Be My Lover Page 3
A soft sympathy entered her eyes. “Is that because of your father?”
“Yes.” He took the glass from her and put it on the table. “But let’s not talk about that tonight. Tonight is about us.”
“Yes,” she whispered, offering her hand. “Yes.”
He accepted it, turning it over to trace his lips against her wrist. Beneath his mouth, her pulse skittered and leapt in an erratic frenzied storm as he tasted the sweetness and warmth of her skin—an invitation he could not refuse.
Raising his head, he found a matching invitation in her eyes. She stood and withdrew her hand only to place both of them behind his head and gently bring it down until his mouth hovered above hers. He gathered her into his arms, she pressed herself to him and his cock hardened.
“I wonder,” she said softly, “if your lips will taste the same after all these years.”
In answer, he brushed his mouth against hers before outlining her lips with the tip of his tongue in a careful exploration, and then lowered his mouth again.
Her lips met his and he tasted the wine lingering there, flooding his mouth with its heady allure, matched by her own sweetness.
“Oh yes,” she gasped, breaking their kiss. “Just the same, only better.”
He stepped back to wrap an arm around her waist and lead her into his bedroom. As if knowing they would end up there, Davis had drawn back the coverlet and propped the pillows against the headboard. Racks of shimmering candles pierced the darkness of the room while outside the window a pale, silvery moonlight filtered through the gauzy drapes, casting rays across the carpet.
They halted by the bed and he kissed her again. “Do you want me to undress you?” he whispered.
She lowered her eyes. “Well…I…that is to say—”
“There’s a dressing screen over there,” he said, pointing toward a corner of the room. “Why don’t you use that?”
She hesitated and he added, “Take your time, Emily.”
“Would you unlace my gown, please?”
Before he could answer, she turned and waited. Releasing a long, slow sigh Anthony brushed his lips against the skin of her neck, sending a volley of heat over her body. He moved his lips to kiss her shoulders as he unlaced the back of her gown and she shivered as her bare skin met open air.
“Are you cold?” he whispered. “I can build up the fire if you like.”
“No.” Emily turned and smiled at him. “I’m fine.”
She hurried toward the screen and stepped behind it. Someone had thoughtfully put a small table and a chair there. On the back of the chair, that same someone had left a white nightgown. Gratefully, she sat as her knees gave way. The pounding of her heart roared in her ears as she gripped the sides of the chair, trying to remember how to breathe.
You can always tell Anthony you’ve changed your mind. He’d understand.
On the other side of the screen, the soft thud of shoes being tossed aside and the rustle of clothing suggested Anthony was preparing for bed. Would he leave his clothing on the floor for Davis to collect or fold it neatly and place it on the bureau? A giggle hovered behind her lips and she slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Emily? Is something amiss?”
“Nothing,” she assured. “Just coming.”
“I took the liberty of doing a little shopping for you this afternoon after I dropped you off at Jocelyn’s,” he called. “There’s a hairbrush and some combs on that table. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” she said. “Thank you.”
Toeing off her shoes, she slid the dress from her body. Stepping out of it, she removed her shift then her stockings. Without the shift’s protective cover, her nipples hardened in the cool air. She reached for the nightgown. The silken fabric spread over her hands, its weave as translucent as starlight. She pulled it over her head, enjoying the softness sliding down her naked body. All her other nightgowns were practical cotton. Her trembling fingers made quick work of the pins holding her hair in place and she dropped them on the table as her hair tumbled past her shoulders. Ignoring the brush, she combed her curls with her fingers and stepped back into the room where Anthony waited by the fireplace.
He wore a dark-blue dressing gown belted at the waist. It stretched across his chest, outlining the strong slope of shoulders, the hem stopping just below his knees. A lock of hair fell carelessly over his forehead, giving him a boyish appearance.
But his glittering eyes—ones that roamed over her body—showed him to be a man of much experience in the art of love. She shivered again, wondering just what she would learn under his teaching.
He held out his hand and she joined him, offering hers. He raised it to his lips and feathered a kiss across her knuckles before lowering his head to kiss her. His mouth was warm against hers, moving in a slow, lazy exploration. His tongue traced the edge of her lips and she sighed in contentment. She wrapped her arms around his waist, drawing him to her. He did the same, holding her so close his organ pressed against her from inside his robe.
Anthony lifted his head and stared down at her, his eyes brightened by…what? Passion? Need? Desire?
“You’re a beautiful woman, Emily,” he said. “Much more so than when you were a girl.”
“Maturity becomes me?” she teased.
“Heavens, yes.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Very much, indeed. Come.”
With his arm still around her, he led her to the bed. Putting a knee on the mattress, he pulled her closer and lowered his mouth to hers, but she put a halting hand on his chest. “Wait. Shouldn’t we put out the candles first?”
His eyebrows rose. “Why?”
The scalding heat returned to Emily’s cheeks. “Well…I mean…”
Anthony lifted her chin with his fingers. “You’ve only made love in the dark, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Emily admitted. “Isaiah thought it indecent otherwise. And always with our clothing on.”
