Desire Me Always (3 page)

Amelia took his hand on her descent. Her feet didn't have time to touch the ground before Nick swooped her up into his arms.

“Put me down.” She was laughing as she made her request. “I feel absolutely ridiculous.”

“I plan to carry you over every threshold in this house and do not plan on setting you down until you are in my bed.”

She grinned. “You mean
our
bed.”

“Yes,
our
bed. No walls will ever set us apart again.”

Nick practically ran into the inn, but just before they hit the stairs that led up to their room, Amelia placed one hand over the side of his face. She turned him enough that she could kiss him full on the mouth now that they were in the relative privacy. Though their kiss was chaste, it stirred desire deep in her belly.

When their lips parted, Nick took the stairs two at a time to their room, easily opening the door and then kicking it shut behind them. She was holding on for dear life by the time they entered their bedchambers. She was laughing so hard that her ribs ached in her tightly laced corset. But that laughter died in her lungs when he set her down on the bed.

Nerves assailed her every sense. Her reaction seemed ridiculous considering everything they'd already done. But
this
was their wedding night. She didn't need to be a virgin to be anxious about what the night would bring.

“Do you suppose they will know what we are doing?” she asked shyly.

“I should hope so.” Nick grinned wickedly as he leaned over her.

His lips were a warm, teasing breath away. Now she could do what she'd been dying to do since she'd seen him standing in the church this morning. She brushed her lace-covered lips over his and pulled away. It was a teasing touch.

“You shouldn't say such things.” Secretly, she hoped he'd say the wickedest of things for the rest of their days.

“It's our wedding night. It would be odd if we spent the rest of our afternoon in the company of our guests when I can think of many better ways to utilize our time.”

“But your friends are here to spend the evening in celebration with us. It makes me feel as if we are doing something wrong.”

Nick gathered up the delicate material of the veil, finally revealing her face; though he was well aware of the wounds she carried from
that
night.

His thumb traced the faint bruise near her lip and then the jagged half-healed cut along her hairline. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. The night is ours, and everyone knows that.”

“And neither do you.” They both knew she was referring to the abuse she had suffered. It was no more her fault than his and that he felt the slightest bit of guilt bothered her so viscerally it made her heart ache for him.

Amelia clasped her hands around his, bringing his knuckles to her mouth to press her lips against them tenderly. It was in moments like this when she could pretend there were no secrets between them.

Nick's hand slid over her face and held onto the back of her head as he angled her face enough that he could devour her mouth with his—though he was careful with her damaged lip. Curling his other arm around her waist, he pulled her along the length of his hard body, crushing them together. The air whooshed from her lungs, and she hadn't realized just how desperate she was to be so close to him until this moment.

Nick lifted the wreath of orange flowers holding the veil down while she used her free hand to pluck the pins from the edge of the delicate material. The little pieces of metal clinked against the hardwood floor one at a time.

When the band atop her head came loose, she tried to pull it away, but it got caught in the intricate weaves that curled her hair into place.

She laughed at the absurdity of the situation, and Nick's mouth was suddenly absent as he spun her around, placing her back against his chest so he could carefully work the veil free from her hair.

“Not one hair on this beautiful head will be hurt. I'm afraid this is no laughing matter,” he said, his fingers tugging the material loose and pulling the veil carefully from her crown.

Her head tilted back, resting against his shoulder. “I think I would have fainted away with embarrassment, had this been our first time together.”

“Thankfully”—he kissed her shoulder—“we'll have no such problem. The only revival we will require will be in the form of sustenance between orgasms.”

Her face flushed; she couldn't help that reaction. “Is that a promise?”

She stood with her shoulders pressed to his chest, her breath coming in pants, her body tingling with a sense of awareness that caused that familiar ache between her thighs.

“It is.” He whispered the words against her neck. His lips slid a teasing path against the delicate skin.

