Authors: Choices
Rachel Carrington (22 page)
The pages stilled and Carla closed the heavy leather cover. Placing the book on the table beside the settee, she got to her feet, holding out one hand to Sinclair which he took. “I’ll always be grateful to you, Sara.” She turned to walk away.
Sinclair took a look over his shoulder. “Do you think she’s gone?”
“Not yet.” Carla reached the door, pausing to rest her hand against the doorframe. “Thank you, Sara.
Thank you for trusting me enough to bring me here and for allowing me the privilege of loving your husband. I wish I could have met you. You must have been one helluva lady, pardon my language. I meant it when I said that I would take care of him. He’s in good hands.” Carla held still for a long second and then she tipped her face up to her husband’s. “Now, she’s gone.”
Sinclair framed her face with his hands. “For good?”
“She just said goodbye.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “And you were right.”
Her breath escaped her lungs on a sigh. “About what?”
“She was one helluva lady.”
* * * * *
His chest rumbled with laughter. “Then I shall have to save this manner of lovemaking for special occasions.”
“Was this a special occasion?”
He sensed the seriousness of her tone. “You tell me. You seem to have developed some sort of bond with my first wife. I cannot tell you how odd that sounds to say it aloud.” He slid his hands up and down her spine. “So how do you feel now that Sara is gone?”
Carla propped her body up on her elbows to see his face. “Your wife placed a lot of trust in me, Sinclair. She believed I was the woman you needed and at first, that scared me. Now, I know she’s right. We’re going to live happily ever after.”
Sinclair’s hand wandered down to caress her ass. “You believe in happily ever after?”
“Now I do.”
He sighed with contentment. “Good. I want you to be happy.”
“I am. Can’t you tell how happy you’ve made me these last three months as your wife?”
Sinclair hummed his approval. “If this morning is anything to judge your happiness, I would have to say that you’re extremely content.”
The thunder of footsteps on the stairs brought Sinclair to a sitting position. With a grumble, he tossed the quilts aside. “By all that’s holy, does not anyone sleep around here anymore?” Donning his breeches, he reached the door as a heavy-handed fist began to pound against the wood. With a glower designed to cower, he swung open the door to view the visitor. “Ian, this had better be good.”
The young man bobbed his head excitedly. “The priest sent me to get you, Your Grace. The new ships have arrived.” Hopping from foot to foot in his excitement, he shot a glance over the Duke’s shoulder, his eyes rounding to huge circles. “My apologies, Your Grace! I did not realize that you and your missus would still be abed. I will tell the priest that you will be along at a later time.”
Sinclair turned a regretful glance upon his wife. “The arrival of new ships means a lot to our townspeople. New goods, supplies for the winter and the chance to learn of news from other countries.
They count on my presence.”
Carla stifled a yawn and nodded. “So go, Your Grace. I’ll be here when you return.”
Ian’s face bloomed into a relieved smile. “Thank you, My Lady. I will tell them to expect you shortly, Your Grace, and I will wait for you at the gate.”
Sinclair shut the door and leaned against the wooden frame. “He seems quite taken with you.”
Carla snuggled back down beneath the quilts. “Can I help it if my rumpled appearance attracts younger men?”
Sinclair returned to her side with a low growl. “You will have no problem with me as long as you take no notice of those young men.”
“Don’t worry, My Lord. Soon, they will not take notice of me.”
He gave her a look that told her how ridiculous her words sounded to his ears. “Perhaps when you have reached the ripe old age of ninety.”
“Or perhaps when I am heavy with child.”
The idea had merit. Sinclair grinned. “Perhaps.” En route to his armoire, he paused, one foot freezing in the air. He placed his foot on the floor, rubbed his hands down the length of his breeches and rotated to face his wife. “I believe you said soon, dear wife.”
Carla grinned above the thick fold of blankets. “Did I?”
His brows lowered in a scowl. “Do not play games with me, Carla. Did you intend to say soon?”
Her eyes twinkled. “I meant it.”
He walked toward her slowly, hesitantly. “You are carrying my child?”
“I am carrying our child,” she corrected as she pushed her arms above her head in a decadent stretch.
Being kicked in the chest by his best stallion would not have stolen the breath from his lungs like her words had. She carried his child, their child. He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking her hands in his.
“And you are sure?”
Carla tugged his hands beneath the quilts and pressed them against her abdomen. “There is no doubt in my mind that I am pregnant, Sinclair. I’d say you have about seven months to get used to the idea of being a father.”
He shook his head. “I was used to that idea when I married you, Carla. I have wanted…” he broke off, closing his eyes and swallowing the lump of emotion that had taken up permanent residence in his throat,
“You have changed my life.”
