The Stranger I Married Part 11

"What?" He stilled. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"Confess," she said hoa.r.s.ely, her chest tight. "You have returned for an heir."

To her surprise, he shuddered against her. "Ridiculous. But I know you will not believe me, so I promise not to come in you. Not until you want me to."

"You are corrrect. I don't believe you."

"You shall drive me mad, stubborn wench. Cease making excuses, and simply admit you want me. Then I will give you this." He gave her a shallow thrust. "And not my seed."

"You are horrid, Grayson." She wiggled, desperate to stroke herself to o.r.g.a.s.m.

"Actually, I am very good." His tongue entered her ear. "Allow me to prove it."

"Do I have a choice?" She s.h.i.+vered, her skin sticking to his with their sweat. "You will not let me go."

Gray sighed, and hugged her to his chest. "I cannot let you go, Isabel." He nuzzled against her throat, and swelled inside her. "Christ, I love the way you smell."

And she loved the way he felt, thick and hard, his c.o.c.k as large and virile as the rest of him. Pelham had trapped her with this-this heated, drugging pleasure that made a woman want to languish in her bed and be f.u.c.ked endlessly. A slave to desire.

She was too weak with craving to protest as his fingers found her c.l.i.toris and ma.s.saged the surrounding skin stretched wide to accommodate him.

"I am thicker at the root," he murmured wickedly. "Imagine how that will feel while I pump it into you."

Her eyes closed, her legs spreading in silent invitation. "Do it, then."

"Is that what you want?" His surprise was patent.

"Yes!" She thrust her elbow into his ribs, and heard him grunt. "You hateful, arrogant cretin."

Reaching up to lace his fingers with hers, Gray gave a low growl and began to thrust in shallow digs. He forced her to feel every inch, made her stretch to his width, acknowledging his power and possession. She cried out her pleasure and relief, the feel of him so devastating to her heightened senses.

It was a claiming, one she could say she fought until the very end.

Clenching her hands with his, Isabel surrendered to her new addiction with a sob of despair.

Chapter 7.

Gerard grit his teeth as he worked his c.o.c.k into slick, swollen tissues. Crus.h.i.+ng Pel to his chest, he struggled to keep his wits while every cell in his body was focused on the heated pleasure of her c.u.n.t and the panting cries she welcomed him with. He burned all over, even the roots of his hair, his drying skin misting with sweat until it was damp again.

"Oh Pel," he crooned, pus.h.i.+ng her leg aside so he could pump deeper. "It feels like heaven inside you."

She writhed beneath him, the gyrations of her hips a stimulation he could barely stand. "Gray..."

The breathy plea made him shudder hard against her. "d.a.m.n it, cease wiggling before I lose what little control I have."

"This is control?" she gasped, arching her hips up in silent demand. "What are you like when you have none?"

He released her hands, and hugged her slim body to his.

Many times in his life he had been witless with l.u.s.t. Many times he had given those baser impulses free rein. Never had the need been as fierce as it was with Isabel. Her flamboyant beauty, blatant s.e.xuality, and lush curves were made for a man as primitive in his desires as he was. She had been too much for him four years ago, though his arrogance would never have allowed him to admit it. Now he was worried he would be too much for her. And frightening her from his bed was not an option.

Releasing her hands, he thrust his hands beneath her, and rolled, bringing her over him.

"W-what?" she gasped, her unbound hair falling over his face and shoulders, drowning him in her scent. His c.o.c.k grew impossibly harder.

"Ride me," he growled, his hands releasing her as if she burned him. Her ripe body draped over his was nearly his undoing. What he wished to do more than breathe was to pin her beneath him, and shaft her tight c.u.n.t without mercy until he was well and truly spent. And then do it again. But she was his wife, and deserved better than that. Since he could not trust himself to take the lead, he had to trust it to her.

Isabel hesitated, and he thought for a moment that she would change her mind and refuse him again. Instead she set her hands to the floor and raised her torso. She slid down, taking more of him inside her, until the drenched lips of her s.e.x kissed the base of his c.o.c.k. His hands fisted as she moaned plaintively. The positioning of her body angled his c.o.c.k deliciously.

"G.o.d, Gray. You feel so..."

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Gerard sucked in his breath at her unspoken praise. He understood what went unspoken. There were no words for this.

Perhaps it was simply that she had aroused and rejected him repeatedly, as no other woman ever had. Perhaps it was because she was his wife, and that added bit of true owners.h.i.+p increased the moment's poignancy. Whatever it was, s.e.x had never been like this, and they hadn't even begun.

"You must move, Pel." Opening his eyes, he swallowed hard as she extended her arms straight behind her, the ends of her hair pooling on his chest. He wondered how they would do this. Would she dismount and face him? Watching her come would give him great pleasure, but the thought of separating his c.o.c.k from her was nigh unbearable.

