Simply Sinful (9 page)

“I adored James; he was like the brother I never had. On the eve of my sixteenth birthday, his parents told me I was to be married. But I didn’t find out until the ceremony that I was to marry James.”

She sighed. “I thought to refuse, but when I saw what they had done to him, I remembered his kindness toward me, the way he defended and comforted me when my mother died, and I couldn’t let him down.”

“Of course not. Loyalty is very important to you, isn’t it?” Peter kept his voice low, reluctant to pull her out of her story, sure that worse was yet to come. She sat up straighter, her fingers laced together on her lap.

“Our wedding night was a disaster. James’ father insisted on remaining in the bedchamber to make sure the marriage was consummated. We were trapped together behind the bed curtains. I was terrified that if James didn’t do his duty, his father would beat him again or do the job himself.”

“Had James ever been with a woman before?”

Her smile this time was wry. “Apparently not, as he had no more idea of what we were supposed to be doing than I did. It would’ve made a marvelous farce on the stage. Living through it was not quite so amusing.”

Peter tried to imagine the scene and failed. “But, forgive me for asking, how did you manage?”

She looked away from him again and he took her hand. “Remember, you can tell me anything. I’ve lived through a sexual hell of my own.”

She returned her gaze to his. “James couldn’t get an erection, and eventually his father sent his manservant to help him. The man thrust his hand through the bed curtains and roughly handled James’s…”

“Cock,” said Peter quietly. “Call it his cock.”

“James’s cock. He got hard very quickly and climbed on top of me. He told me to forgive him and then…”

Her gaze became shuttered as if even after all this time, her memories were too horrible to share.

“It must have hurt. I know how that feels.”

“It was awful, and even more awful because I knew I couldn’t make a sound in case the duke thought James was hurting me. I stuffed my hand into my mouth to stop myself from crying out. James was crying too. And even after all that, they still beat him half to death before they sent him away.”

Peter stood up and busied himself fetching Abigail a brandy. “That wasn’t your fault, was it? You did your best for him, didn’t you? You weren’t to blame for his father’s actions.”

She brushed angrily at the tears on her cheeks. “I know that. But at that point it didn’t make me feel any better.”

His lips twitched as he fought a smile. She continued to surprise him. He was reminded of Valentin, facing every potential disaster with his fists raised to fight. “No, I should imagine it didn’t.”

She glared at him, eyebrows raised in a question. “Do you find this amusing?”

He touched the corner of her trembling mouth with his thumb. How could he tell her that the courage and sense of loyalty she had displayed toward her friend at the tender age of sixteen inspired him and reminded him of his complicated relationship with Valentin?

“Not at all, I’m just appreciating your resilience and trying to resist the desire to kiss you and make everything better.”

Her cheeks flushed even more red. “I’m not a child.”

“I didn’t intend to treat you like one.” She swallowed as he bent his head and gently brushed her lips with his own. She tasted of her tears.

He kissed her again, more slowly this time, and allowed the tip of his tongue to outline her lips. She sighed and opened her mouth to him. One of her hands crept into his hair as he made his first delicate foray inside. He murmured his appreciation as her tongue met his in a shy dance of advance and retreat.

When he finally released her, his breathing was as erratic as hers. He held her gaze, let her see the arousal in his eyes.

“I want to kiss you again, but first, tell me something. When James returned from Jamaica, did he share your bed?”

Abigail frowned and absentmindedly stroked his cheek as if impatient to carry on. He captured her fingers against his skin.

“He did and it was still awful. After a few weeks, we agreed we would try to be intimate with each other only once a month in the hopes of making a child. It made it easier for us to share the same space and become friends again.”

“And had he improved as a lover?”

Her smile was wry. “A little, but I still think he sees me as a friend, and that makes it more difficult for him to treat me like other women.”

Her perception amazed him. For a woman who spent most of her life in the obscurity of the countryside she was remarkably astute.

Abby leaned forward, desperate for him to stop talking and kiss her again. He pressed his fingers to her lips. She pushed them away. Had she done it again? Had she managed to offend a man without even understanding why? Anxiety rose in a hot, red tide in her stomach.

