasure he gave. But it might take some doing for her to accept that the gap in their ages hardly mattered. He could be patient when he wanted something badly enough. And he wanted to make love to her again so very badly.

With his teeth, he tugged her gown off one shoulder and then shifted the bodice low. One delightful pert breast popped free and he eagerly took the hard peak into his mouth. Jonathan tongued her and nipped her delicate skin while his hands rocked her hips against the hard ridge of his erection.
 

Phoebe whimpered impatiently, digging her fingers into his hair to hold his head tight to her breast. Her hips shifted again, rising up as if attempting to mount him. To help, Jonathan released his hold on her hip and grasped his cock, lifting the stiff length away from his belly. Phoebe rose higher and sat on the tip.

Jonathan released her breast to watch her impale herself.

She squirmed a little, inching him inside hesitantly. Jonathan held still, forced his cock upright while she slowly accepted him. With a cock as thick as his it didn’t pay to rush his entry. He’d hate to cause her pain. When her wet lower lips touched his fist he withdrew his hand and played with her clitoris. His lover gasped then bit her lip as she descended another delicious inch.

When he was fully encased, stuffed as high into her body as he could get, Jonathan clasped her hips and moved her along his length. Phoebe let out a low moan and clutched at his shoulders. When he slid her down him she moaned again.

“You see, Phoebe, we are an exceptionally good fit. What a delightfully welcoming hostess. Ah,” he gasped as her hands moved over his skin.

Jonathan lowered his mouth to her breast again, tugging the pert nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. Phoebe moved herself on his length, setting her own rhythm to their coupling, pushing him always deeper inside. Her fingers clenched at his nape, holding his hair tight in her grip, never letting him release her breast for long.
 

The lady hummed as they fucked, proving to him that she was enjoying his skills immensely. Jonathan touched her nub again, strumming lightly over the hard peak. Phoebe shuddered, breaking her rhythm and settling low upon him. She left him deep but moved her hips in slow rotations, grinding him deeper than before.
 

Jonathan released her breast to watch her. Her eyes were closed, lip caught between even white teeth, a look of intense concentration on her face. He cupped her skull and her eyes flew open, staring at him with passion-bright eyes.

“You have me so deep, my darling, so deep and high into your body that we are fused into one. I’m going to enjoy every delicious shudder as you peak on my cock. That’s it, one more brush, one more moment. That’s it—” her eyes widened—“that’s it, come on me, darling.”

The countess’ breath caught, and then she shuddered, clenching him in a tight vise of warmth. Jonathan gritted his teeth at the sensations, letting her focus on the pleasure that continued to wrack her body, letting her become aware that he had watched it all. Her head landed on his shoulder and she drew in deep desperate gasps of air.
 

Jonathan cradled her close, loving the weight of her in his arms, on his cock. Breathing deep her desire. Had she realized that they had never kissed? Not once had their lips even come close to one another. But he wanted that now. He wanted to taste the countess’ contentment and have her recognize him as the cause.

He nuzzled her neck, kissed a path across her cheek, and captured her soft lips. Phoebe appeared startled, yet she closed her eyes and let him take what he needed. Her mouth opened for him and he swept his tongue inside. She tasted delightful, like warm caramel and he couldn’t help but continue his assault. Small hands closed about his head, gentling him when he would have plundered. He was still firm, still achingly hard within her when she started to move.

With his lover’s active participation, he thrust within her tight confines. But it wasn’t enough, he needed to move, to bury himself deep again and again. He craved friction.

Jonathan stood, lifting Phoebe with him while they kissed and stumbled towards his bed. He lowered her down to the soft rumpled sheets, but kept their lips connected.

The countess had a wicked tongue and she used it to inflame him. She invaded his mouth to match the lazy pace of his thrusts and he closed his eyes at the powerful need that rose up in him. He wanted to thrust hard, take control of this woman, and possess her in every way possible.
 

He shifted until his feet hit the floor and looked down on her. Wide, pale green eyes regarded him, a lingering smile tugged at her lips. He reached for her hips and dragged her to the end of the bed. Phoebe glanced down.

He took himself in hand, rubbing his wet cockhead across her nub. Phoebe panted hard from the sensation and he reinserted himself in a slow thrust. Her spine arched as he reached her limit and he grasped her breast tight.

With one hand on her hip, one squeezing her breast, he set up a furious pace, thrusting hard into her body. Phoebe’s hand fluttered over her bunched up skirts and then slipped to her nub. She touched herself while their gaze held, pushing his desire high at the erotic sight. Jonathan rolled her nipple between his thumb and fingers, pinching and drawing on the peak.

Phoebe’s fingers moved frantically. She curled up to watch him pound into her. Her curiosity was his undoing. Jonathan’s release tightened his balls, unstoppable desire swept over him as he came so hard he shouted out. While his body shuddered, his lover cried out her release too, and then she collapsed to the soft bedding, as sated as he. Jonathan followed, keeping his cock buried deep but rolling until Phoebe lay boneless over his chest.
 

He held her tight, dragged in the desire-scented air around them, and wished they didn’t ever have to leave this room. Phoebe seemed content to lie with him. He let his hands travel over her gown covered back and wished he’d taken the time to undress her. Maybe next time—tonight if he was a very lucky man—he might have her bare between his sheets.

But this time there would be no darkness to hide behind. He wanted to see where he kissed, where he touched, and to watch her face every time she reached for bliss.

“Dinner will be announced soon. I have to go.” Phoebe squirmed, expelled him from her body, and slid off his chest without meeting his gaze. But he captured her hand to hold her to the bed.

“Wait.” Jonathan surged up and captured her lips in a possessive kiss. He couldn’t let her get away with that look of embarrassment on her face. Their lust was natural, addictive, and he wanted her to accept it now before anyone or anything else intruded.
 

Phoebe crawled into his lap, deepening their kiss until they were both panting.

When they parted, Jonathan held her snug in his arms and simply looked at her. She was beautiful, breathtaking, and all his, if he got his way.