"Must I?" she purred in a taunting tone, and while he could not see her face, he knew her look would be sly. She lifted one hand, her weight settling more firmly on the other arm, her a.s.s cradled by his loins. He lay frozen with bated breath as she reached between her legs, first giving his drawn up b.a.l.l.s a teasingly soft squeeze before stroking higher.

Oh h.e.l.l. If she m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed on his c.o.c.k, he would explode.

"Are you going to-?" he began.

She did.

He grunted as her c.u.n.t clenched tight as a fist around him. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!"

Clutching her hips in almost panic, Gerard held her slightly aloft as he thrust upward violently, f.u.c.king through her gasping depths like a man possessed.

"Yes!" she cried, her head falling back, burying his throat and mouth in fiery tresses. All the while her body milked his c.o.c.k, luring his seed, the pulsating spasms nearly brutal in their intensity.

It went on forever, her first heated release, but he bit his lip b.l.o.o.d.y and held on. Only when she went limp in his arms, did he yank himself free, coming hard, spurting scalding streams of l.u.s.t and longing across her thigh and the rug.

He had wanted to take the edge off.

They had barely scratched the surface.

Pel lay back over him, gasping for air, and he cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and kissed her temple. The scent of her mixed with s.e.x was intoxicating. He pressed his nostrils against her skin and breathed it in.

"You are a horrid, dreadful man," she whispered.

Gerard sighed. Of course, he would have to marry the most obstinate woman in the world. "You rushed the business. But I shall be certain to lengthen the process the next time around. Perhaps then you will be more agreeable." He levered them both up to a seated position.

"Next time?"

He could tell she was poised to argue, so he reached between her legs and stroked her c.l.i.toris with a soft glide of his fingertips. When she moaned, he grinned. "Yes, next time, which will commence momentarily, once I have cleaned us up a bit and moved this arrangement to a more comfortable venue."

She scrambled to her feet, spinning to face him, a whirl of auburn hair and flushed, creamy skin. Staring up at her, Gerard was struck by the absolute carnal perfection of her form. Purely, beautifully naked, Isabel Grayson was a Venus, a siren-full-breasted with generously curved hips, and a wide mouth framed by full kiss-bruised lips. His c.o.c.k responded with admirable haste. Isabel's eyes dropped to it, and then widened.

"Good grief. We just attended to that thing."

He shrugged, and bit back a smile as she continued to stare, her gaze blatantly appreciative and only slightly intimidated. Rising to his feet, he caught up her hand and tugged her back into the bathing chamber. "I cannot help but respond. You are quite simply a stunningly attractive woman."

Isabel snorted, but followed him without protest, although she lagged slightly behind. He glanced over his shoulder to see why, and caught her ogling his a.s.s with a riveted gaze. She was too preoccupied to realize he'd taken note, so he flexed his b.u.t.tocks and then laughed when she blushed. Whatever her objection to marital s.e.xual intimacy, it was certainly not due to lack of interest in him.

"Care to tell me about your night?" he asked solicitously, treading new ground. He was not accustomed to casual conversation in the middle of an amorous interlude. His fully engorged erection was not helping him concentrate either. Not that he could help it. His wife's gaze was burning his skin.

"Why?"

"Because you are upset about it." Gerard turned and pushed her into a chair, taking a moment to brush the lovely hair he so admired over her shoulders.

"This is so awkward," she complained, her arms crossing over her chest modestly as he reached into the tub and pulled out one of the soaked towels. "What are you doing?" she asked, watching him squeeze out the excess water.

"I told you." He dropped to a crouch before her, and with a hand on each knee, forced her legs apart.

"Stop that!" Isabel slapped at his hands. He arched a brow and slapped her back, although with far more gentleness. "Brute," she gasped with wide eyes.

"Wench. Allow me to clean you up a bit."

Sherry-colored eyes shot fire at him. "You have done quite enough, thank you. Now leave me in peace, and I will care for myself."

"I haven't even started," he drawled.

"Nonsense. You've had what you wanted. Let's forget this happened, and go on as we were."

Gerard rocked back on his heels. "Had what I wanted, eh? Don't be daft, Pel." He shoved her clenched thighs apart and thrust the cloth between them. "I have yet to do the things I want. You have not been bent over a piece of furniture and f.u.c.ked from behind. I have not sucked your nipples or your-" He ran the cloth gently through the lips of her s.e.x, and then followed it with a teasing glide of his tongue, pausing a brief moment to tease her c.l.i.toris from its hood. "You have not been flat on your back and ridden properly. In short, we are nowhere near finished."

"Gray." She surprised him by cupping his cheek with her hand. Her gaze was earnest and direct. And very hot. "We started this with a bargain. Let us end this with one."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What kind of bargain?"

"A pleasurable one. If I give you one night, and promise to do whatever you wish, will you in turn promise to keep to our original agreement from the morning onward?"

