Miss Foster’s Folly (16 page)

He collapsed finally, letting her take his full weight. She savored it, loving the pressure everywhere. He sucked in deep breaths and let them out as moans.

“Juliet,” he whispered finally. “Oh, my darling.”

“David,” she whispered back.

He rolled off her, and his cock slipped out of her. He didn’t release her from his embrace, though, but pulled her into his arms, pressing kisses over her cheeks and mouth.

“Do you have any idea what just happened?” he said.

“I think so. I was here.”

“I think not. It was your first time. You have nothing to compare it to.”

She stretched and then sagged back against the mattress, a heap of sated flesh. He’d turned everything inside her liquid—bones included. She couldn’t have risen from the spot if a Mongol horde were after her. And why try? Surely, no other place could offer so sublime a shelter than his body, his arms holding her against him.

He heaved a sigh. “No, I don’t think you do understand.”

“I can’t. My brain won’t work, thanks to you.” Right this moment, her mind could hold nothing but what had just happened to her body. His touches, his kisses, the feel of him penetrating her. How he’d moved. The sounds he’d made. The power of her release. Her sex fluttered in sweet aftermath a few more times at the memories.

He guided her head to his shoulder and pulled the covers up over them, tucking the ends under her chin.

“So you’ll stay with me tonight?” she asked.

“Tonight, and every other night you’ll have me.” His words held a promise, but the timbre of his voice spoke more loudly. Dark and rich, rumbling through his chest. It spoke of possession and desire. Lust quieted for now, but still simmering below the surface and ready to come alive again at the right signal.

“Marry me, Juliet,” he whispered.

Somehow, that didn’t sound as insane as it had the last time he’d said it. He’d cast a spell over her with his lovemaking. She’d need to keep her wits about her, or he’d conquer her heart by enchanting her body.

“Hmm?” he prompted. “Are you thinking about it?”

“Don’t press me,” she said. “Not now.”

“Now’s the perfect time.”

“If you ask again, you’ll be breaking your promise.” She stretched again and yawned.

“Don’t fall asleep before you’ve given me an answer.”

Good idea. She’d either drift off or pretend to. “It’s been a very long day.”

“Juliet—”

“Good night, David.” She closed her eyes and let her body go limp. Sure enough, the comforting darkness closed in around her mind.

“Damn.” His voice. The last sound she heard.

***

When Derrington next opened his eyes, he found a vision on the pillow next to his. Juliet Foster, her face at rest in sleep. Dark auburn hair fell over her naked shoulders, making a striking contrast to the china-pale skin of her shoulders. Her eyelashes fanned out over her cheeks, emphasizing the healthy glow of her skin. She could have been a painter’s idea of a cherub except for the pout to her lips. No matter how innocent the rest of her might appear, that mouth offered sin even in repose. And then, she’d curled one hand into a soft fist and held it beneath her chin. Ready to do battle the moment she awoke.

She was, indeed, the woman Harry’d sent him searching for. If only he could convince her they belonged together.

Oh well, for now, she’d given him her body. He’d win her heart somehow or die trying.

Sometime in the night, he’d faced the truth. He loved her. He’d roused from his sleep. Still groggy, he’d had to grasp at the memory of why he felt so insanely happy. It had all come back to him in a flash—her bath, the sweet yielding of her body, how he’d come inside her with a force and a finality he’d never shared with another woman. And then, as his mind had cleared, he noticed her absence. He’d shot upward in bed, only to discover that he’d gotten himself to one edge and she lay only inches away. Sighing with contentment, he’d embraced her again and held her as he nodded off to dream of her again.

Yes, he loved her. With all his heart. If the Almighty cared about justice at all, he’d convince her of his devotion, and she’d stay with him forever.

She stirred but didn’t wake. She pursed her lips together in a way that would make a marble statue weep for wanting them. He wasn’t made of stone. Though he should have granted her her rest, he leaned toward her and kissed her. Just a whisper of a caress, no more than a breath against her mouth. It wasn’t enough, of course. So, he did it again. This time, he took a deeper taste, sipping slowly.

