Regency Rogues Omnibus (39 page)

Orelan gasped. Her legs falling away from his hips as her hands hastily lowered to clutch one edge of the torn nightgown over her mon’s. Her golden eyes were molten with passion, yet surprised and anxious as her perfect breasts heaved with turgid pink nipples pointing at him. He growled with an, “I am going to fuck you sound,” then he reached forward with the intention of brushing her hands away from his prize.

“No, Wyndham, please no,” she whimpered, just as his hand reached her hands covering his goal. He had her legs splayed between his knees and she was stripped nude with only a scant piece of cloth clutched between her thighs, as he knelt, while towering over her. Dripping wet thighs. Hot cunt lips, swollen and wet just for him. Nothing on this earth could have stopped him, except for Orelan’s impassioned plea.

“I beg you,” she whimpered with golden tears forming in her wide eyes. “Please,” she gasped.

A tenor groan hissed from his throat, as his body shook, becoming so tense, he thought it possible he might break. His head dropped in supplication between Orelan’s plump breasts, for one agonizing moment. Then, he pushed away strongly with his arms and fell onto his back on the bed with his chest heaving.
Christ,
he had fucked it up again. Even with all his good intentions, he thought. He tried to think. So difficult, knifing through his rampant lust. His chest rose and fell. Sweat glistened there, beneath his shirt and pants. Jesus, at least he was still dressed.

“Wyndham?” Orelan whispered.

Wyndham took a deep and steadying breath. “Yes, baby love?” It was a cautious question and answer as he stared at the wooden beams on the ceiling in the Captain’s cabin.

“The tattoo,” she gasped, with nearly a whimper.

Jesus.
He grimaced with his gut clenching like steel. What did a man do in a situation like this one? He rolled over and reached for Orelan, bringing her resisting body into his embrace. “Please, Orelan, let me hold you,” he murmured. Thankful moments later when he felt her body relaxing a bit even though she continued to tremble.

“Orelan, I love you,” he murmured into her hair as he held her close and warm against his body.

“Oh, Wyndham,” she mumbled into his chest, where her lips touched his skin, between the opening edges of his shirt.

He valiantly ignored that and her soft warm nakedness resting so tantalizingly against him. This was for a life time. How could he explain to her that he would not be dissuaded in the least by a tattoo of any kind placed on her tender, moist, and spectacularly beckoning cove? A place he humbly called his own and intended to covet religiously. Just thinking of it, sent a spectacular throbbing into the base of his cock. Which he once again strove to ignore.

“Do you trust me, Orelan?” he asked with his voice deep in huskiness.

“Yes,” she murmured instantly and without any sound of reservation.

“With your life?” he asked in a whisper.

She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. “Yes . . . always,” she whispered.

He smiled. It was a true honest smile. Orelan’s eyes widened as she gazed at his arching lips, then she looked up into his eyes again. There was a hint of wonder and dawning pleasure in her eyes, as she murmured, “My Wyndham, you never smile.”

“Your Wyndham is in love, Orelan.” He grinned now. “Your Wyndham is in love with a fiery woman, who has set his heart on fire. And who . . . asked him to marry her.”

“Wyndham!” A tentative smile broke across Orelan’s lips.

“And I have accepted, my fiery woman. My wonderful beautiful, spitfire,” he said, teasing. “This very night in fact,” he finished with an arched eyebrow.

“This
very
night?” she exclaimed.

“The Captain of the ship will marry us this very night, Orelan. Because I am allowing no chance for you to get away from me ever again. I have found that I am very possessive where you are concerned.” And then, he added on a deep murmur, “My baby love.”

“Oh,
Wyndham,” Orelan exclaimed, just as their lips met in an intimate kiss.

Long moments later, he raised his mouth from her well-kissed mouth. “And now we will consummate the marriage,” he murmured, gazing into her passionate eyes. “To hell with tradition,” he added with a grin.

“To hell with the traditions,” Orelan quipped, smiling at him.

Wyndham adjusted his position, allowing his hands to cup Orelan’s face. “I have one serious question first,” he said, brushing her chin with his thumb.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to know what the tattoo says, my love? Because I could not care one wit.”

Orelan slowly licked her plush lips, gazing at him, as he watched the decision being weighed in her mind, then she whispered, “Yes, I want to know.”