Nick slid his hands over her shoulders, his touch firm, warm, seductive. She melted against him, like liquid clinging to a dry surface, wanting to mingle and become one. Her eyes closed as his touch overwhelmed her every sense. It truly was as if nothing but the two of the existed in the world.

Her head fell back onto his shoulder, and her breasts jutted out, though still bound by the heavy corset under her dress. She wanted him to hold her, touch her in more intimate places. She wanted to be claimed as only a husband could claim his wife. Skin to skin as their bodies crushed together in the throes of ecstasy.

Nick's mouth landed on the small bit of skin exposed at her shoulders. His teeth possessively scraped along the sensitive skin as his hands moved lower, tracing a hot and heavy path down her arms and over her stomach, skipping all the places that ached most for his touch.

He nipped her ear. “Lean forward on the bed, on your hands and knees.”

She didn't argue or ask him to remove her clothes but complied eagerly. He liked this position most, and while she wanted to see him, she craved any touch he could offer her and willingly gave in to his command.

Skirts tossed up, the cool air in the room hit the back of her knees, making her shiver. Her breath stilled; her lungs froze in anticipation.

“I need your touch,” she moaned, unable to remain silent.

“Soon.” Nick grunted as he loosened the ties on her drawers and then yanked the material clear off her hips. Amelia bit her lip as Nick exposed her buttocks, his hand clasping each rounded globe with exploratory hands. He'd owned every part of her body, and she didn't deter him; she spread her knees wider, giving him free access to touch the places that she wanted to feel him most.

“I want you inside me, Nick.” Never had she been so bold with her words. But the culmination of the day's events had her burning for his touch.

“Patience is a virtue I will have to better teach you.”

His hand landed with a resounding smack on her rear.

“Unf”
was all she got out as he rubbed away the sting, massaging her until she was pushing suggestively back into his hand, indicating what her body needed if he wouldn't listen to the pleas that fell past her lips. Patience was not a value she wanted to learn at a time like this.

“Despite what you think, you are a dreadful tease,” she said.

“And you love how I make you feel.”

It was hard to disagree with that. She loved it too.

She turned around on the bed, exposing her mons to Nick's ravenous gaze. He fell to his knees in front of her, his head disappearing beneath the swaths and layers of her wedding dress. The first touch of his mouth against that private place had her legs spreading more, inviting him closer.

A moan fell from her lips the moment his tongue slicked through her folds, tasting the swollen, needy flesh between her thighs. Married or not, she bit her tongue to keep from screaming out his name. What they did was between only them, though she didn't think she would be preaching that sentiment for long, because Nick liked and encouraged her to make noise when they were intimate.

Nick sucked the folds of vagina into his mouth, as though he was desperate to taste every private place he could reach with his tongue. The juices dripped from her core; her entrance was completely slicked and ready for the part of him she craved most, but she did not want him to stop the sweet torture of his mouth just yet.

The flat of his tongue moved around her clitoris; every swirl heightened the sensations washing through her body as she surrendered to his ministrations. Hands reaching above her head, she curled her hands and nails into the mattress, anchoring her and giving her a way to catapult her body into his at all the right moments.

Heart in her throat, breath abated, she rode toward the precipice of release, her pelvis thrashing forward, wanting him to thrust deeper as she clasped the counterpane as though her life depended upon it. She was torn between wanting to find her release and needing him to come over her as her hips rolled.

“I
need
you inside me.” Her voice was husky, desperate. She didn't care how she sounded as long as the outcome was Nick claiming her as his wife.

Nick's fingers slammed deep inside her, eliciting another strangled whimper past her lips. His hand was relentless as he worked it in and out of her, his tongue lashing her swollen clitoris.

Amelia released her grip on the bed and grasped Nick's arms, trying to pull him onto her, to give herself a momentary break to at least catch her breath. To hold off.

It was all too much. Too fast. She wanted to draw this out. Make it last.

