Pretty Poison (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

That night when Nicholas came to Emily’s room he found her sitting cross-legged atop a lush blue velvet blanket on the floor before the fire running a brush through her long wet hair. She’d obviously just come from her bath and was still wrapped in a fluffy linen sheet, her shoulders bare and gleaming in the flickering firelight.

She smiled up at him as he crossed the room to join her. He knelt behind her, his knees close beside her hips, and took the brush from her hands. With long slow strokes he drew the brush from the crown of her head to the curling ends below her waist. Her tresses felt like silk, slippery and cool.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “That’s so nice. Much better than when Tilly does it.”

“Have you and Tilly talked of your shared blood?” He hoped he’d been successful in hiding his shock when she’d shared her family history with him and Bernice. He was grateful he’d followed his instincts and trailed after her into the little parlor. He thought he’d finally unlocked some of the secrets in her heart.

“No. To be honest, I didn’t think of us as cousins,” she replied, her voice low and smooth. “I guess I was too caught up in the shame of it to see the beauty.”

“And now?”

“I’m not certain Tilly knows we share a grandfather. Perhaps when we return to Emerald Isle I’ll ask Pearl about it.”

“When did you learn of your family history?”

“I’ve always known,” she replied, surprising him. He’d thought for certain she had only learned of it recently, perhaps on the crossing or after arriving in London. “It’s no secret, not even much of a scandal. The Bay is peppered with families just like mine. Why, our neighbors, the Johnstons, are a hodge-podge of white, black and mulatto siblings, parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents.”

“I’d heard that masters often took their female slaves to their beds,” he admitted. “I just didn’t realize how prevalent it is.”

“Oh, it’s not just their slaves planter gentlemen take to their beds,” she replied, an edge to her words. “It’s all women. I don’t think I know one planter on the Bay who hasn’t bedded some woman not his wife.”

“Really?” he asked in alarm.

“Well, maybe one,” she amended quietly.

“Who?”

“Peter Marshall.”

“The man who broke your betrothal?”

“Of course he wasn’t married, so who knows what would have happened. Perhaps he would have found his pleasures outside the marriage.”

“But you didn’t think so.”

“It’s the reason I chose him,” she admitted and Nicholas heard the pain in her softly spoken words.

“Did you love him?” he asked, laying aside the brush and wrapping his arms around her.

“No, you are the only man I have ever loved,” she answered as her fingers danced along his forearms.

“You’ll never be sorry.” He trailed kisses across her bare shoulder. “I will not make you sorry you fell in love with me, not for one single moment.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to love you so well, Emily, that you will be happy all the days of your life.”

“I know.”

“I promise you, I will never stray from your bed.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“I plan to keep you so satisfied, so tired from my loving, that you couldn’t stray if you wanted to,” she warned with a throaty laugh.

“Is that so, Miss Calvert?” he asked, his blood beginning to thrum in his veins.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Avery.” She turned her head and smiled at him, a siren’s smile, secretive and surprisingly confident. “Starting tonight.”

Nick did not pretend to misunderstand her words. Nor did he attempt to dissuade her.

He captured her lips, his kiss infinitely gentle, his lips and his tongue caressing her full bottom lip, playing along the seam, until with a breathy little sigh, she opened to him.

Nick took his time, stroking his tongue over hers, enticing her, inviting her to deepen the kiss. And she did, she met his tongue, encouraged him, quickened the pace, the rhythm of their kiss, until he was drowning in her ready passion, in her uninhibited response.

With a soft hum of pleasure, Emily broke their kiss, turned and rose to her knees before him, the linen sheet slowly unwinding from her body, slipping down. Nick followed its descent with his eyes, taking in her breasts, with their pink nipples, the jagged scar she’d yet to explain, the shadow of her ribs as she sucked in a shaky breath, her flat belly with its tiny indented navel, the gentle curve of her waist, the triangle of dark, curly red hair that hid her secrets from him.

Nick shrugged out of his robe, watched Emily slowly rake her eyes over him, across his broad shoulders, down his chest, over his belly, to stop at his cock. She blinked once, twice, let out a long breathy sigh and raised her gaze to his once more.

