DisobediencebyDesign (18 page)

Joseph pulled Sophia more closely to him. He had been
dreaming of her before Wittering had awoken him, a very lascivious dream, which
he lamented having to give up as he put on his trousers and dressing robe. But
once he saw her in the library, feminine and emotional, he had no regrets.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sophie.” He drew his fingers
across the bare skin of her shoulders and back. “I should come to these events
just to see you in your finery.”

She snuggled into his chest. “You mean to see me with such
low-cut necklines.”

He grinned and kissed her hair. “That is definitely one of
the attractions, yes. And probably the only one since I would not be allowed to
dance with you.”

She looked up at him. “We can have a dance now.”

“Here? In the library? And me in my robe.”

“Would it shock you to know I once danced with a
half-dressed man in a billiard room?”

He held his arms in a waltz stance and she followed suit. He
whirled her about as much as the furniture and her full skirt would allow. The
first time they had done such a thing she had been abashed, uncomfortable in
the arms of a man she found desirable. Now her face glowed with delight and
anticipation.

“I fear I’ve done this all wrong, my lady,” he said. “I
believe the flattery comes after we walk into the dark recesses of the garden
and not before we dance.”

“Oh but Mr. Phillips, you may flatter me whenever you wish.”

“May I kiss you whenever I wish as well?”

She licked her lips. “Yes.”

He bent over as he continued the dance, touching his lips to
hers, her soft moan inciting him to deepen their union, the taste of her tongue
riling his senses, inflaming his body as it had been during his dream.

“I wish to seduce you, Lady Sophia,” he murmured, still
moving her in the dance. “Will you allow such an outrage?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes, Mr. Phillips. But not here in the
library.”

“Then let us take our walk upstairs.”

He held out his arm and she took it excitedly.

But the closer they got to the door the more his gut twisted,
and when they were safely inside his bedroom, the door shut and locked, his
heart thudded wildly.

Damn
.

How many times had he done this before? But he fumbled as he
unfastened her dress, faltered as he unhooked her corset, wavered as he untied
her petticoats, trembled as he pulled off her stockings.

He had bedded a dozen women a hundred times but this time it
was different. This time it was Sophie. She was the love of his life.

“Have you ever been with a virgin?”

Could she tell? How could she possibly? Of course she could.
They had been intimate before and he had not then acted like a callow
schoolboy.

“Yes but I was one myself so I hardly knew what I was doing
or what to expect.” He took off his robe. “I fear I did not give her the most
enjoyable of experiences. It was over too quickly.”

What had changed? Nothing and yet everything. They were
still in love but what was to happen would irrevocably affect their future.
Their mutual future.

Once they made love it would be tantamount to marriage. The
stakes had never been so high.

And he had never wanted to win so desperately in his life.

She led him to the bed and under the covers, allowed him to enfold
her in his arms, let him kiss her, let him touch her anywhere, everywhere. She
directed him to suck first one nipple then the other, urged him to stroke her
clitoris to excitement, encouraged him to open her thighs and nestle his body
between them.

She looked intensely into his eyes as he positioned himself
and nodded her assent.

He entered her slowly. Her rapturous sigh swelled his heart
to bursting. He tempered his movements, relishing the throbbing wetness as he
pushed in, the warm tightness as he pulled out.

Her breathing quickened to a frenzied pace. She cried out as
she clenched his cock, the force of it almost his undoing. She searched his
eyes, intently, questioningly.

“Your crisis, love.” He kissed her cheeks, her lips.

“More,” she said, breathless. “I want more.”

He increased his tempo, building steadily.

“More.”

Her desires were one with her body’s reactions, grasping,
flexing, wanting, needing. She came again, her orgiastic cry goading him to
join her, the force of her body almost compelling him.

But he wanted more too.

He forged ahead, giving her what she demanded, hugging her
to him as he drove into her faster and deeper. Her eyes fell shut, her mouth
slackened, lost in the bliss before climax. He pounded harder, urging her to
the point of ecstasy, her cries matching the beat of his thrusts until she
bucked up, gripping him with the strength of surrender.