Still, not enough. Before he could stop himself, he’d claimed her mouth, parting her lips with his, and tasting her with his tongue. His blood heated in his veins, and what had started with a morning stiffness to his member became a fully erect cock, pressing against the flesh of her thigh.

Through the haze of his deepening arousal, came the sense of hands moving over his shoulders and chest. Her breath mingled with his own as she kissed him back. She made soft hungry sounds in the back of her throat, as if her excitement had grown as insistent as his. Impossible. She’d been an innocent only hours earlier. He’d taken her—and none too gently. She had to feel sore.

Still, some devil made him roll her onto her back and come down on top of her, never breaking the kiss, never stopping the explorations of her palms over his torso. He held her face in his hands and kissed her savagely. Nipping, sucking, devouring her.

Her hands slipped against his ribs and then upward to his back—fingers massaging his flesh and digging into his muscles. She moaned and moved so that her breasts rubbed against his chest, the nipples stiffening into points that pressed against his skin.

He broke off the kiss and looked down at her. “You have to end this. God help me, I can’t stop myself.”

She stared up at him out of lust-glazed eyes. Her lips seemed puffy and bruised. “Why would I want you to stop?”

“It’s too soon after last night,” he said. “I’ll hurt you.”

“Would you please stop worrying about hurting me?” she said.

“A gentleman—”

“Oh, for the love of God. What in hell good is a gentleman to me?”

Such language. He could only gape at her in astonishment. Priapus didn’t find her little speech odd. He stiffened further, as if he’d bust out of his own skin.

“I want to be frigged,” she said. “Would a gentleman do that?”

“Possibly not.”

“Then, curse all gentlemen. I want a scoundrel’s cock inside me, stretching the walls of my cunny until I spend copiously around it.” She thumped his back. “You can do that, can’t you?”

“Don’t you ever let another man try,” he said. “I’m warning you.”

A gleam of challenge entered her eyes. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

“You should be.”

“Well, I’m not. I’ll make the demands here, and I demand you frig me.”

“I don’t obey you,” he answered. “Instead, I demand
you
frig
me
.”

She sucked in a breath. “Tell me how.”

“I’ll show you.” He rolled onto his back and threw off what few covers still remained on their bodies. His cock made a solid thwap against his belly as he did. Fully engorged and throbbing, it had turned the ruddy color that showed the height of his arousal.

She stared at his member for a moment and then reached to circle her fingers around the shaft. “I was right about its size.”

“And how much it wants you.”

“So how do I frig it?”

“Sit up and swing a leg over,” he said. “Then lower yourself onto me.”

“Oh, yes.” She moved quickly, scrambling up beside him and then straddling him. He held his rigid cock straight up for her. With one hand, she parted the lips of her sex, while with the other, she guided the head of his sex between them. Briefly, their hands met on his aching cock. His large and dark, hers pale and with slender fingers. It seemed the most erotic sight in the world until she released him and her pussy slid along his shaft as she lowered herself to take him inside her.

Lord, what an image. He caught her hips to slow her descent so he could watch each inch push into her sheath. She’d grown wet, but still, she gripped him with a virgin’s tightness. He bit the inside of his cheek for control as she took more and more of him, finally settling against his pelvis, impaled all the way to his root.

She hissed, like steam escaping. “What a feeling. I couldn’t have imagined.”

“I please you?”

“Oh, David.” She moved, just a small rocking back and then forward again. She gasped with pleasure and did it again, her eyes half-closed in bliss.

Still holding her hips, he guided her upward on his shaft. When he brought her down again, he added his own thrust into her.

