Moonglow. Part 22

No. It wasn't what this was. Suddenly his chest felt too tight, and his jaw clamped shut.

Blonde curls trembled as she shook her head. "You can't even answer."

"Of course I can." He rubbed his chest irritably before glaring at her. "I want you. Now. Here. Is that clear enough?"

Heart thundering in his ears, he watched her in the ensuing silence. Her lovely face fell as if she'd expected withdrawal instead of a confession. "Yes." She averted her eyes, their brilliant blue depths going murky. "It isn't a good idea, Northrup."

The coach slammed over a rut and his teeth rattled. He ground them together. It was that easy for her, was it? And what of him? If he thought too closely on all that he risked, he surely would turn tail and run. And yet he was here, willing to try.

"This is bulls.h.i.+te," he got out at last.

Her head snapped up in surprise, her eyes going wide. "Pardon me?"

Such outrage. Oh, but he saw the hurt there too. The fear. His fist clenched on his thigh. "It isn't in your nature to turn from pleasure, yet you are."

"What do you know of my nature?"

"I know it is exactly like mine, made to enjoy sensation. You weren't afraid before. And now you are. Why? Tell me what has changed."

She gave a little laugh. "I don't have to tell you a thing."

"No," he admitted, calming. "No, you don't." Gently, like he would approach a frightened wolf, his hand settled over her smaller one to show her he could lead her from any danger. "But you can."

She stared down at it for a moment.

"This isn't about Miranda, is it?" His fingers tightened over hers. "For I told you-"

"No, that isn't it."

Ian ran a hand over his face in an effort not to shout. "Then tell me what it is."

"You wouldn't be a nameless tup in some alley!"

She inhaled sharply and looked away, hot color rising over her cheeks. A golden curl bounced over her ear, and he caught it with his fingertip. The tendril coiled around his finger as if a living thing. When she spoke, it was barely a whisper. "It would mean something with you." The bronze fan of her lashes swept down. "You would become a complication I wouldn't know how to manage, Ian."

Everything inside him tensed. His finger, still embraced by her curl, clenched and the strand slipped free. Part of him didn't want to speak. Part of him wanted to leap from the coach and run away. Were he honest with himself, it was the greater part of him. And yet he could not stop his mouth from slowly forming the words that the stronger, deeper part of him wanted to say. "I'm willing to risk complications to be with you."

A pained sound tore from her lips. "I don't know how to do this." Her mouth pinched as though tasting something bitter. For a moment, he feared she wouldn't speak, but then she took a deep, choppy breath. "Not when my heart is engaged."

"Daisy..."

She didn't appear to hear him.

"b.l.o.o.d.y Craigmore," she ground out, viciousness twisting her features. "I know his words were lies, cruelty designed to torment." Her hands opened and clenched as she spoke. "And yet I still find myself believing them."

He threaded his fingers with hers, keeping his hold light no matter how much he wanted to turn and punch a hole through the coach window. "I'd rip his throat out were he still alive."

Daisy blinked back a tear. "It wouldn't have changed a thing. His words have infected me, made me believe that my l.u.s.t is a sin and my pleasure a man's downfall."

"Is this why you never took a lover?"

Her eyes snapped to his.

"All signs point to a woman unaccustomed to proper male attention, love." His thumb found the pulse point at her wrist and caressed the silken spot. "Which is a true shame, as you are ripe for pleasure."

She sighed. "I wanted to. G.o.d knows I did. Only"-she swallowed visibly-"I thought it would make it worse. For me to have a taste of pleasure and still be trapped." A bitter laugh filled the coach. "Stupid. So utterly stupid that I let him win."

She said it more to herself, but he drew her near. "Entirely," he agreed softly before bending down to nuzzle her neck and inhale the sweet scent of her, like suns.h.i.+ne and life and happiness. It felt so good to hold her again, as though one day had been a lifetime. "I say we conduct a thorough investigation in the matter of your pleasure." His lips trailed over the fragrant skin under her jaw, and she s.h.i.+vered. "Consider me your willing victim."

This time, when she laughed, it was light, relenting. "Pest."

"Mmm." Not leaving the delicious spot on her neck, he reached out and pulled the shade closed. "The worst of the lot."

Her head lolled back on a sigh. "I wasn't supposed to like you, Northrup."

"Ian," he reminded her. His tongue touched her earlobe, drawing out another thready sigh. "And you were supposed to be a b.l.o.o.d.y pain in my a.r.s.e."

Slowly he kissed his way down her slender neck. The plump swells of her bosom trembled with each light kiss. He unhooked the first clasp of her bodice, and she went still.

"Ian?"

"Hmm?"

"You aren't honestly trying to seduce me in a carriage, are you?" She sounded mildly amused and highly incredulous.

"Why not?" His voice was m.u.f.fled against her breast, the deep valley there a delight of curves and dips. Delicately, he ran the tip of his tongue along the line of her cleavage, and she made a little noise of surprise that had him as hard as iron in an instant. He eased down to kneel in front of her on the carriage floor, and then pressed in closer, kissing her b.u.t.ter-soft lips, her firm little chin, the side of her warm neck.

