Earl Lessons by Valerie Bowman
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The moment Annabelle’s lips touched his, David pulled her against him, hard. Their bodies pressed together, their tongues tangled. He turned and fell backward onto the soft hay, taking her with him. She was atop him, and his hands couldn’t touch her enough. They moved up her sides, down her thighs, to her breasts, to her backside, pulling her tight against his rock-hard cock.
“David,” she breathed against his lips.
Hearing his name on her lips made him ache. “Kiss me, Annabelle,” he demanded.
Annabelle kissed him. She kissed his cheek and his lips and his neck and even darted her tongue into the curve of his ear, making his entire body buck beneath her. Every touch of her lips made him harder. One of his hands cupped her arse, and he pressed her tight against his erection. She moaned in the back of her throat. It was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard.
He swiftly flipped them over so that she was cushioned in the fluffy hay, and he was atop her. He ground his hips against the softness between her legs. She moaned again.
Summoning his will, he sat her up, reached behind her, and undid the buttons of her gown before pulling the sash to release the bow at her back. Her gown fell away from her shoulders, and she lifted up and shimmied it down her body to pool around her waist.
His mouth traced a hot path down her neck to the top of her shift, which he quickly pulled down to expose one perfect breast.
Panting, his lips moved down to her swollen nipple, and he sucked it, then flicked his tongue back and forth across the hardened nub. Her hands in his hair, Annabelle gasped and David smiled against her tender skin.
He moved to her other breast, sucking the nipple, and lavishing it with the same attention until her head fell back and she cried out.
He slowly moved his hand down to the hem of her skirts and dragged them up to her thighs. His hand caressed the silken flesh of her legs, while his knee slipped between them to slightly spread them. His hand moved inexorably to the intimate spot that he hoped was throbbing as hard as he was.
When he stroked one finger across her nub of pleasure, her body bucked. He couldn’t help his proud smile. He kissed her deeply again and then moved his mouth to her ear. “Do you like that?” He rubbed her with the tip of his finger.
“David,” she breathed, clutching at his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
David didn’t need to hear another word. Her wish was his command. He rubbed her in tiny circles, pressing the intimate flesh while she writhed beneath him. Her legs tried to gain purchase in the hay, but they slipped out from under her each time she tried to move closer to his hand. She grabbed his wrist, holding it tight against her as if frightened that he might end her exquisite torture.
“I won’t stop,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m going to make you fly.”
* * *
Annabelle’s breathcame in tight, short pants. She had no idea how David knew precisely where to touch her, but she wasn’t about to allow him to stop. Her entire body felt as if it was stretched tight on a rack, and the longer he rubbed her, the wetter the spot between her legs, and the more she wanted to cry out. Her jaw was clenched tight. Her legs were locked beneath his, and she clutched at his wrist as if it were the last line off a sinking ship.
“Please, David,” she moaned, not certain what she was asking for. But she wanted it. Her entire body wanted it. Badly.
“Hold on, Annabelle,” David ordered roughly into her ear. “You’re almost there.”
Annabelle’s head tipped back, her jaw fell open, and her entire body tensed seconds before stars shot across the backs of her closed eyes. Her hips jerked and her knees clamped together against David’s forearm.
It was several moments before her breathing slowed to anything like a normal rhythm. She lifted her head and opened her eyes to see David, with his mouth quirked up, looking quite proud of himself. She expelled a long breath. The man should be proud after what he’d just done to her.
He leaned down and nuzzled her neck. Annabelle let her head fall to the side to give him better access. Every touch made her feel as if her body was going up in smoke. That’s what this man did to her.
* * *
David kissedAnnabelle on the lips one last time before helping her stand and pull her shift and gown back up. He moved behind her to redo the buttons at the back of her gown, and he tied her sash, however inexpertly.
He’d tried to stay away from her. Tried to tell himself that no good could come from seeing her again. Last night after he’d given her the book and walked away, he’d told himself he would leave her be for the remainder of the house party. But then he’d recognized that funny feeling in his middle, the one Marianne had told him about. He didn’t want to risk never feeling it again. That’s when he realized that he’d never actually tried to tell her he wanted her. He’d never actually said the words out loud. If he was going to give her up, let her go forever, he had to try at least.
He’d tossed and turned all night last night, trying to decide how best tell her. In the wee hours of the morning, the perfect solution finally occurred to him. He would give her the power. Let her make the decision. If she came to him, if she followed him out of the dance tonight, the same way she’d followed him outside last night, she’d be making her choice. And he would tell her how he truly felt. It was time to learn the truth.
If her body’s reaction to him just now wasn’t the truth, he didn’t know what was. He pulled her into his arms again and kissed her deeply. Then he pulled his lips away and pressed his forehead against hers. They were both panting. Her hands were resting on his shoulders, and she slowly moved them down his arms before placing them back at her sides. Her eyes remained closed and her breathing, erratic.
David took both of her hands in his and laced their fingers together. He opened his eyes and pulled his forehead away to see her face. “Let me court you, Annabelle. I want you to be my wife.”
Pain flashed across her pretty face. Pain, and something else he couldn’t quite define, perhaps regret. She opened her eyes too. “No,” she breathed. “I can’t.”
“No?” Pulling his hands away from hers, he shook his head and searched her face. “Why not? I don’t understand.”
“I cannot marry anyone, David.” She wrapped her arms around her middle as if she were cold.
His jaw turned to stone. “Cannot, or will not?”
She jerked her head to the side. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me,” he nearly growled.
“Fine, then I will not,” she replied through clenched teeth, the pained expression still on her face.
“If you don’t want me, say it,” he demanded.
“I do want you, David,” she murmured, “more than you know.”
He scrubbed both hands frantically through his hair. “You’re speaking in riddles. It makes no sense.”
She bowed her head. “I’m sorry, David. I don’t want to hurt you.”
David pulled a piece of hay from his hair and flung it to the ground. “No, I’m the sorry one, Annabelle.” He pushed open the stable door and stalked away into the darkness.
* * *
Annabelle watchedhim go with a lump in her throat. She spent the next several minutes combing hay from her hair with her fingers and smoothing her skirts. There was no way she could return to the dance now. She would have to sneak back to the house and have Cara help her right her clothing first.
Annabelle let out a long groan. Should she even return at all? She clearly wasn’t making the best choices tonight. Why had she followed David here? Why had she kissed him? Why had she allowed him to touch her that way?
But she already knew why. The answer to all those questions was the same…she couldn’t stop herself. Her mind told her to stay far away from him, but her body traipsed after him, wanting more. And she did want more. Even now. She wanted him badly. The release she’d just experienced had done nothing to slake her desire for him. If she’d been unable to forget his kiss, she would never forget the way he’d touched her tonight. She never wanted to forget. And she wanted to touch him too. Make him feel the same way.
At least she had her answer. He did want to court her. She’d suspected that, of course. Though they were already well beyond courting. They should be talking about marriage after what they’d just done. She’d handled her reaction poorly. Instead of simply saying she would not marry, she should have told him that if she ever considered marrying any man it would be him. But what did that matter? That wouldn’t satisfy him. She wanted him, but she couldn’t marry him. So she’d rejected him.
A desperate idea flashed through her mind. Could she spend the night with him, and have the strength to leave him afterward? Was she that brave?