Fantasy 01 - Secret Fantasy (10 page)

'Touch me all over," he ordered. "Don't stop for a single second." "I won't."

At his command she realized that she'd been lying like a statue, and she leapt into the foray, stroking his shoulders, his back, even daring once to dip down and massage his buttocks.

Her caress was like lightening, electrifying him, and his passion grew more intense, his need more powerful. Her own body was in an awful state, her pulse pounding, her nipples throbbing.

He settled himself between her legs, his torso fitting there as if it had been specially created to welcome him. His privates were wedged to hers in a way that she recognized and craved, and as he clutched her to him and began to thrust, her hips met his with an equal vigor.

"What are you doing to me?" she managed on a gasp.

"I've explained this before: I'm making love to you. Pay attention."

"But you keep flexing into me. Why?"

"It's how a man makes love to a woman, how a husband makes love to his wife."

"I don't understand."

"Does it feel good?"

"Yes."

"Then you don't need to understand. Just do it for me."

"Beast!" she chided.

"Yes, I am. I'm a beast, and you're crazy to be with me like this."

"I'm not afraid of you." "You should be." "I'm not."

He was fumbling with her gown, struggling with the buttons, but in his frustrated condition, he couldn't free them.

"Bloody dress! Next time I come in here"—her heart soared at the prospect of there being a next time—"have your clothes off prior to my arrival. I want you naked and waiting for me. Save me all this trouble!"

He was jerking at the fabric and about to rip the garment in half. She had such limited apparel and couldn't have him destroying any of it.

"Stop!" she scolded. "If you need me to remove my dress, we can discuss it like civilized people. I won't permit you to tear it to shreds as if you were some sort of barbarian."

"I want it off now!"

He gave a ferocious tug as material split and buttons flew. With a smirk of satisfaction, he rolled them again so that he was on the bottom and she was draped across him, her breasts spilling into his hands. He squeezed the two mounds, pinching the nipples, and she hissed with pleasure.

"This is how I desire you," he said. "This is all I contemplate, all I ponder. My dreams of having you like this—they consume me!"

"That can't be true."

"Have you any idea how I've longed for you?"

"No."

"Can you imagine how difficult it's been to be right next door, to yearn for you so badly but not be able to have you?"

"I can imagine." She'd been dying to be with him, too, but she couldn't bear to suppose that he'd felt the same.

He rooted to her breast and took the tip into his mouth, nursing as a babe would its mother, though with none of the tenderness. He was rough and insistent, and he seemed to know what she needed when she wasn't aware herself. She didn't want gentle treatment or placid interaction. She wanted fire and heat, and he gave all she required and so much more.

He kept on and on, until she was writhing in misery, in ecstasy. He shifted from one nipple to the other, going back and forth, back and forth, and she worried that she might explode.

"Desist!" she eventually implored, and she tried to squirm away, but he wouldn't release her.

"You can't quit until I decide you're finished."

"But you're killing me! I can't stand much more."

He was inching her skirt up her leg, pulling it higher and higher, until he was at the juncture of her thighs. He pressed down with the heel of his hand, providing a modicum of relief, but it wasn't nearly enough.

"Jordan, please ..."

She didn't know for what she was beseeching. She wanted the agony to cease, but she wanted it to go on forever.

"Yes, say my name," he murmured. "Say my name as you beg me."

"Jordan! Oh!"

He slithered into her drawers and through her womanly hair, when suddenly, he slid a finger inside her. A second joined the first, and he stroked them in a rhythm that made her body tense and ripple.

"Has any man ever touched you like this before?"

"Are you mad? Who would have?"

"So I'm the only one?"

"Of course, you are! Do you think me a trollop?" He grinned. "Let me show you something." "What?" "You'll see."

He sucked on her nipple as his thumb flicked at a spot she'd never noted prior. He jabbed once, again, again, and she shattered into a thousand pieces. She was blinded by rapture and careening across the universe. A harsh noise rang out, and she thought it might be herself, wailing with bliss, which couldn't be possible. She was much too restrained for such a shocking exhibition.

Finally, she reached a peak and floated down, landing safely in his arms, and he looked very smug. "My goodness," she breathed. He chuckled. "You are so easy." "What was that?"

"It was a very stunning example of sexual pleasure. It's called an orgasm or a climax."

"Can it occur more than once?"

"Yes, it can occur over and over."

She gazed at the ceiling, disconcerted and wondering if a person could become addicted. Was it like a dangerous drug? Would she be chasing after him, cornering him in dark alcoves and demanding he do it again?

"Did I... did I... cry out?" "Very loudly."

"Aah! Do you suppose anyone heard me?" "Let's hope not."

He adjusted her dress, covering her; then he snuggled her onto her side and spooned himself to her. They cuddled in the quiet, and it was the most precious, most splendid moment of her life. She shut her eyes, absorbing every smell, every sound when, in a slow, deliberate motion, he flexed against her bottom.

"I'm so hard for you," he muttered, and he quivered, seeming distraught.

The comment puzzled her, and she tried to rise up and turn around, but he wouldn't let her.

"What do you mean—you're hard?'

"Lie still." He pushed her down.

"Jordan!"

"I told you to lie still!" "Why should I?"

"Because I want you—in such a thoroughly masculine fashion—that if you wiggle your ass at me one more time, I can't say what I might do."

