Sylvia Day - Pride and Pleasure

“I thought we were the only ones here?” she queried, her heart still racing from her leap off the proverbial cliff.

“You are assuming I’m locking others out, instead of locking you in…”

The thought of capture excited her. She had run willingly into the lion’s den, and now there was no turning back.

He leaned back against the door, his palms pressed flat to the panels and one ankle crossed over the other. The perfect appearance of insouciant leisure. But he’d never been able to hide his predaceous nature from her. She had seen it from the first and she saw it now: the high color on his throat and cheekbones, the fine sheen of sweat on his chest, the flaring of his nostrils, and the narrowed, concentrated gaze.

One wrong move and he would pounce…

Reaching up, she began to pull the pins from her hair. She dropped them on the floor, one by one, as he’d done with his cravat. There was something oddly freeing in that carelessness. The act of tossing aside the trappings that restrained. Here in this room with Jasper, she could finally cast off the confusing strictures of society and be what she had always wanted to be-liberated and independent.

After the last pin dropped, she shook out her hair, relishing the tingling of her scalp. She was clad in only her loosened stays and pantalettes, but she was not embarrassed or cold. There was no way she could be, when warmed by a stare as heated as Jasper’s.

He didn’t move, barely blinked. As the silence lengthened, she lost courage and clasped her hands in front of her.

“You are so beautiful, Eliza.” His hand lifted to his chest and rubbed, as if to soothe a pain there. “I adore your freckles. Do you have them everywhere?”

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “It is the bane of red hair, I’m afraid.”

“I will kiss every one of them,” he vowed. “They are delightful.”

“Fustian,” she scoffed. “No one likes freckles.”

Jasper’s eyes twinkled in the light of the bedside tapers. “Isn’t there anything about me you adore? Any part of me you want to kiss?”

“I am mad for every inch of you,” she pronounced with heartfelt fervency. “The way you smell. The cut of your hair. The line of your jaw. I’m especially taken with your hands. I can feel the strength in them when you touch me. You could crush my bones in your grip, but instead you are so gentle.”

He held both hands out, offering them to her. She rushed forward, knowing his touch would calm and distract her. “Sometimes I fear crushing you,” he confessed with a hitch in his voice.

Catching his hands with hers, Eliza pressed a kiss into each palm. “Is that why you stand so still?”

“Yes.”

“What would you do, if you had no need for restraint?”

As before, he brought her hand to rest over his heart, allowing her to feel its racing. “I would pin you to this door behind me and take you, swift and hard. Then I would lay you on the floor, spread you wide, and have you again. Slowly. Deeply. Eventually, we might make it to the bed, but I couldn’t guarantee it.”

“It sounds…savage.”

“You make me feel that way. If I could curb the need I have for you, I would. Perhaps, after tonight, it will be more manageable. I pray that’s the case.”

The roughness in his voice was a caress of its own. Freed from the pressure of her stays, the tips of her breasts throbbed and puckered tight. She was eye level with his chest, which made her wonder if his nipples were as sensitive as hers. The flat disks were surrounded by gooseflesh. Giving in to the urge, Eliza leaned forward and warmed one with a lick of her tongue.

“Bloody hell,” he bit out, jerking violently.

Jasper spun her away from him in a dizzying pivot. The ripping of her stays was like a crack of thunder in the room, followed by the rush of cool air across her back and the soft tickle of her hair beneath her shoulder blades. Her pantalettes were next, the tie at her waist digging briefly into her flesh before breaking in half. The flesh-colored stockinette was rent into two halves that clung to her ankles by the fastenings there.

She’d barely registered that she was excited by his loss of control when a hand at her lower back steered her forward, straight up the short steps at the foot of the bed and onto the mattress.

On her hands and knees, she crawled across the burgundy counterpane, highly conscious of everything she was exposing to him in the process. His hand caught her ankle when she reached the middle of the massive bed, halting her. She dropped to her stomach in a bid for modesty. The remnants of her pantaloons were stripped from her legs and discarded.

Eliza didn’t move, barely breathed.

“Are you frightened?” he asked gruffly.

She had to force herself to think about her feelings. “I d-don’t know.”

Jasper stretched out beside her, his arm extended above their heads. With his other hand, he urged her to roll to her side, so that her back was against his sweat-dampened chest. He leaned forward and rested his cheek against her shoulder, his silky hair brushing softly against her skin. His arm came around her waist and held her tightly to him. He didn’t move. Eventually, she relaxed into his warmth, inhaling the scent of him, which was made stronger by the tremendous heat of his body. He felt fevered against her flesh.

It took long moments, but over time his temperature cooled and his breathing slowed.

“Jasper…?”

His hand at her waist moved higher, cupping a breast. She tensed again at the unfamiliar touch.

“Shh,” he murmured, gentling her.

The feel of his breath gusting across her ear made her nipple harden into his palm. A rough sound escaped him and his hand flexed convulsively around her.

“Let me show you what you did to me,” he whispered, withdrawing enough to coax her onto her back.

Eliza stared up at him, awed anew by how handsome he was. How was it possible that such a man would find her so desirable?

She didn’t care. She was just grateful for her good fortune.

With no further warning, he lowered his head and surrounded her nipple with the humid heat of his mouth. She arched upward with a gasp, startled by the violence of her response. His tongue curled around the aching tip, and his cheeks hollowed on a deep suckle. She cried out, her nails scratching into the velvet coverlet. His callused fingertips rolled her other nipple, then tugged. She began to pant.

“Jasper.”

