Mandy

She stared into his deep blue eyes. Everything about him pulsated with masculinity, feral and erotic. She wanted him. It was all that she knew. She might regret this later, but she didn’t think so. Would he regret it?

Her friends had told her that men liked to hear naughty talk in the bedroom and that it was fun. Would he like to hear it? She said softly, “I know something about what you want me to do to with your…cock.”

She felt his excitement rise as he said, “Do you, my beauty? What do I want to do with you with my cock?”

“You want me to…” she found she couldn’t say it as she reached for his shaft again, and went toward it, to lick its length and kiss its taut throbbing head.

He groaned and set her once again on her back. He nibbled at her lips as his hand went back to the opening between her legs and his finger slipped inside.

“That is what I want to do with my cock. I want to put myself inside of you and pleasure you till you scream out my name….”

His voice was lined with hard raw passion and it excited her. “Then do so, Your Grace.”

He grinned and said, “But first I want to taste you.”

He moved away from her mouth and spread her thighs apart to allow him to bend his head between her thighs which he raised by holding up her bottom. His tongue only lapped at her pink wetness at first and then he gently nibbled before he began a sucking and lapping motion.

She arched with her pleasure and all at once, as she climaxed in a way she had never thought possible, leaving her shuddering with after shocks, she did indeed call out his name.

“Aye then, beauty,” he said with great pleasure and then suckled at her nipples again, while his hands continued to explore her curves.

“Brock—oh Brock.”

His voice was a husky whisper, “I love hearing my name on your lips, Mandy mine.”

Mandy mine? Did he feel that way? Oh please, faith let him feel that way about me, she thought as she reacted to the finger that once again slipped inside of her.

Suddenly he worked her in a way that made her whimper with pleasure and unashamedly give herself to his hand, to the quick specific movements of his fingers, now two, inside of her.

His voice when it came was a low growl and she felt him get into position just as she went into a convulsion of pleasure. All she knew was that she never wanted this to stop.

He positioned his shaft at her opening then and as he bent to take her mouth with his, he shoved hard inside of her.

There was a quick moment of pain as he entered and it was done and she began instinctively reacting to his dance, moving with him, harder, faster and harder still.

When his moment came, he called out her name. “Mandy love!” And she was thrilled beyond understanding.

He pulled her into his chest, in a spoon position and murmured, “I hope it didn’t hurt too much…I felt you break, love…’

She shook her head and said, “No…it was over so fast and then you felt so good.” He held her tightly. He kissed her ear, the back of her neck, and then turned her to kiss her mouth, whispering her name, saying he wanted her near, couldn’t bear leaving her at the abbey, and then shocked her by saying, “I must, however, get you dressed and safely returned. Mandy…although all I want to do is stay here with you and make love to you all day, I can’t risk anyone coming across us like this. I won’t have your name bandied about.”

She couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure what she should say. She started pulling her clothes on and the entire time he never turned away from her. Instead, he helped her get dressed, tenderly touching her, sweetly kissing her all the while, telling her she was his sweetheart, his beauty and then he turned her and said once again, “Mine own innocent gamine.”

There was that word—mine, but no real word of love. She knew that she loved him beyond measure. She knew she would die for him, so strong was her love, but, he was kind and tender and sweet, but he had not mentioned ‘love’.

So she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Mine? What do you mean by that? I am not property to be labeled thusly,” she said not looking at him.

“No, not property, and yet mine all the same,” he said not at all put off or apparently about to relinquish his claim.

No more could be said as they heard her brother call out, “Yer Grace? Mandy?”

“They are back,” said the duke. “Come…”

Chapter Ten

“MY DEAR MRS. Brinley, what can I say? There are no words with which to console you,” offered Mr. Rawlings sympathetically. He came up from his low bow over Agatha Brinley’s hand and straightened to his stout height with a heavy sigh.

Agatha dabbed at her eyes with her Barcelona handkerchief before swishing the air impressively with its soft black silk.