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to be intimate with me?”

“I do, but I think you need to slow down.”

She straightened. It was her fault. There
was
something wrong with her. After hearing about her disastrous love life, Peter had lost interest. She struggled to keep the panic out of her voice, forced herself to be angry instead.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say to you? It’s not as if I’m a virgin or anything.”

His expression changed. “You are a virgin in every way that matters.”

Coldness settled over her. Even she had heard the gossip from London. Peter obviously knew James bedded other women and had no trouble performing with them. There was something about her that repelled men. She raised her chin in a vain attempt to show him she didn’t care.

“If I am that inadequate, please don’t feel obligated to stay until James comes back. I’m sure he would be delighted to see you in Town.”

He tried to take her hands, his skin warm against her cold, clenched fists. “You misunderstand me. I don’t want to go. And as I said, I want to show you how much more enjoyable lovemaking can be when you are not afraid.”

She fought a desire to close her eyes against the graphic images of James pushing inside her that still threatened her dreams.

“I also know how it feels to have sex with someone who doesn’t seem to care if they hurt you or not.”

“James never wanted to hurt me. It’s my fault. I don’t know how to please him, I don’t…”

He took her chin in his fingers, his gaze hard. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault and I’m going to prove it to you.”

He drew her to her feet, his smile inviting and warm.

“I want you to undress me.”

She stared at him. “Until you are naked?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

“And then you may touch and play with me as much as you want.”

A curious warmth ignited low in her belly. “Any part of you I wish?”

He glanced down at his breeches, smoothed a hand over the front. “Yes.”

Abby took a step toward him. “And while I play with you, what will you be doing?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Enjoying it, I hope.”

“You will not touch me?”

He sketched a cross over his heart. “I won’t.” He glanced at the bed. “In fact, if you don’t quite trust me, when you have me naked, you can tie my hands to the bedpost so that I won’t be able to touch you at all.”

“How will this help me?”

“Because you need to see a naked man and learn how to arouse him. When you understand how to drive a man wild, you will also learn what arouses you.” He gestured at the bed. “Think of me as one of those scientific experiments you are so fond of reading about.”

Abby swallowed hard. She wanted to touch him so badly, and in truth there was nothing except her own fear to stop her. James would be delighted at her boldness. She marched toward Peter and started to pull his shirt from his breeches. He winced as she tugged at the front.

“Perhaps you might consider undoing my breeches first. My shirt is still tucked in.”

Without raising her gaze from his waist, she set to work on the four buttons. When the front placket dropped away, she studied the shirt. Puzzled, she touched the wet patch in the center and felt the pulsing heat of his erection beneath it. She snatched her fingers away as if she’d burned them.

Peter let out an unsteady breath. “I’m already aroused. Be careful when you pull off my shirt.”

Abby touched the spot again. Wet cloth and burning heat, the scent of laundry soap, musk and male. She used her thumb and forefinger to mold the damp cloth to the head of his cock. He remained still, his hands relaxed by his sides. Curious now, she bent down to take a closer look. Her braid brushed against his thigh and his cock jerked between her fingers. She hurriedly let go.

He obligingly lowered his head so that she could remove his shirt. It dropped from her fingers to the floor as she got her first view of his chest.

His skin was tanned and muscular and covered with a light dusting of gold hair. Amongst the hair rested half an ancient coin attached to a chain. A gold ring threaded through his right nipple caught her attention. She touched the warm metal with the tip of her finger.

“Does this hurt?”

“Not anymore. It hurt like hell when it was first done, but that was almost twenty years ago.”

She couldn’t resist giving the thin gold circle a gentle tug. “I’m surprised you keep it. I would get rid of any reminders from my years as a slave.”

He breathed out, brushing the back of her hand with his chest. “Not all my experiences were unpleasant and it brings me pleasure. Why deprive myself of an exquisite sensation?”