“Oh my God,” Anthony groaned. “What a fool he was.” His eyebrows pulled together in concern. “You have seen a naked man before, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Emily said again. “I managed to coax Isaiah into removing his clothing once or twice, but—”
“Not another word about Isaiah.” A scowling Anthony interrupted. “Not one more word.”
They sat on the bed, and then shifted to lie against the pillows, nestling in one another’s arms, face to face.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Anthony whispered, running a hand over her hair. “And then I want you to tell me what you want me to do.”
Emily forced herself to keep her gaze on his incredible face. “Would you undress me?”
“Before or after I kiss you?”
“Before.”
He sat up and pulled her along with him. “Whatever my lady wants.”
Reaching for the hem of her gown, he tugged it up her body. It rippled like a wave past her mound, belly and breasts, until it passed her head and he cast it aside. His breath caught as she was revealed to him.
“Sweet heaven,” he murmured, running his hands over her shoulders. “A man would have to be an idiot to not want to see this by candlelight.”
He slid his hands down to cup her breasts as if testing them for weight. “Beautiful,” he said, tracing the areolas before gently rolling her aching nipples between his fingers. “Just beautiful.”
A sigh issued from Emily’s throat and she leaned in to smooth her lips across his chin. “That feels good, Anthony.”
“Lie back on the pillows. Put your arms over your head.”
She stretched out as he requested and waited. He studied her body as if trying to decide which part to touch first. Then slowly his palms began their descent, from her shoulders, to her breasts—where they lingered to stroke her nipples once more—before continuing down to the plane of her belly and stopping at the curly thatch of hair at the juncture of her thighs. Leaning forward, he gently blew across the curls, planting a kiss in the middle of her mound before dra
gging his tongue across to find the tight, hard bud under the soft nest of hair. “Have you ever been kissed here?”
A shudder of delight raced over Emily’s skin and she peered at him. “No. Do men like to kiss that part of a woman?”
“The smart ones do. Have you ever been touched there? I mean, other than with your husband’s cock?”
“No.” Heat scorched Emily’s skin again. “Is that what you call your organ? A cock?”
“Cock, shaft, penis, rod. But enough about vocabulary. Let me begin your lessons in pleasure, my dearest Emily.”
“When do I get to see you?”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Would you like to undress me?”
In spite of the wild thundering of her heart, Emily allowed herself a moment to study his robe-clad body, trying to imagine what lay beneath. “Stand up,” she said at last.
He moved off the bed and stood, waiting. Crawling to the edge, Emily reached for the loosely tied sash and tugged. It fell open and he slipped out of the robe, tossing it aside. The shimmering light gleamed across his shoulders while under the dark hair covering his chest, sculpted planes awaited the appreciation of her hands.
But what held her attention was his shaft. Freed from the confines of the robe, it sprang up, quivering, as if announcing its need.
“Oh my,” Emily whispered. The aching in her breasts spread to her loins, starting a desire as old as time to be touched and filled by this man.
She returned to lie against the pillows and he joined her, stretching out to his full length. “Put your leg over my hip,” he whispered.
“Why?”
His smile was one degree short of wicked. “You’ll see.”
Wrapping his hands around her head, Anthony leaned in to kiss her. Gently at first, then slipping his tongue inside her mouth to probe hers, twining it around, patiently waiting for her to respond. She whimpered and her mouth became more demanding of his, feasting, sucking and savoring as if tasting something delicious long withheld. She danced her fingers down his back until they came to rest on his bottom. Splaying her hands across it, she sighed in appreciation.
“You’re so tight,” she murmured. “So tight and hard.”
“Years of horseback riding,” he said slyly. “Pounding your ass against a saddle for hours at a time will make it hard.”
A shy light entered her eyes and her mouth trembled with approaching laughter. “It’s a very nice ass,” she said. “Nice and smooth.”
“Thank you, madam.” Anthony slipped his hand between her legs and drew a finger from the bottom of her opening to the top, stopping at the knot of flesh to circle it with the tip of his finger.
She arched her back. “Oh! Ohhh…Anthony.”
“My lady is pleased?” He slid his finger down her crevice again and slipped inside, then withdrew to make his way back to the knot. She squirmed but he held her in place while his finger continued its ministrations.
“I…I…yes,” she panted. Her mouth claimed his again, as demanding as a starving woman at a feast.
Sweet heaven, he had to taste her. All of her. He flipped her onto her back and moved down to cup first one breast then the other while he nibbled and suckled her nipples.
She stretched beneath him and her fingers threaded their way through his hair. “Mmm…” she sighed. “I like that too.”
He looked up and met her heavy-lidded gaze, as content as a cat in the sun. The thought of making love to her outside on a summer day sent a rush of excitement to his throbbing cock and it took all his mastery not to bury himself to the hilt in her waiting warmth, letting his seed explode inside her.
But he wanted to be sure their first time together would be something wonderful, something she would always remember. If she wanted pleasure then, by heaven, he would gladly give it to her.
And teach her how to pleasure him.
He inched his way down the mattress, lowered his mouth to her vulva and dragged his tongue from the bottom of her opening to the top, drinking in the flowing liquid. Her dusky taste filled his mouth, more satisfying than any wine and twice as heady. She twisted but he draped an arm across her, holding her in place while his mouth continued its work.