She cupped his face. “I hope that the rest of our lives can be just like this moment.”
He gathered her into his arms, rocking her gently. “I love you, My Lady. You have made my life complete.”
Carla wrapped her arms around his neck. “And you have made my world complete.” She drew back to see his face. “I love you, Your Grace.” She kissed him then and heat sparked, sizzling between them like sun baking hard concrete. Pulling back, she gave him an impish smile. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Sinclair’s breath caught in his throat. Would she never cease to amaze him with her beauty and love?
“Could be. I’m thinking I want to fuck you again.”
She sighed. “How romantic.”
He nuzzled her neck. “We have the rest of our lives for romance, my lovely bride. For now, I want to fuck you.”
“Then who am I to stand in the way of progress?” Carla chuckled. She took hold of his hand and brought it to her pussy, already wet and hungry.
Sinclair’s eyes closed. No, she would never cease to amaze him. His fingers curled against the soft hair covering her vulva. “God, you feel so good.”
Carla nipped at his neck, his shoulder. “Less talk, Your Grace, and more action.”
He could live with that. His fingers plunged deep and she cried out, arching off the bed. “You like that?”
he whispered in her ear, finger-fucking her until she writhed next to him.
She began to pant. “What’s not to like?”
His thumb moved to her clit, her juices providing a slippery slope. He massaged her until Carla slung one leg over his thigh and bucked against his hand. “What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me,” she moaned. “Fuck me hard. And fast.”
Sinclair rolled on top of her, his fingers still plunged deep with her. “Are you sure?”
“Dammit, Sinclair!”
“Such language,” he laughed softly, withdrawing his dripping fingers. He brought them to his lips and sucked them clean, wrapping his tongue around each digit with infinite care. He didn’t take his eyes off Carla’s face and her soft little pleas made his cock jump. Balls growing tight, he lowered his hand, stroking her soft, silky thigh, her flat belly and then her sweet, damp pussy again. “You like it when I touch you here, don’t you?”
Carla wrapped her legs around his waist and shoved her crotch closer to his cock. “And you like it when I touch your cock with my pussy, don’t you?”
Sinclair stared at her for a long moment then burst out laughing. “I believe you win that match, My Lady.”
Her heels dug into the hard globes of his ass. “Good. Then maybe you can stop dicking around and get to fucking.”
His eyes narrowed. “What is this dicking around?”
“Sinclair…” she ground out.
With one smooth thrust of his hips, he took his cock deep inside her slick channel, pushing all the way in.
Carla cried out and grew so still, Sinclair wondered if he’d hurt her. But then she began to rock, to move her hips in blatant invitation. She wanted more.
Christ.
He’d give her more.
He pumped furiously, riding her like his favorite stallion. Carla’s high-pitched moans only spurred him on and his stomach clenched. Sweat beaded his forehead and his arms began to shake from holding himself aloft. He snatched hold of her legs and brought them higher, draping them over his shoulders.
The position jacked her ass higher and Sinclair gave a muffled curse as his cock sank even deeper into her steamy pussy. The musky scent of her, the feel of her nails raking his arms, sent him into a tailspin.
“I’m…I’m…coming.” Carla’s words punched him and Sinclair’s thrusts became wild, reckless. He withdrew until his cock barely touched her opening and then plunged in again and again until Carla squealed with her release, screaming his name and bunching her hands in the coverlet beneath her.
Her muscles spasmed around his cock, like the tight squeeze of her soft, white hand. Two more thrusts and Sinclair came, throwing his head back with a throaty, satisfied roar.
“Sweet Jesus,” he muttered, dropping his head to her breasts.
Carla brought her hands to his hair, threading her fingers through the thick strands. “Now, that’s a way to tell your wife you love her.”
Sinclair began to chuckle. And minutes later, he began to grow again, his erection hard and strong.
And well over an hour later, Ian still waited for the Duke to make an appearance at the castle gate.
About the author
Don’t you hate having to find something clever to say about yourself? As a writer, you’d think words
would come easy to me. Not when it comes to touting my own abilities. So a short and sweet bio would be, well, um, give me a minute. See, my problem is I never do anything short. And as for sweet, well, that’d be telling. But I’ll give it a shot. I’m long-winded, aggressive, outgoing, charming as hell and have a BS degree. I like to take long walks down by the shore, listen to country music, drink wine—no, wait.
That’s the personal ad I’m writing. See? I told you I’m no good when it comes to talking about me. If you want to know more, what little there is to know, you can visit my website. Happy Reading!
Rachel welcomes guests to her website at www.dawnrachel.com.
Rachel welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1337
Commerce Drive, #13, Stow, OH 44224.
Also by Rachel Carrington:
Sin’s Touch
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