Daisy squirmed against him. Trying to get away, or trying to get closer, he couldn't be sure. He decided to find out. He nuzzled her neck and slipped the second hook free. "It's quiet." He kissed her left breast. "Private." Her right breast next. "Then there are the convenient b.u.mps and sways."

"It seems so obvious." Despite the protest, her hand drifted down to slide into his hair.

He laughed, his breath hot against her skin. "I shall keep that in mind for next time, lest my creativity be permanently called into question. Keep that up."

Obligingly, her fingers stroked his hair, sending s.h.i.+vers of pleasure down his back. The next hook came free, and his knuckles grazed the underswell of her corseted b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"All the times my mother warned me about being alone with men in carriages, I would think"-she lifted her shoulders a touch, nudging herself into the kiss he placed on her collarbone-"how prosaic. What true rake would dare?"

Ian lifted his head and caught her gaze with his. "Daisy-girl?"

The arc of her brow lifted.

"Hush."

Her bodice slid apart in a hiss of satin, and he almost groaned. Her corset matched the color of her eyes. A demicup design that lifted her b.r.e.a.s.t.s high. The shadow of her nipples taunted him beneath the thin linen of her combinations. His thumb found the first ingenious little latch release on the corset front, and he almost wept. G.o.d bless French lingerie designers.

Ian held her gaze, watching the way she panted lightly, her lips parted and her color high. He knew that she craved going down darker roads. His voice was not his own. It belonged to a beast with a raging c.o.c.kstand. "I'm going to lick and suck your sweet t.i.ts, Daisy-Meg, until we're both dying from the pleasure of it."

Her lips rounded to a shocked O, a flush spreading from her cheeks down to the impressive swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He didn't miss the way her pupils dilated with desire and excitement. It fueled his.

"Because you deserve pleasure, la.s.s." He flipped open a snap, the inhuman strength in his fingers making it easy. "You deserve to be well and thoroughly loved."

With each distinct click of her corset snaps releasing, her breath ratcheted and he fought not to fall on her like a man starved. Slowly, the corset parted, revealing its hidden prize. The tightness in his gut turned to near pain.

Her panting had grown hard and agitated as she waited, her blue eyes watchful. With a flick of his wrist, he set her corset free. She exhaled in a shuddering breath as though she too had been freed. Liquid heat flowed down his spine. Keeping his eyes on hers, he let one claw out and hooked his finger over the edge of her combinations.

Whip-fast her hand lashed out and grasped his wrist with surprising strength.

Ian froze. Daisy's eyes had gone wide and panicked, fear warring with desperate longing. Tension vibrated down her arm and into his wrist, and his heart kicked in his chest.

"I don't know what will happen either," he whispered, his breath growing as agitated as hers. In truth he could go limp, fail again, or perhaps fall so far and deep for her that he would not recover. And yet. "Let us discover it together, love."

Her throat worked on a swallow, but her eyes... they filled with trust. Pride swelled in his chest. The grip on his wrist eased, and slowly, surely her hand fell to her lap.

Ian held her gaze and then he pulled. The delicate fabric tore to her waist with a rending sound that shot through the tense silence.

"Sweet Jesus." It was more a prayer than anything. She was gorgeous. Full, creamy, teardrop-shaped b.r.e.a.s.t.s that thrust upward. Perfect tawny nipples the size of sovereigns that invited a man to linger. His hands covered the curve of her waist where her tender flesh had been abused by the binding corset. He smoothed his palms over the red marks, and she hissed as though his touch burned.

Perhaps it did, for he felt himself burning up from inside out.

"Poor la.s.s," he whispered, brus.h.i.+ng his lips over a red groove on her sweet belly. "Ye should be free and unbound like this always."

Her helpless laugh was cut short as he kissed his way up, his mouth following the path made by his hands. A groan escaped him as he cupped her lush b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His thumbs slid over the silken tips of her nipples, slowly, back and forth until they grew stiff and wanting. He gave them a little pinch, and her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parting on a gasp. The sight almost killed him.

His mouth fastened over one flushed tip, and she moaned, arching up into him. Ian's breath was unsteady as he drew the stiff nub in deep, learning her taste, the feel of her. She was delicious, maddening. He gave her a little nip. She squirmed against him, and he knew he drove her as mad as he felt.

Blood running hot and viscous as honey in his veins, he licked his way over to the other neglected breast and nibbled and sucked it until she was tugging at his hair.

She was so primed that he could probably make her come by doing this alone. h.e.l.l, he was dangerously near spilling his seed as it was. And wasn't that enough to make him shout in triumph? But it was too fast. Giving her one last, suckling kiss, he took a breath and sat back on his heels.

Beneath lids lowered in dazed arousal, she watched him, confusion clouding her eyes even as she waited to see what he would do. The coach rattled over a rough patch in the road, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bounced lightly, her nipples dark and wet from his ministrations. Ian almost fell upon her again, wanting to suck and tweak those swollen tips until she came apart in his arms. He fisted his hands at his side because he wanted more. Much more. She deserved more.

"Lift your skirts." His voice was guttural, brutal in its command.

