In My Wildest Fantasies (15 page)

Soon she was nude from the waist up, feeling no modesty as she lowered herself onto the bed again and inched up onto the pillows.

With dark, mischievous seduction in his eyes, he crawled over her on all fours, then he tasted a nipple, teasing it with his tongue and squeezing it gently between his teeth. He began nuzzling her breasts with his lips and cheeks, tickling her with his hair, dropping wet kisses down the center of her trembling belly until she gasped with delight.

"What happens next?" he asked.

She didn't have to open the diary because she had every word of that entry memorized. "He removes her gown completely, then takes off all his clothes and mounts her, his body slick with sweat in the summer heat while her heart is racing with excitement and fear, for she'd never felt his shaft between her legs before. She'd only held it in her hands."

By the time she'd finished describing it, Devon was already unfastening her skirt buttons and untying the tapes of her white split drawers. She raised her hips while he pulled them down and tossed everything to the floor.

She was completely naked now. Her body melted in the excruciating pleasure of all her wild, erotic fantasies coming true.

He slid off the bed and stood to remove all his clothes, too, and when he was nude in the warm, golden light of the fire, Rebecca let her gaze float down to his enormous manhood, standing straight out, thick and long and shocking to her virginal eyes.

She was captivated.

He watched her with some amusement, then smiled knowingly, as if he recognized her fascination. It was a sexual grin, relaxed and full of cool confidence. "You might want to hold it in your hand first, if you want to know what Lydie knows."

"I do."

He came to lie beside her again, stretching out on his back, naked and magnificent like a great work of art. It seemed he was laying himself out for her benefit, to allow her time to satisfy her curiosity and explore the secrets of a man's body. He presented himself to her without modesty.

More than eager to begin her exploration and discovery, she sat up on her knees beside him and wrapped her hand around his erection, which was so much hotter than she'd ever imagined it would be.

She stroked and massaged him in the firelight, then slid her hand lower between his legs to toy with the rest of his tremendous, masculine anatomy, the way Lydie had described doing on so many incredible occasions.

"Please lie on top of me now," she whispered, brushing her lips lightly over his. "Mount me, like Jess does to Lydie in the book."

"Honestly, darling," he said as he rose to the task, "the things that come out of your delicious mouth..."

She lay down with her head on the feathery pillows. He rolled over onto her, massive and heavy, pressing her into the soft mattress. She spread her legs wide and felt the intimate tip of his penis against her hot, waiting core. Sizzling tension filled the air.

"Lydie's heart begins to race even faster," she said. "She is terrified, but at the same time overcome by her passions."

Rebecca ran her hands through Devon's thick, black hair and shivered with pleasure as he blew gently into her ear. "But her young lover does not take her virginity that night. He does not exert pressure, nor does he push or thrust into the depths of her body."

Devon went still, then lifted his head. "He doesn't?"

"No," she replied. "He simply lies on top of her with the silky tip of his erection poised against her maidenhead, holding her and looking into her eyes with love and affection."

"For how long?" he asked, sounding rather baffled.

"Until he rolls off her and she rests her head on his shoulder."

He rose up on one elbow. "Are you sure that's what it says?"

"Yes. Do you want me to read it to you?"

She could see his chest heaving, as if he were out of breath. "When does he take her virginity?"

"Weeks later, after he vows to make her his wife."

"Weeks, you say."

She nodded.

He held his weight on both elbows, propped over her. His hot stomach pulsed upon hers. He said nothing. He merely looked off to the side.

"But you want to make love to me now," she said in a low, sensual voice, for she was not a fool. She understood what was happening. He had expected more.

He met her gaze. She wiggled her bottom, rubbing gently against the tip of his erection...

He spoke in a raspy growl. "It's killing me not to. My hips have a mind of their own. They want to push."

"Then push," she said, appreciating the consequences of such a remark, knowing she could be ruining everything--herself included--for he had made no promises.

But she wanted what she wanted. She wanted sex--with him--and she wanted it now. She wanted to belong to this man and no other, no matter the consequences.

He did not move. "If I do that, Rebecca--if I take you now--you will belong to me. No other man will ever have you or even look at you the way I look at you. Do you understand?"

Had he been reading her mind? It was exactly what she wanted. Exactly.

"I want no other man," she told him. "I've never wanted anyone but you."

It was the truth, every single word, and right now, she didn't care if he married her or not. She didn't care about what she was running from, only that she was here in his arms. Nothing mattered but the blinding, searing passion in her heart, and the love--was it really love?--in the deepest realms of her soul.

He was breathing hard. She could feel the pounding of his heart against her chest.

Never taking his eyes off hers, he slowly began to exert pressure, but it seemed she would not let him inside. He was too big. She could not possibly accommodate him, even though she wanted to. Lord, how she wanted to.

"Relax and push against me," he said, "with the muscles inside you."

She tried to concentrate on the workings of her body while his strength and power over her made her want him all the more. He was a hero, a warrior. He could do anything, and she wanted to give him everything she was as a woman.

She closed her eyes and did as he suggested, pushing until he began to stretch and fill her. It hurt for a moment, and she sucked in a breath. Then a new kind of joy swept through her. The pain gradually diminished. He began driving in and out of her, growling with pleasure just as she'd always imagined he would.

He sank his fingers into the cheeks of her behind, lifting her so he could compel himself deeper, and she began to grind her hips around, wanting more and more of his triumphant, male form.