His blasted c.o.c.k raised its head in eager agreement, but Gerard was not so keen. "One night?" She was mad if she thought that would be enough for either of them. He was as hard at this moment as he had been before he'd come, she affected him that much.

He returned his attentions to his ministrations, spreading her lips and cleaning her gently. She was lovely, flushed and glistening, and blessed with a dazzling frame of dark mahogany curls.

Her fingers sifted through his hair, tugging it to draw his gaze back up to her face. Her fingertips glided over his features, following first the arch of his brows before caressing his cheeks, and then his lips. She seemed wearily resigned. "These lines around your eyes and mouth...they should age you, diminish your beauty. Instead, they do the opposite."

"It is not a bad thing to want me, Isabel." He dropped the cloth, and embraced her waist, his face buried between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s where the scent of her was so strong. She was naked in his arms, and yet a barrier was between them. No matter how tightly he held her, he could not get close enough.

Turning his head, he caught her nipple with his mouth, suckling, seeking intimacy. He licked the distended tip, stroked his tongue around it and relished the velvety softness. She moaned, her hands gripping his head, pulling him closer.

He was aching for her, physically hurting. He released her breast, and caught her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, and he grunted his approval at her longed-for acquiescence. His pace quickened as he walked straight through to his bedroom, a chamber he had stood in only hours before, despondent that he had changed rooms to be closer to Pel and had instead pushed her away.

Now she would scent his sheets, warm his blood, and sate his hunger. As he set her down carefully on the bed, his throat tightened. Above her, the headboard displayed his crest, below her lay his red velvet counterpane. The thought of indulging in his wife's charms in such a proprietary setting aroused him beyond bearing.

"One night," she murmured against his throat.

Gerard shuddered, both from the feel of her breath across his skin, and from the realization that he could not take her as he truly desired. He would have to woo her with his body and show her how gentle he could be, because he had to change her mind and make her crave him.

And she was giving him only one night in which to do it.

Isabel sank into linen-covered pillows on Gray's bed and noted again how much he had changed. He had once preferred silk sheets, she knew. What the change signified, she didn't know, but she wanted to. She opened her mouth to ask, but he took it, his lips firm against hers, his tongue sweeping inside with a slow, deliberate glide. Moaning, she welcomed his weight over hers.

He was hard all over, every inch of his golden skin stretched taut over rippling muscle. In all of her life, she had never seen a masculine body as beautifully formed as her husband's. Considering that Pelham had been exquisite in his own right, it was not a compliment she bestowed lightly.

"Pel." Gray breathed into her mouth, a low seductive burr of sound. "I am going to lick you all over, kiss you everywhere, make you come all night."

"And I will do the same to you," she promised, her tongue swiping soothingly across his damaged lower lip. Having decided on the goal of exhausting their mutual l.u.s.t, she was now prepared to give her all to the endeavor.

Pulling away slightly to look at her, Gray gave her the opportunity she needed to take the upper hand. She hooked her heel over the back of his calf, and rolled, rising above him. Then she laughed when he rolled again and reclaimed the advantage.

"Oh no, vixen," he chastised, staring down at her with laughing blue eyes. "I gave you the top previously."

"I did not hear you complaining at the time."

His mouth twitched with a withheld smile. "It was over so quickly I didn't have a chance to protest."

She arched a brow. "I think you were simply speechless with pleasure."

Gray laughed aloud, the sound teasing her as it vibrated from his chest to hers. Her nipples peaked tighter in response. The lowering of his lids told her he noticed.

"Whatever I wish," he reminded, as he moved his hand down to lift her leg and spread her wide. With a roll of his hips, the tip of his c.o.c.k breached her, forced her to open, the size of him almost uncomfortable but highly tantalizing.

Immediately she melted, her c.u.n.t softening, growing slick, crowning the broad head of his c.o.c.k with her cream. Her toes curled, and her chest grew tight. He smelled wonderful, the bergamot that scented his soap diminished by the primitive scent of his sweat and the recent bout of s.e.x.

"Gray." His name was both a request for more and a plea for less. She didn't know how to fight the sudden feeling of connection. In the years since Pelham had pa.s.sed on, s.e.xual congress had been about gratification, satiation. This, on the other hand, was pure surrender.

His large hands slipped beneath her shoulders, his forearms holding his weight aloft enough to prevent crus.h.i.+ng her. "You are handing Hargreaves his conge."

It was a statement, an order, and while she wished she could argue with him just for his arrogance, she knew he was right. To be so attracted to Gray was proof that her interest was not as engaged by John as it once had been.

Still the knowledge saddened her, and she turned her head to hide her stinging eyes.

Gray brushed his mouth across her cheekbone, and pressed a scant inch into her. She groaned and arched upward, eager to forget her hazardous decision to indulge.

"I can make you happy," he promised against her skin. "And you will never lack pleasure, I can a.s.sure you of that."

Perhaps he could make her happy, but she could not do the same for him, and once he strayed, contentment would rapidly deteriorate into misery.