“So that’s how I do it,” she cried. This time, she rested her hands on his belly and pushed herself up. All her muscles tensed with the effort—her thighs against his, her sheath tightening around his cock. This time when she slid down around him, his hips went upward on their own. His body would take over now if he didn’t control himself. As her pussy held him in a tight caress, he could lose himself in the thrusting and stroking. Already, he’d neared his breaking point, and as she continued the grasping on the upward stroke and the moisture coating him on her return, each knot that held him together threatened to unravel.

He’d never been this way with a lover before. He’d always remained the cool one. Detached, restrained until he’d satisfied his partner and only then taking his own pleasure. In a few hours, she’d undone all that. He’d never have that reserve again, because he’d never make love to another woman for as long as he lived.

Her movements became more frantic as her own arousal approached its peak. Up, down. Grip, slide. Surely, in another moment, she’d unman him. Already, he felt it in his balls, and soon it would spread to engulf all of him. Her orgasm had to come soon.

He reached between their bodies, parted the lips of her sex, and stroked her pearl. It was swollen and stiff, and the moment his finger brushed the tip, she let out a lustful cry. He kept up the pressure, and she straightened, throwing her head back. Her hands went to her breasts, and she squeezed the flesh with her palms while using her fingers to toy with the nipples.

Aphrodite could never have looked like this. Pure carnality as she rode him.

His lust took control, and he had no choice but to thrust up into her hard enough to throw her off. She stayed with him, though, despite the savagery of his movement. In fact, his wildness created a similar response in her. Her cries came louder now, building with each slam of his cock in her pussy. He never stopped the friction against her nubbin. If he could hang onto one scrap of sanity, he’d manage this one thing. Somehow, when he could no longer fight off the climax, he had to take her with him.

As if she’d read his mind, she stiffened, her whole body flushing. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Oh, God! Don’t…stop.”

Her orgasm washed over her. Hell, he could feel it as it coiled in her womb. Her sex clamped down on him before exploding into spasms that gripped him over and over.

Now, he could let loose, and he surrendered to his own climax. He came with a force that rattled his teeth, his cock shooting his lust into her in searing waves. Her sheath continued to squeeze his member, milking him, until he’d given her every drop his body could manage.

The madness now over, she collapsed against his chest, breathing as hard as if she’d run a mile. His own breath came raggedly as he struggled to get air into his lungs, but he held her against him and kissed her hair.

“Now, I know you’ll be sore,” he said.

“It was worth it.”

“I’ll have to find some way of keeping my hands off you so you can heal.” The moment those words left his mouth, they registered in his brain for what they were—a lie. No power on Earth, least of all his puny will, could keep him from making love with this woman over and over.

“You’ll do no such thing,” she said. “And I’ll expect you in this bed every night.”

He chuckled. “And if I don’t appear?”

“I’ll hunt you down.” She poked his chest with a finger. “You know I can do it.”

“I know that all too well.”

She looked up at him out of her clear, dark eyes. “You don’t mind too much, do you?”

“Mind?”

“That I forced you to make love to you without marrying you?”

He had to laugh at that. “That’s what some men dream of. Especially a dreadful rake like me.”

“But it isn’t what you wanted.”

“My dear Miss Foster, my cock is still buried inside you,” he said. “Do you think I mind?”

She squeezed the walls of her sex around him. “I think it’s getting hard again.”

“Then you’d better release me before I lose my head and take you all over again.”

“What if I want you to?” She clamped down on his cock for a second and then a third time, and—miracle of miracles—it came to life inside her, growing fully erect.

She groaned and moved to sit up so she could ride him. “Yes, I want it.”

“Then you shall have it.” Never breaking their connection, he rolled her onto her back and gave her everything she’d asked for.

Weeks later

No matter how many times they strolled through the Mediterranean garden, Juliet couldn’t get enough of the place. Derrington hadn’t lied about the statues. They were nudes, male and female. Probably shocking to the modern sensibility that frowned on anything so sinful. But each had a classical beauty that raised all of them above the sensational to timeless.