Eyes dark with desire, cheeks flushed, she lifted her hands to his shoulders, her delicate fingers clasping him, kneading his muscles, skimming over his flesh. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her slowly to his chest, his heartbeat racing as he fused his mouth to hers once more, drank the soft moan that fell from her lips.

He loved this woman, was going to love her all the days of his life, and the truth of that, the wonder of it, was in their kiss, in their mingled breaths, in the warmth of their embrace. It brought a new element to their loving, made it richer, deeper, infinitely sweeter. He wanted to take his time with her tonight, lavish all his love and desire upon her, make her his woman, fully, finally.

“Emily,” he whispered, his lips drifting over her cheek, along her jaw, leisurely tasting her, breathing in the delicate scent of her warm skin.

“Ah, Nicholas,” she drawled reverently as she draped her arms over his shoulders, her hands caressing his neck, her fingers drifting through his hair. He shuddered at the delicate touch, his pulse quickening.

His hands glided down her back, fingers tracing her spine, dawdling over each vertebra, memorizing each dip and hollow, finally reaching the swell of her delectable arse. Wrapping his hands around her, his fingers spread across her bottom, his palms gently grasping her hips, he pulled her close, until she was nestled between his spread knees, her belly resting against his hard shaft. Emily trembled, her fingers flexing on his neck.

“What you do to me,” he murmured against her throat, his tongue coming out to stroke over her skin until her hips twitched in his hands. She arched her back, rubbed her breasts sinuously against his chest, like a cat begging to be petted. Her breath escaped in a soft little whimper against his cheek and Nick was undone.

He captured her lips, thrust his tongue into her mouth, found hers, caressed, suckled, licked and nibbled, suddenly ravenous for her. His hands clenched on her hips pulling her closer, holding her hard against his pulsing cock. He rocked against her, his hips thrusting in time with the almost frantic movement of his tongue in her mouth.

And Emily, his passionate, uninhibited Emily, moaned into his mouth, her tongue following his, dueling, dancing, thrusting as she trailed her hands down his back, her fingers lightly stroking his flesh.

Nick tore his lips from hers, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs.

She moaned at the loss, leaned in to recapture his lips, her eyes cloudy with passion. She stroked her tongue over his bottom lip, sucked it into her mouth, nipped him with her teeth.

“Christ, Em,” he rasped around a dark laugh. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Yes,” She flexed her hands on his back.

Nick lowered her onto the velvet counterpane, following her down to hover between her welcoming thighs. Taking his weight on his elbows, he buried his hands in her hair spread out around her like a fiery cloud.

Slowly he lowered his hips, groaned as the base of his cock nestled against the soft curls between her legs, the shaft rising up over her mound, the engorged head resting on her taut belly.

Emily moaned, her mouth seeking his, open and wet. He kissed her, his control rapidly deserting him when she speared her tongue into his mouth, brushing it over and around his, then sucking his tongue into her mouth on a soft whimper.

Nick dragged his lips from hers, pulled air into his starving lungs and reared onto his knees, his head dipping to her breasts. He captured one nipple with his lips, the other between his thumb and finger. He gently tugged both and relished the helpless jerk of her hips in reaction. Grazing his teeth lightly over one distended peak, he rubbed his calloused thumb over the other.

Emily moaned, the sound dark and needy, her hips rising and twisting.

His cock twitched, straining to be inside her, to find relief in her tight sheath.

Just thinking about how tight she was, how he’d had to work to get his fingers into her heat, made his rigid shaft harder. He sought to find a measure of control, to tamp down on the driving need to possess her. While his heart raced and the blood pumped in his veins, he reminded himself that he’d have to go slow, to arouse Emily to an unbearable pitch, to prepare her body for his invasion.

With that thought in mind, Nick drew her nipple hard into his mouth and was rewarded with a low cry from the woman beneath him. He suckled her, his mouth hot and demanding, his tongue and his teeth tormenting her. She writhed beneath him, lifting her hips, her hands clamped on his head, her fingers buried in his hair.

“Nicholas, please,” she murmured almost incoherently.

