The Coachman's Daughter (13 page)

“You did that once, with your father?”

“Yes. He made sure I was familiar with the
workings of the estate. I used to—”

“Enjoy it?”

“Umm.”

She raised her head to see him slumped in the
corner, comfortable with his head cushioned by his coat, arms
crossed and one leg in the seat, his other foot braced on the
floor.

His legs were long and well-muscled. His
trousers were snug and she allowed her gaze to move up to where his
silk shirt was tucked into the waistband.

“Did you really hold my cock?”

She jerked her eyes to his face. His lashes
were just barely open.

“No. But I have seen you necked.”

In seductive tones, he whispered, “And does
it please you, my body?”

“Are you feeding your vanity?”

“No.” He moistened his lips. The action
captured her attention. “Yours pleases me. I liked the way you
touched me too.”

“You’re a beautiful man with a beautiful
body.” She admitted in a low tone. “You know that.”

He unfolded his arms and one hand went down
to casually lay over his groin. His black hair was a mess, tumbling
over his brows. He looked very much the decadent rake. “I’m glad
you’re not shy”

“I may be.”

He smiled. It was maddeningly sensual. “You
are attracted to me. You called my body beautiful. That tells me
any boldness on my part will please you.”

“What do you mean?”

Deme rubbed his hand over his groin slowly,
his gaze still on her. “I’m not shy.”

Tingles spread over her. Her skin flushed.
She glanced from his hand to his face.

His knee rocked outward, spreading his thighs
a bit. It was obvious his sex was hard and outlined under his
palm.

She wet her lips, “When will we reach the
first manor.”

“About three more hours.” He spoke lazily.
“Why?”

“I was just—making conversation.”

His white grin was knowing.

Haven rolled her head back a moment and then
regarded him under her lashes. He was all rake sprawled like that,
clothing and hair in dishevel and hand over his sex, rubbing
it.

He said, “You won’t be shy by the time you’re
ready to be my lover.”

Grunting Haven murmured, “Have you any idea
how arrogant you sound when you say it like that.” She blew out a
breath. He was making the coach hot. Making her body hot. And, he
knew it.

His low laugh rumbled. “Not arrogant.
Hopeful.” He brushed his free hand over his silk shirt and let it
rest on the flat of his stomach. “Am I tempting you?”

“Seducing.”

“Am I?” that grin was wicked. “That excites
me Mulhern.”

“I can see it does.” Her gaze went to that t
hand meaningfully.

He made a little mmm sound and husked, “You
do.”

The churn of hooves sounded and the coach
still rocked, but Haven thought, they might as well be anywhere. He
was close enough so that she could look at him at leisure. He was
inviting her to—teasing her, and the sound of his lazy voice went
down her spine like fire.

“Why don’t you unbutton your jacket?”

Surprising herself, caught up in his
seduction, she did, unlatching it.

“And that pretty lace blouse,” he coaxed when
she had done so.

It had a dozen tiny buttons. As her fingers
undid them, his eyes were focused there. Hers moved from his face
to that hand cupping lightly between his powerful legs.

She wore a camisole. When the silk of it
showed he murmured, “Very pretty, but I would see your skin
Haven.”

The chemise laced up with a ribbon. She heard
the slick sound of it when she undid the bow. Air wafted her skin
when she held the thing in her hand. Looking down, between the
jacket and her open shirt, her ribs and breasts were exposed, her
nipples were aroused, hard and distended.

Glancing over at Deme, she saw him wet his
lips. His hand was moving again.

“Touch them.”

She flushed.

He encouraged in a whisper, “Feel how lovely
they are.”

Tentatively at first, looking down, watching
herself, she touched the shallow mounds. The skin was silken, warm
but chills came from the sensitivity of her skin. When her
fingertips touched her nipples, she heard him groan and glanced
over at him.

He had undone the latches on his trousers.
She felt saliva rush to her mouth, felt her pulse pound at the
sight of his hand around his exposed and fully erect cock. She
watched him stroke it a few times, before he set up and urged,
“Come here.”

