Claiming His Ward: Sweet & Sexy Page 5

  Not able to speak her forbidden craving, Elsie allowed her hands to speak for her. She ran them down his bare back until they met with the loosened waistband of his trousers. She pushed. Her fingers entered below the fabric, and she guided his pants down. Boldness and energy electrified her. She was undressing him. She was asking for him. The fabric caught on his hips, and she could reach no further. Never taking his eyes from hers, Jack eased his trousers down his thighs. He pushed them down—down—until he was naked on top of her. He rose over her and helped her lift her gown over her head. Her virgin body lay beneath him, open to him. He knelt between her knees, his masculine body on proud display. Elsie licked her lips, and her touch trailed down his buttocks and toward the hollow of his hips. His member throbbed and twitched. He groaned. He embodied the tender lover of her dreams, but her body begged for his restraint to end. However, her trembling fingers matched her trembling lips. Her fingers stopped before they reached his manhood, lingering over his sensitive, quivering flesh. Her innocence could not bring her any further. She needed what lie so near her hands, but she couldn’t do it. Her eyes begged for him to fulfill the desire burning inside of her.

  Jack leaned over top of her, supporting himself with one strong arm. With a steady hand, his fingers explored her folds. She was moist to his touch. Elsie clenched her teeth and flexed her jaw. Her hips rose to meet his touch. She mewled. She couldn’t keep the desperate cries in. His touch—there. A place she herself only dared to touch while under her covers late at night. He found the nub below her clitoris and stroked. Her body tensed, and her back rose from the mattress. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the tension that matched her own as she struggled with the unfamiliar desires within her. Her wetness increased as his fingers slid between her folds. She whined a high pitched moan and twisted. He trailed up and down her slit from her opening to her sensitive, swelling clitoris. Elsie bit into her lip, and her hips twitched sideways under the constant stimulation. Her hips rocked to the rhythm he had established. It came so easily. He belonged there—between her legs. Her sex swelled under his expert fingers, and the pressure wrought an unbearable tension.

  She was amazed with the wetness he goaded from her. He slid a digit into her opening. Elsie rose even further from the mattress, only her shoulders and buttocks making contact. She arched on the mattress. Ragged, volatile murmurs of pleasure came from Jack, but she couldn’t see. Her head was tilted back, her eyes squeezed shut. Elsie was lost in the sensation—his finger inside of her pulsating mound, her walls bearing down on him, her hips working with his thrusting hand to find satisfaction. She moaned and gasped for him. Her breaths came quick, and short gasps escaped with every exhale. She reached behind and twisted her fingers into the pillows. She held on and pulled. The building tension shook her legs and her core. Jack hit a spot inside of her. She cried out and jerked. He stroked again. She thrust her pelvis into him. Sweat formed over her brow. He stroked again. Elsie’s mouth gaped in a silent scream. The tension flooded and crashed. Every muscle seized. The air caught in her lungs. His finger crooked inside of her. Her sex pulsed around him. Euphoria washed through her. Heat surged. Her muscles relaxed, and her arched body eased to the mattress. She lay, heaving and panting. She had never goaded herself to such release. He had taken command of her body, and she responded.

  Jack guided his erection against her eager flesh. He removed his finger, and Elsie whimpered with the void. She whimpered until Jack took himself in hand and stroked the head of his manhood through her nether lips. She slammed her head back into the mattress and bucked. She dug her fingers into his buttocks and pulled him to her with a scream. Jack settled the tip of his shaft into her wet sex. Slowly, with utterly mastered control, he pulsated shallow thrusts into the entrance of her flower. Her arousal flowed freely, and she began to mutter breathless words. He delved deeper. Elsie cried out and burrowed her head back into the pillow’s.

  She found her voice then. She cried out. “More. Please, Jack, more.”

  It was all the permission he needed. The words poured out of him with emotion. “Oh, God. I love you, Elsie.”

