His Favorite Mistress (27 page)

His mouth captured her breast, scattering her thoughts as he drew the tip inside to suckle against his tongue and teeth. Moaning, she shifted, the ache within her growing sharper, keener. His hand covered her other breast to rub and caress. Her sensitive nipples tightened to hard points, a throaty groan rolling from her throat when he gently bit one delicate tip and pinched the other, moving quickly to soothe each with warm, wet swipes of his tongue.

Her hips bucked, moisture gathering low. His hand found her there, a finger sliding inside. Her hips rose again as he stroked her, her thighs parting in readiness for more.

“That’s right,” he murmured, kissing her ear and throat. “Let me in. Let me help you find your pleasure.” And he did, working within her until she thought she might shatter, until all she knew was craving and hunger and need.

Just when she thought she couldn’t stand any more, he pushed her onward, his mouth closing over one nipple again to draw hard, then harder still. The edge of his teeth raked her flesh as he eased a second finger inside her, stretching her full. Seconds later, he finessed her with his thumb, and she was lost.

She shook as an unstoppable tide of pleasure surged through her, her spine arching as rivers of delight pooled and eddied, her mind dulled to everything but Tony and the mesmerizing power of his touch.

He scattered kisses over her breasts and in between before trailing lower. Over the flat plain of her stomach he roamed, astonishing her when he paused to dip his tongue into the indentation of her belly button, swirling around the edge in a way that made her quake. With his fingers still lodged inside her, he continued to stroke, in and out in a compelling rhythm, as he leaned downward and used his free hand to caress the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Tenderly, he eased her legs even farther apart, then settled his large frame between, resting on his knees.

Peering upward across the length of her prone body, he met her gaze, his eyes glittering sharply with desire. “You’re still not as ready as I’d like.”

I’m not?
she wondered in confusion. Though far from experienced, she didn’t know how she could possibly get any
more
ready, not with need sizzling through her bloodstream, her heart pumping as if consumed by fire. He’d brought her to a peak, but had never let her desire cool, reviving it instantly with his continued kisses and caresses. For a moment she thought to question him, but then he leaned down and sent her senses whirling skyward.

Her eyes flew wide at his first touch, his lips burying themselves in a place she had never imagined he might kiss. Or suckle, she marveled, his mouth and tongue drawing upon her with a suction that made her shift and whimper. A protest rose in her throat that died almost as quickly, his hand going to her hip to hold her steady for his delectation.

And he did seem to be enjoying himself, guttural masculine noises of satisfaction drifting to her ears as he feasted on her moist flesh. His tongue swirled and dipped and lapped, driving her instantly mad. Flames engulfed her body as the delicious torture continued, every pore growing damp with perspiration. No longer in control, she writhed in his embrace, a flood of wetness pouring from between her legs that might have embarrassed her were it not for the desperate state of her need.

As for Tony, he seemed to approve of her reaction, driving her ever upward with the relentless caress of his mouth and hands, his fingers continuing their sleek, internal massage in a way that left her helpless and panting for completion. Then, just when she thought she was on the brink, needing no more than a tiny push that would topple her over to the other side, he stopped.

She cried out a protest and reached down to his head in hopes of making him continue. Instead he eluded her, rising upward, his frame large and powerfully male as he leaned back on his haunches. Sliding her forward, he draped her spread legs over the hard musculature of his thighs, then with a careful, final positioning, clasped her hips between his hands and thrust inside.

She felt his entrance all the way to her toes and yet there was no discomfort, only a unique feeling of fullness and warmth. With a little smile, she relaxed, comforted by the fact that she had indeed been wrong about their ability to fit together. Her gaze went to his, surprised by the tension she saw in his jaw line, a faint tremor riding just beneath his skin as if he were holding himself under a very tight leash.

Then he moved again, pressing forward to gain more purchase. A glimmer of pain twinged within her inner muscles, her gaze flying to where he was joined with her. Only he wasn’t joined, she saw with a gulp, realizing that no more than the very tip of him was lodged inside her. Staring, she studied his length and felt her pulse trip with sudden fear.

“Tony, I—”

“Shh,”
he hushed in a soothing tone. “You’ll be fine. Relax and trust me.”

Trust him?
How could she, when the pain was increasing with every move he now made? Thrusting again, he gained what felt like yards but was probably only an inch or two. She bit the edge of her lip and closed her eyes, forcing herself to endure when all she wanted was for him to stop. Twice more he thrust, rocking against her in increments that seemed almost cruel. And yet the rational part of her knew he was trying to be gentle, to allow time for her body to adjust. Only she couldn’t adjust, his penetration stretching her so much she feared he might rend her before this was over.

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

With a whispered apology, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her temple, kissing the drop away. As he did, his new position pushed him deeper, lodging him far more fully than before.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Here, wrap your legs around my back, high as they’ll go.” Reaching down a hand, he helped her reposition her hips. “There, you’ve got it.” And then, with one last push, he slid the rest of the way in, his possession complete.

Is that it?
she wondered.
Is that all?

He kissed her, taking her lips in a slow, tender mating that made her love him in spite of the pain.
If this gives him pleasure,
she thought,
then I will bear it. Somehow, I will find the strength—for his sake.
But as he continued to kiss her, as his wonderful hands glided again over her body, something changed, the pain fading away beneath a rising surge of desire.

Moments later, he began to move, drawing nearly out, only to plunge back in again. His tongue met hers, tangling in a glorious slide as their bodies did the same. She arched, wrapping her arms over his shoulders to hold on tight as he increased his relentless pace.