She stopped in front of her favorite—Apollo, with his winged sandals and the laurel wreath that circled his head. She let her fingers trail over the marble muscle of his upper arm. Not cool, but warmed by the sun. He might have been a flesh-and-blood man except for his sightless eyes.

“I think I might be jealous of that one,” Derrington said. He stood beside her, close enough that their elbows bumped as they walked along. He never got much farther from her than that, whether awake or asleep. She couldn’t get enough of that, either.

“I don’t know what you could be jealous of,” she said. “You’re much better endowed than he is.”

“Well done, Miss Foster,” he said. “It seems you’ve learned the most effective way to flatter a man.”

“I thought complimenting a man on his sensual skills was the best flattery,” she said.

“I stand corrected,” he said. “The two best ways to flatter a man.”

“You’re unequalled at both,” she said. “Not flattery, but truth.”

He laughed—a warm, rich sound that always sent a little thrill through her. “So, have you made a study of men and their endowments? I rather thought I was the only one.”

“True, but I’ve heard other women talk,” she said. “My sister’s married, and I managed to wrangle some information from her.”

“I’m sure it was very educational.”

“Not as much as my time here.” She took his hands and gazed up into his face. “It should be ending. When can I go back?”

“Now, that’s tricky,” he said. “I haven’t taught you everything.”

Possibly, but he’d taught her enough for a start. How, in heaven’s name, had she expected an Englishman to be uninspiring and tame? This one certainly wasn’t. But most Englishmen didn’t have gardens like this one, either. Aside from the statues, the whole space held a riot of color and scent. Not like the formal layouts of other great houses she’d seen in pictures—with a central fountain, rigidly geometrical paths, and a shrub here and there. At Derrington Manor, roses climbed where they wanted, dripping flowers onto ornamental sages and rosemary. Wisteria in full bloom covered one whole side of the gazebo, creating a perfumed curtain.

He led her in that direction now, holding her hand in his, their fingers intertwined. She couldn’t help but smile to herself, because every time he took her out of sight from the staff, he did something wicked. The hidden spot beneath the grand staircase in the foyer, the wine cellar, a niche behind a bookshelf—all had served as places for a quick kiss, a squeeze of her breast, and hot, whispered promises of what he’d planned for the night. They hadn’t done anything outdoors before, but surely that would only be a matter of time.

Sure enough, the moment he had her up the wooden stairs and hidden behind the wisteria, he pulled her into his arms and bent to take her lips with his own.

Her body softened against his immediately, her arms reaching around him to cling to his shoulders for support. Their mouths knew each other perfectly now. No more clumsiness or searching, just kisses that clouded her mind of anything but him.

His lips left her mouth and burrowed into her hair. “You’ll drive me mad. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get enough of you.”

“Nor I you.” She stepped aside and placed her hand on the front of his pants, seeking for the hard ridge of flesh and finding it. “And especially not of this.”

He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Take care, or I may have to drag up your skirts and frig you right here.”

What a delicious idea, and yet, something else had lurked at the back of her mind. Something best explored in the light of day.

“Sometimes, I wonder what it must feel like to have a cock,” she said.

“It’s damned inconvenient when you’re sitting supposed to be eating the soup course and the woman you’ve craved for weeks puts her hand on your thigh.”

“If I remember correctly, you won that particular battle,” she said.

“At a cost to myself.”

She stroked him softly, up and down. Gently enough that he might allow her explorations. “What does it feel like when you come?”

“What a question.”

“I mean it. I want to know.”

He pushed her away from him, and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, he appeared to think for a bit. “Let’s see. It starts with a certainty that I
will
spend, one way or another. Then the pressure builds until I think I’ll explode. Then, I do.”

“I see.”

“I imagine women feel much the same way in orgasm.”

“I think so.” She bit her lip. “But there’s more with men, isn’t there?”

“The release of my seed.”

She twined her arms around his neck and gave him a wicked smile. “I’d like to watch that.”