Her soft mouth fell open, her eyes going wide. But he saw the flash of heat in those blue depths. They stared at each other, their breathing heavy and fast.

"Lift them high and show me your sweet cunny, Daisy-Meg."

A little gasp escaped her lips, her gaze turning fever bright at the demand. He held her gaze unflinchingly, the silence so thick it pressed upon his chest like a hand. For one lurching moment, he thought she might refuse, and then slowly, oh so slowly, her hands moved. Trembling fingers fisted her skirts, and l.u.s.t surged like victory through his gut.

His muscles clenched as she gathered up her gown, the rustling of satin overloud in the silence. Trim ankles came into view, then the elegant line of her s.h.i.+ns covered in red silk stockings. Ian wanted to laugh in delight upon seeing her naughty choice in hosiery, but he couldn't catch his breath. He licked his dry lips.

"Higher." It was a growl.

She struggled with the fabric, bunches of it slipping and sliding in her hands. Poor girl. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bobbled as she arched up, making room for the ma.s.s of her skirts on the bench seat. The lacy ruffle of knickers peeked out. The frilled edge of the gown eased over her dimpled knees. Ian swallowed hard, his shoulders shaking despite his wish to be still.

"Spread your legs," he ordered on a pant.

Shyly, she bit her bottom lip as she spread her thighs. The scent of her desire made his head light. Her hips came forward on the seat, the white length of plump, linen-covered thighs opening like flower petals to the sun.

"Wider," he said when the shadowed apex of her thighs remained hidden to him. His c.o.c.k throbbed with impatience, wanting to push and thrust. He took a deep breath, willing it to calm. No longer was it a question of could he finish, but could he refrain from finis.h.i.+ng too soon.

She made a little sound that had his fingers digging into his thighs for control, and then she moved, parting, revealing herself to him.

"Ah G.o.d." His hands shook as he put them on her thighs. Framed by the slit in her combinations and a nest of honey-gold curls, pink lips, as pouty and plump as her mouth, glistened in the dim light. "I could eat ye alive, mo gradh."

And then he did. Spreading her legs wider still, he kissed those lips, his tongue laving through her slickness.

"Ian!" Her back lifted off the squabs, mewling sounds breaking from her as she undulated against his questing mouth. She was honey and salt and so succulent the animal in him wanted to sink his teeth into her.

He gripped the soft abundance of her a.r.s.e and hauled her closer. The way her hips gently rocked in time with his kisses drove him on, and he devoured her. His mind went dark, his flesh turning to liquid fire, and his heart threatened to pound right out of his chest. She was going to kill him.

Chapter Twenty-nine.

He was going to kill her. Surely one could die from pleasure.

Daisy bit her lip to keep from screaming out. Slick and hot, his tongue lapped at her, each long lick sending heat coursing down her thighs.

Sagging against the seats she blinked up at the carriage roof, her breath coming in shallow bursts. Her damp palms clutched at the ma.s.s of her skirts for fear that they would slip and hinder his efforts. Dear G.o.d, nothing ever felt so good, so sinfully good as this. Sensation overwhelmed her, drawing her focus to the wet sounds of him kissing, sucking, to the air caressing her nipples still wet and throbbing from his earlier a.s.sault, and his tongue-his clever, devious tongue.

Her hand fluttered down to weakly cup the silky back of his head and keep him close. A whimper left her as he did something particularly decadent with his mouth, and she pushed herself into the kiss. He rewarded her by doing it again, a slow swirling glide that had her writhing. A growl rumbled low in his throat. His big hands clutched her bottom, holding her still.

She was utterly open to him, her thighs trembling and her s.e.x pulsing. "Ian." It was a plea.

He made a noise as if he were as helpless as she, but he did not stop, his mouth moving over her in a maddeningly steady rhythm, surely designed to torment.

In a haze, she saw his hand go to the fall of his trousers, his arm jerking as he worked to open the b.u.t.tons and free his c.o.c.k. c.o.c.k. She remembered when she'd learned that word. It was the same day she'd learned what it could do, how it made her feel, the heat and fullness of it inside of her. Before her marriage, she'd loved men, loved their bodies, their taste. A lump rose in her throat. She'd nearly forgotten.

Her gaze drifted down to the dark head between her legs, the sight of it making her insides clench. This man, this man above all others, drove her to distraction. She wanted Ian's c.o.c.k now, driving into her, taking claim. Heat rippled up her torso, and her pleasure spiraled toward a precipice.

"Ian..."

He tilted his head, the strands of his thick hair spreading over her thigh in an auburn fan. He blinked up at her, slow and languid, as if he hadn't a care. But the devil lurked behind his innocent expression, sly and ready to tease. "Yes, sweet?"

Perspiration trickled between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and down the small of her back. She licked her lips, forcing the words past her labored breaths. "I want..." She couldn't say it. Her cheeks burned as she looked at him in supplication.

His breath stirred her wet curls, making her twitch. "What do you want?"

Oh, the horrid b.a.s.t.a.r.d. She tried to nudge closer, but he held her back.

"You." She gasped as he planted another soft, searching kiss on her s.e.x. "You. Now... G.o.d!"