Page 53 of Her Beautiful Bastard
“This party, this night, all of it, made me realize that I cannot live like this any longer,” he said, his breath warming her skin through the thin layer of her nightgown.
“I know,” she whispered, still steadily caressing his hair, kissing him, holding him close. “Neither can I.”
Then, sitting up straight, she tipped his head back and urged him to look up at her.
“I have walked about in a state of half-death for so long,” she murmured. “I survive, and I move about life from day to day, but I have notlived. I cannot go on that way for another day. Not another hour, or another minute. Perhaps, the future is a bit uncertain, and there is nothing we can do about our circumstances … but, we do not have to allow them to rule us, Sinclair. We do not have to allow them to keep us apart.”
His gaze dropped to where her hand rested, just over the button holding her nightgown closed at the throat. “Lydia …”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as she opened that first button, then skimmed her fingertip to the one below it. “I no longer wish to fight this. I have tried—wehave tried. And for what? So that we might both suffer for wanting each other so badly? I am tired of suffering, Sinclair, tired of wanting and yearning, dying a little inside each day. So, I have changed my mind. I will no longer fight this. I am giving in.”
He made a low sound, a growl that rumbled from deep in his chest as she loosened button after button, revealing the patch of skin between her breasts. His expression of turmoil melted away, replaced by one of pure desire, his gaze fixated upon the skin she revealed inch by slow inch. Her hands shook, but she did not stop, working the buttons free of the holes until she’d opened the garment to the waist, a swath of skin visible from her throat to her navel.
Sinclair lifted one hand, hesitating for only a moment before turning it so that his bruised knuckles kissed the skin laid over her breastbone. They released a breath in unison—her a low, breathy sigh; him a low, tortured groan. His touch skimmed downward, his knuckles tickling between her breasts, then down her belly, pausing at her navel, which he circled gently with the tip of his first finger. Then, he moved back up, caressing his way toward her throat, finding her pulse at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He leaned in to kiss her there, making her heart flutter and her blood rush. Then, he was moving toward the open edge of her nightgown, his finger hooking in the fabric and slowly moving it to bare one shoulder, then farther until it fell to uncover her breast. She shivered, the movement of the fabric like a caress of its own, causing goose bumps to ripple over the surface of her skin and the exposed nipple to pebble under his hungry gaze.
“I need to know you are certain,” he said, his gaze once again finding hers, his hand pausing on the other side of the garment still hanging from one shoulder. “If you tell me to stop right now, I will cover you and leave this room. I’ll never touch you again.”
Sitting up a bit straighter, she brought her own hand to the nightgown and pulled it off her shoulder, allowing the entire thing to fall to her waist, baring herself to him. A heady rush of pride flooded her as she took in his reaction to her state of half-nudity, his lips parting, breath growing harsher, pupils dilating to turn his eyes nearly black. Taking both his hands in hers, she placed them over her breasts, arching her back to settle the weight of them in his palms. Her nipples tightened at the brush of his hands, the sensation of the light touch sending little shivers of pleasure straight down between her legs. Gasping, she closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations, in the little burst of pleasure it sent through her, causing her to shift restlessly in her chair.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” she assured him. “Now, kiss me, Sinclair. Touch me. Make love to me.”
Her words seemed to free him, and he was on her in an instant, all lips and hands, kissing her, touching her, everywhere all at once. He claimed her mouth with his own, dipping his tongue inside while leaning her against the back of the chair. His hands kneaded her breasts, cupping and squeezing, his fingers plucking at her nipples, gently at first, and then with building urgency.
She melted, her body growing boneless and weightless as he brought one arm beneath her, his hand pressed tight against the curve in her back, his head lowering so that he could taste her throat, her shoulders, her breasts. She cried out when he captured a nipple, the ravenous pulls of his mouth and urgent lash of his tongue setting her on fire. Liquid heat gathered between her thighs when he sank his teeth in, the slight sting melting into molten heat as he lapped at the teeth marks he’d left behind with his tongue. She thrashed beneath him, lightning strikes of pure ecstasy striking deep in her core with each pull of his lips on her breast, each nip of his teeth, each swipe of his circling tongue.
He kissed his way down her body while working her nightgown over her hips and legs, yanking it free and tossing it across the room. Then, he straightened, his gaze drinking her in, traveling over every inch of her exposed skin, following his gaze with his hands. There was no room for fear or worry over the parts of her body she wished she could change. Not when he was staring at her as if she were the embodiment of his every fantasy, his gaze and his touch so reverent that they made her feel like the most beautiful creature ever created.
“I’ve imagined you so many times,” he whispered, his palms skimming her thighs, hands tightening around her knees, then spreading her legs wider, pulling her so that her bottom rested on the very edge of the chair, her body slouching. “So many times and in so many different ways. But I never imagined you could be so perfect.”
He released her just long enough to snatch open the belt of his dressing gown, letting the garment fall off his shoulders to the floor. Then, he was gripping her thighs again, spreading them wide. She gasped, her face heating with equal parts desire and embarrassment as he opened her, revealing her most secret of places. This was not the same as him touching her in the woods, his hands slipping into her clothing. This was exposure, no barriers or secrets between them from this moment on, every part of her open to his view.
