Her Mad Baron (6 page)

She fell silent, and he wondered if she’d gone back to sleep.

“Losing control,” she said again. Her hands slid around and stroked his spine.

“Yes.”

“Would you have done all that before with me if you’d been certain I was real?”

“I don’t know. I can’t recall how I was thinking. That’s the damnable part of the poison they give me. It kills pieces of time and my understanding.”

“You remember kissing me and...and touching me.”

“God, yes. The toxic stuff also makes some sensations and recollections more vivid. I hope I won’t forget that.”

“Are you that considerate of your lovers even when they aren’t imaginary?”

“You think I am considerate?”

“I did from the first kiss or I would have truly fought and screamed and banged on the door and allowed myself to be dragged off to jail instead of letting you do what you did to me. With me. But you moved so slowly, almost waiting for permission. Considerate, yes.”

He didn’t know compliments could make a man even more aroused. His unrelieved arousal brought pain, but it was an ache that told him he was still alive.

“Florrie.”

“Hmm?”

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please. Oh, yes.”

An actual woman lay in his arms. He couldn’t have sexual congress with her. Not when she was in a drugged state. But he’d give her whatever she wanted and take as much comfort from her as he could.

A real woman against him, simply breathing, and he was more excited than he’d ever been. Weeks of deprivation and of fear added color to every blessed stroke of her skin, every warm sweet kiss. Then soon every hot, demanding kiss.

She formed the center of his existence now. She was his universe. Later...for once he didn’t think about later.

“Florrie,” he whispered. He pushed his fingers through her thick hair, cupping her scalp. Her legs wrapped around his as she pulled him to her. The cloth of her trousers rubbed his flesh but under the cloth lay the warmth and body of the lithe Florrie. He kissed and tasted every inch of her face, her neck. She whimpered when he pulled away from her mouth to slide down. He kissed her jaw, her throat, the crook of her neck, and, through the thin fabric of her blouse, her shoulder.

Earlier that day he’d felt her firm breasts that fit his hand perfectly, but he hadn’t seen them. He needed to see, even if it was so dark he couldn’t make out the color of her skin or her areola. Surely a wedge of moonlight would show him the curve of her breasts, her ribs, the waist and her hips he’d only grasped and needed to examine. And taste.

“Nathaniel? Where are you? Come back,” she pleaded as his body slid down hers.

The choked-back fear in her voice reminded him that she was still under the influence of the powerful, hellacious stuff. He abandoned his exploration to hold her tight against him, allow her to burrow between his arm and body as if she were seeking shelter from a storm. He only gave a small protesting grunt when her thigh, wedged between his legs, bumped against his poor afflicted organ—and then didn’t bump him again. “Florrie, I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered in the dark and held her tight. “I won’t let the spiders get you.”

“Worse. Chickens,” she said, with a mournful little sigh. “I think.”

“Shoo,” he said. “Go away, chickens. Go peck someone else.”

She gave a chuckle, and he could feel the tension ebb from her muscles. Every heartbeat and breath came easier. He closed his eyes and cradled her in his arms.

The next time he awoke to her pressing small kisses to his neck and chest. Now enough moonlight filled the room so he could see her eyes glow as she tilted her head. “Did I wake you? I tried not to, but I...”

“But you what?”

She was silent for a time then whispered. “Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome.”

She didn’t shift away and waited expectantly. He kissed her soft full lips, mouth closed.

She sighed and stroked his arm with her palm. “I am almost back to my senses. The dizziness won’t go away. Rather like being aboard a ship.”

“It rarely leaves me,” he whispered. “I think it feels more like having drunk one glass of wine too many.”

“I haven’t done that.” She drew in a shuddering sigh. “My father had strict rules about females and wine. If this is the way too much wine feels, then I think I will strike ‘indulging in more than a single glass of wine’ off my list of sins I hope to explore.”

He chuckled and stroked her hair. “Do you have a long list? Do most ladies keep such lists?”

“You forget I’m a thief, not a lady.”

“You look and sound and feel like a lady.”

“Just a woman.” She sounded mournful.

“God, yes, that too.” The sweep of desire froze his limbs for a moment. He couldn’t move and grew far too aware when she stirred against him, drew her fingers through his hair again and again, pressed her mouth lightly to his clavicle.

“Nathaniel?”

“Hmm?”

“Most of my list is silly. Eating with my fingers. Going barefoot out of doors. Smashing a bit of china.”

He smiled in the dark. It had been so very long since he’d had anything to smile about. “Explain that one.”

She shifted, and he could see her face again, her mouth almost relaxed into a smile. “My grandmama collected sculpture. She had a great deal of money and bought many pieces. Some are dreadful. We had enough Toby jugs and such to litter the surfaces of every shelf and curio cabinet. Anyway, once or twice, when he was angry, my father seized one and threw it as hard as he could into the fireplace. I’ve picked up one particular smirking shepherdess and considered flinging it, but I think you have to be in a towering rage to really enjoy the experience.”

He had trouble listening because her fingers were tracing his back again. Down the spine, to the waistline, almost so lightly he had to concentrate to feel her touch. She continued her exploration, her hands tentatively moving over the cloth covering his buttocks.

He sucked in a breath and in an unsteady whisper asked, “Anything else on your list? Going outside without a bonnet?”

She bit her lower lip, an unbearably erotic sight in the moonlight. “There are a couple I had all but  given up. Visiting a men’s club in disguise. I read an account by a female once, and it was quite interesting. My brother told me it was full of exaggerations and I’d find it dull. And he said he couldn’t disguise me properly.”

“Yes, your body is definitely feminine.” He pictured her breasts and hips naked and stifled a groan. He didn’t stop his hand from smoothing the curve of her side.

