Passion Over Time Read online

  “I don’t know…twice, three times maybe on the odd occasion.” Well, coming three times during the act had happened once.

  She wasn’t sure she ought to have admitted this to Grey. His teasing touch distracted her though. Made her blurt things she shouldn’t.

  Joshua had teased her mercilessly about the ease with which she could find her pleasure, calling her an Amazon. She had sensed the fear under his teasing tone and been puzzled by it. Deeply shamed by it too.

  The message had been clear. Women, ladies or otherwise, were not supposed to find pleasure so easily or completely. Beth was unnatural. Always too wild, too impetuous.

  “No.” Grey’s fingers slid into her slick channel. “I mean, how many times can you come before you can’t come anymore, before you’re exhausted and can’t move.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, laughing to cover her sudden uneasiness at the question.

  “There’s time. A man can make time.” He offered her a slow, sensual grin. “Didn’t you ever wonder?”

  “Uh…umm…no.”

  “It is a question that I’ve pondered often in the time that I’ve known you.” His fingers moved within her until her hips were dancing in tune with their motion. “I propose that we spend the remainder of the evening finding out.”

  He pressed a kiss to the center of her sex, right on her most sensitive nub, and she gasped. Then he took hold of both her ankles, pulling her legs about his waist with such haste, she gasped again. His tanned hand stroked over her pale inner thigh with painful slowness, up to the soft hair at her juncture.

  She realized that he, unlike her previous lovers, was giving her permission to show just him just how carnal she could really be.

  He wasn’t going to be threatened.

  He wasn’t going to judge.

  Oh, his look of determination—he actually saw it as a challenge to see just how far he could drive her. A worthy challenge. It was his decision. He was in control.

  She exhaled at length. Perhaps for the first time ever, she let down her guard fully in the presence of a man.

  He traced the plump outer lips, parted them and then rubbed his cock against her throbbing bud in slow, silken circles.

  But she didn't want to be teased. She wanted him as close as possible.

  “Please.” She grasped his shoulders, seeking to pull him up level with her. “Please, be inside me.”

  He slid to her entrance. “Is this what you need, Beth?”

  “Yes…” Her breath caught for he was filling her. “Oh God…yes. Yes!”

  He took her then, the fast, furious pace driving her into a vortex of ecstasy. He put his mouth over hers and swallowed her cries of pleasure.

  When she opened her eyes, he was kissing her breasts, laving her nipples with his tongue. He was still hard and pulsing within her. It began all over again. And again. Unending. He taught her a whole new meaning to the word stamina.

  He took her slowly, gently. Then increased the speed and intensity of his touch and his thrusts depending on her need of the moment. He arranged and angled their bodies so that his lower pelvis stroked her sensitive nub with each downward arc of his hips. So that his shaft stroked her channel in all the right places. He drove her up, soared with her to heights of elation she’d never known. And eased her fall back to earth. He kissed and petted and fucked her until she couldn’t bear the intensity of pleasure.

  She hadn’t realized a man could exert such control over his own body. That he could delay his own release so long and so well.

  Despite his earlier assurances, the utter self-revelation about her own capacities and appetites became too much. When she attempted to shy away from such excesses, such ecstatic decadence, he took her by the wrists, held her to the bed and ruthlessly drove her. Until she arched up to meet him again and again, crying out his name, her whole body trembling. Until she came and came and came.

  Until she absolutely could not come anymore.

  Until she couldn’t move.

  Having fallen back to the bed, she lay panting, her body covered in fast cooling sweat.

  And she had no idea how many times she’d come. Numbers and pleasure did not seem to be compatible to her brain.

  However, he hadn’t come. His harsh breaths sounded against her ear, his cock hard and pulsing within her. His scent, his taste, the feel of his weight upon her, it was so all-consuming.

  For the first time, she had a true notion of what it meant to be taken. To be possessed.

  This was what it meant to have a lover.