With a tortured moan, he laid his head against the inside of one thigh, his rushing breath tickling the damp curls blanketing her mons. He kissed her there, a day’s worth of stubble stinging the tender skin in juxtaposition to his soft, plush lips and warm tongue. Her back bowed, hips rising up off the chair as he slid his hands beneath her, cupping her buttocks and holding her up as he found her with his mouth.
She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to quiet the moan he forced from her with the first touch of his lips, soft and searching, nibbling on the swollen flesh hidden within the seam of her mons. Then, his hot tongue followed, dragging over her slick folds to then press against her clit.
“Sinclair!” she exclaimed, her thighs trembling on either side of his body, her belly clenching as the pleasure of his mouth upon her stole her very breath away.
It was too much, yet not enough. She wanted him to stop, but needed for him to go on, to drive her back to those heights of ecstasy she’d reached when he had brought her to spend with only the touch of his hand. He moaned in response, the sound vibrating through her entire body from where they were connected, his mouth to her quim. His hands kneaded her buttocks, the strength of his grip keeping her held at the angle he desired. He left no part of her unexplored, dragging his tongue over the inner folds of her cunt, then pressing it against her clit until she saw stars. Then he was lapping at her entrance and tickling the sensitive expanse of skin between it and her rear passage, before going back to that sensitive little nub, sucking at it with gentle pulls between swift lashes of his tongue that chased away the last of her thoughts and reservations until only his mouth on her quim existed.
She had known such things were possible, her very illuminating education on carnal matters having prepared her for all the things she would experience this night. Still, nothing could have prepared her for this feeling, as if she were falling and flying all at once, shattering into pieces and being put back together.
Gripping the arms of her chair, fingernails rasping the fabric, she rode the waves of a thunderous climax. Legs quivering, back arching as she went tense from scalp to toes, she bit back an ecstatic cry, swallowing the sounds of her rapturous pleasure while he went on licking her, sucking her, heightening her finish with soft touches of his lips and laps of his tongue. As the pounding spasms in her core began to die away, she relaxed in the chair with a sigh. She felt boneless, weightless, as if she would sink to the floor and simply cease to maintain a solid form.
Only Sinclair’s touch kept her grounded while her head swam, his hands tight at her waist while he kissed his way back up her body. She whimpered when he reached her lips, her inner channel clenching at the heady scent and taste of her own arousal. It was so wrong, so wicked, yet so right. Wrapping her arms around him, she allowed him to help her to her feet, clinging tight to him as he went on kissing her, exploring her body with his hands. The urgency of his erection pressed against her belly served as a grave reminder that he was not nearly finished with her.
Without preamble, he swept her off her feet and began to cross the room with long strides, carrying her to the waiting bed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sinclair stood beside Lydia’s bed, hands shaking as he worked to unbutton his shirt while kicking off his slippers. The soul-deep trembling that seemed to wrack him from the inside out wouldn’t abate, not until he had finally sated his most acute desire—sinking into her as deep as he could go. It had been four long years since he’d been inside a woman, and he was aware that any experience after such starvation would be an explosive one. However, he also knew that it was this particular woman who added an additional degree of ecstasy to the encounter, making it difficult to breathe, to think as he thought of all the ways he’d like to take her.
His dreams had been filled with so many possibilities that he could hardly decide on a single one. Did he want her beneath him, arching into each of his thrusts, hands clutching the sheets? Or did he want her sitting astride, hips and waist undulating as she rode him with wild abandon? His cock positively throbbed at the notion of arranging her on all fours and driving into her from behind, hands gripping tight to the plump cheeks of her arse as he pulled her back into each of his strokes.
Tearing his shirt off over his head, he took a deep, slow breath and reminded himself of reality. Even the tentative probing of his fingers at her entrance had been enough to tell him that she was still a virgin. The weight of that, the responsibility of being the one to initiate her into carnal pleasure, fell upon his shoulders while also sending a heady rush of pride straight to his head. Had she been waiting for him all this time? Had she gone untouched, unloved, for so long for want of him, need of him? On one hand, it made him incredibly sad to know someone as passionate as Lydia was still a maiden at the age of two and twenty. Yet, there seemed to be a touch of destiny about the entire thing, the years they’d spent apart in suffering bringing them full circle, to this moment where they would finish what had been started the night they’d kissed in that garden.
Lydia sat up, her breasts high and tempting, her nipples pink and tightened by desire as she watched him undress. He tossed the shirt aside and swiftly opened his trousers. His lack of drawers allowed his cock to spring free, the hungry organ hard and straining toward her with a mind of its own, as if sensing she would be the one to sate it. He heard her sharp intake of breath and glanced up to find her gazing upon him with wonder, eyes wide and shining in the meager light of the fire, lips parted.
He’d imagined this moment often, thought of her looking upon him just like this so many times. It could not have prepared him for the exhilarating feeling of having her gaze at him as if entranced, the desire that shone from her eyes emanating brightly.
