Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

W anton? Power surged through Charlotte at the control Simon gave her. And strangely, that control freed her. If being wanton was being unrestrained, then she embraced being wanton.

It was almost as frightening as the storm. Because, although Simon stood before her naked, she was the vulnerable one.

Should she let her guard down? Trust him? Let him in?

The door to her heart creaked and moaned, resisting the tug to open, its hinges rusted from years of neglect. Determined, Charlotte tugged harder, the child she'd kept hidden behind it clawing her way out.

And she faced the fact that she cared about the man before her. Given time, she might even grow to love him. The idea so unexpected, a laugh bubbled up from her throat.

Simon quirked a brow. "Please tell me you're not laughing at my . . ." He cast his gaze down to his arousal.

She laughed again, the sound joyous, wonderful, and—freeing. "No. I'm laughing because I love that you called me wanton. "

He pulled her toward him, his arousal pressing into her stomach. "Then I shall call you wanton more often," he said, nipping at her earlobe. "Because I love when you laugh."

Liberated, she placed both palms on his bare chest and pushed him away, quickly reassuring him as his forehead dented with a frown. "Only for a moment." When she moved to untie the ribbons of her nightrail, he stopped her.

"Allow me. Please. I've been dreaming about this since our wedding day." Seriousness replaced the sparkle of mischief and amusement usually shining in his eyes. "And if I'm honest, even before that. As much as I didn't wish to admit it, I think I wanted you from the moment we met."

"But you detested me."

His fingers played with the silky ribbon. "No. Not exactly. I hated my attraction to you because of who you were."

Ah. "Because I'm a Talbot."

"Yes." With excruciating slowness, he pulled the ribbon loose, the loop growing smaller until it fell straight against the cotton fabric. "But you're a Beckham now, and I'm eager to explore every inch of you and discover what you enjoy."

With the gown open at her neck, he tugged the material from her shoulders, then proceeded to pepper her with kisses.

She shivered with pleasure.

"You like that." The confidence in his voice normally would have encouraged her to respond with a scathing setdown.

A low moan drifted up from low in her chest and escaped, and Simon chuckled, the air from his breath tickling her skin further.

"Definitely," he said before moving down to her collarbone. "Now let me see if you respond in kind when I touch you here."

Unprepared, she pulled in a gasp when his hand found her breast and he thumbed her nipple. Her eyes shuttered as her head dropped back at the pleasurable sensations sweeping through her .

Oh, my goodness.

A sudden chill swept over her, and she opened her eyes to find her nightrail pooled to the floor at her feet and Simon staring at her as if he wished to devour her whole.

"Like a goddess. I knew it," he muttered, his voice so gravelly she barely recognized it. When he met her gaze directly, he appeared as a man possessed. "Permission to lift you onto the bed, my lady?"

How could her head be so heavy? She barely nodded her answer, then slid her arms around his neck.

Before she could blink, he picked her up and gently laid her in the center of the bed. As he climbed in next to her, his eyes filled with hunger, he reminded her of a cat stalking its prey.

Fire ignited low in her belly, and an aching need built inside her. More frightening though, tiny pangs squeezed her heart when she met Simon's eyes.

Although desire fogged her mind, she remembered his exhortation to participate. "Kiss me?" Goodness, she sounded so needy.

But he didn't laugh. "My pleasure." Holding her in his arms, he kissed her with a unique combination of passion and gentleness, as if he were trying to tell her something without words.

Lips, soft but firm, coaxed her into a state of euphoria as he nipped and drank and plundered his tongue in her mouth.

When he broke the kiss, she wanted to chase his lips, but she only moaned as he trailed hot kisses down her torso. He tongued her nipple, and she arched off the bed.

Pressure continued building inside her, wanting—needing something she couldn't name. "Simon, please."

He released her breast and returned to her lips. His hand lay on the flat of her stomach, his fingers teasing and torturing. "All right, my sweet. I'm going to move my hand down now. Remember. You are in control. Stop me if you don't like it." He delivered the last with a teasing tone, as if convinced she would not only like it, but crave it.

And as his hand inched lower, and lower, the unnamed need grew stronger, and she admitted her husband understood her body better than she did herself.

She kissed him back with equal fervor, her own tongue tangling with his and drawing sighs and moans from both of them.

