AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He withdrew from her, and she gasped as he pushed her day gown and chemisette indecently high. He bunched the material at her waist, gripped her knees, and widened her legs.
“You will be tempted to release my shirt…do not.”
Excitement pulsed through her. She watched him with acute curiosity as he tugged off her drawers, lifting one foot and then the other to remove them. She felt wicked and wanton, free and bold, and she never wanted this encounter to end. He slid his hand underneath her bottom, gripped, and pulled her to the edge of the bed.
His shirt tautened, and she tightened her hold, looping the ends around her wrists. He stared at the intimate part of her, and mortification blushed her entire body. Then he dipped his head and kissed her there.
Sweet merciful heaven.
He ran his tongue over her wet core in a toe-curling swipe.
“Mikhail, please, surely this cannot be decent,” she moaned when he repeated the motion before clamping his teeth over her knot of pleasure and sucked…hard.
Her back bowed, and she gripped the shirt so tightly, she was surprised it did not fly off the peg. Her breath came in shuddering gasps, and a sob rose in her throat when he added his fingers to the sweet torment of his lips.
She tried to scoot back on the bed, overwhelmed by the erotic heat cascading through her blood, but he gripped her hips and brought her even more firmly onto his tongue. All of Payton’s thoughts burned to ashes under the devastating pleasure Mikhail’s incredibly wicked tongue and fingers delivered.
She sobbed his name, undulated her hips, whispers and hoarse cries ripping from her throat. The exquisite sensations built steadily, overwhelming her senses. Without thought she released the grip on his shirt, lowered her hands, and frantically clasped his head. She didn’t know if she wanted to push him away or pull him firmer against her core. The lascivious thought had more heat spreading through her body, beading the tips of her nipples into hard points. They stabbed against her chemisette, desperate for a touch.
She sank her fingers into the thick strands of his hair and gripped tight as uncontrolled shivers scythed through her. His decadent tongue took her to the brink of sanity.
He froze, his teeth clenched with gentle but sensuous precision over her knot of pleasure.
Oh God. I am so sorry.
His eyes lifted to her, and the darkness swirling in his gaze was more than arousal.
Holding his eyes, she eased her fingers from his hair to her side where she fisted the sheets.
He scraped his teeth over her nub, then nipped once, twice, before drawing his tongue over her soaked slit, and thrust his two fingers deep and hard.
Payton shattered. Pulsating waves of pleasure coursed through her, and she tumbled into blissful delight. Despite the ecstasy, a fist of discomfort gripped her heart.
Will you ever allow my touch, Mikhail?
Chapter Eleven
Ice had formed underneath Mikhail’s skin at Payton’s passion-filled touch. He noted the burn of dread was less, but his gut still clenched in acute discomfort. He grimaced at the flash of pain in her eyes, before she lowered her lids, hiding her emotions, including the wanton heat. He had made more strides with Payton than he had with anyone in years. Was it because he liked and admired her? He pooled the dress over her splayed thighs, gently drew the flowing material down to her ankle, and assisted her in sitting up. She had yet to meet his eyes, and regret curled through him. If only.
He sat on the bed and laced their fingers. How could he explain he loved touching her…loved feeling the softness of her skin, but that he had to be the one in control of every caress, whether illicit or simply playful? Would there ever be a time he could relax with her and share his shame? Maybe…
His heart jerked, hard and painful, and he ruthlessly controlled his breathing. This was the first time in years he’d ever had the thought to confess his private hell to someone. Not even his brothers or Calydon knew the full of it…for Mikhail had never spoken of his entire experience under Madam Anya. He didn’t even like to entertain fleeting thoughts of that deceptive bitch, not when he was with Payton.
He reached forward and placed a finger under her chin and applied the slightest of pressure. “Payton.”
She lifted her eyes to his, a tiny wobbly smile on her face.
“I wanted you to touch me. You held my head to your heat and for a wild moment I did not want you to stop. That has never happened to me before.”
A flush rose in her cheek, washing pink across her face in the most becoming manner. “But…then…you did want me to release you?”
“Yes.”
Her wince was subtle, but he spotted it. Unable to resist, he leaned in and kissed her. The need in him to soothe and offer comfort another way gripped him in a tight vise. It was startling to admit how much her feelings mattered to him. The madness of it did not escape Mikhail. He had only made her acquaintance a mere three days past, and he was sliding too deep…too fast.
She parted her lips and returned his kiss shyly, as if she had not just been lifting her hips in passionate demand. Her breath, a delightful scent of berries, slid over his mouth in a silken caress, and yearning shot through his heart.
Touch me, do not touch me. The dual needs warred, and he gritted his teeth until they ached. “We must—” He stiffened and listened.
Her eyes searched his face. “What is it?”
Blasted hell. “There is someone at the door.”
Her face paled, and she jerked to her feet, staring at the door as if it were an apparition. “I believe you are mistaken, there—”
Her words strangled as her name floated in on the wind, and the door rattled under the pounding of a fist and not the wind.
“Oh my heavens. It is my father!” she said with a horrified gasp.
“I surmised.” Mikhail had lost his head. Never had he imagined someone else followed when she raced away from the estate. But he should have realized they would have organized a search party with the inclement weather. He was so wrapped up in everything about her, he had not been thinking.
With swift movements he dragged his shirt off the peg and drew it on. It was crumpled with a multitude of wrinkles. He pushed the bed back in its slot and straightened the sheets as best he could. Then he turned to Payton.
Christ.
Only am imbecile would miss the flush of passion that still made her skin rosy, and the heavy-lidded arousal, but her anxiety and obvious embarrassment was doing a damn good job of hiding it. Her lips were sw
ollen and red, her hair loose around her in wild disarray. It would be impossible to hide what they had just been doing a few moments ago.
He strode toward the door.
“What are you doing?” She gasped, rushing over to him.
“I am opening the door.”
“You cannot!” Her hands went to her hair frantically, and with deft movements she gathered the heavy mass and tried to coil in into some sort of knot atop her head. The end result looked ridiculous, but she was filled with too much anxiety for him to point it out.
“Ooh!” She clasped her cheeks. “I cannot believe this is happening. Why would my father follow me? I think we should ignore it; maybe they will search elsewhere,” she said on a hopeful note.
Tenderness curled through Mikhail, and a fierce rush of protective urge swamped him. He would bear her touch even if it killed him, if only to offer comfort. “Come here,” he said, drawing her into his arms.
She flung herself against him and slipped her hands around his waist.
Distaste sliced through him, burning and roiling through his blood, scorching him like a poison-tipped knife. He could feel the frantic beat of her heart vibrating through his body. With a ruthless will he’d not thought himself capable of, he tampered his revulsion and returned her embrace. “It will be well,” he soothed, gently circling her back. “This is unexpected, but we can face it. We are attired as best we can. And it may only be your father outside.” He hoped. The man may have formed a party to search for her.
She groaned into his chest. “I had not even thought that he might have company.”
Hell.
“It is tempting to ignore them, but the other cottages are farther away, and the weather is fierce.”
As if to prove his point the rafter shuddered under a blast of thunder.
“My father is out there in this squall, without shelter,” she said softly.
Sweat beaded on his brows as the burn of her touch became cold, encasing him in ice. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” she said wretchedly. “I never intended for this to happen!”
“I am not sorry.”
She worried her bottom lip. “They will expect us to marry. It is too soon.”
