Lillian's Light Horseman (16 page)

She’d just finished styling her hair when there was a light rap on her door and William strode briskly into the room.

The man really has no boundaries.
As he paced toward her, she smiled slightly and her stomach fluttered at the sight of him dressed in his black tuxedo and looking strikingly handsome.

He stopped behind her so that their reflections were repeated in the beveled mirror through which she’d watched him enter.

He bent his head to her ear and spoke in a low, seductive voice, “You look stunning, Lilly.” He breathed in deeply, scenting her. “Hmm, apples, my favorite smell in the world.”

Their gazes met in the glass as he brought one hand up from behind her to caress her cleavage, gripping her hip with his other. “But I’m not sure I approve of you showing so much of this delectable skin. If I let you out looking like this, I’m going to have to beat the men off you with my fists.”

Lillian’s head spun as his breath tickled her ear and his proprietary words stamped themselves on her brain.

“I’m going to have to show you who you belong to, like I promised you earlier today.” He dropped his hand from her hip to inch her dress up her thighs until he had the fabric bunched around her waist. He groaned low in his throat when her silk pantyhose and lace undergarments were revealed and displayed decadently in the mirror.

“Hold your dress up,” he commanded, his hungry gaze meeting hers in the reflection.

She grasped her dress, holding it in place above her waist as William slowly drew her lace undergarments down her legs. Her breathing grew shallow and her heart rate beat a mad tattoo against her ribcage.

He pressed himself against her buttocks and ground his hips, intensifying the sensation of his solid erection. She whimpered and arched her back, inviting him closer.

“It’s been five days since I’ve had you,” he rasped. “Do you feel how hard I am? How badly I need you?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Please, William.”

He snaked a hand across her lower abdomen, caressing the inside of her thigh with his other hand, circling the sensitive skin in a slow motion just above her pantyhose. She started to grow wet with desire, the dampness seeping out of her sex, the feeling familiar now and oh so welcome. She moaned in appreciation and thrust her hips back against his heavy, throbbing length. She tried to bob lower, tried desperately to make his caressing fingers reach that sweet spot between her thighs.

He was having none of it, however, and seemed determined to move at his own pace. He stilled and growled a warning in her ear. She whimpered and stopped her movements as her eyes met his once more.

He cupped her chin, manipulated her head to the side and nibbled on her neck while he continued to caress torturous circles on her inner thigh with his other hand.

Lillian’s senses were on overload. Her nipples pebbled painfully, warmth pooled low in her belly and her insides clenched in anticipation of his touch to her sex.

She watched their reflection with bated breath as he slowly slipped a hand beneath the lace of her undergarments to slide a finger along her moist folds. His touch sent her nerve endings sizzling and her heart rate skyrocketing. She jolted at the impact. He kept one hand clamped tightly on her chin and continued to devour her neck, running two fingers of his other hand up and down the outer lips of her aching sex. Relentlessly he massaged her, using his fingers to swirl her juices up through her center and lightly over her clitoris.

His touch was so light it was torturous and she needed more. “Please,” she begged.

“You are so wet, sweetheart. So moist for me,” he purred against her skin.

His eyes blazed fiercely in the glass as she writhed against him, her need overcoming his demands to keep still.

Finally, he slipped a finger inside her, then another and pressed up deeply. She moaned and closed her eyes as he filled and stretched her with his strong, callused fingers.

“So tight,” he hissed. “God, I want my cock inside you.”

“Yes, yes,” she cried, desperate for more.

He bent at the knees to accommodate their height difference and ran his hand from her chin, down her side, to her hip until he reached the back of her knee, where he cupped it, swept her leg up and opened her wide.

She gasped at the sight of her sex, spread so open and exposed in the mirror. She could see the moisture glistening between her legs and William’s fingers probing in and out of her slick channel. She pressed her back into his chest and used his body to stabilize herself.