Hot desire surged through her when he slipped his hand between her legs, inserting one finger, then two into her.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers. "Oh, God, Charlotte. You're wet for me."

The words sent a naughty thrill through her. "Tell me I'm wanton again."

As he continued to stroke her, he whispered in her ear, "You are a very wanton woman. So wicked. And I want you to have your way with me."

Muddled, her mind searched how to accomplish his wish, but any hope of discovering it vanished as he moved to suckle at her breast again while continuing his ministrations between her legs.

And instead she sought relief—how and from what, she had no idea, only that it was as if she were reaching for something just out of grasp, but growing closer, and closer by the moment, and then?—

"Oh!" The word flew from her lips as the pressure exploded inside her. Stars danced beneath her eyelids as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.

Simon continued his sweet torture until the last convulsion ceased.

Limp and boneless, she had never felt so relaxed.

Simon pulled her into his arms. "No need to ask if you enjoyed that."

When she opened her eyes, his ridiculous grin greeted her. "You don't have to appear so smug about it. "

"About pleasing my wife? I have every right. And now that I know a little about what you enjoy, I plan to do it often."

Regardless of his boast, she had to admit she very much wished to repeat the experience. Often, if possible.

With her mind relatively cleared, she returned to her earlier thought. How could she have her way with Simon?

Oh! Surely if it felt so good for him to touch her, he would enjoy being touched, too?

Wrapped in his arms, she lay on her side, facing him, as he nuzzled her neck and fondled her breast. His arousal pressed hard against her belly. Careful not to disturb his delicious ministrations, she slipped her hand between them and nudged him to give her access.

His previously hooded eyes widened, then he grinned and moved his hips away enough to allow her to touch him. "You wicked, wanton woman." His sensual chuckle, low and seductive, encouraged her.

Curious, more than anything at first, she touched a finger to the top of his arousal, surprised to find it silky soft and a little spongy. But the long shaft was like iron, rigid and demanding as it jumped under her touch.

"Wrap your hand around me." His words came out as a growl.

When she did as he asked, his eyes fluttered shut, and he moaned. "God, Charlotte. How can your touch undo me so quickly?" His hips jerked forward, then back.

"What should I do?"

After a lingering kiss, he said, "You won't hurt me. Grip tighter and run your hand up and down." He kissed her again, and added, "My wanton wife."

Quite enjoying being called wanton, she followed his instructions, even more pleased when he moaned again and deepened the already passionate kiss .

Her heart swelled that she, whom he had called the ice queen, brought her experienced husband to abandon.

Marriage, after all, might not be so bad. Especially with Simon Beckham.

A year ago, if someone would have told Simon to envision the scene that was occurring at that moment, he would have laughed in their face. And Simon had an excellent imagination.

But even more surprising was the fact that he had so much love in his heart for his wife.

Life was a wonder.

As she continued to stroke him, quite expertly, he admitted, his restraint grew thin. Not only had it been a while since he'd been with a woman—what with getting Drake's affairs in order before Honoria gave birth, his recent bout of malaria, and his unexpected marriage to Charlotte—but the love tugging at his heart as he brought his wife to release overwhelmed him.

If she continued, he wouldn't last. And that wouldn't do. He'd never needed to join with a woman more than he did his beautiful wife. To show her, even if he couldn't tell her, how much he adored her.

He stayed her hand. "Charlotte. As much as I love what you're doing, you must stop, or I will finish by your hand. And I would very"—he kissed her—"very"—he kissed her again—"very much like to consummate our marriage."

Worry reared its ugly head. With the loss of her mother so early in Charlotte's life, did she have a woman to explain things to her? And if so, were the words kind and encouraging? And what had Felix tried to do to her? He stroked her face, the worry mixing with love. Dread snaked up his spine at the thought of hurting her. "Sweetheart? How much do you know about the act? Our marriage was so rushed. "

"A little. Honoria said it was wonderful, and she felt like she had come home. But, of course, she loves Drake."

A knife ripped through Simon with Charlotte's unspoken words. Of course, Charlotte didn't love him. He almost laughed at the irony that it was precisely what he'd asked for in a wife. One who wouldn't grieve at his death.

