Rogue in Red Velvet (36 page)

No more hasty lovemaking. They could take all night, as long as they wished. “We’ll go into the country after the wedding,” Alex said hoarsely. “I have a hunting box in Leicestershire that should be suitably lonely at this time of the year.”

“I heard you had a house in Hampstead.”

He laughed. “Ah, that. A remnant of my wicked past. It’s gone, my sweet. I gave it to someone who could make better use of it.”

“Your last mistress?”

He laughed again, fuller and longer and covered her hand with his. “My very last. You are not, nor will you ever fill that position. You’re my lover and soon to be my wife. Nobody else will ever be in my bed. And I can’t wait until I have the right to share your bed every night.”

Lifting his hand, he stroked her breast, just one gentle caress, before he moved it to her waist and shaped the curve. “So learn me. Find out what I like, what I don’t like, although it’s hard to imagine anything you do wouldn’t please me.” He traced a line from her navel to where her curls half covered her most intimate secrets. He watched her reaction as he slipped his finger deeper, into the wet heat of her crease. He tweaked the pearl of flesh at the front. “What’s this called?”

“My clitoris.”

“And this?” He tweaked one of the folds of flesh on one side.

“I don’t know.”

“Labia. Lips, protecting that delicate skin. And this?” Gently, he touched her opening, slipped inside just a tiny bit.

Connie caught her lower lip between her teeth and sucked in a breath.

“It has many names, some coldly clinical, some so euphemistic you can’t tell what is meant. Some frankly crude. And they can all be exciting, in the right situation. When we join our bodies, what would you call that?”

“Making love.” She didn’t need to think to tell him that.

“And fucking, too. Straight, ordinary, honest fucking.”

She thrilled to the forbidden words. Of course, she’d heard that word, on the streets, or when people thought she wasn’t by. Now he was talking to her, looking at her as he said it and she smiled at him.

“I hope we’ll do both,” he said. “We’ll take each other for the sheer pleasure, just to stimulate and enjoy each other’s bodies. But we’ll also do it because we want to get closer to each other, to share the ultimate intimacy. We have a long journey ahead of us, my dearest dear, owner of my heart and we should explore everything. I will take you again at a ball, in a side room, I can promise you that, because that time excited me beyond measure and I want to do it again. I know you enjoyed it, too. But then we’ll go to our bedroom and we’ll undress each other slowly and enjoy each other to the full.”

“And everything in between.” She slid her hand down his chest and, smiling, he moved his hand away from her. She was sorry he’d done that.

He had remarkable skills with his fingers.

She touch his cock, circled it with her fingers and squeeze.

He gasped, as he’d made her do a moment earlier. “It’s a talented woman, I’m marrying.”

Taken by a sudden urge, remembering what he’d done to her in that room downstairs, she bent her head and licked the head of his cock, that shiny, damp cap that fascinated her so much. Sliding smoothly against the buds of her tongue, it tasted salty, good.

Alex seemed to like it, too. He cried out then threaded his fingers through her tousled hair, cupped the back of her head and urged her down. Eagerly, she accepted his unspoken invitation and lowered her head more, opened her mouth, let her tongue rub against the ridge at the base of the cap, then further, the looser skin lower down. She closed her lips around him and he groaned. “Sweetheart, oh, dear God, Connie.”

Loving his almost inarticulate murmurs, she sucked and then lifted one hand, rested it on his thigh and cradled the part under his cock in her hand. They felt like balls, loose in a small, hairy bag. She explored and he let out a long, sighing, “Ah!”

His cock heated and hardened, she sucked and released and gasped air when he lifted her off him, only to bring her back down and impale her, his cock in her—he still hadn’t given her the names for that part.

Her inner walls embraced him, welcoming him back as if he’d been away for weeks and she knew they would never let it go that long if it were humanly possible.