He bore down on her again, his body slick with sweat, the rippling sensations of pleasure playing lustily into her depths. The sensations were feverish and intoxicating. Her emotions were spinning and whirling. It was everything she'd imagined it would be.

He whispered close, and she shivered at the touch of his soft lips upon her sensitive lobe, the feel of his hot, humid breath in her ear. "I'm going to come inside you, then you will belong to me. No turning back."

"Yes."

He drove in hard and fast, shuddered and groaned, then she felt the hot liquid surge of his climax pour into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wanting to tell him she loved him, but she bit back the words because they seemed foolish, even to her. They barely knew each other. She was in love with the romantic fantasy she'd been nurturing all these years.

But it was real now...

Wasn't it?

He rested on top of her for a time, then rolled onto his back.

"Did I mention you are a very exciting woman?" he said.

"Yes." She stared up at the ceiling--amazed, bewildered, and terrified. She had just been made love to. By her hero, Devon Sinclair. Her body would never be the same. Nor would her heart, her mind, her life.

He sighed heavily. "I am spent." He lay quietly for a while, then he turned his head on the pillow to look at her. "Are you all right?"

It was all she could do to manage a nod.

"It always hurts the first time," he said.

"You didn't hurt me. It was wonderful. I am fine."

But was she?

He turned his gaze to the ceiling again. "How long do you think I've been here?"

She tried to guess, but time seemed immeasurable. "An hour perhaps?"

"Will your aunt come to check on you?"

"No," she replied. "But even if she did, the door is locked and she always knocks."

"I would have to hide under the bed, I suppose."

She managed a chuckle, while she struggled to get her mind around this light tone of their conversation. This was all so foreign to her. "If you wish to avoid a caning from her, yes."

He rolled to face her, resting his cheek on a hand. "I intend to speak to her in the morning. Is that agreeable to you?"

Her heart stumbled inside her chest. "Speak to her?"

"Yes, Rebecca. I will have you as my wife and duchess."

Strange panic exploded in her belly--for there it was. He had said it. He had put into words the thing she had dreamed of since she'd met him in the forest. Just the sound of the word on his lips--wife--was enough to dry up all the rain outside and bring sunshine into the room even though it was past midnight. He was offering her marriage.

But of course he would. He was a gentleman and she was a gentleman's daughter. He could not have made love to her without knowing the consequences and requirements.

How could it have been so easy?

"Are you certain that's what you want?" she asked, knowing it was a foolish question. "There are other women here who..."

"I don't care about them. You have enraptured me, Rebecca, and so much of this seems like destiny, don't you think? But are you sure you want me for a husband? I suppose I should have asked you that before I made love to you."

"Of course I am sure," she said. Could there be any other answer? "I confess, I have secretly wanted this since the moment I saw you galloping toward me on your horse. I cannot begin to describe how I desired you that night, and how I have wanted to feel your hands on my body every day since. I wanted what we just did, and I will want it again and again."

He smiled. "How is it possible I have found the perfect wife, only days after my return home to England?" He ran a finger lightly down her front--from the base of her throat to her navel.

She shivered with pleasure, even while her mind was reeling with disbelief. She had not expected any of this to happen so fast.

"Perhaps it truly is destiny," she replied.

Perhaps she was meant to be happy after all.

Devon's gaze followed the trail of his finger down to the triangle of her curls below, then his eyes lifted. "If this had not been your first time tonight, it would be my pleasure to satisfy your desire for 'again and again.' But I will make the proper arrangements first and give you time to recover. We shall have a respectable engagement, Rebecca, and save any further wicked antics for the wedding night."

He rolled off the bed and bent to pick up his trousers, which were lying in an untidy pile on the floor.

She leaned up on her elbows. "You're leaving?"

"Yes," he replied, pulling them on. "I don't want to risk gossip if I am missed."

She felt some uncertainty suddenly, and wished he did not have to go.

He wasted no time pulling on his shirt and buttoning his waistcoat. She supposed this sort of thing was easier for a man. He had no doubt done it before. Dozens of times, probably, or maybe even hundreds for all she knew.

He stepped into his shoes and pulled on his dinner jacket, then leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. "Sleep well," he said. "We'll talk again in the morning."

He left her alone in the empty bed and dying firelight to contemplate her dream of a happy future. A moment later, the fire flickered out, leaving only a few smoldering embers. A chill came into the room, so she drew the covers up to her shoulders and hugged her knees to her chest to keep warm.

Devon walked out of Rebecca's bedchamber. He closed the door quietly behind him and strode down the corridor before someone had a chance to encounter him in this wing where he had no reason to be. Other than to debauch a virgin and seduce her into becoming his wife with immediate haste.

As soon as he entered the corridor that housed his own lodgings, he stopped and rested a hand over his stomach. He swallowed uncomfortably and backed up against the wall, then tipped his head against the dark oak paneling and closed his eyes.

He had wanted Rebecca tonight, there was no question about that, and he wanted her still--with every primal, pounding urge in his body. The troubling fact of the matter was--he had forgotten himself. He had allowed romance and desire to overshadow his intellect.

Marriage. He'd known he would have to succumb to it eventually, he just hadn't expected to be swept away so quickly and impulsively without even attempting to swim against the current. He had been home for only a few days, and already he was back in that familiar saddle, doing exactly what his father wanted him to do. This, when the man was clearly out of his mind.