  He pressed into her, further and further, her virginal walls pressing down on him and resisting as he entered. She shivered below him and writhed as he pushed into her until he pressed against the obstruction of her virginity. He gazed into her eyes, seeking one last permission. Her brow was covered with sweat. She didn’t understand his hesitation. She knew so little of her own body. One overwhelming thought consumed her: don’t stop. Just one silently mouth word — ‘please’. Jack kissed her ever so gently and pressed harder. Her eyes flew shut; she gasped loudly and her body jerked as he broke through. She cried out, a cry that ended in a moaning whimper.

  He settled in to the hilt and rested a moment, allowing her to adjust to his size. He filled her completely. His shaft pushed against her inner walls, forcing her open to him. Her channel wrapped around him tightly. Elsie opened her eyes and looked up at him, her face full of a mixture of erotic pain and pleasure. Sweat slicked the space between them. Jack watched her, studying her as he began to move again. Her mouth gaped into an O of satisfaction as his length ran in and out of her fitted recess. She flexed her buttocks and tightened down on his member even harder. Her arousal flowed, slicking his shaft and the sheets. He had taken her. She was his. He loved her. Joy coursed through her nerves. She shuddered out a high pitched, impassioned wail. Her orgasm sent a flush to her cheeks that spread down to her exposed breasts.

  Jack touched the heat, his fingertips running over her red skin. He grunted and groaned. She heard him curse. He took the Lord’s name in vain, and Elsie had never heard a sweeter sound. An animal shone through. His teeth bared. Wildness flared in his eyes. Elsie bucked her hips up from below. Jack’s arms and chest were flexed into rock hard muscle. He moved in and out of her—slow and tender. He rotated his hips, each draw of his shaft eliciting panting moans. Her dampened hair clung to her forehead, and she clenched down on him as yet another orgasm sent them both over the edge.

  Jack’s release flowed into her. He groaned and cried out, and Elsie whimpered beneath him. Tears welled into her eyes as otherworldly bliss filled her. She was his. Truly and utterly his. All the air left her body, and she heaved to take in more. Jack looked down on her, keeping his manhood sheathed in her embracing walls. With gentle care, he stroked his thumb over her forehead, brushing her sweat slicked hair from her eyes once again.

  She smiled up at him and smoothed her palms over his naked back. The words he had spoken were ones she had longed to hear for so long now. She finally found the courage to say them back. “I love you, Jack.” She had imagined countless times how he would say them. On his knees, in the park, as they danced. Never like this. She could never have imagined the intimacy between a man and a woman.

  He placed his hand on her cheek, holding her gently, returning her love. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  Elsie beamed; her smile widened ear to ear. “I don’t think you could ever hurt me.” Hope welled in her chest; she became more serious — feeling more of the woman she had grown into over the years. “The only thing that could hurt me now is if you sent me away. I want to stay with you, Jack. I never want to leave you.”

  Tears and a smile spring to his eyes, and he leaned down, kissing her softly. “No. Don’t leave. Never leave.” He looked down on her, searching one last time for a question still brooding within. “There is only one way you can stay now. There is one condition.”

  The air between them thickened, and expectation came over Elsie’s features as she waited silently for his terms.

  He lowered himself to her, his body covering hers. “In the morning. I want to enjoy this moment. Just like this.”

  Her cheeks hurt. The smile wouldn’t fade. Jack scrounged to upturn the covers and arrange them both underneath. He lay on his back and pulled her on top of his chest. Their bodies became one. Her small frame against his. She fit against his side—her skin to his.
She raised her thigh and lay it on top his. His big arm curled around her and held her tight. She laid her head on his chest. She traced circles over his shoulder. Jack kissed her fingers. They lay in a panting, contented bundle. Slowly, exhausted, her world faded to black in the arms of the man she loved.

  When Jack woke up, he struggled to place himself. The surroundings were familiar, but not his own. Heat nestled against his chest. Dim sunlight struggled to penetrate dark curtains. The interior of the room was cloaked in shades of grey. There was no smell of mahogany and cigars. There were flowers and perfume. Her perfume. The events of the previous night came flooding back to him. Elsie's fair cheek lay in the crook of his arm, her small, delicate arm draped over his chest. His sleepiness was dispelled by the energy coursing through him. He had dreamt it so often, he was afraid that he was not in reality. He ran his fingers through the tousled hair of the beautiful woman laying next to him. She was in a lovely state of disarray. Unguarded, she had given herself over to him. He had let go, and she had responded in a way he thought impossible. It had not been a dream. She stirred under his touch, and a gentle smile played over her lips. Joy soared through his heart. His life had begun anew.