Her breathing grew ragged, each stroke better than the last, deep then deeper still, as he buried himself in her time and time again. As if attuned to her very thoughts and wishes, he leaned up to palm one of her breasts, rolling her aching nipple between his fingers before taking it into his mouth. He drew upon her with a sweet, wet suction that left her completely enthralled—literally his to command.

And command her he did, encouraging her to meet his thrusts with tentative ones of her own, her enjoyment growing as a delight she’d never known ripened in her core. That’s when she felt it, an impossible rapture held just out of reach, driving her ever onward toward completion. He must have felt it too, plunging faster as their ardor increased to an almost frenzied pace.

And suddenly her world flew apart, a keening cry of ecstasy ripping from her throat as draught after draught of stunning pleasure shook her in its grip. She quaked, helpless beneath the onslaught, her mind going temporarily dark and blank.

As sense trickled back, she became aware of Tony moving within her still, his large hands clasped on her hips as he drove himself fast and deep. Perspiration dotted his skin, an expression of naked arousal on his face as he fought to claim his own satisfaction.

Abruptly he stiffened, a harsh shout leaving his lips as he took his release, one that shook him, long and fierce. When it was done, he sank downward and buried his face against hers.

On a groan, he gradually levered himself away. “I’m too heavy.”

“No,” she denied, loath to let him go.

But she need not have worried, as he rolled her with him to tuck her snuggly against his side. Brushing back her hair, he kissed her temple. “Sleep,” he urged.

Moments later, she did.

Chapter Fifteen

B
RIGHT SUNSHINE FLOODED
into the bedchamber the next morning, rousing Gabriella from a weary slumber. “Tony?” she mumbled, sliding her hand across the feather mattress in search of him. But instead she found only a cool expanse of empty sheet.

Opening her eyes, she surveyed the room and realized she was alone. With a sigh, she tugged his pillow into her arms and buried her face against its softness, letting her eyelids slide closed again as she breathed in the comforting masculine scent of him that lingered on the cloth.

Despite Tony’s admonition for her to sleep, he’d given her scant opportunity to indulge in such an activity, awakening her twice more during the night and once this morning to make love. That last time he’d taken her from behind, her drowsiness falling away as he’d palmed her breasts in his wide hands and inserted a thigh between her legs. Parting her woman’s flesh, he’d rocked them together, bringing her to a long, slow, shattering release. Yet sleep had claimed her quickly afterward, his still partially aroused flesh linked with hers.

She shifted now, her body protesting the energetic use her muscles had received in the past several hours, an unmistakable soreness lodged between her legs. With another sigh, she burrowed deeper against his pillow and let sleep claim her again.

Her nose twitched when she next awakened, stirring to the aromas of hot tea, yeasty bread, and fresh, sweet peaches. When she opened her eyes this time, she found Tony seated next to her on the bed, a laden tray of foodstuffs positioned on a small table across the room.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said with an indulgent smile. “Or I suppose I should say
good afternoon,
since morning expired some time ago.”

She pushed a strand of hair off her cheek and gazed up at him.
Mercy, he is so handsome!
she thought, even with his hair mussed from sleep and his cheeks dark and rough with unshaven whiskers. She gave him a lazy smile, the full import of his words only then sinking in. “Afternoon?” she exclaimed. “Good lord! What time is it?”

A chuckle rolled from his chest. “About one-thirty or so, I believe.”

“Gracious, I never sleep this late.”

“No, I don’t imagine you do,” he drawled. “I do not generally make a habit of it myself, but one can surely be permitted to make allowances for special occasions. We are on our honeymoon, after all.” Leaning forward, he pressed a warm, openmouthed kiss on her lips, one that made the blood thrum faster in her veins. With lingering slowness, he drew back. “Are you hungry?”

For a moment she thought he meant for him, aware of her desire but unsure if her body would be capable of accommodating him again so soon. Then she realized he was talking about food, and felt a faint flush stain her skin.

“Now, don’t I wish I was a mind reader,” he teased, trailing the side of one finger over her cheek. “Whatever is it you are thinking, Your Grace?”

“I am wondering if that is a pot of tea over there,” she retorted, wishing suddenly to change the subject.

He laughed again and climbed to his feet. “Here, let me pour you a cup.”

“I can come over to the table.”

“No, stay right where you are. It shall be my pleasure to serve you. I rather like the thought of you eating in bed.”

In reply to that she decided it best to say nothing. Sitting up, she gathered the pillows into a stack at her back, tucking the sheet snuggly over her breasts.

He made two trips, one to set their cups of tea on the night table and another to bring a plate heaped with a delectable-looking array of breads, cheeses, and fruit—including one of the lusciously scented, golden peaches she’d already noticed. And if her eyes did not deceive her, a thick slice of chocolate cake.

“I thought we’d share,” he told her as he set the plate between them.

“Did Mrs. Lamstead prepare all this?” she inquired, reaching for a hard roll he’d broken in two, then slathered with butter and jam. She bit in, savoring the rich, sweet tang.

“Hmm, last night,” he explained. “I had her leave everything out so we wouldn’t be disturbed.”

“But what about the tea? Did one of the maids make it?”

“No, I made it.” He ate a bite of cheddar.

“You!”

He swallowed and raised a brow. “Yes, me. You needn’t look so astonished, you know. Even I can set a kettle to boil.”

She stared for a long moment, then smiled. “Well, fancy that, a duke who can make his own tea. I dare say there are country squires who wouldn’t know how.”

“Quite right, and you’d do well to remember it. I am an eminently resourceful fellow. Here now,” he said, “drink your tea.”