“As you wish, my lady, my love,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her softly. When he was certain his lips had told her how much he loved her, he lifted his head and whispered, “Lay back, Orelan.”

“Si
, Wyndham”

Wyndham smiled. Orelan always reverted to a bit of Spanish whenever she was nervous, angry, or excited, as in passion. The nuance clung to him warmly.

“Will you be honest?” she asked nervously.

“Always, baby love,” he murmured as he separated her trembling thighs, then he looked downward. He kept a hand on her warm satin belly, stroking it gently, as she jerked her hands and the piece of cloth away. The scents of her earlier arousal lifted to his nostrils, like a musky piquant dream. He looked closely on the left side of her coral pink and perfect labium’s lip. The lingering dewiness there glistened over the tattoo.

“Wyndham?” she asked anxiously.

He lifted his head, gazing deep into her eyes as she lifted her head looking down on him. “It says, Orelan, the words, I love you.” Her eyes widened as she gazed at him. “And that is all it says,” he finished on a murmur.

“Wyndham!” she exclaimed, and not at all unpleased.

“I—” Wyndham began, “Will consider this Alexei’s wedding gift to us.”

“Oh, si,” Orelan replied, smiling with him.

“And now,” he murmured, tugging off his shirt and pants. “For the consummation, hm?”

Orelan giggled. “Si, Wyndham, we will consummate together.”

“At least,” he answered, waggling his eyebrows at her, and making her giggle again. “I have one question,” he said, as he bent down again, and slowly crawled up her body. “How does a widow continue to remain a virgin?”

Orelan laughed, reaching for him. “It is a very mysterious story, my golden puma. Perhaps, I might not be a widow at all.”

“Ah,” Wyndham replied. “Using it to keep the swine away?”

“All but one, my handsome puma,” she said chuckling.

“That, baby love, is the only way I would have it,” he said with the tip of his cock, nudging her wet and welcoming opening.

“Oh, si,”
Orelan gasped, clutching his shoulders as her hips rose to meet his.

The way was tight. Not an easy conquest. Just as he would have it, as he nudged and retreated and nudged a little deeper again. But the haven was dribbling and hot, clutching at the head of his cock exuberantly and making him groan as Orelan gasped. He pressed harder, demanding surrender, slipping deeper. Then, he felt the fiery circle of Orelan’s feminine flesh enclosed around the column of his throbbing dick. The inner walls were slippery and gripping. Tight then lax, tighter, then lax again. The heat sizzled along his cock and saturated him to the core.

“Christ,” he groaned hoarsely as Orelan passionately panted beneath him. It seemed that raised and tilted as he was, only on one knee, produced a riveting angle for both of them, and it also showed him that he could, if he wished, fuck his woman in any way he could imagine. Leaning on one hand he clasped Orelan by the small of her back, and thrust into her, seating himself with a groan, to the hilt of his thickening cock.

“Oh hhh hh,”
Orelan cried, arching beneath him.

He instantly felt the inner walls of her vagina clench around the full length of his dick, making him tense in pleasure. But he held still, deeply embedded, and raised his head, whispering hoarsely, “Do it again, baby love. Grip my big cock inside you.”

Orelan’s red lips parted on a gasp as she looked at him with burning passion in her eyes. The intimacy of what they both felt, being joined, feeling each other, was written there, as she tightened her inner muscles stroking him deep.
“Oh,”
she squealed and the pleasure flashed across her lovely features, as he belly-groaned his immense approval.

“I am going to make you come like this,” he vowed in a deep tenor voice as he twitched his thick cock strongly inside her, making her squeal excitedly. He never thrust. He never left his deep haven, as he murmured, “Grip my cock, baby love. Try to push me out.”

“Wyndham,” she cried out, as she followed his command, squeezing, then releasing, in ever faster tremors around his impaled cock.

“Ah,
Christ
, baby,” he groaned harshly as he too twitched his broad stiff root up inside of her, while they gazed at each other, seeing each motion reflected in the other’s eyes. The pleasure was intense and expanding, rippling . . . overpowering. Suddenly, Orelan cried out, arching up against his stiffly inserted cock as her exploding climax convulsed over his dick, and he bellowed. “God!” His cock drew inward, and then burst forth with raw pleasure so deep it burned his guts, as his seed ejaculated.
“Ah,”
he grunted, beneath the powerful rapture, shuddering through his body.