But at that moment, he wanted more than anything for his wife to return the new and exciting emotion filling his heart. "Did she say anything about the actual act? What happens?" He highly doubted it. Honoria was as modest as her husband.

"She said enough—about the joining of bodies." Charlotte cast her gaze down, her delicate fingers still wrapped around his arousal. "I surmised the rest."

Thank God! "Not only wanton but amazingly intelligent."

She frosted him with a glare. "Amazingly? You doubt my intelligence?"

Damn! Love had dulled his brain. How could he forget his wife's skill at delivering retorts? "Can I take that back? Not the intelligent part, the?—"

She stopped his ramblings with a kiss. "I'm bamming you. I know what you meant."

"Wanton, and a tease. My favorite combination." His short-lived grin vanished. He needed to prepare her mentally as well as physically. "There may be some pain the first time. I'll do my best to be gentle but tell me if it's too uncomfortable."

"I'm not afraid of pain," she said. "But thank you for telling me."

"It's only the first time. Then it will be only pleasure, I promise." Possessed with—what he believed was—a stroke of genius, he rolled on his back. "Now, straddle me and have your way with me."

"I—what do I do?" Lines formed between her eyes, and he smoothed them with his finger.

"I'll help you. But most of it will come naturally." With a gentle tug on her arm, he pulled her over him. "On your knees. That's it." Then he positioned his erection at her entrance. "Remember. You're in control. Lower yourself on me at your own pace."

The moment her sweet, wet flesh touched him, he fought back the urge to thrust forward and imbed himself in her softness, but he gritted his teeth and allowed her to take charge.

She frowned again. "It won't fit."

"It will. Trust me." He practically growled the words. Lord, at that pace, she would kill him.

Finally, he breeched her entrance as she lowered herself inch by maddeningly sweet inch. He grabbed her hips for purchase, gently encouraging her onward.

When he reached her maidenhead, she stopped, her gaze locking with his as if she knew the implication.

"Allow me to take over for one moment?" he asked, his voice sounding more animal than human.

She gave one quick bob of her head, her dark curls fanning over her shoulders and covering her breasts.

The glorious sight would be forever burned in his mind. His wanton goddess.

"Forgive me," he said, then thrust forward with one quick stroke.

"Oh!" Her cry was little more than a soft yelp, but still it knifed at his heart. Guilt ate at him for hurting her.

He forced himself to still inside her, and lifting his shoulders off the bed, pulled her down for a kiss. "Forgive me." Other words clung to his tongue, but he withheld them lest she think them meaningless and declared out of lust. "Let me know when the pain eases."

She blinked. "That was the pain you mentioned?" His wicked, beautiful wife grinned at him. "That was nothing."

Oh, God, how he adored her. His warrior, his wanton tease. His ice queen who melted in his arms. In his mind, he whispered, I love you. She was perfect for him, the thought returning him to the moment—as if he could forget. Perfect was inadequate. She fit him as if she were made for him alone. So tight he could barely contain himself. And she hadn't even begun moving again.

He swallowed, preparing himself. "When you're ready, you can move. I'll help you if you don't mind." He patted his hands against her luscious hips. He'd barely managed a breath, and she moved, the pleasure shooting up his spine and down his legs—his whole body on fire for her.

Guiding her, lifting her hips and settling her back onto him, he wouldn't last long, but he'd give anything to make her climax again.

If he were only above her, he knew exactly what to do—the angle, the perfect spot. From her expression, he could see her grasping for release again. "Mind if I take over?" Mentally, he pleaded with her to say Yes.

When she complied—the word barely from her lips—he flipped her over, apologizing with a deep kiss, the taste of her only intensifying his desire. He had so many places he wished to taste. But they would have to wait.

He lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, then twisted his hips to thrust deep inside for the one spot— ah.

Charlotte's lips parted, her head falling back and eyelids dropping shut, telling him he'd found it.

With each thrust, he sensed her growing closer, tightening around him. "That's it, my wanton goddess. Let it wash over you again. Fall apart in my arms."

She cried out again, her fingers digging into his arms.

He didn't even mind the pain. Holding on for as long as he could while she rode the pleasure of her climax, he thrust deep and hard, hoping it wasn't too rough for her.

And then he fell apart in his wife's arms, admitting he was completely and hopelessly lost.