The St Nicholas' Day Wager (10 page)

He had never undressed so quickly in his life. In seconds he had shed every item of clothing and was crossing to stand behind her.

She was dragging a brush through her hair as if she was a mangy horse. He caught her hand and stopped her, uncurling her fingers and taking over the task.

“Nick, it’s dreadfully knotted. It needs more vigour than that.”

The moment she looked properly in the mirror and saw his naked form in it, he knew. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped, and he could not help but preen.

****

Gabriella’s gaze took in the taut stomach muscles, the indented line of his hip, the nest of dark curls and his rod—as the countess had described it. There was no way that would fit inside her body, no matter how much the countess had said her muscles would stretch to accommodate him.

That said, the countess had also said babies came out that way and with the best will in the world, the rod was not bigger than a baby. So maybe she was right.

“What happened to trusting me?” Nick said, his voice low and encouraging. She swallowed.

“I do. I just didn’t expect it to be so big.”

“Gabby, would you leave your hair loose for me?” It was his first request of the evening. She nodded and stood, her gaze settling on his face as his settled on the tie of her chemise. She placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling the indentation of his collarbone. He raised his gaze to her face and curled his fingers into her waist-length hair. There were mere inches between them and one thin layer of cotton. She skimmed her fingers over the muscles of his chest, relishing the tightening of each muscle group as she reached it.

She smoothed the smattering of hair on his chest and around his small brown nipples. When her thumb brushed one, he sucked in a breath. She tried it again and although not close enough to feel the jerk of his manhood, she was aware it had happened.

“Nick?”

“Yes.”

“Is it strange that I want to kiss it?”

He made a kind of strangled noise as his grip in her hair tightened.

“Not at all. Feel free,” he ground out.

And so she did. She caught the tiny nubbin between her lips but it was too small so she stuck out her tongue and swirled round the raised peak. He dropped his head back and groaned. But it sounded like a good groan. She tried the other nipple, this time being a little more daring, catching it between her teeth before rubbing her tongue over the distended tip.

“Oh God, this is torture,” he whispered.

She straightened and pressed a kiss to his throat. She had enjoyed it when he had done that to her. And her hands continued to move over his hard stomach.

He brought his head forward and his hands to her face.

“It’s my turn now,” he rasped.

“But I…” She had not touched or learned anything about his stomach, or his backside, or the rod, or the balls or his strong thighs.

“You can finish your inspection later. Remember in the woods when you found the peak of pleasure?” She nodded. She had been barely able to think of much else whenever she had been alone in the past few days. “It’s time to take you there again.”

“All right.” She lifted her chemise slightly and moved closer, wrapping her arms around the neck and opening her legs, waiting for him to place his thigh between, but he shook his head.

“There is more than one route to that peak, my love.” He tugged the chemise out of her grasp and over her head. She was naked, in front of a man. He may be her husband but this was deuced uncomfortable. But when she met his gaze and the burning passion in them, the hand that wanted to cover her cheek flexed and fell back to her side.

He found her beautiful. He had said as much, though until she had seen that look in his eyes, she had not fully believed it. He marched to the bed, grabbed the covers and flung them to the bottom of the bed. He stalked back to her, lifted her in his arms, kissed her then took her over to the bed and laid her on it, her head on the soft feather pillows, her body stretched before him like a sacrifice.

His lips met hers as he climbed onto the bed, dropping half to the side of her, half atop her so as not to crush her with his weight. She curled her fingers into his hair while his tongue swept around her mouth and stroked her own tongue. She could drown in his passionate kisses if she was not careful. His hand moved onto her hip, rubbing up and down, clasping at her thigh then letting go. She wanted to wrap that thigh over his hip but she was afraid of looking wanton.

“Gabby, in this bed, you can touch whatever you want to touch, do whatever you want to do. If it feels right, then do it. It is the only rule to lovemaking. If you don’t like something, say so and I shall stop. But allow your body the chance to accept the new sensation first before you call a halt. Then if you still don’t like it, I shall stop. Do you understand?”

She nodded. He meant like when they were in the woods. Part of her wanted to stop because the sensations were frightening. But she had trusted him and it had been worth it.

