Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet (40 page)

Automatically, she reached out to him, and Bran lowered himself to lie beside Velvet. He began to kiss her again–tenderly at first, but soon Bran could no longer control his passion. His hands searched her body–stroking–caressing–urgently combing her skin with his fingertips.

His mouth replaced his fingers on her breasts. When he suckled her, Bran’s hand slid between her legs, and she instinctively opened to him. He found the moisture and slipped a finger into her as Velvet arched her mons into his palm. A groan encouraged him to continue his ministrations. One finger soon became two, and his thumb found the nub to bring her a taste of pure passion. When she convulsed with her climax, Bran took inner delight in knowing he had given her pleasure. He held still, simply enjoying the feel of her skin against his and the ragged breathing settling her emotional rise and fall.

Finally, he moved between her legs. “I must have you,” he rasped out–the anticipation taking his breath away. “I will be gentle, but this may hurt when you come to me the first time.” Bran nibbled on her ear lobe and rubbed his erection against her heat. “I love you, Velvet.”

“I love you, Bran.” Instinctively, she raised her hips as he placed himself at her opening. Placing his hands under her, he slowly, but decisively, entered her. He pushed in several inches and paused to allow Velvet’s body to adjust to his size before advancing again. When he felt her barrier, Bran leaned forward to take Velvet’s mouth in a slow seduction–his tongue mimicking what he would do to her. When Velvet responded by lifting her leg around him, Bran thrust his hips and embedded himself deeply in her. She flinched, but Bran never released her mouth. Instead, he brought his right hand to her breast and squeezed her nipple.

When she responded by lightly biting his bottom lip, Bran began to seriously set up a rhythm. Velvet was wet and tight and hot, and his manhood thrummed with excitement.

Bran had dreamed of slow–deliberate–controlled strokes, but he was beyond sensation. He had dreamed of this forever, and now Velvet matched his responsiveness with her own hunger. She began to move with him–a passionate complement–contracting her muscles along the length of him. A deep, sensual moan sent Bran over the edge, as Velvet’s climax brought a sweaty shivering desire. He stopped moving and simply held her, feeling his erection jerk within Velvet’s heat. His seed filled her in a cresting flow of passion, and he knew contentment at last. “Home,” he thought. “I am finally home.” He relaxed his weight upon her, mixing his sweat with hers. “God! You are magnificent.”

Velvet turned her head into his neck–literally, inhaling the man she loved–his musky maleness. “Ella told me it would be like this, but I did not believe her.” She kissed behind his ear. “Mmm,” she whispered huskily. “I never thought to be so wanton, but it was exhilarating.”

“I love your wantonness,” he teased as he lifted himself from her. Turning onto his back, Bran pulled Velvet into his arms. “I plan to feed you a proper supper, my Love, and then satisfy my hunger in you again.” He moved her hair away to drape over her shoulders.

She sighed and snuggled into his body. They lay together in quiet contemplation of what life would bring them. Today they had pledged their vows before God; now they made a physical commitment to each other. “I suppose Mr. Marshall placed the trunks in the outer room,” she thought out loud.

Bran laughed when she ignored his
threat
to make love to her again. “I will see,
my Duchess
.”

“Oh, we are back to that again, are we?”

Bran turned to rise from their bed, but Velvet followed him up. All her life she had thought of belonging to him, but now she liked the idea of Bran belonging to her better. As he sat of the bed’s edge, she came to her knees behind him, pressing her breasts to his back and draping her arms over his shoulder. “What if I choose to not dress for awhile?” She purred into his ear.

“And what,
my Duchess
, might we do instead?”

She gently pulled on his earlobe with her teeth, before circling the lobe with her tongue. “I thought we might,” Velvet hesitated. “Well, I suppose it is impossible so soon.” Her lips slid from his temple to Bran’s chin line.

Bran turned his head to brush his lips across hers. “If you want to know whether it is possible for me to make love to you again,” he caught her hand and brought it to his rapidly growing erection, “touch me and feel what you do to me.” As she timidly circled the head with her fingertips, Bran closed his eyes and moaned. “I will never have enough of you,” he whispered hoarsely. When he looked at her again, he professed, “You are the love of my life. Any time you wish my attentions, you must tell me. I want you from the moment I open my eyes in the morning to when I fall asleep at night. I will come to you more often than I should, but you must feel no shame in coming to me. A man who loves his wife as I do you would welcome such an invitation.”

“I want you.” Velvet took him into her grasp and began to stroke him, letting the loose skin slid over his head. Bran audibly caught his breath, but he did not look away. In her eyes, he saw Velvet’s curiosity mixed with an unspeakable desire. “Touch me.” She adjusted her position where Bran might explore her wetness. Simply put, they stared into each other’s eyes and enjoyed the foreplay.

