Simply Sinful (10 page)

“Ah, God, yes…just like that.”

She looked up to see that his eyes were closed, his teeth biting into his lip as she pulled on his engorged flesh. She took a step back so that she could watch herself work him. Was there power for a woman in this after all? He looked as if she was giving him everything a man could want.

Her fingers were slippery with his pre-cum now and she tightened her grip. What she was doing wasn’t pretty, and his equipment hardly seemed like anything she had seen in the medical books she read. But it was far more real and exciting. She enjoyed the sight of the swollen purple crown of his cock emerging from the softer skin of his shaft, the wet, urgent sound of his flesh as it slipped through her pale fingers.

“If you keep this pace up, I’m going to come.”

“Come where?”

His words were terse, but she understood why now. Her own body was in the grip of an animal excitement she couldn’t deny.

“Into your hand.”

“And if I slow down?”

His smile held a hint of desperation. “Still into your hand but not quite so quickly. If you don’t want to get wet, I suggest you stop.”

“But you said it was up to me. You said I could do anything I wanted.”

“I’m not telling you to stop. I’m just telling you that actions have consequences.” His last word was a groan as she squeezed his shaft.

“I’ve never seen a man come.”

His gaze fixed on her busily working fingers. “You’ve seen James.”

“Not like this.”

His breathing shortened and his hips jerked forward. “Well I hope you enjoy the experience because I’m…”

Abby hastily covered the tip of his cock as a stream of seed spurted out. She held him until he’d finished, watching in fascination as the starchy liquid trickled down between her fingers. On impulse she brought her hand to her mouth and tasted him again.

He choked a laugh at her obviously unguarded response.

“Don’t worry, I believe it’s an acquired taste.” He continued to study her. “Are you done with me now? Shall I get dressed?”

Abby licked her lips. Did he know how she was feeling? Would he understand the way her body had responded to his arousal?

“I feel…strange.”

“In what way? Have I frightened you?” He reached forward to touch her cheek.

She shook her head; her loosened braid brushed his knuckles.

“No, not at all.” Despite her embarrassment she smoothed a hand over her breast, displaying her tight nipple through the fabric. “When James touched me I felt nothing, but now my breasts ache and between my legs…”

He smiled down at her as if she were a particularly bright student. “That’s desire, Abigail. That’s exactly how you should be feeling.”

She gathered her courage. “But what should I do about it?”

Peter studied her flushed face. His little pupil was learning more quickly than he had anticipated. He crossed his arms over his naked chest and leaned back against the bedpost.

“That’s entirely up to you. You can go back to bed and attend to your own needs or trust me to satisfy you instead.”

She frowned as if the choices he offered her were too difficult. God, he wanted to touch her. Fill his hands with her breasts and slide his fingers deep inside her sex until she screamed her release. He reminded himself to be patient. He was a grown man, he could wait for his reward. It was more important that Abigail learned not to fear a man’s lovemaking.

Absently, he smoothed a hand over his cock, which was already half-erect again. Her gaze fell below his waist, and his cock filled out even more.

“What would you do to me?” she whispered.

“Whatever you told me to.”

She took a step closer until her breasts brushed his chest. “What if I asked you to take away the ache in my breasts, could you do that?”

“Aye.” And increase the ache between her legs until she begged him to touch her there too. Before he could say another word she pulled her nightgown over her head, giving him his first view of her body. She was less well endowed than certain favored ladies of his acquaintance and thinner than was currently fashionable. Her skin fascinated him. It was a rich, creamy porcelain that he yearned to sink his teeth into. His gaze swept her long legs and narrow hips and came to rest on her small breasts, which were tipped with large, puckered red nipples. Why couldn’t James see how desirable she was?

“You are beautiful.”

She frowned, but to her credit, didn’t try and hide from him. “I’m not. But thank you for the compliment.”

He took her hand and guided her to sit on the end of the bed. “I don’t pay empty compliments. You are beautiful to me.”

She blushed, the color rising from her throat to her cheeks. The same deep scarlet as her nipples. He licked his lips as he studied the succulent tips.

