Page 5 of Wedding the Widow

A pang of jealousy shot through his breast, but he dismissed it. It had likely been her first kiss since the man’s death, therefore a normal reaction. “Let me see if I can make you forget him this time.” He grasped her face, ignored her startled blue eyes, and brought their lips together again.

* * *

Elizabeth didn’t protest, couldn’t protest when Lord Brack’s gentle but firm hands took control of her for the second time that night. Secretly, she’d wanted another kiss and had been appalled by that desire. She still loved Dickon, didn’t she? How could she want another man’s lips on her? Want to feel his hands all over her body? It was a betrayal of Dickon, of the memory of his love.

At the touch of Lord Brack’s lips, however, her struggle melted like snow in the sunlight. Passion ignited earlier out in the dark field flamed anew throughout her being, licking into all the little recesses of her body, starved for attention these long months. Every inch of her quivered, longing for his touch. Her breasts swelled, her core ached with new intensity. What was it about this man that drove her into such a frenzy of need? Had the pagan god of the festival followed them back to work his powers of lust on them once more?

She moaned into his mouth, searching greedily for his tongue. In her urgency, she leaned into him, rubbing her breasts against his rock-hard chest with even more insistence than before. Madness descended, as her hips thrust wildly, seeking a different hardness.

Sliding his hands down her back, he cupped her bottom with firm fingers, and pulled her right into him before slamming them both into the door. The stiffness in his trousers prodded her mound in perfect placement, drawing a groan from deep within his throat. He thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth, the invitation clear as a summer’s day. He wanted her.

And heaven help her, she wanted him as well. Desperately. She felt for the handle, pushing it down with such force the door popped inward and they staggered into the room. Still locked in their frantic embrace, she fought to stay upright.

He tried to put her from him, but she clung closer, sending her hands into his curly hair, closing her fingers around the short strands. Disengaging their mouths for a moment, he rasped, “Let me shut the door.”

She nodded but wouldn’t let go, forcing him to walk them both back to the door to give it a shove. It crashed into the frame with a force that made the painting on the wall jump and the lone candle in the room waver. Then he was back, his lips on her mouth, her throat, the swell of her heaving breast as it spilled over the neckline of her dress. Lord, she wanted more of him. Her nipples drew into points, aching to be freed from their confinement. She guided his hands to them.

He needed no further urging. With a flick of his wrists, her breasts popped free, his hot mouth engulfing first one nipple, then the other. Moaning her delight, she pressed his head to her, reveling in the exquisite sensations so long denied. And still she craved more of him. Her raw panting sounded loudly in the semidarkness. If only she could feel his hands on her skin, all over her body. Lord, it had been so long. “Undress me now.”

His sharp intake of breath swelled her desire to new heights. He spun her around, his fingers fumbling first at the buttons of her dress, then the laces of her stays. Soon her clothes puddled at her feet, and she stood only in shift, stockings, and shoes. Delicious chills coursed through her as she stooped to remove her half-boots. At last she turned to find him almost as divested of his clothes as she. All that remained to cover his taut form were his breeches and boots.

Drawn to his sleek, broad chest, she skimmed her hands lightly over his nipples, then down the firm, beautifully made muscles of his abdomen to the top of his tight, buff trousers.

“One more moment, love.” His husky voice sent another frisson of heat streaking to her core. He bent, and she chaffed with impatience until his boots hit the floor with dull thuds. There was a soft plop, plop of buttons being ripped through their holes, and he towered over her again. With one swift motion, his hands grasped her shoulders and peeled the shift from her, exposing her to his hot gaze. He ran his thumb from her neck down to the tip of one nipple, her skin pebbling at his touch, her breast swelling tight, its tip furled into a tiny, eager point. Continuing downward, he stroked over her stomach, making it tremble, and onward to the thicket that covered her mons.

Staring at her with a hunger she’d not seen in years, he pressed through her curls until he found her nub, dipped lower to gather the moisture that drenched her sex, then massaged it gently over the sensitive spot.

Knees weak, she quivered as he circled and rubbed, staring into his eyes, though intensely aware of his fingers at play. A squeeze of her nub drew a gasp, then a moan that seemed to well up from her core. Desperate to touch him, she grabbed his face, captured his mouth, and thrust her tongue into him. Their tongues battled as he stroked faster. Little mews of pleasure escaped her as he drove her to the long-denied brink and pushed her over.

Waves of passion crashed over her as her body gave itself up to the pleasure once more. She clutched him to her, crying and panting as the waves receded.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. With one hand, he raked the covers down and laid her on the crisp white sheet, then climbed up and spread his body over hers. His cock searched eagerly for access between her thighs.

Immediately, she opened them, inviting him in, wanting—no, craving—more of the pleasure he had generously given her. It had been too long since she’d felt these wonderful sensations that had left her all but breathless. “Don’t stop.”

“As if I could, my love,” he chuckled, then licked her nipples, first one, then the other.

The cool air on her wet flesh made it pebble again, and the tips teased back into their hard, aching points. They had always enjoyed such attention. But she wanted more. She surged against him, her hips bumping his, seeking his heat.

“Hmm, not yet, love.” He left her breasts and trailed his tongue down her stomach. Lower still, he brushed her mons with a kiss that set her afire.

“Ah. Ahh.” Had anything ever felt so wonderful? She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed these feelings, how good they felt. Arching her back, she pressed herself into his mouth.

His questing tongue drew deeper and deeper moans from her until he found her nub again and pressed it.

“Ohhh, yess.” Once more like that, and she would complete again.

Instead, he replaced his mouth with something hard and hot that stroked through her moisture, seeking entrance at last.

“Ready?” The deep, husky growl brought every nerve in her body alive.

“Yes, oh, yes,” she breathed, straining toward his heat.

With one smooth thrust, thick and hard, he flowed into her, filling her emptiness with life once more. She wanted to savor that fullness, that connection to another she had missed so much, but as a starving man cannot settle for a mere taste, she couldn’t stay her need to push quickly for the glorious end.

Maddeningly, he began long, slow thrusts that should have satisfied but didn’t.

Impatient, she raised her hips to meet each thrust, urging him to quicken his pace.