  All the other times, all the other men had been something a little less.

  She’d craved this and not known it. Had been dying inside for want of this and not realized it.

  He wrapped her hair around his hand twice, held her head up and kissed her with such ardor it felt like he was sucking her breath away.

  “I don’t think I can get enough of you.” His voice was charged with passion and somehow, she’d no idea where, it wrung an instant heated response from her. She wanted more of him, needed more him as if she’d never had him.

  She ached inside so badly. Ached to be closer to him, as close as possible. To be totally possessed by him. To have some part of him that would become part of her and could never, ever be taken from her.

  “Come inside me this time.” The words sprung from deep inside her, shocking her. Making her heart pound with mouth-drying excitement.

  But, dear God, yes, she’d never needed anything more.

  “Are you sure, darling?” He caressed the hair off her forehead. He took her hand, kissed it, then pressed it to his cheek. His eyes shone like silver stars.

  “I am.” She panted with desire. “Just this once. Mark me, claim me. Inside.”

  His face sharpened and he withdrew.

  The loss of his hardness, his heat, made her gasp.

  “Roll over,” he said, huskily.

  Dizzy with anticipation, she rolled over, pulled herself up on her knees. He slapped her buttock once, again harder, and the sound cracked in the chamber. Then he thrust inside her and she arched backwards to take him in, pushing against him until his cock touched the mouth of her womb. He groaned. Her hair brushed her back as he swept it aside. His hand encircled her throat, his breath tickled her nape.

  “Beth, oh Beth—I am going to fill you full of myself.” He nipped lightly at her neck. “I’ve come inside no other woman in eighteen years.”

  The possessive timbre of his voice made her catch her breath.

  He gave a harsh shout and his whole body shook against hers. His cock jerked within her. And he had not withdrawn. He was filling her full of himself, claiming her. Just as he had promised. Her internal muscles clamped down and she bent her head all the way down, stuffed her face into the pillow and screamed.

  Her legs collapsed a moment before he fell against her back. Cold air hit her neck as he lifted her damp hair away. His lips touched her neck.

  “Damn, Beth, damn.” He lightly nipped her flesh. “Oh, damn.”

  * * * *

  At the washstand mirror, Beth ran a final smoothing hand over the coiled braid at the back of her neck. Raw soreness throbbed between her legs, an oddly satisfying reminder of the evening. Her body was limp. Weak.

  She felt weaker yet with shock at her own actions. Despite her attempts to clean up, warm, viscous wetness still seeped from her channel. A decidedly sensual, and again, satisfying sensation.

  Dear heavens! She’d never before allowed a man to come inside of her. She had always demanded they pull out. She’d certainly never begged a man to do otherwise. But in her heart, she couldn’t be sorry. She was his. In the most basic way.

  But all right, this had been the last time. And her courses were due to come within the next day or two. Chances were on her side that she wouldn’t conceive his child.

  Her throat began to ache. The sensation spread down into her chest. Painful tightness. Crushing regret. Loss.

  Dear God. A little wa
ve of nausea swept through her at the realization that she actually felt sad that she wouldn’t bear some wealthy New York merchant’s bastard. What had she sunk to? Her desire for Grey was making her lose control over her wits.

  The clock on the mantle chimed eight in the evening.

  At the reminder of the time, she startled.

  “I’ll send for my carriage,” Grey said, as if the matter required no consent from her.

  She turned to where he lounged on the bed, his head propped against the headboard.

  “Thank you but I can’t be seen coming home in a carriage.” She pulled on a glove.

  “Couldn’t Mrs. Bickle have sent you home in one?”

  “She never did.”

  “Well, let’s say she did today.”

  “I told you, I cannot be seen leaving a carriage. Too many watchful eyes, waiting for someone to make a misstep.” She tugged the other glove on.

  “You are a beautiful girl. You can’t walk home at dusk.”

  “I am twenty-three, hardly a girl, and I have always walked where I wanted to go.”