“May I touch you?”

He sensed her uncertainty was temporarily cloaked by the incessant drug of desire. If she changed her mind he would gladly walk away from her if it ensured she was ready to play again another day.

“Yes.”

He bent to kiss the space between her breasts, gentle kisses moving closer toward her nipple with every touch of his mouth. The scent of her arousal floated up to him, making him instantly hard. His mouth settled over her nipple and she jumped.

He slid his hand between her shoulder blades and held her still as his mouth ravaged her flesh, slowly sucking her into his mouth until she moaned and moved with him. God, she tasted sweet, her nipple as large, succulent and sensitive as a fresh berry. He fingered her other nipple, rolling it into a hard peak between his finger and thumb.

As he sucked her, she wrapped her arms around him, keeping him close. He worked his body between her thighs until the hot, wet center of her sex rubbed against his belly. Was she even aware that she was working herself against him like a cat in heat?

When he switched breasts, she moaned and grabbed onto his hair as if she was afraid he meant to leave her. His swollen shaft pushed against the unforgiving oaken frame of the bed, the roughness a salacious addition to his already-overloaded senses. He tried to murmur something soothing, but his mouth was too full of breast and the taste of her silky skin. She rocked harder against him. He imagined he could feel the nub of her swollen clitoris as he gently bit down on her nipple.

She went rigid against his belly and he felt the faint clench of her climax ripple through her skin. He jammed his cock hard against the bed frame and came with her, careful not to bite at the breast that still filled his mouth.

After a few long moments he released her and looked at her face. To his amusement she wore an expression of intense chagrin.

“What did you do to me?”

He glanced down at her tight, red nipples. “I sucked your breasts.”

She waved a hand down farther. “Not there, here, between my legs.”

“I think you did that yourself.”

She frowned. “I don’t know exactly what happened. At one moment I felt like a parcel that has been tied up too tight, the next it was as if I’d exploded like a firework.”

Peter bit his lip. “That is certainly one way of describing it, and a very original one I might add. Most people simply say they have come, climaxed or had an orgasm.”

She frowned so hard that her eyebrows met in the middle. “But I didn’t think women were supposed to be able to do that. They don’t have to release any seed, do they?”

Peter kissed her knee. “Abigail, perhaps we could discuss this after we wash and put on our clothes?”

“But I want to know!”

“Abigail…” He pulled on his dressing gown and tossed her nightgown over her head. “Bear with me, please. I would hate for you to catch a chill.”

8

A
bby pushed her arms into the long sleeves of her nightgown and hurried back to her chair by the fire. It gave her time to watch Peter bend to pick up his breeches and shirt. His skin gleamed in the flickering firelight; muscles moved beneath his bronzed skin with effortless ease.

She squeezed her thighs together as another warm coil of lust unfurled low in her stomach. Peter didn’t seem appalled by her actions. In truth, he had seemed to enjoy her attentions and enjoyed pleasuring her back. She bit her lip as he joined her to sit by the fire, two glasses of brandy in his hand.

“How can you do this with me when you care for James?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Enjoy touching you, you mean?” He shrugged. “Because you are both so different.”

“Perhaps it is because you don’t really care for either of us and simply care about your own pleasure.”

He went still, his gaze fixed on her face. “I’m not a whore paid to perform. I find pleasure in it, yes, but I tried to make sure you enjoyed it too.”

Abby tore her gaze away from his and watched the brandy swirling in her glass. “So if we all enjoy ourselves that makes it right, then?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say. Why should we not enjoy ourselves? Is it a sin to be happy?”

“It is a sin for me to bed you and a worse sin for you to bed my husband. Do those two wrongs make a right?”

He put down his glass and got to his feet. “Abigail, if you are angry with me for making you come, please just tell me.”

A tightness crept up the back of her throat and tears filled her eyes. “I shouldn’t have enjoyed what you did to me.”

Peter discarded his robe and put on his breeches and shirt before he turned to her again. He sat down, one knee crossed over the other, his expression calm.

