Название: Sinful
Автор: Charlotte Featherstone
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Эротическая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon Spice
isbn: 9781408928035
isbn:
“Are you watching, Jane?”
“Yes,” she rasped as he circled her nipple then flicked his tongue in a series of feathering flutters.
“Do you like it?”
Her core damped, and she drove her short nails into his shoulders.
“I can feel that you do,” he answered for her. Then he took her into his mouth and suckled. Slowly at first, then fiercely, as though he was starved for her.
His mouth broke away from her, and he gasped. “Jane, touch me. Learn me, too.”
Jane gazed down at him. Her breasts, wet from his mouth, glistened at her. The sheet that covered his lower half slipped, and Jane reached for the edge.
“How?” she asked. “How should I touch you?”
Chapter Five
He was delirious, not from fever, but Jane. The scent of her, the incredibly arousing feel of her petal-soft skin against his face made his flesh and blood blaze until he thought he would be consumed by the heat of longing.
He was amazed by her presence, the calm she washed over him. He had never been able to bear the feel of another atop him, yet he craved Jane like this, her breasts against him, the beat of her heart in his ears. He was starved for this, for the touch, the contact of another human being.
If he had been in his right mind, he would have refuted that wayward thought with a snort and a callous remark. But he was not in his right mind. Desire like nothing he had ever experienced before ruled him now. It was the same driving, relentless need that had fueled him with his first lover. But that had been lust, and animal need. The fucking had been hard, angry, soul stealing, yet the danger of it, the threat of being caught and punished, had made it arousing, made it just as good as the actual fucking.
But this moment with Jane was soft and tender, soul stealing, as well, as he felt something that had long lain dormant begin to awaken. There was need here, too. It was not animal lust, but something else. Something he could not name, something he had never felt before.
“You burn with fever, my lord.”
“Matthew,” he corrected. He did not want to be Wallingford here with her. He did not want to be an earl and heir to a dukedom. He wanted only to be a man, a painter and lover. He wanted Jane, not as a damaged soul who could not enjoy the feel of another, but as someone who was whole, untainted.
She was good and kind. He sensed it in her, and the devil inside him wanted to have a bit of her goodness all to himself. He had never known what it was to be good, or kind. He was cold and callous, purposefully hurtful. Yet here was this angel lying against him, allowing herself to be corrupted by a demon in a gentleman’s disguise.
“We must stop this,” she breathed in a husky pant that sent his cock lifting beneath the sheet that had grown just as hot as his body. “I must see to ridding you of this fever.”
“Yes, you must,” he agreed, his mind taking a turn down a wicked, wicked path. It was bad enough that he had envisioned her taking his cock into her lush mouth and swallowing him down, something he could never allow in any real way. Now he thought of her touching him, every inch of his body. When he felt the cool cloth return to his chest, he reached for her wrist and brought it low, guiding her. With his hand leading hers, he brought the cloth, which she clutched steadfastly, to his cock. He heard her gasp; it was followed by the rustle of starched muslin, and he imagined her shifting on the bed, her waist turning so she could look down at him, and the heavy sex that lay between his thighs. Her breasts would still be exposed, and he knew the image of her like this would be forever imbedded in his mind. He would paint her the minute he arrived home.
“Touch me, Jane,” he choked out as he forced her hand to release the cloth, and instead hold him. He groaned, threw back his head and gritted his teeth as her palm engulfed his thick shaft. With little pressure, he moved her hand up, then down. The image of his fingers locked atop hers as he worked his cock made his excitement grow. He was rasping in shallow, hard breaths, which mingled with hers.
She was watching, he could feel her eyes searing into the spot where their hands wrapped around his shaft. It aroused him, not angered him, knowing her eyes were upon him. He did not feel defiled as he once had when his lover had watched him masturbate. His lover had taken perverse delight in ordering him to pleasure himself and come all over his hand. His lover had enjoyed barking out orders. Even now he heard them: harder, faster, now slower, stop…
But Jane did not say anything. Their breaths were the only sound in the room. It had a strangely calming effect on him. Normally he was tense, his big body taut with urgency, but tonight, he felt himself go limp and fall into the thin featherticking mattress. He allowed himself to enjoy the feel of their joined hands on him, and the images that played out in his mind, how she would look like this, taking him in hand and tossing him off.
It seemed forever he lay like that, his pleasure building, Jane’s breaths frenzied. The scent of her wafted over him and he used his free hand to tug at her nipple in the same rhythm she used to stroke him.
“Matthew!”
The sound of his name in her angel’s voice weakened him, and he came, exploding in a hot jet onto both their hands. He heard her cry of shock, but she did not pull away, slowing her strokes instead, watching as his cock pulsed with his seed.
My God, he had not come into someone else’s palm in fifteen years. The shuddering orgasm unnerved him, and he turned his head, not wanting Jane to see his expression of terrified wonder. For he was alarmed by the emotions that suddenly ruled him.
Mercifully she said nothing as she rose from the bed. He heard the water in the basin softly slap against the porcelain sides. It was followed by the wringing of a cloth, then the sound of Jane’s fingers buttoning her gown.
Was she ashamed? Horrified he could be such a beast? He was ill, burning with fever, and yet he was still ruled by the needs of his body and cock.
“The water has turned too cold. Tepid is best for bringing down a fever.”
“Go then,” he said in a hoarse voice. He wanted to add a request that she return to him, but he bit his tongue, refusing to ask or beg. Yet as soon as he heard the door swing shut behind her, he heard her name, whispered in his broken voice, “Jane, come back.”
Scooping the water from the rain barrel, Jane watched as the clear liquid splashed into the bowl. Her hands were shaking, as was her body. The sounds of the wards inside the hospital were a distant whisper compared to the husky groan of male satisfaction that was ringing in her ears, even now.
Good God, what had she done?
Setting the bowl on the steps, she sat down and brought her head to her knees, trying to regain her innate sense of calm and composure. She refused to close her eyes and instead stared down at the starched white cotton of her apron. It was no use. Even with her eyes open she could see Matthew’s fine, strong body lying on the bed beside her, completely naked, the sheet thrust to his thighs, his phallus thick and long, heavily veined, engorged with desire. Desire for her.
Jane still could not understand, or make sense of the way СКАЧАТЬ