She studied the ring and he stood quietly while she did it. It occurred to her that he had more patience than any man she had ever met. Had he learned that in the brothel? Greatly daring, she leaned forward and touched the golden hoop with the tip of her tongue. The smooth metal glided against her teeth. He made a sound low in his throat, a murmur of pleasure and approval.

She straightened and met his shadowed blue gaze. He let out a careful breath. “Ask me anything you want, Abigail; I’ll try to answer you.”

“Did you like that?”

He glanced down at his chest. “When you licked my nipple? Yes, of course I did.” He returned his attention to her face. “I’d like it even more if you sucked it into your mouth.”

“Like a baby?”

He shrugged, the movement highlighting his taut muscles, the tension coiled beneath his skin. “Like a lover.”

Mesmerized by the expectation in his gaze, she latched on to his nipple and suckled him. She sucked until the point was hard and thrust against her tongue.

When she raised her head, he was panting. “Do it again; bite me a little. Do anything you desire, but don’t stop.”

She returned her attention to his chest, bringing her other hand up to caress and tease his left nipple. His skin smelled of the spiced wine they’d shared at dinner and cigar smoke. She wanted to lick her way all around his chest until she could taste nothing but him.

His cock nudged incessantly at her hip as he rocked into her. Her skin felt as if a thousand pins prickled over it. She wanted more. She wanted to see all of him.

His breath hissed out as she tugged urgently on his breeches. Thank God he’d already removed his tight-fitting boots or she would’ve been in trouble. He stepped out of his breeches, bringing his small-clothes with them.

Abby held her breath as he straightened and stood still in front of her. His cock was erect and strained upward toward his navel; a thin trickle of liquid on his shaft shone in the candlelight.

“You are wet.”

He glanced down. “Yes, its pre-cum. My cock needs to be wet to slide inside you more easily.”

She reached out a finger and collected a pearly drop of the fluid on her fingertip. Bringing it to her nose, she sniffed and then licked it into her mouth.

“Starchy and salty.”

Peter swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on her mouth, the movement of her lips. She circled him and admired his tight buttocks, halted at the appalling sight of his scarred back. She touched the raised white lines and he shivered. She bit her lip, determined not to let her horror show.

“It is easy to forget what you went through. But now that I know what lies under your exquisite clothing, I’ll never forget.”

It was easier then to return and view his arousal. He made no effort to cover himself or hide his erection. His calm acceptance of his state made her less fearful and more accepting of the rising tide of her own sexual interest.

“Do you wish me to sit on the bed?”

Her gaze returned from contemplation of his cock to his face. Amusement at her unabashed appraisal mingled with desire in his narrowed eyes.

“No, will you just stay as you are?”

He shrugged, the movement making his stomach muscles ripple. “Of course, and remember, you may touch me in any way you want.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Then I’ll get dressed and we can share a brandy in front of the fire and talk about our plans for tomorrow.” He held her gaze, a smile in his. “This isn’t meant to be an ordeal, Abigail. It’s meant to give you pleasure.”

Her hands fisted at her sides. “I want to lick you. I want to rub my face against your skin and breathe you in.”

The amusement faded from his face and was replaced by something far more potent. “Then do it.” He walked across to the end of the four-poster bed and grabbed hold of the bedposts with both hands. “Lick me.”

Her body ached, her nipples were hard, and between her legs was a heaviness and warmth she’d never experienced before. Was this lust? Was this how a healthy female was supposed to react to an enticing male body? Gathering her courage, Abby placed her palm over Peter’s heart, felt its frantic beat. She slid her hands down his back and nuzzled her face against his chest, enjoying the rasp of his hair and the tight buds of his nipples. Emboldened now, she touched his buttocks, cupped them in her hands as she continued to lick and suck on his chest.

He groaned in her ear, the urgent press of his hips driving his cock against the thin fabric of her nightgown, soaking it in his pre-cum. She shut her eyes and brought one of her hands around to touch his shaft. The heat and strength between her fingers made her body clench and then open as if in welcome. She discovered his softer flesh, slid over the hardness within, and wrapped her fingers around him.