His brows flew halfway to his hairline. “You what?”

“I’d like to watch you come.”

He sputtered for a few seconds, as if he wanted to object but couldn’t find any good reason. “Well, um, yes. I suppose so. Why not?”

“Why not, indeed?”

“All right. Tonight,” he said. “I’ll
gamahuche
you—”

“
Gama—
”

“
Gamahuche
. Devour your pussy until you spend,” he said. “I’ll do that, and then you can use your hand on me.”

“Oh, no. Not tonight. It’ll be too dark to see you clearly.”

“Then…” He glanced around. “You can’t mean here. Now.”

“Why not? You made me come in the Mitford’s garden.”

“True.”

“And we’re sheltered from sight. No one will catch us.”

A tiny smile curled his lips. “Also true. I hope.”

“Then you’ll let me?”

“Why not?” he said. “I’m already stiff and throbbing thinking of your fingers on my cock.”

“Oh, no,” she said again. “Not my fingers.”

He reeled backward as if she’d punched him in the stomach. “Good Lord, you mean your mouth?”

“You’ve done that often enough for me.”

“Logical.” His eyes went hazy with arousal, and his breathing turned shallow. “But still, are you quite sure you want to do that?”

“Positive.” She took his hand and led him to a wooden bench. He followed, almost in a trance, and she had to press on his shoulder to get him to sit. He put up no resistance when she eased his legs apart and knelt between them. In fact, he leaned against the backrest, pushing his pelvis forward.

Now, the outline of his member showed clearly through the fabric of his pants. Starting at the base of his torso and rising almost to the waistband. She pressed her palm against it and could have sworn it twitched in response.

“Tell me what to do,” she said.

“Unbutton my trousers and take it out.”

She did as he’d asked, freeing his sex from his pants. She truly never had had a good look at this part of him before, at least not in daylight. It was a curious thing, really. Ruddy and swollen, with a knob on the end. Oddly, it resembled an arrow. “Cupid’s dart” certainly fit, as it had given her more pleasure in the time since they’d arrived here than she’d ever imagined possible.

She stroked it from the tip to the base. In response, he sighed and lowered his eyelids to halfway.

“Two things,” he said. “The sac at the base. Deal with it gently.”

She found it. Dark velvet that held two small globes. The whole seemed to contract as she stroked it. “Is this all right?”

He moaned and trembled. “Yes. Fine.”

“The second thing you wanted to tell me?”

“Release me for a moment so I can think.”

She did, lowering her hands to her sides. His eyes opened, and he shook himself the way a dog does when coming out of the water.

“The second thing,” he said. “And I mean it. If your mouth is on me and I tell you to stop, do it. Immediately.”

“I will.”

He stroked the side of her face. “This is no time for disobedience. When I tell you to stop, do. Then use your hand.”

She’d seen him angry. She’d seen him determined, pestering her to marry him at least once a day. She’d seen him overcome with lust. She’d never seen him so deadly serious about something. What had started out as a whim had turned into something important. He was making himself vulnerable to her, and she wouldn’t defy him. Not this time.

“I’ll do as you say. I promise,” she said.

“Good.” He gave her a breathtaking smile. “Now, put your mouth on me.”

She grasped him by the base and bent to place her lips over the tip. His skin was warm and dry—pleasant—so she took more of him into her mouth. Not much more would fit than the head of his cock. But, as she worked her lips lower, she used her fingers to stroke the rest of him.

“Good Lord,” he said between gritted teeth. “Where did you learn how to do that so well?”

She released his member and looked up at him. “I have it right?”

“I swear you’ll take me apart.”

Pride blossomed in her heart. That she could make him feel the way he did for her when he had his face between her legs.

“What else should I do?” she asked.

“The ridge around the head,” he said. “And there’s a spot just below. On the underside.”

She felt for it with her finger. After a few attempts, she must have found it, because he stiffened and moaned. She flicked her tongue there.