He growled and sucked harder, his tongue stroking the underside of the straining point with wicked skill. The flesh between her thighs pulsed in time to the rhythm of his mouth, clenching deep and feeling empty. Her hips lifted, seeking. The hand at her breast slid lower, across the flat of her belly and into the dark red curls at the apex of her thighs.

The shock of the caress froze her. She was too sensitive there, too wet and swollen.

“Touch me.” His voice was so gruff, she barely recognized it.

He withdrew and caught her wrist, urging her hand to mold around the outline of his erection. He showed her how to move, rubbing her palm up and down his thick length. Heat rushed up her arm and spread throughout her body, easing her stiffened muscles. Exploiting her distraction, he resumed his quest, his fingers slipping through the lax barrier of her thighs. His palm cupped her, the breadth of his hand easily laying claim to the part of her that had always been intensely private.

His dark head lifted. He watched her reaction as his fingers moved, gliding through the slickness clinging to the entrance of her body.

“Open,” he breathed. “Let me feel how wet you are.”

When she hesitated, he took her mouth, his lips slanting across hers in a brazen seduction. His tongue followed the outer curve of her lower lip, tracing the shape before teasing the seam with flirtatious licks. She opened with rapacious hunger, her head lifting in an attempt to deepen the kiss. He pulled back, maintaining the provocative distance between them, denying her the full possession she sought.

Eliza made a frustrated sound and his fingers tapped lightly against her sex.

Challenged by his silent bargain, she spread her legs, draping one thigh over his so nothing was barred from him.

“Yes.” His lips lowered to hers. “Be wanton…”

His tongue and fingertip breached her simultaneously, above and below. She writhed into the unexpected intrusion, moaning as sweat misted her skin. She gripped his erection with desperately clenching fingers. Bolder than she’d ever imagined she could be.

“So snug.” His finger pushed inexorably deeper, then pulled back. When he stroked back into her, her legs fell open, and her hips arched. “Snug and very hot.”

Her fingertips found the plush head of his penis straining above the waistband of his breeches. She hungrily explored the satiny curve, fascinated with the heat and silky smooth texture. Moisture beaded on the crown. She wished she could clench the length of him, caress him fervently from root to tip.

“No more,” he said harshly, pulling back from her.

She grasped for him to no avail. He slipped further down the bed, away from her greedy lips and tormented breasts.

“Jasper!” she protested, trying to sit up but losing the leverage to do so when he pushed his shoulders under her legs.

There was a blazing moment when she realized what he wanted, then her thoughts scattered beneath the lash of his tongue. An unvoiced protest died on her lips. She couldn’t muster the will to stop him, even to appease her scandalized sense of modesty. Instead she moaned and rocked into his mouth, trying to find his rhythm so she could ease the terrible yearning within her.

“That’s the way,” he coaxed darkly, lifting her hips.

His tongue lapped through the tender folds of her sex, parting her, licking her with velvet roughness. He toyed with her, flickering over the knot of nerves with the pointed tip of his tongue. She bucked upward, knowing there had to be more. Wanting more. Needing it. She mewled in torment.

His finger returned, sliding easily through greedily clenching tissues.

“Oh…” she moaned, her eyes squeezing shut against the unbearable intimacy. “Oh, God!”

In and out. Pushing and withdrawing. Pumping. She writhed, and he pinned her hips with a heavy arm.

Two fingers. Her body shuddered violently at the unfamiliar stretching. His mouth surrounded her, tongued her, sucked her…

Eliza climaxed with a serrated cry, her fingers digging into the counterpane, her thighs quivering.

At the height of her pleasure, Jasper thrust his fingers deep and scissored them, rending the barrier of her virginity. She scarcely felt the pain, so lost was she to the wonder of his talented tongue.

He didn’t stop, groaning as if he felt the same surfeit of feeling, prolonging the waves of sensation until she pushed his head away, unable to bear any more.

Jasper pressed a kiss to a freckle on Eliza’s thigh before sliding off the end of the bed. She curled onto her side, flushed and trembling, her slim, pale limbs drawn tight to her body. Her blue eyes followed his movements, looking dazed and sated at once.

His blood was raging, his cock throbbing. He yanked open the placket of his breeches and pushed them down. Kicking them aside, he took his penis in his hand and stroked the pulsing length. Crimson skeins of moisture-her virginal blood-clung to his fingers. The sight aroused him, luring his seed to leak from the tip of his cock.

He’d pushed her far and fast, needing to take her past the twin hurdles of inexperience and virginity so he could have her as he needed to. He had tried to warn her, attempted to explain, forced himself to give voice to a craving he didn’t understand. Small comfort to a woman overwhelmed by her first physical attraction.

Jasper had taken advantage of that fact, remembering how riotous the flush of first lust was, how ill-considered and desperate it felt. He remembered it well, because Eliza made him feel that way again. Hot-blooded. Randy. Impatient.

With harsh strides, he went to the washstand and grabbed a handful of freshly laundered towels. On the way back to the bed, he caught up the bottle of oil he’d purchased at Mrs. Pennington’s shop. He tossed the towels on the counterpane, then poured a small pool of the fragrant golden liquid into his palm. The bottle was set aside on the nightstand by Eliza’s head.

Deliberately, he rubbed his hands together, releasing the scent of bergamot and spice into the air. He’d chosen a masculine scent on purpose, wanting it to linger in her mind after the night was over, goading her to remember the things he had done to her body. Thus far she hadn’t been subject to the sorts of lewd imaginings he suffered through, but he intended that to change. Whether she was balancing her ledgers or dancing with blasted suitors, Jasper wanted her to be thinking of sex with him.