  He was afraid he had scared he—that his power had overwhelmed her. He had told her she was alone in a house with a man she could not trust, who could not restrain himself. Her trust in him was complete. She hadn’t just trusted, she had offered. The sheltered morning light illuminated a smile on her lips. She was happy. Even in her slumber, she was happy beside him. Her palm resting over his heart soothed his soul. He knew a peace and contentment which had evaded him for years.

  Not so last night. His blood had rushed through his veins with a touch of her fingertips. The fight to contain his desire — to wrap her in his arms – had consumed him. He had wavered between sweeping her into his embrace and fleeing down the hall to protect her innocence. Her light touch had restrained him. She had asked to be his. Could he dare? Could he dare, in that moment, to seize for himself just one glimpse of the passion held in his visions? Jack had lost hold of his control. His self possession fled as the scent of her arousal filled the air. The animal inside his chest had responded. She had undone him. Her tightness had consumed him. He had wanted it all. He had been desperate to hold back, desperate to restrain himself, to be the tender lover she had needed. The roiling in his chest rebelled against his self possession. Every limb, every nerve, the very blood boiling in his body, begged for his restraint to end.

  Jack swept a lock of stray hair from her eyes. His throat seized down upon itself, his breath caught in his lungs. In the privacy of his chamber, in the deepest recesses of his heart, he had dreamt of a life together. Before last night, it had been a certainty that his dreams would remain just that — dreams — and that his desire would remain to torment him. But here lay his love, her arm caressing his chest, her thigh thrown over his. He had made her his. He had claimed her. The fullness of the possibilities – of a life with a regained joy — overwhelmed him. He bent to her sleeping form and kissed her brow. Her innocence subdued him; his passionate desire manifested in gentle tenderness. She was to be cherished. Admiring her tranquil, trusting slumber was the only measure of control he required. He had told her she could no longer trust him, and yet the confidence that he had cautioned against emanated even from her sleeping beauty. She wanted him. She wanted him, and she placed her trust in him. The two coexisted. His body ached for her, to be buried inside of her once more, to be reassured of the fulfillment of all his desires.

  The animal within him howled to wake her and ravish her. Feeling washed over him in awareness of the intimacy of the moment. She had told him she loved him, and she had asked for him to take her — all of her. They were the sweetest, most delicious, most alluring words to ever come from the lips of a woman. His fingers ran over her beautiful skin, the memory of her awakening cravings for his carnal touch bringing fire back to his body even now. Her beauty, how she squeezed down on him, her deep arousal, it all had sent him stampeding toward the cliff. She had been beautiful in the afterglow of her orgasm as she looked up at him with a reverential awe. And now, in her contented slumber, her beauty deepened. He had not woken to a cold bed. Here, he was warm and filled with life.

  She wanted him. Forever. Her desire was to be with him. Jack soared. He could have leapt from the window and flown through the morning sky. Tears of joy sprang to his eyes. He leaned down, kissing her tender lips. Resolution seized him, and he knew the direction his life would take. A direction that kept Elsie by his side. No, he would never let her go. He would dedicate his life to loving her. Yesterday's suggestion of a lonely life without her expanded the deep seated conviction that her absence would send his life crashing down about him. His heart would break were she to go.

  With slow, measured movements, Jack lifted the covers from his goddaughter's bed and slid from beneath her embrace. He pulled last night’s trousers over his naked body, grabbed the rest of his clothing, and made for his room. As he dressed, the possibilities raced through his mind. Contented, satiated, he had slept long and hard. His chamber door had been left open last night. Margie would already be up and in the kitchen. She would have passed his chambers. She would know he didn't spend the night in his own bed. Nor in his chair in the parlor. And another possibility — one that sent an unexpected thrill through his body. He had come inside of his love. A child may be taking root even now. A feral possessiveness fired within him. The beast cried out to beat his chest claim her. She was his. He had dreamt of her, yes. But this new thought, a child, a new family with his new love — it invigorated him with energy and a youth he had not felt in years. She was his. He would not let her go.