“God,
I love you, baby,” he belly-groaned.

“Oh, my Wyndham, I
love
you too,” Orelan gasped.

The End

My Lady Taken

By Shirl Anders

Chapter One

“You are as mad as a March hare, man,” Brynmore declared.

“I do not see why,” Radford responded. “It is a foregone conclusion that I must marry.” Radford’s sculptured lips grimaced plentifully. “This year,” he sneered, before he continued, with his more normally cultured baritone voice. “I am a fine catch, I understand, even given the eye patch.” He paused, sipping his whiskey. “Inasmuch as I am a Duke . . . and so young, they
will
come.”

“Yea, they will run to your side,” Brynmore agreed, interrupting. “And they do present all form of nuisances to you already, man, falling all over you. But a contest?”

“To
win
your hand in marriage and not the other way around?” Saxonhurst questioned. “It is nobly conceited,” he finished grimly.

“Nay, comrades,” Radford quipped. “I say it is a masterpiece of wit. A consummate plan of attack. I shall never be so fortunate as our compatriots Harrison, Wyndham, and our veritable leader Drummond, in finding the perfect woman, as they have. Each woman beautiful and classic as they stand, yet each with overflowing spoonful’s of the naughty vixen beneath their lovely exteriors.” Radford paused, striking a tall and languished pose. “Nay, it is impossible to think I could have enough time within this year alone to aspire to my companions’ good fortune... Unless, I cheat.”

Both men glared at him, thoughtful now. Yet, both of their intelligent minds were turning with the possibilities and apparently coming to the same obvious conclusions that he had. It was an amazing sight with the rogue Brynmore beginning to lecherously grin, while Saxonhurst stared at him intense but solemn. But in the end they both gambled to the same conclusions that he had.

“They will be trying to fuck you!” Brynmore blared.

“Tup you royally!” Saxonhurst exclaimed at the same moment, so that both men’s voices pounded loudly over each other’s.

“Exactly!” Radford responded, with triumphant.

“But how would ye do the thing, man?”

“And their mamas would never allow it,” Saxonhurst declared, overriding Brynmore.

“Ah, but their mamas would, gentlemen. I put forth those mothering hens are more ambitious than Napoleon and his armies put together.” Radford turned his good crystal blue eye, not covered by the eye patch he wore, toward Brynmore. “And as for your question, Bry, I really intended not to do much of anything, but to show up.” Radford paused, swirling his glass of whiskey before him and staring at the amber liquid. “A weekend event in the country I believe should do it. At my estate. Soirées, a hunt, and a masquerade ball, all that sort of trivial. The second part of the plan shall encompass both of you and White’s Gentlemen’s Club.”

“White’s?” Brynmore asked with his lilting Scottish drawl.

“What?” Saxonhurst questioned.

“Actually,” Radford responded “It shall encompass both of you and the betting book at White’s.”

“Ack, you one-eyed devil, you are as long winded as a Northeastern gale,” Brynmore muttered.

Radford winked, as he quipped, “Large minds, my friend.” But then, he leaned forward with the intent expression of pure conspiracy. “Gentlemen, you my friends, shall bet on the date of my marriage and also to whom I am aspiring to marry. The matron hounds, from all counties around, will have this momentous piece of gossip ferreted out before the ink dries. Then, when my invitations arrive on the same day, as the bet, for a weekend retreat, giving them all enough time to work out their schemes properly, I shall have my contest with none of them being any the wiser, but for you two, my dearest friends.”

“Stow it,” Saxonhurst muttered, to Radford’s outrageous outburst of embellished endearments.

“This is why Drummond always appoints our Radford here the organizer,” Brynmore addressed sagely.

“But what of the screwing, Rad?” Saxonhurst asked. “If anyone should catch you plying an over achieving maiden, the conclusion will be forgone.”

“Marriage,” Brynmore added, stating the obvious.

“Yes,” Radford muttered. He’d realized this was the only skip, in his brilliantly formulated plan. As society stood now, a man would be walking the marriage shuffle if he were just as innocently caught alone in a room with an unattached young pigeon. Oh, for the more progressive continent, he silently lamented. Yet, there had to be a perfectly good solution.