Alex grasped her waist and lifted his legs, urging her to lean back against them. His mouth half open, he panted as he worked her, then he tweaked her clitoris and it was her turn to cry out.

Shots of pure sensation shot from where they joined through her whole body in staccato bursts. She failed to find her balance and found purchase on the mattress below. If she pushed, she could respond to his deep thrusts, push down so he went deeper with every stroke.

Mercilessly he worked her, tweaked her and the increasingly wet sounds of their bodies coming together sounded like the sweetest music she’d ever heard and his voice, murmuring encouragement, sometimes without words, urged her internal turmoil, bringing her to the climax, along a road she was becoming used to expecting.

She gripped the sheet under them when she came, her passage clenching him in rhythmic ripples, her whole body shuddering with the impact. But she could lose control because he would keep her safe, the man she adored with everything she was.

He lifted his legs further, tilting her forwards, so she all but fell into his arms, with him still deeply embedded inside her. He kissed her, treating her gently now but when he would have lifted her off him, she protested and planted her feet firmly on either side of him, sliding them down so her knees touched the bed. She could find control now and she wanted to bring this to him, to make him come as he’d done for her.

“You, my love, will kill me,” he said but he lay back and watched her. “Take me, Connie. I’m all yours.”

Laughing, she did as he asked and as she wanted. Letting her take control delighted her and with the remnants of her recent climax thrumming through her, she began again and lifted and lowered her body until she found a motion that pleased them both.

Alex wasn’t backwards in telling her what he liked, how he liked it and he caressed her breasts, claiming he’d neglected them for long enough.

Time no longer meant anything as they worked together, enjoyed each other. Alex was a strongly built man and now he was all hers, to caress, to hold and to love.

The thought sent her over once more but this time she took him with her. Roaring her name, he came in strong, hard jets, flooding her with his essence.

He dragged her down, into his arms, so she lay on top of him, his cock still inside her. “You are a miracle, my love, my Connie.”

“So are you.”

Chapter 21

Alex heard a sound from the bed, a gentle sound of waking and he turned to greet her. “Good morning, love of my life.”

“Mphn.”

“Interesting.” Waistcoat in hand, he strolled to the bed and gazed down at her.

She grabbed a handful of her hair to cover her eyes. “I must look awful.”

He leaned down and pushed the hair aside. “You look wonderful. Well-loved and beautiful. I’m looking forward to seeing you like this a great deal more in the near future.”

He kissed her, making it gentle and loving, when already he wanted to shove the sheets aside and climb in with her. Waking with her in his arms had been one of the best experiences of his life.

But he wouldn’t relax until he had his ring on her finger and he could claim the right to take her home with him and love her until neither of them could stay awake anymore. “It’s early, sweetheart. I’m going home to change, then church, then I’ll see you at the Downholland’s house to discuss the contract. After that, it’s the offices of Makepeace, George and Simms on Monday to formalize the betrothal.”

“How will I get there?”

“I’ll send a carriage for you. You can spend your last two nights at the Downhollands, if you want to, or with Julius and Helena. Or you can spend them with me.”

She blinked and rolled on to her back. “How?”

“Here. If you stay here, as a guest of the Kirkburtons, I can slip upstairs to you.” He shrugged into his waistcoat. “One of the reasons Julius chose this room, apart from the limited access, is that it’s close to a side door. The servants became quite used to seeing him going in and out.”

“They’ll gossip.”

“We’ll be married soon enough.”

She swallowed and reached her hand out to him. He took it and raised it to his lips. “What about Helena? Won’t her mother insist on her returning home?”

The very thing Julius and his sister dreaded.

“He’s interviewing professional companions. He is thinking of employing one as a companion to Helena and a governess for his daughter.”

“So they will cope?”

“Julius is determined on it.” He smiled. “Think about us now. What would you like to do? No one will gossip, I swear.” He paused. “Or we can be good and you can stay with the Downhollands until Tuesday. Then you’re coming home with me. Of that I’m certain.”

