Wolfsgate Page 13

  Justine’s warm hand rubbed the straining muscles of his neck. She licked her lips. “Bran.” Her voice was soft, beckoning, seeping right through his pores, offering him sanctuary. The knuckles of her other hand delicately skimmed his hard, stubbled jaw until the harsh lines eased.

  She bent her knees and brought her legs close to his sides, pressing them around his hips, rocking her pelvis up against his. With that one graceful, generous movement she took his breath away as her body took his cock deeper. A soft cry escaped her lips as she rocked against him once more, taking him in again. His eyes squeezed shut against the rapid fire detonation in his veins. The air hissed from his mouth, and his head arched back for an instant.

  “Oh…Justine.”

  A savage force inside him wanted nothing more than to slam into her hard and fast, but he did his damnedest to control the raging impulse to transform into a blood thirsty animal. He should control himself, shouldn’t he?

  Well, just a wee bit.

  His cock stroked in and out slowly as her fingers dug into his flesh. He dipped his face into her neck, the powdery scent of her damp skin driving him mad. His jaw clenched. “Jus?”

  “Don’t stop,” she said through ragged breaths.

  He lost whatever control he had left. His thrusts quickened, driving him forward in his search for more of this, more of her. The hair hung in his eyes as he watched her. He desperately wanted to pleasure her again, and, this time, to see that pleasure wash over her face. His insides tightened at the thought.

  Justine’s hands swept down his damp back clasping him over the surging muscles of his rear. Her erotic little breathy noises came quicker. He needed to elicit more of them.

  He hunted inside her, chased. She turned her head away, and her muscles tensed around him, but she clung to him, taking him all in, taking whatever he gave her. He finally went off, shuddering deep inside her, releasing himself into the embrace of her beautiful body. His mind was lost in a haze, floating somewhere in the hot room.

  Brandon raised his head. “Justine,” his hoarse voice rumbled through the silence. “You…” his voice trailed off. She only stroked his back. He collapsed to her side, clinging to her.

  Brandon woke up with a start. His eyes blinked in the darkness. Sweat pooled underneath his cheek, his head laying on her chest. A thought had pinned itself in his hazed mind and wouldn’t let go.

  What the devil was it?

  He raised himself up over her sleeping form.

  Ah, yes. His wife had not been a virgin. Someone had gotten there before him.

  HE WASN’T HER FIRST.

  His head sank back against the pillow.

  Fascinating, he smirked, for a girl who had spent most of her life practically cloistered on a country estate. Cloistered, yet her affections had flourished for a certain young gentleman as she had so delicately phrased it. The memory of Andrew Blakelock looking like a young Adonis at the village church the other morning, his pretty blue eyes sparkling over Justine flashed through his brain.

  He scrubbed his face with his hand. Was it a celebration swive in honor of their secret engagement? Or maybe a goodbye swive before William and Richard dragged her to London and married her off to him, the scarred, addled cripple?

  She had lied to him, and that stung as much as the lie itself.

  He half-heartedly tugged at the sheets twisted between them and scanned the linen in the soft rays of early morning light peeking between the drapes. There were no signs of blood.

  His mouth pressed into a firm line. He had no right to be angry or even jealous. She had fallen in love with the boy and wanted to marry him, and it would have been a very good match. William and Richard had shattered Justine’s dreams, destroyed her hopes for her future, saddled her with a thousand responsibilities and obligations no better than a common servant. Then they chained her to him.

  It was, however, a rash act for a girl like Justine. Was she so deeply in love with Andrew, her passion for him so intense that she could not help but indulge thinking they were to be married eventually? Still, a great risk. Perhaps Andrew had forced himself on her when she had been made to reject him? He raked his hands through his hair and sucked in a deep breath. No, Adonis didn’t seem the type, and Justine had been pleased to see him at the cemetery, not upset or afraid. More likely they had had a torrid reunion in secret before Adonis left for his Tour.