She was panting now—her breath coming in soft little puffs that matched the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. Her legs began trembling and pressure built in her core, a gradual gathering of roiling sensations that had her bucking her hips in a shameless attempt to drive William’s fingers deeper.

Then abruptly he withdrew, slowly and inexorably until he circled the tips of his fingers over the outer lips of her sex lightly. The building pressure in her loins started to abate, her budding orgasm began drifting away from her and she whimpered. She
needed
more. She was so close and she couldn’t understand why that sensation she wanted so desperately still eluded her.

She tore her eyes away from the erotic display between her thighs and sought William’s gaze. She met his intense stare—dark and hooded with lust.

“Please,” she whispered desperately.

He dropped his mouth to her ear. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want
that
feeling.”

He chuckled and dipped his fingers in once more and thrust them high and deep. She moaned and threw her head back, resting it on his shoulder.

“Yes,” she hissed.

William tightened his hold on her waist and straightened so that she was suspended in front of him, his chest and upper arms bulging magnificently as he took her entire weight. He tugged her leg wider to allow him greater access and she gasped.

That was it—the gathering pressure inside her started to gain momentum and she writhed her hips, desperately bucking against his thrusting hand. Then he placed his thumb on her clitoris, massaging the tight little bud of nerves until the sensations inside her grew overwhelming—like a cresting wave—and with one final tug on that sensitive button, she tumbled over a blissful edge. She cried out as her inner muscles clenched and throbbed around William’s fingers and he brought her down from her orgasm gradually, softening the thrust of his fingers and nipping the shell of her ear while she relaxed against him in a panting heap.

He lowered her gently to the floor. “That should ensure you think about me all evening, even when I am not at your side.”

“Hmm,” she hummed lazily and dropped her dress. The realization of what she’d just done hit her and mortification took hold. She blushed fiercely, looking anywhere but at William’s reflection.

“Hey,” he said sternly, cupping her chin and angling her head so that she was forced to look into his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. Don’t shy away from your feelings—embrace them.” He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Now, finish getting ready and meet me downstairs,” he instructed before leaving her alone.

“William’s right. I need to get over my silliness.” She fixed her hair, re-pinning a loose tendril. The things they did were so intimate and still so new to her that she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. But she determined to lose her embarrassment. After all, she loved him and the things they did together felt so right and so special that it could be nothing but
good
.

She finished adjusting her hair and makeup, straightened her dress then proceeded downstairs to meet William.

Chapter Nineteen

The Coolabah town hall was beautifully decorated for the occasion of the Picnic Race Day Ball. Garlands of eucalyptus leaves and wattle hung from the eaves and adorned tables, filling the hall with an appealingly fresh aroma. A band was set up on the central stage playing popular dance tunes and adding to the general air of festivity, and along the walls long tables were laden with roast meat, salads and cakes. A bar had been erected on one side of the room, offering punch, beer and goblets of wine.

William kept his hand on Lillian’s lower back as he steered her into the ballroom. She looked lovely. Her mahogany hair was piled on top of her head with tendrils curling delicately around her face. Her emerald eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed with excitement and, he suspected, with the after-effects of the orgasm he’d recently given her. He wasn’t happy about the amount of her creamy plump cleavage that was exposed but apparently it was fashion—or so he was told—so he’d quickly fallen silent on the subject.

He constantly marveled at the changes he saw in Lillian. She was still his Lilly but she was also so much more mature and womanly, and if he’d thought at sixteen that she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, then at twenty-six, she was stunningly beautiful. In those ten years, she’d developed curves in all the right places, her face had grown more refined and she’d acquired an agreeable maturity and worldliness. Even her more somber, reflective attitude appealed to him. She was magnificent, and every time he looked at her, his breath hitched in awe and a cold fear would grip him—fear that he would lose her again. He was trying to tread very carefully with her. He wanted to make it so that she couldn’t be without him, so that she wouldn’t even be tempted to look at another man—he wanted her to need him, as he needed her. Only then could he be confident in taking their relationship to the next level.