“Nick. Please . . . ”

He bit the side of her thigh. It was enough to throw her over the cliff of ecstasy the second he sucked the folds of her sex into his mouth and flicked his tongue against her clitoris again. And then all that mattered was that moment of perfect bliss.

“Oh God, oh God. Nick, please.” Her heart raced so hard and fast she could hear the thump, thump, thump of it in her ears. But Nick's mouth was unrelenting, and he ate at her until she thought she couldn't handle it a second longer. She twisted in his hold, needing to distance herself from the feel-good, too-good sensations washing through her but wanting more, all at the same time.

“I want you inside me.” Her voice was growing thicker with need, louder in demand. “Oh God. I can't. I can't. I need more. I can't.” She thrust toward his mouth, needing him harder and softer all at the same time.

When her voice was raw and hoarse from begging him to stop and continue, he released her. His body was suddenly absent, leaving her writhing on the bed, unable to do much more than attempt to catch her breath after the intensity of that orgasm. She felt cold without him and reached for him, wanting him back.

He only shook his head, though the set of his jaw and hooded gaze told her he was not unaffected by the image she made.

“Stand up, Amelia.” He held his hand out, but it was far enough that she would have to stand from the bed.

She studied him through half-lidded eyes. What was he about tonight? In what adventures would they indulge?

Eager to find out, she grasped Nick's hand, slid to the edge of the bed, and stood as fast as her languorous body allowed. If there was one thing she'd learned about Nick in the time they'd been lovers, it was that a certain intensity and command was present in everything he did and said. She wanted to comply . . . be rewarded for her obedience.

Her eyes dropped to the obvious bulge in his beige doeskin trousers. She swallowed; her appetite had but one need of fulfillment, and that was to lay claim to him the way he'd done with her.

Nick clucked his tongue, drawing her eyes back up to his. The gray irises were but an eclipse behind his enlarged pupils. He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and wiped the evidence of what he'd just done from his short-clipped black beard. She should be embarrassed by such a brazen display of her desire coating him; instead, she was intrigued and reached a hand toward him, touching the row of buttons on his waistcoat, pushing them through the moorings as quickly as her fingers could manage.

When she finished that, her fingers trailed lower. She needed to touch the steely rod she craved more than any decent woman should.

“I have plans for you before you suck me off,” he said, and that made her blush. He had such a dirty—albeit blunt—way with his words that she was always at a loss on how to respond.

“I don't think there's a better sight than my bride blushing when I've just attempted to suck you dry of the sweet honey you let down between your legs.”

“Nick.” When she said his name, it came out shaky and breathless. “I need you. I want to be together as man and wife.”

He removed his waistcoat, letting it fall to the floor. Pulling his shirt free of his trousers, he yanked the billowy material over his head and tossed that aside next. Almost naked. And what a glorious man he was to look upon when he shed his clothes. His chest and abdomen were sculpted like an Adonis statue, every line chiseled with precision on his strong form.

“I'm feeling overdressed,” she mused, her hands rubbing over her aching breasts that felt heavy and hot. She wanted to be touched by him with a desperation that had the power to steal her breath away.

“A problem easily fixed. Turn around.”

She obeyed his command, anxious to be free of her dress. His hands were on her, smoothing over her shoulders and down the slope of her arms before curling around her waist. He was still teasing her. Taking his time.

“I haven't told you yet how beautiful you look all dressed in white.”

“The dress is beautiful, the details exquisite. But I need you to take it off.”

“There are no lengths I won't go to for you, Amelia.”

She knew the truth of those words, she'd experienced just how far he would go to protect her, care for her . . . love her.

His hands dropped from her waist, only to start tugging at the strings that tied the outer layers of the dress together. As the cool air of the room caressed her bared shoulders, so too did Nick's lips in a tenderness that stole her breath all over again. It wasn't long before he had the majority of her clothes off. Though he had been careful with her dress, he did not remain so gentle with the underclothes. He tugged her chemise off her shoulders, where it remained, trapped by the corset yet to be removed.