He slammed inside her one last time, emptying himself,
jerking with release, his emission making them one.

“You’re mine, Sophie. No one can take you from me.”

“Joseph, my Joseph,” she heaved in relief.

He collapsed on top of her, still needing their bodies to remain
as one. Their limbs tangled, their hearts pounded, their breaths found a mutual
rhythm.

“I love you.”

It did not matter who said it first.

* * * * *

The light poured on Sophia’s face at an unexpected angle.
Had she turned completely head over heels in her bed?

She opened her eyes and memories of the night before deluged
her. She turned over to see Joseph, his face soft from deep slumber, the covers
tossed off his magnificent upper torso, and all she could think was how
wonderful he was, how beautiful their love-making had been.

And how much she had to pee.

She could make a dash for the water closet wearing Joseph’s
robe. But maybe there was a chamber pot under the bed…

She climbed out of bed as gently and noiselessly as
possible, really only succeeding in getting as far as removing the covers from
her legs when Joseph stirred. She froze. What on earth did one do in such a
situation?

The mattress bounced and creaked as he got up. He fumbled
around on the floor then walked around until he was in full view of her
tenaciously half-closed eye, positioning the chamber pot he had hauled out from
under the bed.

And then he grabbed his cock and pissed. Right in front of
her. His stream was urgent and strong. He emitted a satisfied groan as he gave
his cock a shake. And then he looked at her.

By that time Sophia’s eyes were wide open.

He closed the lid to the commode and sauntered over to the
bed. “Your turn, my lady.”

She stared at him, horrified.

He grabbed hold of her arm and wrenched her from the bed.
She couldn’t struggle. If she had, she would have passed water all over the
carpet.

He dragged her to the commode and lifted the lid. The stench
of fresh urine increased her urge.

She absolutely couldn’t. Not in front of him.

“Oh yes you can.” He grinned.

“Joseph!”

“If we are to share the rest of our lives together, we have
to perform the most intimate of acts in front of each other. Should I remind
you I was, but a few hours ago, inside your person?”

He was right. Well, right enough at that moment. They could
discuss it at length another time.

“Squat, my lady.”

She gave in and squatted, the mere act of doing so loosening
her resolve and her bladder. And when she was finished he handed her a sheet of
curl paper. Her cheeks burned at the far greater intimacy of wiping.

She stood, utterly mortified, wanting to simply get dressed
and go find some breakfast. But she had no other clothes than her ball gown.

“You are absolutely charming in your modesty, my lady,” he
said closing the lid and moving the box very carefully back under the bed.

He pulled her to him, sliding his hands tenderly along the
contours of her back. His skin was still heated from their warm bed and
penetrated her now-chilled flesh. She pressed her palms against his chest. His
heart beat a steady, seductive rhythm.

“You should know we do not have indoor plumbing at my
parents’ house in New York.” His eyes twinkled teasingly.

“Well I’ll have to do something about that, won’t I? Once
you bring home the sister of the Earl of Petersham as your wife your parents
will have to expect changes. I will not raise my children in colonial filth and
squalor.”

“
Children?
How many?”

Two—a boy and a girl—would be nice. But she wasn’t going to
tell him that just yet. She tapped his chest with her index finger. “Ten.”

His brow crinkled. “Ten?” His eyes narrowed and a grin
spread across his lips. “Well then, we better get started, hadn’t we?”

She squealed as he picked her up and threw her on the bed.
The mattress sagged with his weight as he climbed on top of her. He hovered,
his knees on either side of her hips, his hands above her shoulders.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself enough last night to want
ten children.”

“I was hoping it would get better every time we tried.”

He laughed and slumped alongside her. “You little minx.” He
swirled spirals around her breasts, around her belly, tickling her with
arousal. She rocked her hips encouragingly, hoping he would continue his path
just a bit farther.

Instead he laid his hand on her belly, his warmth spreading
over her, penetrating her, mingling with the delicious tingling between her
legs. “Sophie, love, was I too rough with you last night? Are you sore?”