  He couldn’t be sure of course, but any scenario made his brain pound as he imagined Justine in the arms of another man, foreign hands exploring her flesh, her spreading her legs wide with anticipation and coming to full pleasure at the movement of someone else inside her.

  Hang on—did she even finish off with him last night?

  Just before he burst inside her, she had turned her face away, half-buried in her pillow, her neck strained, her legs stiff at his sides. There were no cries or moans as there had been earlier with his mouth on her. No, goddammit, she hadn’t finished, in fact she had fought against it at the last minute. She had urged him on in the beginning, enjoyed it, even. But then it was as if she had purposely decided against it. He rubbed his chest in a futile attempt to ease the tension surging through his muscles. She didn’t want him then? Had she simply put up with it, put up with his need like a dutiful wife?

  No, she did want him. He had read the signs correctly, he wasn’t that far gone. Maybe she had felt she was betraying the Adonis and held herself back at the last moment out of guilt? Because she had been enjoying it a hell of a lot before he had even entered her.

  Brandon closed his eyes and the usual pains pummeled his head once more.

  His gaze fell on her delectable body next to him on the bed. Although he had felt no barrier once he was inside her, she had been extremely tight even when so wet. Perhaps it had been only once and some time ago. The smooth skin of her back shimmered in the glow of the soft light of dawn. His pulse tripped at the memory of her softness wrapped around him, clinging to him, her moans erupting in his kisses. She had given herself to him without pushing him away or exhibiting fear in the face of his desire, a moment or two of anxiety perhaps, but that was natural.

  When he had tasted her, her experience of such pleasure had obviously been a surprise to her. She went wild for that, and so did he. It had nearly done him in. He smiled to himself remembering how he had to hold her down. All her verbal responses to his sucking on her, licking her, had been whimpers and cries teeming with desire and vulnerability. Then that raw moan just before she…

  Oh, yes. That would remain seared on his soul forever.

  He leaned over and kissed her bare back, his hand roaming over her hips to the smooth curves of her rear. Had she regretted that experience?

  Whatever first experience she had had, it must have left her with a mistrust of her own self and hints of shame perhaps. His fingertips trailed over a silky thigh. He was going to change all of that for her. He would be the one to give her that bloody ecstasy, and she would damned well remember it and want more.

  Much, much more. Just like he did.

  Since he’d been home, he realized his senses and emotions had both dulled and intensified after the trauma of the shipwreck and the use of the opiate. Such sharp polar opposites would drive anyone mad. This was his strange new reality, his special madness.

  Bedding Justine was a fantastic cure for his ills.

  He rubbed his jaw. Who would have thought? The young girl who had peppered his youth with smiles and a thousand kindnesses was in bed with him now as his wife. A wife he wanted to swive, possess, consume.

  As often as possible.

  Repeatedly.

  Bedding Justine was his new compulsion.

  He had to still those black thoughts regarding her first time for now. He would find out more later when he had the energy to deal with it. In the meantime, he would demand her attention and pleasure her over and over again until he was sure there was nothing left of any romantic sentimentality or wistfulness she may still harbor for the blond Adon
is. Yes, he wanted to feel that fervor grip her and know that he got her there. And she would know it too. He wanted to hear her plead for more, to need it just as much as he did.

  Yes. That was a fine plan.

  He nestled against her, his hand tucked around the fulness of her breasts, his groin pressed into her spectacular rear, his mouth at the delicate nape of her neck, and he closed his eyes.

  I can’t breathe.

  Can’t breathe.

  “Justine!” a muffed, deep voice reached her as if through a long tunnel with her stuck at the opposite end. “Justine, wake up!”

  Large warm hands gripped her stiff arms. The sheet which had bound her legs was torn off of her.

  She jerked her hands before her face. “No,” she said flinching in his arms.