Her breath grew unsteady and puffed against his neck. “And then there is the far greater sin, of course. Lying with a man.”

Lord, no. What was she doing to him? He wanted to protect her virtue, but this was too much. “Florrie,” he began in a gruff warning voice.

She pressed another moist kiss to his throat. “Would you? With me?”

Nathaniel considered pretending not to know what she meant, but he suspected she would not let the subject drop so he said, “You should do that with your husband.”

“I told you, I don’t think I’ll marry.”

“Think? You’re not sure, however.”

The bedclothes rustled. She rolled onto her back. “Nathaniel.”

“I’m still here.”

“This is something I thought about before I was locked in this room with you, even before I took up the stupid, nonsensical thieving. I am too fond of my independence.” She went on as if he had tried to argue with her. “Yes, I know that probably means I’m too prone to indulging in ideas like climbing into strangers’ windows.”

He started to interrupt, but she continued. “I had a father and still have a brother who provides me with more than enough work at home and I have no need to find anyone else to clean up after or scold.”

At last, as if finally embarrassed, she let the words tumble out. “I would like the experience with you. I know we don’t truly know one another, but that is probably for the best. There is no one else I could ask. There is no one whom I’d rather ask. Your touch earlier and your body has made me so full of...of whatever it is that makes me feel as if I’ll die if you don’t touch me again. And do more.”

“Lust,” he croaked.

“Yes, that’s the word. Lust. I want you. Please make love to me. With me. Nathaniel,” she whispered.

Nathaniel was lost. Her words shattered the last of his civilized veneer. Ask her again, make sure, he told himself. He didn’t speak. He tried not to fall on her like a ravening wolf. Considerate, Florrie had called him. But the blood pumped through him so hard, he was barely aware of anything but need. Overwhelming desire released from a tight rein at last. No, no, don’t rip her clothes, he thought as his trembling fingers loosened her trousers again.

Her shirt and chemise joined the trousers, and she lay on her back, naked at last, her breasts rising and falling quickly.

He rose over her, then sank back on his heels. Not yet. First he’d feel and taste every inch of her. That was on his own list of unfulfilled indulges. Explore a woman’s body.

He licked her breasts, suckled her nipples. She moaned and twisted so he had to keep his hands on her hips to hold her while he tasted the sweet flesh of her belly, silver in the moonlight, then down to her pussy.

“Oh,” she squeaked. “Is that n-normal?”

He raised his head. “Do you care? Do you suppose that matters here?”

Before she could answer, he went back to sucking and licking the delicious saltiness of her.

“No,” she breathed. “I don’t care.” She raised her hips, inviting his mouth. He pushed her legs farther apart and kissed the inside of her thighs while he tried to make out in the dark the part of a woman he’d only felt and never seen, the exotic flower center of her. Lovely swollen folds and the nubbin that made her writhe when he touched it. He stroked it and enjoyed her squirming and panting.

He eased a finger inside her. So wet and tight. He pushed one finger, then another and could feel her stretch as the last of the part of her that wasn’t a true wall gave way.

He’d taken her virginity with his hand. When he hesitated, she pushed and groaned. His fingers were embedded as deeply as they could be.

No regrets from her, then, so he moved his hand and lapped at her sweet, wet body until she squirmed and one hand clutched his hair. She put her arm across her mouth, and muffled the tiny scream and squeezed his fingers tight.

Her shuddering proved too much for him. He pushed himself up, between her legs, unable or perhaps only unwilling to ignore his need for her body.

*

Florrie came back to her full senses as Nathaniel’s solid warmth covered her, though he rested most of his weight on his elbows. He lowered his hips between her legs and reached down. When he brushed her swollen sex a second later, she understood the blunt object wasn’t his hand but his penis lodged at her opening. She thought he’d go slowly as he’d moved all this time, but with a sharp thrust, he imbedded himself, too wide and impossibly deep inside her.

She had grown up in the country; she knew what would happen, but the shock and sheer pain hit her like a wave smashing into her and almost drowning her. He was far too large and stretched her too far. “Wait, no.” She pushed at him with the heels of her hands.

He stopped at once and kissed her neck, but didn’t leave her body. “You are so hot and tight. So slippery. Florrie. I’ll remain still and you move.”

She whimpered and gave the smallest of motions. A little twist around the astounding thickness. Another person inside her body.

She moved again, squirming. The burning he’d created was reduced and now the intense fullness changed to a more threatening sensation. She stretched around him, accustoming herself to the changing ache, no longer stinging.

“Oh,” she said, and made a slow circle with her hips around the thing impaling her. “Oh, my.”

She spread her legs wider and pushed up. He groaned against her mouth and moved again. Slowly filling her.

He imitated her circle as he pushed. Still deliberate, unhurried. She panted and moaned as desire gathered itself together, increasing with the friction he created, inside and outside her body. Waves of her lust and the strange chemicals pumped through her.

At last he thrust faster. A man moved with those waves, created them, inside her body. The imaginary rocking of the room and real motion of the man pushing into her was too intense.

Colors bolted through her and across her eyes as the sensation hit her, spiraling from her core through her, all the way to her fingers again, forcing her body to clutch tight around the now perfect invasion of the man, even with the echoes of pain. His mouth covered hers again, and he pushed into her, filling the empty space exactly as her body required.

He reached down and clutched her buttocks as he pumped, bringing her back to the edge again.

“Florrie, Florrie, I need you.”

She wrapped her arms around him, soothing and urging him as he seemed to weep against her shoulder. With a sudden cry, he pulled from her body and pressed himself to her belly. A warm wash spilled over her skin.