Her heart swelled at his concern. “I suppose a little.
Mostly my thighs. I’m unused to such a position.”

He chuckled. His hand proceeded to the spot where she had
hoped he would go. He drew a finger through the cleft between her legs.

“You’re wet,” he murmured. “Deliciously wet.”

She licked her lips as he stroked her pleasure spot,
squirming with each caress, melting into the bed with each release. His gaze
skated along her body then back up to meet hers. His eyes were black with
desire.

“I want to touch you,” she said.

“Please,” he growled with a smile.

She encircled his cock with one hand and pumped slowly. The
other rested on his strong upper arm, feeling the glorious muscle twitch as his
fingers tantalized her below.

“You use this arm to pleasure yourself, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“One day I want to watch you.”

He grinned. “Okay.”

“But right now I want you to fuck me.”

Instantly he was on top of her, stretched out between her
legs, his prick in position. But he did not seek her assent this time. Instead he
plowed ahead without warning. He slammed into her, jostling her. She wrapped
her legs around him to steady herself, to ride with him, to experience a new
pleasure, a pleasure of crude, vigorous physicality. His grunts and ragged
breaths filled her ears, inciting her to cry out with abandon. Inside her, he
grazed an untouched spot, deeply embedded, eliciting a luscious sensation, a
new way to climb to the top of sensuality. She tilted her hips, needing him
deeper, needing him to push her over the edge. He complied, wrapping one arm
around her to hold her tightly against him, securing her as he drove inside her
relentlessly.

She swooned, delirious with pleasure, riding waves of
euphoria, gasping at the crest—

She screamed in climax. His mouth descended on hers,
silencing her, drawing her ecstasy into his body. He slammed inside her one
last time, growled his satisfaction into her mouth and jerked his pleasure deep
inside her.

He rolled off, panting. “Oh God, Sophie.” He stared at the
ceiling stunned.

“Was it good?” she asked teasingly.

“Christ it was good.” He drew in a long breath and sat up. “I’m
famished. Let’s get some breakfast.”

“Oh.”
Clothes
. “I suppose I could wear my underthings
and borrow your dressing robe.”

He chuckled. “I think that might be a bit too
risqué
for your brother.”

She gasped. Arthur! Oh goodness. Did he hear her scream?

“Look, to save you any mortification,” Joseph said as he
pulled on his trousers and braces, “I’ll get a tray. I’ll send a carriage
around to get Anna. Any dress in particular you wish to wear today?”

“I have a nice new rose day dress.”

“Good, that will match the flush on your cheeks.” He lifted
her chin and gave her a peck on the lips. “You can use the pot in private while
I’m gone.”

* * * * *

The door to the breakfast room opened and Arthur put down
his morning paper. He wasn’t sure whom to expect but was glad to see Joseph…alone.

He watched intently as Joseph went to the buffet and poured
a cup of coffee, added cream, took a sip, then proceeded to fill two plates
with enough food to feed an army.

The silence was deafening. He couldn’t stand it.

“And?” Arthur inquired pointedly.

Joseph looked up from the chafing dish of eggs. “Did I
deflower your sister? Yes. But I find it a bit sordid to have to tell her
brother.”

Arthur chuckled. “How is she?”

“Probably asleep.”

“Shouldn’t you be there for her when she wakes up?”

“I already was the first time, about an hour ago.”

“Oh.”

Joseph pulled out a chair and sat next to him. He let out a
sigh then placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Look, Arthur, the deed is done.
We have to go through with the plan. Unless you can find a more suitable man
who would not care about your sister’s virtue.”

“Joseph,” he said quietly, “I cannot think of a more
suitable man than you. Sophie is in love with you. Besides, I think my parents
aren’t really looking beyond Royston. If the deed is done, then we will proceed
as planned.”

“Which is what exactly?”

“Making sure the two of you have plenty of opportunities.”

“To get Sophie with child.” Joseph sipped his coffee
sullenly.