  “Justine, are you all right? You’ve had a nightmare.” One of his hands was at her neck, the other rubbed the back of her head. She blinked at him and slowly her body began to relax in his arms. He brushed the hair off her face and stroked her cheek. For a moment, it seemed as if she didn’t know who he was or where she was.

  Her eyes tried to focus on his face, the cold sweat beaded on her temple.

  “You seemed so frightened,” he said in a gentle tone. His hand swept over her bare chest just above her breasts to where her heart hammered. “You’re still upset.”

  Her body stiffened and her chest caved in. The cold air in the room swept over her exposed breasts and tummy. Her eyes widened. She was naked in bed with Brandon’s arms around her, and they had…

  The breath snagged in her chest. She pulled at the sheet to cover herself.

  “What was the dream about?” Brandon asked tucking the sheet and coverlet around her.

  “Pardon?”

  “I dream of a sinking ship and a hideous hospital. What do you dream of?”

  She looked away, anywhere but in those beautiful sea-colored eyes of his that held a secret knowledge of her.

  “Tell me, Justine.” He ran his fingers up her arm.

  “It’s a dream I have once in a while,” she said, clearing her throat. “A brigand dressed all in black hunts for me through the house at night.”

  His gaze searched hers and knots twisted in the pit of her stomach. She darted out of bed, desperate for her chemise, but he pulled her back into his arms. She took a deep breath, but her muscles remained taut. He caressed her cheek with his warm hand, and the aroma of him drifted over her. That same heady scent was all over her skin and her bed linen.

  “If you don’t relax I will find another, more interesting way to make you relax,” he whispered. Brandon’s hips pressed against hers. She swallowed hard and sank back into his embrace. The taut smoothness of his body around her flooded her with memories of last night.

  “Does this brigand ever catch you?”

  “No. He comes close though. It’s the same dream I’ve had since your father died. I felt truly alone in this house after he passed away. Even with Richard and Molly here. It’s a big house. It can be particularly scary at night.”

  His fingers stroked the side of her cheek. “You are not alone anymore, my girl.” Her pulse quickened as the heat of his gaze poured over her. “And as my wife, Richard and William have no hold over you any longer. I promise you that. Do you understand?”

  He sat up and leaned against the headboard, gathered her in his arms and brought her up between his legs. She leaned back against his chest. He brushed the hair from her neck and dragged his lips over her cool skin across her shoulder and her neck. She shivered in his arms. His hot hands slid over her bare thighs spreading them apart. Her belly dipped.

  “When I was inside you last night, you fought your pleasure. Why?” he asked. His fingers trailed up her torso until they found the soft underside of her breasts.

  Her head pressed back into his chest. “What are you talking about?” she whispered.

  His hands gently caressed her breasts, and she held her breath as sparks of pleasure shimmered over her flesh. “The first time, with my mouth on you, you finished. When I was inside you though, at the end, I felt you trying to push it away. Tell me. You don’t have to be embarrassed with me. Not after last night, surely.”

  Her face heated, and she twisted her head towards his shoulder. There he was using her own words against her.

  “Tell me.”

  “It was…overwhelming. I’d never felt anything like that before, like I would be shattered and swallowed whole at the same time.” She let out a small gasp as his fingertips teased her nipples, and a tingling sensation began to vibrate through her. “You were watching me, and all I could think—”

  “Too much thinking. You wanted to hide, like you’re doing now. Don’t hide from me, Jus, not you.” One of his hands slid down her torso to the soft inside of her thigh. His lips nipped at her earlobe, and she let out a soft cry.

  “Touch yourself,” he said, his voice husky and low at her ear.

  Her breath caught in her throat. He took her hand in his and led it to the wet silkiness between her legs, their fingers swirling over her sensitive, secret flesh. His tongue flicked a delirious path across her neck and back up to her ear. She shivered, squirming against him. His hand continued to guide her fingers in swirling motions, and her body slackened against his, her hips tilting as his other fingers rolled one of her agitated nipples. Wetness gathered in her center, and she moaned, her body shifting in his arms.