“Nick, I trust you. I know it will hurt this first time but I am not afraid to become your wife.” He nodded and placed a kiss on her cheek, then on her nose, then on her other cheek.

Before long he had kissed all over her face and was peppering kisses along her jaw and down her neck. The feeling in her core was increasing again and she desperately needed something to rock against. And then his fingers were there, exploring her folds, making her groan in pleasure as his mouth descended on her erect nipple.

She grabbed hold of the pillow and arched her back, offering her breast to him, unsure what to do about the storm brewing within. He moved to the other breast as he pressed the heel of his hand to the front of her intimate place. It was as if he had found the one part of her that could give her ultimate pleasure. She writhed and he grunted in satisfaction.

She grappled at the pillow, fearful that if she touched him her nails would score his skin or that she would pull his hair out by the roots—such was the pleasure he was giving her.

“Oh Nick,” she managed—not quite sure what she was asking for. He bit her nipple then soothed it with his tongue. Round and round the little nubbin, he teased and tickled as she mewled out her pleasure like a cat.

Then he lifted his head. She opened her eyes and caught his gaze as he slowly but surely pushed one finger into her opening. She tried to relax just as his lips broke into a reassuring smile. She tried to smile back. It was a strange intrusion, but she could not help clench her muscles around his digit.

“You’re so tight and wet,” he growled, easing the finger almost fully out before pushing it back in as far as he could reach.

“Is that… is that a good thing?” she asked in a whisper. Surely wet was never a good thing down in that part of the anatomy. His smile widened.

“Yes, my inquisitive darling. It’s a very good thing.”

She relaxed slightly as he used the thumb of his free hand to rub that pleasure point. He was kneeling beside her now, his rod sitting upright against his belly, fluid glistening at the tip, catching the glow from the candles and giving Gabriella the sudden urge to press her lips to it.

But his ministrations stole her thoughts. She moved her attention back to his face and his dark gaze and the need he was drilling into her with his hands. He had been slowly working that finger and now he added a second, then he stretched out alongside her, the heel of his hand pressing against her pleasure point as he wrapped his free hand around her shoulders.

“Move if you want to, my love,” he said quietly. And she did. Rocking initially, building the need up as he had done. He pressed kisses to her forehead as he continued to stoke the fire, murmuring words of encouragement. Her movement had become frantic and she knew she was close to that peak where he had taken her out in the woods.

He worked his fingers faster and pressed his hand harder against her desperate flesh. She buried her face in his neck and her fingernails into his back as the explosion erupted within her. She cried out his name while surges of pleasure seared through her very being and the world fell away leaving just Nick and her, husband and wife, lovers.

As the flames died down, she felt the slow circles his fingers were tracing on her back. He had pulled his fingers from her heat and was soothing her. She felt boneless and satisfied but there was more. She knew that and part of her feared the satisfaction would be fleeting.

****

At last the time had come.

Nick rolled Gabby onto her back, his manhood jerking at the sight of her kiss-swollen lips, mussed hair and passion-flushed skin. His cousin Harold had told him just to do the deed. The older man’s advice had been that it would be easier for her if he was quick about it the first time. He hated to think what Harold knew about bedding virgins given that he was a confirmed bachelor.

Nick was still holding most of his weight to the side of her. He followed her fingers with his gaze as they stroked down his chest, over his stomach to rest just above the tip of his erection. She glanced up into his face and he lifted his gaze, nodding.

She ran the tip of her thumb over the slit, smearing moisture over the head and causing him to bite back a moan. In response her reached for her nipple and rubbed his thumb around the distended tip.

When Gabriella moved her hand down and circled her fingers around his rigid length, he did groan. He was going to sink into her very soon but she would be heading for the precipice again when he did.

He kissed up to her neck to the back of her ear, then down her jaw until he captured her mouth, all the time she lightly stroked him, sending him near to insanity. He needed to be inside her. He had needed this since their first kiss outside her bedchamber.

He moved atop her, never breaking the kiss, wresting his manhood from her grip. She moved her hand onto his buttock, urging him. He kissed her deeper, pressing the tip of his erection through her folds, stopping to allow it to press against the spot that made her moan and buck her hips.