When he could stand it no longer, Bran led her down beside him. Together, they made love slowly–a beautiful picture of devotion. “I love you,” they both repeated as the passion consumed them.

“What do you think of Viscount Lexford?” Cashé Aldridge asked as she and her twin shared tea in the small drawing room at Linton Park. They would return to Chesterfield Manor with their uncle on the morrow.

Satiné looked up suspiciously. “Does it matter of what I think of the gentleman? He seems to find you irresistible. The question might be more appropriate if directed to you: What is your opinion of Viscount Lexford?”

Cashé did not answer at first. She had concocted a plan of which she had hoped her sister would agree. Instead, she milked her response as part of her scheme. “I suppose the viscount will call often at Chesterfield Manor.”

“It is very close to Lexington Arms,” Satiné noted.

“The viscount is very handsome.”

Cashé watched closely for her sister’s reaction and found it satisfying to hear Satiné stifled the sigh that nearly slipped from her lips. “Indubitably. He is extremely attractive.”

“As is the earl.”

“Yes, the earl is a striking man.”

Cashé dreamily said, “Dark penetrating eyes. Strong, aristocratic nose. Ruggedly handsome countenance. Wide shoulders.”

“I had not noticed His Lordship’s eyes.” Satiné looked at her twin in puzzlement. “I mean, I have looked at his eyes, but never found depth there.”

“Lord Yardley’s eyes speak of his soul,” Cashé protested. “When he is angry or when he is pleased or when he is frustrated.”

Satiné leaned forward, needing to make her own points. “But they cannot compete with the viscount’s coffee brown ones–nor does his appearance–the way his sandy blonde hair falls over his forehead, teasingly blocking his vision, like he is looking at you through a screen.”

“I find his constant battle with his hair a bit distracting,” Cashé admitted.

“Really?” Satiné smiled privately. “I would think it quite endearing.”

Cashé relished that her assumptions had proved correct. Over the past week, she had noted her sister’s preference for the viscount over the earl. Had seen Satiné visibly come alive in Viscount Lexford’s presence. “May we speak honestly?”

“Absolutely.”

“Although we are sisters of the same blood, we have known each other not. Uncle Samuel has demanded a different type of obedience of me from what Uncle Charles did of you. We are the same, but we are different.” Satiné simply acknowledged what her twin said with a tilt of her head. “I have had a longer acquaintance with Viscount Lexford, and I find him quite agreeable company, but he does not stir my soul.”

“And the earl does?” Satiné finally recognized the point of this conversation.

“I often despise the man, and I am certain he cannot tolerate me, but I admit I cannot keep my eyes from him.” She turned to her sister. “I believe you feel the same about the viscount.”

Satiné bit back a laugh. “I might.”

“Then what shall we do about it? How do we convince Lexford and Yardley that they affect the wrong twin?” Cashé moved to sit beside Satiné on the settee.

“Can they tell us apart?” Satiné began, hatching a plan of her own. “Mama and Papa never could. I suppose I could become a bit more outspoken and you a bit more conservative.”

Cashé caught her sister’s hand. “We shall see neither man for some time once we return to Uncle Charles’s estate. We could assist each other–teach the other something of our most intimate thoughts. If Lord Yardley wants a woman like Satiné, then Cashé will become Satiné.”

“And if Viscount Lexford prefers Cashé’s obstinacy, I can learn to be more like Cashé,” Satiné insisted.

“Then we have arrangement.”

Satiné spontaneously hugged her sister. “We have more than an agreement: We have a compact for love.”

“With a touch of cashmere.”

“And a touch of satin.”

(The “Touch” series continues with the story of the Aldridge twins’ manipulations of Aidan Kimbolt and Marcus Wellston.)

About the Author

Regina Jeffers, a public classroom teacher for thirty-nine years, considers herself a Jane Austen enthusiast. She is the author of several Austen-inspired novels, including
Darcy’s Passions, Darcy’s Temptation, Vampire Darcy’s Desire, Captain Wentworth’s Persuasion, The Phantom of Pemberley
, and the upcoming
The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy
. She also is a Regency romance author:
The Scandal of Lady Eleanor, A Touch of Velvet, A Touch of Cashémere,
and
The First Wives’ Club
. A Time Warner Star Teacher and Martha Holden Jennings Scholar, Jeffers often serves as a consultant in language arts and media literacy. Currently living outside Charlotte, North Carolina, she spends her time with her writing, gardening, and her new grandson.