He reached down between her legs, placed his hand over her, his palm heavy over her curls and the tight bud of her clit buried within, his fingers delving over her folds, separating them, opening her.

“Yes, oh, yes,” she panted and pushed against his hand.

“Christ, Emily, you are so hot,” he growled as he released her nipple, moved to take the other in his mouth. Dipping his finger into her quim, he found her wet, incredibly wet. Nick gathered her moisture on his fingers, spread it over her folds and went to work on her clit with sure, even strokes, just the way she liked.

Emily wiggled beneath him, moaning and panting, begging him with her body, and it was all Nick could do not to plunge his straining cock into her. Instead he widened his legs between hers, forcing her thighs farther apart and eased one finger into her hot cunny. She lifted her hips to meet his finger, took it deep into her body and let out a fractured moan. Nick shuddered above her, sent up a prayer for control and withdrew his finger only to thrust it back into her waiting heat, again and again, until she was rising to meet each thrust, her breaths rapid and broken.

Nick pulled his finger from her body, smiled grimly at her moan of protest and added another finger to the first. He skimmed his two fingers, an inch, then two, into her wet heat, stretching her, readying her.

He released the nipple he’d been suckling, dragged his open mouth down her belly and into her curls.

“Nick!” she cried, her head coming up off the floor. “No, you can’t…”

Her protest ended on a wail of surprise and pleasure as his tongue found her clitoris, flicked over it, circled it. When her head fell back to the floor, her hands clenching and twisting handfuls of velvet, Nick pushed his fingers into her, eased them out, and back in, again and again, deeper with each pass.

Emily squirmed beneath him, sighed as her body adjusted to his ceaseless assault, harder, deeper, faster until she was once more lifting her hips in offering, riding the relentless rhythm of his fingers, welcoming his tongue and his lips on her clit with little crooning moans.

With one final stroke of his tongue and one deep hard thrust of his fingers, Nick withdrew from between her thighs.

“Please,” she moaned, her hips rising, circling, chasing his fingers, his mouth. He crawled up her body, kissing her hips, her belly, her breasts, her neck and finally her lips, her cheeks and her closed eyes. He hovered over her, his hands on either side of her head, his knees holding her thighs open and watched her lips tilt at the corners, her eyelids flutter and slowly lift.

“Nicholas,” she whispered. “Come to me, my love.”

He dropped his weight to his elbows, drew the head of his cock through her curls, over her velvety soft folds and positioned himself at opening of her body. He flexed his hips, prodded gently.

“It’s going to hurt, love,” he warned against her lips.

“I know,” she murmured, her arms coming around him to rest on his back.

Nick eased his cock into her, pushing until the swollen head was firmly inside her tight channel.

“Ah, Em,” he groaned. The pleasure was unbelievable, better than he’d imagined. She was tight, clasping him like a glove, and so damn wet. He rocked forward, pushing into her another inch.

Emily squirmed beneath him, shifted minutely away from his penetration.

“Easy, love,” he whispered, startled by the dark edge to his voice.

“Yes,” she moaned, her face pressed to his neck, her hands gripping his back.

Nick rocked back, pushed forward, once, twice, giving her more of his pulsing flesh, stretching her, filling her, before withdrawing until only the head of his cock was embedded in her welcoming heat.

“I love you, Emily,” he whispered, a gentle reminder just before he thrust forward, burying his hard length in her tight passage.

Her soft, broken cry and her fingernails digging into his back were the only signs she gave of distress.

“Ah, Jesus, love,” Nick growled as sensations overwhelmed him. He was so deep inside her and she was so bloody snug. “Nothing’s ever felt so good.”

He held himself still inside her body, allowing her to adjust to his penetration, allowing himself to commit the experience to memory. He wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life, the exquisite feel of her silky wet quim embracing him, her gentle breath on his neck, her small hands flexing on his back, her feet rubbing restlessly against his legs.

“Nicholas?” Emily trailed one hand down to rest low on his back.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready for what?”

Nicholas laughed softly, turned his head and captured her lips for one long hard kiss, then he began to move. Slowly, carefully he rocked back, thrust forward, seating himself inside her heat to the hilt again.