She truly was the most sensual creature he had ever had the good fortune to meet. He moved his erection again and found her opening, pressing in before he had the chance to think about it.

She squeaked and tightened her grip on him. He pushed further.
Just do the deed.
When he was buried to the hilt, he pulled her closer, kissed her more intently before withdrawing. He was sure she had not breathed since his initial intrusion.

“Breathe, my love.” He pulled back his head as he pushed into her again and her wrinkled brow began to relax. A few more strokes and her eyes had darkened again. He could enjoy the feel of his wife’s hot, tight body encasing his hard length. He had surely found heaven.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his shoulders, moving in counterpoint to him, an equal in this quest in every sense. He lowered his head into the crook of her neck and succumbed to his need. He felt her body pulse around his. Good god, she had climaxed again. The thought drove him on. Harder and deeper. She matched him thrust for thrust, whispering something in his ear, something about love and trust.

He had reached his limit. His self-control shattered into a million pieces as his body stiffened and expelled his seed into her warm, wet, welcoming body. His mind was incapable of thought as he mindlessly rocked, emptying himself into her…not just his seed but his heart and his soul. He’d known he was falling in love with Gabby but he had not quite realised that the task was already complete.

“Merry Christmas,” he heard her whisper as he rolled them both onto their sides and gave in to the sleep of a well-satiated bridegroom.

Chapter Twelve

Nick rolled over in bed and reached for his bride. His eyes popped awake when all he felt were cold flat sheets. He lifted his head and looked around. He was aware of the warmth of the fire despite his bare shoulders.

It was still dark but the orange glow allowed him to look around the bedchamber to see if Gabriella was anywhere in the room. Perhaps she had gone to visit the necessary. He groaned and placed his head back on the pillow. What a cad. He should have offered to fetch a cloth and water for her. She would have bled and there would have been the mess of his seed for her to clean up.

He moved to sit up, swinging his legs over the bed. He stopped when he saw her sitting on the large soft window seat, a warm, woollen dressing robe wrapped around her as she gazed outside.

“Gabby?”

She turned her head, a smile lighting her face. “You’re awake.”

“What time is it?”

“About six.”

He got to his feet and enjoyed the appreciative sweep of her gaze over his naked form. Need pierced through him. He grabbed a blanket from the bed and draped it over his shoulders.

“Did you call a servant to light the fire?”

“No, I lit it myself?”

“Yourself?”

She chuckled. “Thornwich has not had many servants for some time. We managed to hide the fact from you while you were there but I am used to having to set the fire in my room.”

“I see.” He turned his attention to the window. “Is it snowing?”

“Yes, it’s rather heavy again.”

“We shall not make it to the Christmas morning service in the village.”

She chuckled. “Oh my love, the vicar was well into his cups last night when we left your parents’ house. And the roads will be impassable now. If he is well enough to hold a service this morning, at best it will be held in the chapel here and at worst in your parents’ drawing room.”

“I suppose it will.” He sat opposite her and pulled his feet up onto the seat, urging her legs apart so he could wriggle his feet between them, under her knees to rest on either side of her naked hips. She did not seem to mind his familiarity and the warmth of her body heated his cooling extremities.

“Would you like to go to the breakfast at the main house? I am sure there will be a number of festivities going on all day given that none of our guests will have had the opportunity to leave due to the inclement weather.”

“Oh!” Her face lit up for a moment before she frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought if I wore this you would want to couple until I was unable to walk.” She opened her dressing gown to reveal a sheer red nightrail, cut so deeply and so revealing that she may as well have been wearing nothing. He whistled low as his body reacted promptly to the sight of her tightening nipples.

“Where the hell did you learn a phrase like that?” he asked, holding out his hand to her. Once she took it he urged her forward until she was kneeling across him, her thighs straddling his, her nipples at the perfect height for him to catch them in his mouth.

“Your mother said that if I wore this you would want to couple with me until I could no longer walk and if not you needed to go and see about getting eyeglasses.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Who knew his mother had such a wicked sense of humour. No wonder his father had remained completely faithful to her.