  “Well, you’ve never been under my protection before.”

  “I am not—” Anger at his arrogant presumption bristled through her and forced her to take a deep breath. “I am not under your protection.”

  His eyes darkened to the color of gunmetal and he jerked upright. “When you’re with me, you damn well are.”

  With a frisson of alarm in her belly, she took several steps backwards. “Understand me, sir, we are lovers and only when and for how long I choose. You have no rights of protection over me.”

  “We made commitments today, Beth.” His tone was severe.

  “Commitments? When?”

  “You know when.”

  “I committed nothing to you.”

  “You let me spill my seed inside you. If that wasn’t a commitment to trust me, to put yourself into my care, then what was it?”

  “That was a moment of insanity, sir.”

  His dark brows drew together.

  She sensed a change between them, something dark and dangerous. Under the surface.

  Her mouth went dry. She flicked her gaze toward the door and noted how distant it suddenly seemed. She swallowed and returned her attention to him. His expression was hard.

  Her heart’s beat quickened. She began inching toward the door, somehow afraid to move too quickly.

  “Beth, I am going to walk you downstairs and see you put into a carriage.”

  His tone made her freeze. She inhaled deeply and tried to keep her voice even. “I won’t take a carriage.”

  “You will if I bodily carry you and put you inside.” He came to his feet.

  Heart leaping wildly into her throat now, she backed away. She affected a careless laugh. “You can’t be serious. You don’t have your breeches on.”

  He glanced down at his dark blue banyan, as if he’d forgotten he were not dressed. His jaw tightened. A quiver of fear exploded within her belly and she ran for the sideboard. As she grasped her reticule, his arm latched around her waist like a band of steel.

  She twisted in his arms to glare at him. “Let me go, you autocratic jackass,” she hissed.

  “Just because your brother doesn’t care about you—”

  The words cut into her like shards of ice. “He cares.”

  “He lets you traipse around like a girl on the town meeting with men—”

  “We’re not wealthy. We don’t take carriages. I have to go out and work. He’s a gentle, quiet man, except when he’s angry. Believe me, if he knew I was seeing a man, he would be outraged. That’s why I have to be so careful.”

  “And you’re very good at being careful, aren’t you? Like a cunning little cat. You’ve so much experience.”

  “You’ve certainly enjoyed the benefit.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “We’re getting deep here, Beth. I want our liaison to be defined.”

  “We’ve met three times and neither of us has any claim on the other.”

  “By God, you’re in serious want of taming.” His hands tightened on her, his eyes darkened and dangerous. “Are you so unaware of how the world is? What perils you flirt with in your reckless behavior? I could detain you. I could take you to my yacht and take you with me to New York. I daresay a week at sea would prove ample time to tame a vixen.”

  He meant it. She could tell by the expression in his eyes. Sick fear beat through her.

  Oh God, she’d worried about being caught by some act of her own carelessness. But she had never considered that a gentleman might take matters into his own hands. That he might abduct her for his long-term pleasure. Encircled by his powerful arms, she held no doubts this gentleman could make good on his threats.

  She lifted her chin and met his gaze steadily. “If you do this—I promise you I’ll get free the first moment your back is turned—and I’ll never, ever come back.”

  His eyes widened and his grasp loosened. Clutching her reticule, she dashed for the door.

  “Beth!”

  The anguish in his voice made her stop, her hand frozen on the doorknob.

  “I wouldn’t really,” he said.

  “You said it.” She would not turn around.

  “I lost my head, forgive me.”

  At his contrite tone, a hot metallic dryness filled her mouth. Fear of herself. Fear she would turn, and run into his arms. Her hand shook upon the knob. She turned it, wrenched the door open, and fled down the hall and into the night.