Steadying herself, she transferred to his
seat.

He helped her remove the jacket and blouse,
leaving the ribbon strap camisole on her and open. Deme cupped her
chin and then kissed her, his warm palm landing on her breast.

Harsh, hard breathing sounded while he
ravished her inner mouth.

Haven did her own tasting of him.

When lifted from it, breathing darkly, he
took her hand and put it on him.

She immediately felt the heat, pulse, the
utter silkiness of his skin.

Haven did not get to watch much because he
arched her head back and was biting and laving her throat, while
massaging her breasts. He moved his head down, sucking them. Not
easy, not hesitant—but suckling in a way that made her moan and
made her hand flex on him.

When he ceased, they were both panting. Her
lashes lifted to meet his burning green gaze. Reading her face
before kissing her a dozen soft and clinging times, he moved back
and slumped his spine, now giving her a full view. She turned
slightly toward him. One masculine hand covered hers and stroked up
and down on his sex, the other teased her beasts.

Looking from their hands to his face, she
thought he looked incredibly beautiful. Tense with arousal,
slightly heavy lids shielding glittering green eyes. Haven leaned
in and kissed him, surprised when he moaned in her mouth before he
made a sound of delicious satisfaction.

She treated his sensual lips to nibbles and a
tease along the seam with the tip of her tongue, before lifting her
head.

He murmured, “I’m going to climax.”

Haven leaned back. He moved her hand long
enough to take a cloth out of his coat pocket. She visually traced
the shape of his cock while he sat back against the corner again,
the breadth, the peach head and veins, the dusky hue of the shaft.
It aroused her just looking at it, so potent, virile, and so
erotic.

She watched his fingers wrap around it again,
When he fisted and squeezed, stroked it, her whole body went hot
and her breathing grew as heavy as his. Then, it came, a sound deep
in his throat, a quiver that racked him. The seed was pumping,
sliding over the head until he covered it with the cloth in his
other hand. She raised her eyes to his face. The pleasure in every
line was almost enviable.

After a bit, Haven moved and relaxed,
watching him repair and adjust his clothing. When he was done, Deme
slumped heavily back and raked his hands though his hair.

She closed her eyes, breathed slow and
controlled, just realizing she had tensed with him. She remained
that way when a waft of air announced he had raised the flap. He
lit a cheroot soon after. Haven did not open her eye s until the
window was down and she heard a chink sound. He was sipping from a
flask.

“No.” He shook his head when she started to
reach for her blouse. He capped the flask and moved across from
her, reaching for her skirts and slowly easing them up her silk
stocking’d limbs.

It occurred to haven how at ease he was
finding the tab of her bloomers and easing them off. That was soon
forgotten.

Slowly pushing her thighs open, he murmured,
“Slide down.”

She did so, somewhat enthralled by the sight
of her own decadent image, the black garters at the top of her
knees, the smooth skin of her thighs, and the sexual curls exposed,
the abandoned way her limbs were spread.

He leaned in and kissed her mouth, then
dipping to her nipples before smoothing his hands up her thighs.
Deme tucked the skirt higher. He leaned down; his lips kissing her
skin brought a hiss of pleasure from her.

Haven chewed her lip, moaned, watching him,
watching that curly hair skim her flesh when he dragged his tongue
above the garter and higher still. Straightening, he caught her
gaze, his timbre deep. “Beautiful.”

“I’m trembling.” She was amazed that she
was.

He merely winked while his fingers were
finding her sex and giving it ultra-soft strokes. They were
arousing, so pleasurable that she coiled, tense watching him do it.
When he used his thumbs to part the lips of her sex and expose the
most sensitive, moistened, inner petals, she finally knew what
erotic was. It was Deme, and herself, like this. It was his leaning
his head down and first teasing that place with his tongue, letting
her see it licking at her, before he gave the nub a gentle
suckle.

In the next moments, she heard her moans. Her
hands found his hair, fingers tangling in them. She was not
shy—rather she was shameless, spreading her legs wider, holding him
closer, moving her hips to take every sensation to the fullest.