“While I applaud my mother’s sentiments, I would prefer not to cause you more pain than I already have. And much though I would like to couple with you until you cannot walk, I would prefer to ensure that you have a fun and happy Christmas. We shall have breakfast here then we shall go down to the manor for the service. That gives us about three hours. I do believe it would be a shame to allow this beautiful nightrail to go to waste.”

Through the sheer satin material, he licked and suckled at her nipple, guided by her gasps and moans and the way she grabbed his hair and rocked against his aching erection. His hands roamed over the nightrail, then under it as he continued to lave at her fabric-covered peaks. He could never tire of her. She was like clay in his hands, being moulded and turning into something even more beautiful with every movement of his flesh against hers. And he loved how she responded to him—that she had no modesty when it came to finding her own pleasure.

When he could stand her rubbing her sex against his hardened flesh no longer, he grasped her around the hips and lifted her. Moving one hand to her arse to keep her in position, he slid his fingers through her folds to find them slick and ready for him.

“Let me find you a more comfortable seat, my love.” He grinned, positioning himself at her opening. She raised an eyebrow but she was not an idiot. She knew what he was doing and what he wanted. “Go down slowly so you don’t hurt either of us,” he encouraged in a low, soft tone. As she sank onto his shaft he watched the myriad of expressions cross her face—concern, need, worry, enjoyment, interest, lust. He moved his hand away as she continued to sheath him. He bit back a moan, intent on watching her face.

“Oh Nick,” she whispered.

Surprise lit her features when at last he felt her fully seat herself atop him.

He chuckled, making her clench her muscles around him, turning his laugh into a groan.

“You didn’t think you could take all of me, did you?”

She shook her head, her recently braided hair moving slightly. He pushed an escaping curl behind her ear.

“Kiss me and then I shall relinquish all control to you. Go as fast or as slow as you like.”

And she did. After a long, slow, toe-curling kiss which had Nick reaching to the depth of his soul for self-control to stop him gathering her in his arms, stalking to the bed and rutting into her until he was sated, she started to move, angling herself, twisting and rubbing until she found just the right stroke to give her the ultimate pleasure. He watched in wonder, toying with her nipples, kneading her breasts and arse and occasionally skimming his thumb between them to press on that part of her that made her suck in a breath and give a little shudder of pleasure.

She rode him expertly, and though she was finding her own pleasure, she was ramping up his in small increments. As someone who had been single for a long time and had no great fondness for bawdy houses, he’d spend many nights slaking his lust into his own hand or tamping it down entirely.

At last she threw her arms around his neck, riding him slowly and intently. She was close, he could feel it in the tension in her muscles. She whimpered and he began to slowly match her movements, his own need beginning to take on a life of its own.

“Oh Nick, I can’t…” She wailed quietly. He caught hold of her hips and pumped hard upwards into her. His body took over, the uncomfortable position be damned. His renewed participation seemed to spur her back to life and she rocked against him. He couldn’t wait for her. He could see to her pleasure afterwards if necessary. He pressed his fingers between them, hard, drawing a howl of need from her. His balls tightened one more time, his muscles became like steel and he shot his seed deep inside her in one final upward thrust.

He was rigid. Perched between the window seat and the wall, his fingers digging into his wife’s hips, just as Gabriella’s fingers dug into his. As his body relaxed he was aware of her internal walls throbbing around his erection.

He huffed out his breath and sank back onto the cushion, gathering her into his arms, appreciating the soft fluttering of her internal muscles around his slowly deflating member.

He wondered if it was he who would be unable to walk by the time they made it to the manor house.

“Nick?”

“Yes.”

“I know it is not very fashionable, especially when one’s husband only married one as a result of a wager—“ he stilled, dread filling his heart “—but I think I may have fallen in love with you. Is that terribly silly?”

He relaxed, running his hand over her soft bare arse which was sticking up at a very cute angle since her knees were still tucked under her.

“No, my love. That’s not silly at all. Despite the fact I only married you to win a wager and because your brother can be a complete idiot, I do believe I have fallen in love with you.”

“Nick?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Gabby.