“Oh, God, that’s it,” he gasped. “Yes, there.”

What a gift that she could do this for him. She circled the rim of him with her tongue and then sucked it into her mouth, teasing just that part of him. After a bit, she went back to that special patch of flesh he’d shown her, holding his cock in place so that she could lick him firmly.

He reached out with both hands and caught her head. “One more favor.”

“Anything,” she said, and she meant it.

“Undo your hair and spread it over my thighs.”

She tore at the pins and shook her hair loose. Using both hands, she guided it over his legs. Then, she went back to loving his member.

This time, she swallowed as much of him as she could take, bobbing her head to create a rhythm as he did when he thrust inside her. She caught glimpses of his face on the upward movements. He watched her out of half-closed eyes, seemingly transfixed. His face had flushed, his lips parted to take shallow, rapid breaths.

She didn’t slow her movements, and now she sucked him deep, so deep.

“Juliet. Ah, God, Juliet,” he said.

By now, his cock had turned a livid crimson, and a salty drop emerged from the tip. She swirled her tongue over it and swallowed. His whole body trembled. He had to be nearing his breaking point.

She cupped his sac again, gently stroking the underside, while she continued with her mouth along his cock. Swallowing, sucking, even grazing him gently with her teeth.

His breath came hard and fast, and his cock seemed to come to life in her hand. The vein on the underside throbbed, pulsing against her palm. She kept up the pressure, lowering her lips along his shaft as far as she could reach. His sac tightened, and his body tensed.

His grunts became growls, and his hips moved, jerking upward. “Now. Stop now!”

She straightened, pulling her mouth off him, but she kept up the pressure with her hand. Her fist curled around him and pumped.

He roared, and his pelvis jerked upward. A pearly liquid spurted from the tip of him, followed by another spray, and then, a third. He remained tense for a moment as more shouts tore from him, and then he went limp, resting back against the bench.

He’d finished, and he let his head loll backward. She knew that feeling—weakness so profound muscles couldn’t work.

She rose to take a seat on his knee and pull him into her arms. His head fell on her shoulder, and she stroked his face the way he’d done for her every time they’d made love.

He hugged her to him. “By God, you really will kill me.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“And what did you think?” he said. “Did it disgust you?”

“Of course not. What a silly thing to say. It was quite remarkable.”

“Remarkable.” He harrumphed. “That’s an understatement.”

“That stuff went everywhere.”

He lifted his head. “Not into your hair, I hope.”

“Onto your pants.” She held her hand out. “Give me your handkerchief.”

He did, and she used it to blot up the damp spots on his trousers. She even dabbed it at his softening cock then handed the cloth back to him. He studied it for a moment before setting it on the bench beside him.

“You are absolutely the most sensual, most enchanting woman in the world,” he said. “I’m utterly at your mercy.”

Exactly what she’d hoped to accomplish, to become a gifted, experienced lover so she could explore all the voluptuous delights Italian men could offer. And yet, did she really want to leave this Englishman? Could she really find anything better in another man’s bed than what she had here? She hadn’t fallen in love with him, although she’d have to admit to some attachment. Surely, that balance could make a longer relationship work.

Good Lord, maybe she ought to consider marrying him. If nothing else, the fact that she’d landed such a desirable husband would confound the siblings. Even her father, if he was watching from the great beyond.

“Your lordship,” a male voice called. “Your lordship, there’s a carriage coming up the drive.”

He quickly straightened himself and buttoned up his pants. “Over here, Tim.”

She checked her own clothes. Fine, as she hadn’t undressed. “My hair.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“But it’s all undone. Whoever it is will see me like this.”

“If it’s a man and he lusts after you, I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands.” He rose, pulling them both to their feet. “Well, let’s go see who it is.”

“I didn’t tell anyone where we were going.”

“Neither did I.” He held out a hand to her. “Come on.”

She wrapped her fingers in his and followed. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at the bench. His handkerchief had disappeared.