The coach filled of her half caught breaths.
She arched. He lifted his head, his mouth touched her parted one
and they shared a kiss that was loose and sexual. His knowingly
gave her a taste of her passion, and Haven knowingly took it. She
felt his finger enter her, welcomed it, and moaned blatantly when
it was sunk deep inside.

Muscles contracted. She jerked her head away,
grappling for a hold on something when he pulled it out and thrust
back in. feeling a sensation of that pleasure coiled tighter, ready
to drop her into a free fall.

Finally, cupping her hands on the edge of the
seat by her buttocks, she looked at him rather wildly, seeing him
through a haze. “Deme…” it was a half cry, half moan. She was
slick, very wet on his fingers.

“Too fast?”

“No.” she wet her lips, eyes widening when he
thrust several times.

He said terse, holding her gaze. “You are a
virgin.”

“Yes.”

Deme slowed his touch and reached up, cupping
her face a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Do you agree we are
lovers?”

“Yes.”

“And my cock will be doing what my finger now
is.”

“Mmm.” She nodded. Just the thought of it
sent her inner muscles rippling.

He kissed her harder. Haven was lost in that,
until she felt the tension below and realized he had two fingers
inside her. At some moment she felt it burn, his teeth had her
lower lip. He was breathing fast. There were three thrusts that
were uncomfortable before he drew his fingers out.

Still in the grip of the pleasure, the
hungers, she blinked and was confused when he was not touching
her.

In what she realized was an almost nervous
whisper, he asked, “Have you a handkerchief.”

“In my cape—”

Then he was cleaning her.

“I don’t understand, I thought…”

“It’s all right.” He poured a bit brandy on
it and wiped his hands and then was there, back where he started.
Cupping her face a moment, he confessed. “I’ve never had virgin. I
have no idea if that will help that I breached you, when we fully
lie together, but I have heard so.”

He kissed her and then was petting her there
again, saying. “You’re so soft, so sleek and lovely here.” This
time when he leaned down, he lifted her legs higher and his tongue
was more aggressive, actually trusting inside her sex between his
suckles higher up. He moved his head, worried that nub and the
suckling sound aroused her even further.

Haven felt the climax building. It was wild,
excited, and tense. She found herself reaching for it, her body
craving it beyond all else. Her heart roared, blood pounding. His
finger entered her while he sucked that spot. There it was….the
world exploded, melted, along with her body, wonderfully,
exquisitely. Moaning, arching she took it and let it take her out
of the universe.

When it faded, Deme kissed her and murmured
sweetly and held her.

Once dressed, they both slept until they were
awakened by the halt of the coach.

Chapter Seven

Her impression of the first manor was that it
was drafty and damp. With only a small staff in residence, they
were let in by the housekeeper and shown above to adjoining
quarters, without Haven even thinking much of it. A square 4-story
manor, it had lush acreage she would learn, and all of it dotted
with sheep.

The night wind seemed to seep right through
the shuttered windows. She was undressing in the room shown her,
telling the maid that she would see to herself after the bed was
turned down, Haven tried to maneuver in the room with only a fat
tallow candle to see by. She washed from a pan provided, scrubbing
her body while having her plaid robe draped over her shoulders.

Seeing her breath in the room, she knew the
first thing she would do was get lamps up here and carpets—and for
God sakes, some firewood.

The door opened. The woman entered who
greeted them below. “Milk and a bit of supper.”

“Thank you.” Haven kept the robe tight around
her while the plump woman set it on a small table. “

Afterwards the woman headed for the door.
“We’ll have better in the morning, my lady. We weren’t expecting
his Lordship this early and Tom just got half the hearths
clean…”

Not correcting the, my lady part, Haven said,
“It’s quite all right. I will be fine with this for now.”

The door closed. Haven hurriedly dried any
damp spots before carrying the tray over to the bed. Half covered
up; she ate and drank, then set the tray down hearing the wind
gusting outside.

The door opened again. Deme was there. He
took three strides and threw himself on her bed.

“What are you doing?” She laughed though
trying to whisper.