Page 91 of The Lord Next Door
She stood again before him, leaning over him so that her head didn’t hit the ceiling. When the carriage jostled from the uneven roads, she clutched his shoulders for balance. He could see her breasts hanging before him, bobbling gently with the motion, and he groaned, reaching up beneath her chemise himself for the tie of her drawers.
“I’ve thought of this all day,” she whispered softly.
He didn’t think he could get any harder, but he did.
“Well, I didn’t exactly imagine the carriage,” she added, “but—touching you, like you touched me.”
When her drawers were gone, he pulled her forward so that she sat on him, straddling his thighs. His trousers were too tight, and he started to release them, when she put her hands on his.
“Let me.”
Those two words were almost as arousing as her damp, near-nakedness. He put his hands on the bench, barely realizing he was gripping the leather tightly. Didn’t she know how she looked, her chemise translucent across her breasts? He liked her rising above him, and the way she worked so intently at loosening his cravat.
He put his hands on her waist. “We don’t have much time.”
“I know. I don’t need all your clothes removed—just some.”
He laughed. And then she was loosening the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat, pushing his evening coat wide open so that she could tug his shirt from his trousers. When her cool hands touched his stomach, he shuddered.
“You feel so warm,” she whispered.
Her hands tentatively moved higher, and he held his breath waiting. “Don’t stop.”
Her fingers caressed his nipples, and he pulled her hips against his and arched into her from below.
“I need to remove more clothes,” he said hoarsely.
Her fingers on his trousers were almost his undoing. He wasn’t sure she would be brave enough to touch his erection, not yet, but just the thought made him groan into her mouth as he kissed her. He knew she’d made progress with his trousers when he felt less constricted. A sudden draft let him know he could pull her higher against him. Her hot moistness caressed the length of him, but he couldn’t take her, not yet. With his mouth he tugged at the neckline of her chemise, exposing her breasts. Her flesh was cool and wet, and he tasted everything, from the puckered tips of her nipples to the hidden curves just beneath.
She was rocking against him, her head thrown back, her hands clasping his shoulders. When she cried out his name, he thrust up inside her, feeling the tug of her inner muscles, knowing that nothing else could ever feel this good. With his hands he guided her to ride him, with his mouth he worshipped at her breasts, until he felt the shudder of her climax all around him. He let go of his control and ground into her, his head thrown back, arching upwards to take everything she offered.
As the world settled back into place, he pulled Victoria to his chest and held her there for a moment, stroking her damp hair where it hung in curls down her back.
She shivered.
“I’m a selfish bastard,” he said abruptly, “using you without a thought to your comfort.”
“I didn’t even notice the chill until now,” she protested. “You forget you’re not exactly dry yourself.”
He sat her up a bit—trying not to pull out of her—and leaned forward to reach around her. She laughed and clutched his shoulders. From beneath the far bench, he pulled a blanket and wrapped it around her. With a sigh she hugged him and cuddled against his chest.
He moved within her, enjoying this connection, both physical and otherwise. He didn’t try to think, didn’t try to act as he thought he should. He just…existed.
Victoria experienced such a deep feeling of contentment. This was love, she thought, this wondrous feeling that one is sharing everything with the right person. She felt a part of him—and she still was—and wished the carriage ride could go on forever. Every turn of the wheels jostled them, so they rubbed pleasantly together. Was this incredible tenderness rare? Could David tell that? Or had he experienced all this before?
“We must be close to home,” he murmured against her hair.
“Home.” It was a whisper of promise, a prayer of thanks. He finally slid out of her, and she wanted to protest the return of such a solitary feeling.
He chuckled and sat her upright. “One of us has to be decently dressed. And since I’m the one who’ll be doing the carrying, it had better be me.”
“Carrying?” She slid from his lap, clutching the blanket tight around her shoulders, and watched him quickly fasten all his clothing. “I can put my gown on and walk.”
“We barely got it off you. I’m going to wrap you warmly in that blanket and carry you up to a hot bath.”
She didn’t protest after that, just tried to keep her pleased smile to herself.
“David, what about my gown? Everyone will know I…removed it in the carriage.”