“I told James this might be too difficult for you. We are asking you to deny the social conventions by which most of us live.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“Abigail, there is no shame in realizing you do not wish to renounce these things.”

She shook her head, her mouth dry as he continued to stare at her. With a muttered oath he dropped to his knees in front of her and kissed her hand.

“I’m more than sorry I’ve upset you. Despite what you might think, I’ve come to admire and respect you over the last few days.”

She wrenched her hand out of his grasp. “You respect a woman who allows you to cuckold her husband?”

His head came up and he met her gaze, his eyes a harsh silver beneath the soft blue-gray. He got slowly to his feet and bowed.

“Lady Beecham, forgive me, but trying to make me angry will not help you feel better about what just happened. You, of all people, know how much James loves you, and insinuating otherwise is disrespectful not only to him but to yourself.”

“You are suggesting this is all my fault?”

He bowed again. “I have some correspondence to deal with. I will remove myself from your presence.” He picked up a pile of letters from his desk and strode toward the door. “If you wish me to leave in the morning, just tell Tom. He can help me pack.”

Abby watched dry eyed as he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. She struggled to her feet and threw her brandy glass at the door. The tinkling sound of the breaking glass roused her from her stupor. How dare he speak of such personal matters and how dare he presume to know her better than herself!

She stormed back into her own room and flung herself on the bed. Despite her anger, her body mocked her, still filled with desire for a man who…Abby sat up. A man who respected and desired her. A man she’d driven away because of her own uncertainty and guilt. A man who had defended his lover, her husband, with quiet dignity and without flinching from her anger. She covered her face with her hands, felt her tears finally flow. What had she done and how on earth was she going to put it right?

She wanted a child not just for her own sake but for James. Despite his claims that his family name meant nothing to him, she knew how deeply his land and his house were embedded in his sense of self. Peter presented them with a perfect opportunity to turn their uncertain future into a happy one, where even if they couldn’t love each other in the conventional sense, they could both love their child.

Abby scrubbed the tears from her face. If she wanted to achieve her desires, she would have to be bold for the first time in her life. She glanced at the clock and stripped off her nightgown.

Peter found his way down to the library and lit a few candles on the vast walnut desk. He threw his letters onto the leather surface, sat down and put his head in hands. How depressing that Abigail had suddenly rediscovered her social conscience. Her attempts to seduce him had stimulated and aroused him more than he could’ve imagined possible.

He stroked a hand down the front of his breeches. He was already half-erect again, his cock eager for her sex. He sighed. Damnation, how had he misjudged her so badly? She’d seemed willing, if not downright eager, during their lovemaking. Only afterward had she seemed to change her mind.

He sighed as he slid a paper knife beneath the seal on a letter from his bank and quickly scanned the contents. Over the years, he’d held enough weeping women in his arms to realize that most wives didn’t have the ability to get back at their cheating husbands without suffering some emotional guilt.

The candles guttered and smoked as he worked his way through the pile of business correspondence. He’d told Adams not to bother to send any social invitations along as he was unlikely to be able to attend. He didn’t even miss the endless round of parties and long evenings spent drinking and whoring. In truth, he had no close friends apart from the Sokorvskys and the Harcourt twins, and they were married now.

Walking and riding in the countryside around Beecham Hall with Abigail had been surprisingly restful, a balm to his troubled soul, in fact. He’d begun to crave the fresh air, clear skies and—her company. She didn’t know of his reputation in London and so expected nothing from him but those things he chose to share with her, those parts of himself he usually kept hidden.

He half smiled. Who else would have encouraged him to elaborate on his plans for the business and his interest in the new forms of steam locomotion? Certainly not the ladies of the
ton
, who were far more interested in discussing his stamina in bed.

Reluctantly, Peter set the last letter aside and reached for Valentin’s. If anything was guaranteed to make his erection disappear, it would be a diatribe from his business partner and former lover. He sighed as he read. Valentin was short and to the point. He wanted Peter to come back and explain himself. He was worried about Peter’s mental state. Enclosed was a sealed note from Sara, who according to Val still knew nothing of Valentin’s decision to keep them apart.