"What are you going to do?" he asked.
"Something I will probably regret."
"God's teeth. I hope this has naught to do with a whip."
"I forgot my whip."
"Thank the heavens."
She stroked a cool hand over his chest, slowly as if exploring every inch. She dipped a finger into his navel and lust shot through him. When his erection jumped, she grabbed him again and squeezed gently. Pleasure wound through him and he growled. No indeed, this was no shy virgin.
Cloth whispered over skin and he imagined her disrobing. Aye, please. He wanted her so badly he held himself rigid. Waiting.
Climbing onto the bed, she straddled his hips and lifted his shaft. The tip prodded something hot and moist. He growled. Aye, take me, lass. Holding onto the headboard, he tightened his muscles and felt himself hardening further.
She pressed down on him, impaling herself. He experienced the bliss of driving an inch or two into her excessively tight, wet sheath.
"Oh!" she near screamed.
He moaned and muttered a Gaelic curse. "Angelique?"
"I am sorry to do this, my laird."
"Don't be. My God, I want you." He gave in to the urge, tilted his hips and thrust. Oh, aye! Another inch. "Untie me and I'll show you how much."
She cried out, breathing hard, and levered herself up. "Non. Arrêtez."
"Take off this blindfold. I'm wanting to see you."
"Non. Be still." She pressed down, and he met her with another thrust.
He slid deeper still, her wet heat surrounding him, squeezing him, making him drunk with desire. "Saints! You're killing me." He turned his head side to side, dislodging the blindfold a bit so he could see her beneath it. She was a beautiful nymph, with slender curves and creamy, perky breasts that bounced slightly when she moved. What a nice mouthful one would make. He growled, aching to suck one of those pink nipples into his mouth and toy with it.
She placed her hands on his chest and lifted herself, then down again. What torture! Her long red curls swung forward, tickling his chest.
Her fast shallow breaths and her moisture told him of her desire. Aye, ride me, Angelique. He watched their merging bodies for a few seconds and he near lost control. What an erotic sight.
"I didn't ken you wanted this. I thought you were afraid."
"Shh. Do not speak." She increased the pace, riding him with her eyes closed. She was breathtaking with the impassioned frown, flushed face and parted lips.
This was a first. Never had a woman tied him up and had her way with him. Strangely, he was starting to love it. But her gentle, shallow thrusts were driving him mad. He wanted more, faster, deeper.
He tried to suppress the escalating desire and wait for her. "Untie me so I can give you pleasure."
"Non!"
"You'll not enjoy it as much this way."
"You will not have control."
Control? That's why she did this. At first he'd thought it was in revenge for when he'd tied her up. But nay, it was so he would be at her mercy. She wouldn't fear him if he couldn't touch her. Still, he wanted to hear it from her mouth. "Why are you doing this?"
"You desired a wedding night, so I am giving you one."
Ha. "Is that all?"
"I wish to know why the women want you in their beds. What is so special about you besides your grand tarse?"
He almost laughed, but controlled it. "I thank you for the compliment, but you cannot know what I can do unless you untie me. I like to use my hands. And my mouth."
"I know," she whispered and stroked a finger over his lips. Lifting his head, he opened his mouth and sucked her finger inside. Of course she knew, but what he'd done earlier was only the beginning.
Giving a short purr, she drew her hand away. Pressing her breasts against his chest, she kissed his throat while she continued to ride him. Her hard nipples rubbed his chest.
"Mmm. Kiss me," he said, craving some deeper emotional connection with her he didn't understand. Normally fast and furious sex was his specialty, but that was not what he craved at the moment. He wanted to explore all of her. He had not tasted her nipples yet; he desired touching her everywhere at once.
She leaned forward and nibbled at his lips, placed a small lick between. He opened, welcomed her inside. With her lifted up like that, he took advantage and thrust his hips, driving into her over and over, deeper. She gasped and accepted him, held still for him. He moaned. She near squeezed the sanity out of him.
"You push me to the edge, mon ange," he said.
"I am not your angel."
"Aye, you are," he whispered. "I'm inside you, love. By your own vow, you are my wife."
A burning tingle rushed through him. He tried to hold back the impending release and think of something unappealing. But he was too deprived, had wanted her too long.
His climax broke over him like a wave of happiness and all the best feelings on earth. His mind deserted him and he was drowning in a sea of pleasure. He shuddered and groaned with the enormity of it. "Ah, God!" His breaths whooshed in and out during the aftermath.
Angelique lay still on his chest. He wanted to pull his arms down and hold her close. After a moment she lifted herself, releasing him from her body and climbed off.
"Don't go. Untie me."
She quickly slipped on her smock and wrap. "I cannot stay."
"Why?"
"Now, maybe I will have a child," she said.
"What?"
"We need an heir to be the next earl of Draughon, do we not?"
"Aye." Was that her only reason for riding him like a wild woman? Nay, she had wanted him intensely. She had been wet and aroused…still was. "Untie me." He could yank himself loose, wrap his arms around her and force her to stay with him, but…no. She should want to stay with him the night. It should be her choice.
She released one of his hands and before he could disentangle himself, she disappeared out the door.
"Angelique? Damn you," he muttered. This was the first time he had made love to a woman and not given her the pleasurable climax. But it was her fault.
He untied the belt of her wrap from his other wrist and then removed his leather belt from his ankles. After tucking the sheet about his waist he strode to her bedchamber door. He lifted the latch but found it barred. Why was he surprised?
He knocked. "Angelique."
"Time to sleep now, my laird."
"Let me in. I only want to talk."
"Non. You had your wedding night. Là. C'est fini."
It was not finished by a long shot.
***
Angelique jumped into bed and covered her head, her body still pulsing with desire. She felt empty and cold. Her body craved his wrapped about her. Inside her. His heat. She did not understand it; though his hard member had initially hurt as she'd forced it into her, once she started moving something changed and he'd felt divine. Though coupling should have been a dutiful, onerous task, it was something incomprehensible. A secret pleasure. The absolute opposite of what Girard had done to her. Yet the same body parts were involved. How was this possible?
She had been shocked at herself for enjoying the act. Such feelings went against all rationality. No, she could not indulge herself overmuch and slide down that slippery slope of needing him or falling for him.