Her whimpers became moans, signaling her approaching release, but he couldn’t get enough of her essence filling his mouth. He nibbled her clitoris and was rewarded by her bottom jerking off the bed. He smiled against the curls and kept at it.
“Oh, Anthony!” She clutched the sheet with one hand while her other sought and grabbed the pillow above her head as if seeking an anchor.
“Hmmm?”
“I need…I need…”
“Perhaps this?”
He parted her legs with his own and eased himself inside. Heat slid along his prick as his length made its way up inside her. He moved back and pushed forward again. Her hands cupped his bottom, smoothing the skin while her legs gripped his hips.
“Not so tightly,” he chided, kissing the tip of her nose. “I want to be able to move in and out of you.”
The shyness returned to her eyes. “Do I feel good to you?”
“Oh my Lord, Emily,” he groaned, forcing himself not to speed up his steady movements. “You feel like you were built for me.”
“For your cock?” Merriment replaced the shyness.
“Especially for my cock. You’re so warm and wet and sweet.”
“Sweet?”
He kissed her again, rolling his tongue around hers in a furious tangle. “Can you taste that?” he gasped. “That dark, sweet taste? That’s you, Emily. That’s you. I could spend hours tasting you.”
Her hips shifted beneath him and she drew him in even deeper. “But I like this too,” she whispered, stroking the sides of his face. “You feel so good inside me, Anthony. So very, very good.”
Her words might have been an incantation because a wave of desire spiraled over him and Anthony’s hips picked up speed, giving him just enough time to ease out before thrusting back inside her. She caught his rhythm and this time he did not scold when her legs gripped around him. Her moans were like a song, urging him on until a shuddering wave hit and he roared out his satisfaction. Her answering cry of his name finished him and he gave up his seed to fall spent and complete against her.
Chapter Four
Now give Hercules a gentle kick with both your feet. That tells him you want him to move. But not so hard you hurt him. Horses are our friends as well as our servants and we must be kind to them. They depend on us to take good care of them.
Like this, Papa?
That’s my boy! You’re going to make a splendid rider, son. Simply splendid. Now let’s take Hercules around the ring, shall we?
Tears prompted by memory pricked Anthony’s eyes as he stepped into the yard at Tattersall’s. By damn, his father did not take his own life. He did not.
He inhaled through his nose, savoring the aroma of leather, hay and horses. Men strolled about clutching lists of what was available for purchase. Perhaps there would be a nice, gentle mare for Emily. Then they could go riding in Hyde Park.
Or perhaps they could just “go riding” in his bed. The thought of her lying among sheets warmed by sunlight started an ache in his cock and the sudden desire to go back to the hotel and bed her right now overcame him.
“’Lo, Anthony! Here to see a man about a horse?”
Turning, Anthony accepted the outstretched hand of his friend Gregory Keller. “What other possible reason could I have for coming to Tattersall’s on a Thursday morning?”
“And what better place for a man to hear the latest gossip,” Greg quipped. “One never knows what one will hear from one’s fellows at Tattersall’s. You’re looking remarkably well this morning. New tailor, perhaps?”
“Something like that,” Anthony admitted. “Anything worth seeing today?”
Greg nodded. “There’s a great black beast available. A hunter, eighteen hands and at a very reasonable price. At least reasonable for someone with your income.”
Greg laughed. “Only if you must. I thought I’d celebrate the occasion by buying myself a new horse or two.”
“Have you seen anything suitable for a lady?”
“A lady?” Greg repeated. A merry glint started in his eyes. “For one of your sisters, perhaps? But no, then you would need two, wouldn’t you?”
“For a lady and let’s leave it at that, Greg,” Anthony said. “Lead me to the ‘great black beast’.”
He followed his friend to a paddock. Inside, a coal-shaded stallion frisked and stamped about. Greg had not exaggerated the animal’s size. He was huge and his flaring nostrils suggested only the strongest hands could control him. From the whistles and exchanged glances of those crowding around the paddock, they agreed. A little man in a bowler hat and checkered waistcoat scrambled up on a mounting post and waved his arms.
“Awright, gents, this here,” he gestured at the horse, “is Go-liath, named such for obvious reasons.” He winked. “Other parts of ’im are big as well, but we’ll leave that for the mares, won’t we?”
Chortling, he slapped his thighs and the men joined in his laughter. Anthony waited until the guffaws died away before raising his walking stick. “How much?”
“One hundred pounds, my good sir,” the man called. “You look like you have deep pockets, my man. Go-liath would be a ’andsome addition to your stable.”
“Deep pockets, indeed.” Greg laughed. “He’s the Duke of Bradford.”
The others laughed again, but the man snatched off his hat, pressed it to his chest and bowed. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t know who you was!”
“It’s quite all right. “Anthony shot a baleful glare at Greg, prompting a shrug and a grin. “It’s not like I have a calling card pinned to my back.”
“Dyson? By God, I don’t believe it.”
The laughter stopped as a heavy-set man pushed and elbowed his way through the crowd to stop before Anthony and Greg. Rage colored his complexion a dull red and he shook his fist at Anthony.