  Chapter Six

  Seated in the shallow metal tub, knees folded almost to her chest, Beth cradled her face in her hands. The warm water had felt marvelous but it was already cooling. She missed the large, fine porcelain tub she’d bathed in at Mrs. Hazelwood’s house. She missed absolute privacy and being able to bathe naked. Now she must wear her shift in the tub.

  “Elizabeth!”

  At Charlie’s booming voice, she sighed. Oh, bother! She lifted her head, focusing hazily on the stew pot that was boiling on the cook stove. “What?” she called out.

  “Almost done in there?”

  “It has only been ten minutes at the most.”

  “Well, I don’t know why you have to have a tub bath. It doesn’t get a body any cleaner than the washstand.”

  Tears boiled up within her and spilled out. “I just want a few moments to myself, just a few moments.”

  “Elizabeth, damn it, I am hungry! I worked hard today.”

  “You’ll get your supper.”

  “When?”

  “In a little while! Go away!”

  “So, this is the kind of respect a man gets in his own house? Very well, milady!”

  She listened to his footfalls recede into the workshop.

  “Come inside me this time.”

  Her own voice haunted her. She buried her face in her hands again.

  “Beth, oh Beth—I am going to fill you full of myself.”

  Once again, she could feel the jerking of his cock deep, deep within her, the hot surge of his seed against her inner walls. The feel of it leaking out of her, warm and silken upon her thighs.

  How vigorously he had taken her. He was a man in his utmost prime, his seed would be virile.

  Exceedingly so.

  Fear quaked through her, the same queasy fear that had been with her since the day before, when she had allowed Sexton the ultimate intimacy.

  Dear God. What madness had possessed her?

  “Auntie Elizabeth?” The soft piping voice broke into her thoughts. She let her hands fall away from her face and focused slowly on the angelic little face before her.

  “What, my darling?”

  Amy lifted her rag doll. “Her arm fell off.”

  Beth reached out and touched her niece’s hair. “Don’t worry. I can sew her back up, right after supper.”

  “But without her arm, she won’t be able to eat any supper.”

  Beth caressed the soft ringlets. “You shall have to feed her then.” />
  “Beef stew is her favorite.”

  “Is it?” Beth asked absently.

  Amy nodded. “Her very most favorite of all.”

  Craving tore through Beth without mercy. Longing to hold her own child in her arms. She was almost twenty-four years old. All the women she knew of her own age had long since married and had several children tugging at their aprons. Their beds were warmed each night by a husband. They had their own homes and ran them as they saw fit.

  Beth would never have a husband.

  She would likely never have her own home.

  She let her hand slide down to caress the rosy little cheek.

  Sexton was willing to give her a child.

  He said she must trust him. That he would provide handsomely for such a child. She’d heard of a Sexton son when people had been talking about Grey at the bookseller’s, but no particulars as to the boy’s age.

  “I’ve come in no other woman in eighteen years.”

  So, he had no young children.

  Her child would be special.

  Was she being too slavish to the opinions of others?

  Could she have…everything she wanted, sans a wedding ring?

  Temptation beat through her.

  Sharp blue eyes, pale brows drawn tightly together in disapproval, flashed into her mind. If she disgraced herself, Mrs. Hazelwood would forever despise her.

  She stared into the innocent face of her niece. How could she ever entertain, even for a moment, providing such a horrid example to this precious child?

  She pulled her hand back to her lips.

  Oh God, how could she ever, ever think of doing such a thing?

  “My darling.” She pointed at the chair near by. “Fetch me that towel. We will go and get your dolly patched up right away. Supper will have to wait.”

  * * * *

  On Monday, aboard the Fleur, Grey suffered Marie’s close, worried inspection.

  “You have lost weight and you look tired—non, more desolate than tired,” she said.

  Inwardly, her perception galled him. Saturday, Beth had not met with him, nor sent any message. And he’d eaten little and slept even less since. For that matter, poor appetite and insomnia had troubled him since he’d met her and it did feel like illness, but it was a weakness he’d no wish to discuss.