"I don't understand you, at all."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"Quit talking in riddles. I detest it."

He took another leisurely flex, and he moaned.

"Are you in pain?"

"Yes."

"Can I help you?" "No."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't be such a grump." "When I'm this miserable, I can't act any other way." She froze. Was he claiming he hadn't enjoyed what they'd done? Was he hinting that he'd found her lacking in her amorous abilities? For pity's sake, she was a spinster! How could she know any different?

She struggled around enough so that she could frown at him.

"Why would you be miserable? As I am the one who's been ravaged, you'd better say something nice. And be quick about it!"

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"You have the most seductive eyes." "I do?"

"You make me want to take you and damn the consequences."

"Take me how?"

He sighed with exasperation. "I've never been in bed with a virgin before, so I didn't realize it could be so tedious."

"What a horrid thing to tell me." She scrambled away to storm out in a huff, but he clutched her even tighter and nestled her down again. 'There's more to it," he whispered. 'Then explain it to me." "I can experience the same ecstasy as you." "But you didn't?"

"No, and it makes me grouchy. I'm so aroused that even my teeth are aching. I can barely keep from proceeding."

"So go ahead. What's preventing you?" "There are other ... uh ... aspects to it." "And I want to do them!" "You just think you do," he declared. "No, I'm pretty sure I mean it."

"It involves my ruining you, my taking your virginity."

"How does that transpire? I've always wondered."

"It's for your husband to demonstrate."

She scoffed. "As if some man would marry me. Especially after this!"

"It requires something totally magnificent, but totally reckless, and if we carried on and you later wished you hadn't, you couldn't ever fix what we'd done."

"You're speaking in riddles again."

"Just believe that I like you too much to hurt you that way."

At his admission, she smiled. "You do?"

"Yes. You provoke me beyond my limits. I don't know what to do with you."

She gazed at the far wall, the marvelous words sinking in. In the past, she'd never thought much about marriage, but now that she'd met him, it dawned on her that there was an entire side to it that she'd never considered. What would it be like to have a man like Jordan for her own? The prospect had her seriously reflecting on what she'd missed by remaining a spinster, and suddenly, it seemed like so very much.

She yawned, and he laughed.

"I'm tired."

"I bet you are. Sex can be rather draining."

"Will you show me what to do someday? Will you teach me how to please you?"

After a lengthy hesitation, he murmured, "I will."

He grabbed for a blanket and covered them with it, sealing them in a snug cocoon. She reached over her shoulder to caress his cheek, and he kissed her hand.

"Why were you angry?" she inquired.

"When?"

"When I first heard you in the dressing room, you were very upset." "My father is here." "I know. I was introduced to him." "He can be difficult."

"Really? He seemed very charming to me."

He snorted. "Charming, yes. He's definitely charming, but you should be wary of him."

"Wary? Of your father? Would he harm me?"

"Well, you don't have any money, so he probably won't notice you, but he's capable of any treachery."

"Your father?" she queried again, not quite able to accept it.

"Yes. Hush now. Rest for a bit."

He pulled her closer, and shortly, her eyelids drifted shut. She dozed, content in the circle of his arms, but when she awoke, he was gone, the bedchamber next door eerily silent, and there was no sign that he'd ever been there with her, at all.

Chapter Eight

It's not fair that such a horrid child should have so much money." "No, it's not." Anne toasted Charles with her glass of brandy.

"Why would Fate waste a bloody fortune on someone so unworthy?"

"I believe that's why it's called Fate" Anne said. "There's no rational explanation."

She'd had too much to drink, which was dangerous. In light of her ill humor, she might say anything, even things she didn't mean, even things she couldn't retract later on.

She didn't usually overindulge, but her reckless mood was growing stronger by the second, and she was desperate to tamp it down.

Would Charles steal Jordan's fiancée? Would he marry again after swearing to Anne that he wouldn't? Could he really behave that badly to the last two people on earth who still tolerated him?

If he made a play for Penelope Gray, then Anne would have to make a play of her own. She couldn't stay with him, and she yearned to ask him outright, to demand a straight answer, but she was too much of a coward.

If he admitted that he was about to seduce Miss Gray, Anne would finally be pushed into a decision. But where would she go? What would she do?

By hooking up with Charles as she had, she'd lost contact with friends or relatives who might have assisted her in a crisis. She was on her own, with Jordan as her sole ally, but his financial situation was even more precarious than hers, and she wouldn't add herself to his burden of responsibilities.

She'd have to depart with only a satchel of clothes and not a penny in her pocket. The notion was terrifying and had kindled the strange temper that she couldn't shake.

Charles was preening in the mirror, dressed for bed, and planning that she join him for their regular nocturnal romp.

"What do you think?" He glanced over at her. "Am I a handsome dog or what?" "Very handsome, Charles." "The ladies still titter over me." "Yes, they do."

"I'd love to have all Miss Gray's money in my bank account. It would certainly solve many of our troubles." "It certainly would."

At a prior period in her life, when she'd been younger and more naive, she might not have grasped the subtle message he was sending, might not have guessed how his mind was leaping forward to justify the conduct that he would perpetrate shortly. But she was no longer a girl, and he was no longer a mystery.

She stared him down, refusing—for once—to pretend she didn't understand the ramifications of his scheme.

"You're old enough to be her grandfather," she said very quietly.