“I am, aren’t I?” She frowned. “If nobody objects, I’d like to stay here. I want to get to know the duchess a little. I’ll have to meet her more often and if I can win her over, it would be better for both of us, would it not?”

He frowned. “I’m not sure you can win her over but if you try, she will walk over you.”

“No she will not.” The duchess would not intimidate her, she decided. “She’s no worse than the vicar’s wife at home, all starch and superiority. I will not turn tail and run, I can promise you that.”

“And no more nonsense about age or children. We love each other, we have promised ourselves to each other.” He leaned in and stole another kiss.

He reached under the covers and found one of her sweet breasts, caressing it before teasing the nipple into a peak. He loved her breasts. Soft, responsive and the most delicious nipples he’d ever tasted. He was completely besotted and didn’t care. “You aren’t particularly interested in mornings, are you?”

“I can cope with mornings, as long as they come with tea. You think I sleep until noon in the country?”

“No more than I do.” He took one more kiss. “I’ll see you this evening, my love. If the duchess doesn’t ask me to dinner, I’ll come after. Don’t be late coming to bed.”

He tucked the sheets around her, picked up his coat and left the room by the jib door. He should really not feel quite so cheerful at the prospect of putting his head in the marriage noose but he felt stupidly happy as he rattled down the uncarpeted, narrow stairs, startling a maid carrying a clean chamber pot up to the bedroom floor.

But he winked at her and continued on his way.

* * * *

Three hours later Alex wasn’t quite so happy. His father called around before he had the chance to pre-empt him. He’d washed, shaved and changed before attending church at St. Georges’ and suffering the congratulations of society, then changed into something suitable for a visit to his father, although he was tempted to wear the red figured velvet. Julius would have, but it wasn’t Alex’s style. He let people think he was a harmless, easy-going man, all the while learning their secrets. People underestimated him at their peril and not a few had done just that.

Not his father. Unfortunately, Lord Leverton had his character worked out to the last degree. He offered his father some of the coffee that was almost everything he’d left of his breakfast. Lovemaking gave him an appetite. He’d had time to think and plan—and remember. Leverton took a seat at the breakfast-room table and the coffee. He filled his cup with five chunks of sugar. Alex inwardly shuddered. He wanted his father in a good mood, because he guessed what was coming so he didn’t comment on his father’s sweet tooth.

“Alexander, while I’m pleased by your decision to marry, I wonder at your choice.”

Alex leaned back. Hell and damn. Not “Ripley” or “Alex,” but his childhood name of “Alexander.” “Nevertheless, sir, it’s my choice.”

“Why, boy? I’ve been making enquiries you know.”

“I’d have expected nothing less.”

His father took a sip of his over-sweetened brew and replaced his coffee can in the saucer with a sigh of satisfaction. He always did that with coffee. “Mrs. Rattigan was married for five years to her first husband and had only one pregnancy, which ended in miscarriage. Did you know that?”

“Yes, sir, as it happened, I did. She told me because she thought it might mar her fertility. And that she is nearly thirty. If you’ve come to tell me those things, you’ve had a wasted journey.” He waited for the explosion but it didn’t come. Yet. His father’s greatest fault was his hasty temper and his sons had learned to disregard anything said to them in the heat of anger. He would throw them out of his house and then ask for them a day later, as if the incident had never occurred.

“You are the oldest son and it is your duty to provide heirs. That’s all I ask of you, boy. Your brothers don’t want to be burdened with that, when they have to make their own way in the world.”

Alex turned his empty coffee can in the saucer. The fine porcelain made a scraping sound he knew his father detested. So he desisted. Perhaps later. No sense aggravating the old boy yet. “I think we have every chance of producing children.” He decided to tell his father an amended version of what Connie had told him last night. “I probably dug a little deeper than you. Connie had a pregnancy and after that, her husband didn’t touch her. He found a mistress instead.”