Page 40 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
“I will not try,” Aaron replied. “I will not be ashamed of you.”
She had not been party to his thoughts but it seemed like she understood. “And I will not put you into someone else’s power. No-one will control you because of me.”
“Are you ready for the scandal? It will divide your family and friends,” Aaron said.
As he spoke, he was caressing and touching her, as though learning every inch of her by touch. His hands ran over her face and neck, her breasts and hips, her buttocks, and thighs. They never lingered and never rested. Arabella kissed him between her words, bestowing small brushes of her lips as though wishing to spread those touches over his entire body, not devoting too much attention to any one part.
“I haven’t many friends. The one I have will not judge me. As for my family. I care only for my father’s opinion and he will see the truth. I am sure.”
“What if he does not?”
“Then I shall choose you over him,” Arabella said, ceasing her butterfly kisses to look him in the eye, stroking his hair.
Aaron was sitting up and Arabella had hiked her skirts up to her knees to allow her to straddle him. Her scrutiny of his face and constant touching made him feel as though he was the absolute centre of her world. A lust was rising within him that would be making itself increasingly apparent to her. In response she wriggled her hips and pressed her loins down, as though seating herself more firmly upon him.
Each movement sent shivers of pleasure through Aaron. He knew that he must be careful, the point could easily be reached where neither of them wanted to stop. While his morality did not necessarily tell him that this would be a bad thing, he wanted that first time between them to be a special moment. There had been many women in his life and none of them had been his wife. But Arabella was different.
“Then all that remains is for us to make public our affair,” Aaron said.
“If I moan loud enough, I’m sure a servant will investigate and find us,” Arabella said with a wicked grin.
Aaron laughed softly. Without warning he wrapped his arms about her and rolled, ending up atop her. Her skirts were an inconvenience and, as he pressed his hips against hers, he ran his hand up her leg. It caressed her calf and then her thigh, pushing the skirt into full retreat before it.
The tops of her stockings were reached and he dug his fingers under them and pulled down. Arabella was looking into his eyes from beneath him as he did so. He stripped the stocking from thigh to ankle on her right leg. It caught on her toes and he bunched it up before pulling it away and tossing it behind him. Then he ran his hands up the length of her bare leg.
The feel of her sensuously soft skin inflamed him. He bent his head to kiss her thigh, lifted her leg and ran his lips over her knee and along her calf to her foot, where he kissed the soles before biting her toes. Arabella clamped her hands over her mouth and the muffled sound that filled the loft was loud enough that, un-muffled, it would certainly have reached the house.
Her underskirts had been pushed up along with her dress and, as Aaron looked down the length of her leg, he could see all the way to the shadow at the top of her legs. One movement of his hand would pull the fabric aside and he would see her entirely. Arabella seemed to know it too.
She lay with both hands in the straw to either side of her head, as though in a gesture of surrender. She was allowing him to do with her, as he pleased, surrendering to him utterly.
In that moment, Aaron wanted nothing more than for his body to join hers. He ached for it. She lay with chest heaving, and in her eyes, he could see that so did she. He reached for her waist and she gasped in anticipation. Aaron smiled as he pulled the skirts down to cover her. That smile broadened at the involuntary noise of disappointment that she made.
“We must save something for…” Aaron trailed off, realizing that he had been about to say wedding night. But he had not even proposed to her. Or even considered if it was proper for them to marry.
“There are only two ways I can think of for that sentence to end. And I am content with both of them,” Arabella said.
She sat up, reaching down the length of Aaron’s body as she did so until she cupped him in both hands. Aaron closed his eyes, sitting back, his body at once tensing and relaxing as she stroked and caressed. Reaching down, he took her hands in his and changed the movements she had been making, and the rhythm she had chosen.
“Like this,” he breathed.
Arabella laughed softly as she adopted the new approach and Aaron had to clamp his jaws shut around a moan. Releasing one hand from its task, Arabella shoved Aaron backwards, then once again straddled him. She undid his breeches and reached inside. Aaron whispered her name.
“Louder,” Arabella ordered.
He grinned as he said it louder.
“Again!” Arabella ordered.
He shouted her name as his body shouted its own response to her attention. Falling back, he gasped for breath, shuddering at her continued movements. Arabella found his hands and he felt her placing them on her legs, one stockinged, the other naked. Then pushing them up over her legs, beneath her skirts.
He needed no more guidance at that point and soon, Arabella was quivering and shaking atop him, teeth gritted and his name repeated over and over. Then she too was limp. She collapsed onto him, both of them panting as though they had run a race. They lay in the pleasant heat of the straw for a long time.
Chapter 24
Did she sleep? It felt to Arabella as though she had. Her eyes had been closed, certainly. When she opened them, it was as though she wakened from a wonderful dream. A hand gently stroked her hair. Her cheek moved up and down in time with slow breathes. She could feel a strong, rhythmic heartbeat. Her body felt used, her muscles filled with a slight ache, as though from intense exertion.
She wondered at that and then remembered the shuddering, shaking, trembling climax that had forced every muscle in her body to a degree of tension she had not believed possible. One bare foot rustled against the straw, which felt scratchy against her skin.