  Jack moved down the steps and through the kitchen, hoping to snatch a quick bite on his way to his morning duties — but mostly to confront Margie. His plans for the day had changed dramatically. During yesterday's wedding feast, he had preoccupied his troubled mind with thoughts of the work he needed to busy himself with on the morrow. Accounts needing arranging, numbers to be ran through, the shipment which they receive the day before needed to be inspected and sorted. He would not be going to the office, not now. Everything could wait. Nothing else mattered. He had much more important affairs to arrange.

  The kitchen was cramped but light and airy. An open window let in the morning breeze without dispelling the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked biscuits. Margie stood stooping over the stove. Her eyes darted to him and back to the steaming teapot. He could see the hesitancy in her manner—in every movement. The things she must be assuming of him. Her voice was quiet and subdued. There was, perhaps, a tinge of disappointment. “Morning, sir.”

  He froze, knowing full well the compromising position he had put his goddaughter in. Quick, resolute action was required. And resolution was something Jack was not in short supply of. “Margie, has William stored that large table I bought for Lauren’s wedding yet?”

  She looked up, a hint of a question already gleaming in her eye. “No, sir. He was going to rearrange the cellar first so that monstrosity would fit.”

  Jack nodded his pleased ascent. “I need to be off quickly this morning. Tell William not to do anything with that table. Leave it where it is. We will be needing it again immediately.”

  Margie’s countenance lifted a touch. Just a bit around the eyebrows. “Yes, sir. I’ll relay your message.” She removed the singing teapot from the stove to a ready made tray of tea. She ventured another question. “Anything else you may want me to do today, sir? “

  Jack turned on his way out. “Yes, come to think of it. Make all the arrangements for another feast. Groceries. Butchers. Brewers. Whatever you need.”

  Her lips twitched in a poorly restrained smile. “Today?”

  “Yes. For today. I plan to be back in…” He pulled at the fob of his pocket watch. “I’ll try for two hours. We’ll have company.”

  Her restraint broke, and Margie’s smile widened. She curtsied. Her voice quivered
with ill-controlled joy. “Of course, sir. I’ll take care of everything. Now, you get about your business. I’m sure you have much to do.”

  Jack snatched a hot biscuit and bit off a chunk as he hustled from the kitchen. With an afterthought, he lunged back into the doorway. He spoke around his mouthful—very ungentlemanly—but he didn't give a damn. "Send William to the office. Tell them I won't be in today."

  He bounded down the front stoop two steps at a time. The sun shone brightly this morning; the air was fresh and crisp. Pedestrian traffic bubbled with excitement for the upcoming day. Jack strode with confident steps, pivoting his glance up and down the street. A hansom came into view, and he stepped off the curb, hollering at the top of his lungs.

  “Where to, mister?”

  Jack swung up onto the elevated carriage. “Wheelock’s Jewelers.”

  Bright morning sunshine flooded through her closed eyelids. Elsie stirred lazily and stretched. Sharp metallic ringing sounded through the quiet room as Margie pulled the other curtain open. More light infused her chambers.

  “‘Bout time young miss wakes up and gets out of bed.”

  Margie was inordinately cheery. A high-pitched squeal escaped Elsie’s lips, and she jerked the covers up over her breasts. Margie heaved open the window, not content with flinging open the curtains to let in the early morning sun. Not so early anymore. The bustle of a fully engaged city day flowed into her chambers. The baker’s boy was making his rounds, hollering out his wares.

  Margie leaned out the window, hollering with her street voice. “Did you say croissants?”

  The pre-teen tenor of the young lad called back. “Yes, mum. Couple dozen.”

  “We’ll take them all. I’ll meet you at the door.”

  Elsie’s brow furled. “What on earth do we need two dozen croissants for?”

  Margie rounded the four poster bed and hustled for the door. “Never you mind, Miss. Get out of bed, now. Big day.”