  “Do you feel that, Jus? That’s yours.” His lips brushed her temple.

  “Brandon—”

  “Let me give this to you,” he whispered. “Let go, love.”

  “Let go?” she asked.

  “Yes, sweet girl, let go.”

  “It’s too overwhelming.”

  “It should be. That’s good.” His warm breath fanned her cheek. “You won’t break or go under. I promise, you won’t. I’m holding you, I’m right here to ride it with you.”

  Brandon brought their fingers to his mouth and sucked on them. Her eyes widened at the sight, her heart tripping at the soft, tugging pressure of his wet mouth on her fingers. He was tasting her. An impossible ache surged through her. His lips released their suction, and their warm, wet fingers luxuriously sank between her legs once again. She let out a moan.

  “Tell me how it feels, Jus,” he whispered.

  “Brandon…”

  “Do you like our fingers touching you?”

  “Yes. Yes, I like it.” She twisted in his arms again, her free hand slid up around his hard bicep.

  “Do you want more?” He increased the rhythm and pressure of their fingers and she panted. “Tell me what you want, Justine.”

  “Yes,” she rasped. “More.”

  Her slickness began to collect around their fingers, making erotic sounds that seemed to echo over her skin. He slid their fingers inside her. Her inner walls pulsed around them.

  “Look, Jus. Look at what we’re doing. You’re so beautiful like this.” His lips brushed the side of her face. She held her breath and cast a glance down her body, connecting the chaos coursing through her with what their hands were actually doing.

  “Breathe. Welcome it,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear before her brain could take over her impulses again. “Let go.”

  “Let go? And go where?” she asked through choppy breaths, her eyes shut.

  His lips curled against her skin. He nipped her earlobe, tugged on a hard nipple, and her eyes fluttered open. Oh, he was determined to overload her with sensation and get her over the edge; she was at his mercy.

  “Come to me, Jus. Surrender to it,” he breathed. She drew her knees up pressing back further into his chest. Her hips began to grind on their hands, her eyes were jammed shut. His tongue flicked at her ear. “Stop thinking.”

  Her face twisted in his arm. “I want to please you,” she whispered.

  His breath caught. “Oh, sweet thing, you please me. And it pleases me greatly to give this to you. There’s no right or wrong here, Justine.” His mouth nuzzl
ed her neck where her pulse hammered wildly under his lips. “I want you to feel it. Feel it all the way inside your beautiful quim.” His fingers curved inside her, moving in an unforgiving rhythm. She let out a deep moan, her legs stiffening.

  “I have you,” he whispered in her ear, his voice thick. The tip of his tongue traced the skin behind it once more.

  Her hand released its tight grip on his bicep and reached up to clutch at his hair, her head falling back. “Brandon!” Her body spasmed, her release rippling through her.

  “There it is…yes,” he murmured, his voice raw, his one hand tightly cupping a breast, the other still inside her. “Don’t turn away from me again Justine. Or I’ll find other such ways to get you to let go, do you understand?”

  She nodded. Words, her voice, all failed her.

  “Look at me.” She turned to face him, and he kissed her hard holding her close. She settled in his embrace.

  Her husband’s embrace.

  BRANDON FOUND HER IN THE KITCHEN after having woken up alone in her bed. He took her hand from the bread she was arranging on a dish, raised it to his lips and kissed it. He then slid his mother’s velvet jewelry box towards her on the kitchen table.

  “These are yours.”

  Justine’s eyes flicked down at the box then back up at his determined face. Her lips pursed, yet she said nothing. His head tilted at her, his eyes tightening as his long fingers went under her chin and raised her head to face him. “You are Lady Graven now, are you not?”

  “Yes,” Justine breathed.

  “They are now yours then.”

  She sucked in air. They had to have this conversation. Of course, they should have had it in the very beginning and way before last night. She had to say it to him, though. She removed her hand from his and swallowed, wondering how in the world to form the words.