He leaned down to speak in her ear. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”

She smiled and nodded as she cast her gaze about the great room.

“I’ll be a moment. Wait here,” he instructed and turned toward the bar.

He ordered a beer for himself and a wine for Lillian. As he walked back to where he’d left her, George and Margaret Dawson waylaid him.

“Cartwright!” the man cried, slapping him on the back jovially.

“Dawson,” William nodded. “You are looking lovely this evening, Margaret.”

The young lady blushed, tittered then smiled brightly and placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you, William.”

He looked down at the drinks in his hands. “If you’ll excuse me, I was just on my way over to Miss Hamilton.” He gestured in the direction he’d left Lillian waiting.

“Of course, but make sure you hurry back. Margaret is saving the first dance for you,” Dawson said with a wink and a shoulder nudge.

William made his way toward Lillian and noted that two young men had joined her. “Fucking randy vultures,” he cursed under his breath as he strode to her side.

“Here,” he said briskly, handing Lillian her glass of wine and eyeing her companions.

“Thank you.” She gave him a slight smile and continued to listen to one of the young men recounting his horseracing exploits earlier that day.

William didn’t miss the fact that the two men couldn’t keep their eyes on her face, but kept dropping their gazes to skim across her breasts.

He grasped Lillian’s elbow and tugged her closer to his side. He knew it was a proprietary gesture but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted these two little pricks to back off and he was about to suggest that Lillian dance with him when George and Margaret Dawson descended on him once again.

“Cartwright, I believe you promised the first dance to my lovely daughter.” George pushed Margaret in William’s direction.

William cast his gaze down to Lillian to gauge her reaction and was met with an impassive stare.

“Of course,” William replied stiffly and held his arm out to the young Miss Dawson. He was seething with frustration as he swept her onto the dance floor. He knew that his absence would give one of those little pricks the perfect opportunity to ask Lillian to join them and sure enough, a moment later, he saw her sweep by in the arms of Mr. Horseracer.

William clenched his jaw and tried to focus on the dance and the young woman in his arms. He was nothing if not a gentleman. It wouldn’t be fair to let his frustration flow through to Margaret Dawson.

“So you will come to lunch on Thursday,” she was saying decisively.

He shook himself out of his reverie and looked down at her in surprise.
Did I just unwittingly agree to something?
Obviously he had, if her happy smile and continued chatter about the expected lunch were anything to go by.

He smiled vaguely as she started to discuss the other ladies at the ball, what they were wearing and whether their dresses were suitably fashionable. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why she’d think for a minute that he’d find the topic of conversation interesting—that was until she mentioned Lillian and her intention became clear.

“Miss Hamilton looks quite well this evening. Her dress is very pretty,” she commented mildly.

It was immediately obvious that her talk of women’s fashion was a way for her to lead the conversation to Lillian. She was clearly fishing for information.

“Yes,” he agreed. “She looks lovely.”

A frown marred her pretty features.

He gazed down at her as he turned her around the dance floor and noticed when her eyes alighted on something over his right shoulder. She bit her bottom lip and tore her gaze away from what was interesting her then looked up at him.

“
You
are obviously not the only man who finds Miss Hamilton
lovely
,” she said slyly, her gaze returning to the same spot over his shoulder.

He immediately swung them around to see what she was referring to and caught sight of Lillian and the young man across the dance floor. He was holding her far too closely for William’s liking. Infuriating him further, the man leaned down to speak in Lillian’s ear. Whatever he said had her tipping her head back and laughing gaily.

William’s vision hazed over with red as he worked to steady his breathing and stop himself from racing across the floor to yank Lillian from the man’s arms. He envisioned his fist smacking into the guy’s jaw and he started to shake with the ferocity of his thoughts.

Margaret’s voice cut through the fog, drawing him back to the present.