Barely a Bride

“Shall I kiss it and make it better?” Alyssa whispered, keeping her hand right where it was despite the hot blush she knew colored her cheeks. He was hard beneath her hand and hot, and the intimacy of such a hitherto forbidden touch excited her.

  Griff caught his breath. Was it possible? Had he died and gone to heaven? Or had his innocent wife just asked him if she could kiss him in the place he craved it most? “Please,” he managed.

  Alyssa leaned forward and kissed him, pressing her soft lips against his mouth. Her kiss was hot and sweet enough to tempt an angel. And he enjoyed it immensely, but it wasn’t the sort of kiss he’d been expecting.

  Alyssa pulled him to her until she could press herself against him. She flattened herself against his chest, feeling the heat of his flesh as she deepened the kiss.

  The twin points of her breasts pressed into him. Griffin groaned.

  Encouraged by his response, Alyssa wrapped her free arm around his neck, forcing him to bend closer. She pressed her other hand harder against the front of his breeches, massaging him in a slow, circular motion that increased the heat and the pressure beneath her palm.

  Griffin groaned again. His tongue mated with hers as he showed her what he wanted.

  Alyssa continued her exploration. She trailed her hand from his neck, over his shoulders, and down his back as far as she could reach, then trailed it back up again, only this time, she moved over his shoulders, up the nape of his neck, where she buried her fingers in his hair. And when she’d explored every lock of hair on his head, she repeated the procedure, working her way back down his body.

  Griff turned on the seat and slipped his free arm around Alyssa’s waist. He kept one arm around her waist, supporting her. He pulled her close, then lifted his other hand from hers. He caught hold of her wrist when she would have pulled her hand away and pressed it back against him, urging her to continue the motion by breaking their kiss long enough to murmur, “Don’t stop.”

  His muscles bunched and rippled under her hands as Griffin held her tightly, half-lifting her off the coach seat as he ground his hips against her, rubbing his throbbing erection against her hand. He pulled his mouth away from hers and began to trail hot, wet kisses on her face, her neck, her throat, and over to her earlobes.

  “Sweet Alyssa,” Griffin whispered close to her ear, “I want to feel your hands on my flesh. I want to taste you. And have you taste me.”

  The muscles in his arms began to quiver. Alyssa felt them through the thin fabric of her chemise. “How?” She breathed the question against his forehead as he worked his way from her earlobe, down her neck, and over her chest to the edge of her chemise.

  “Buttons,” he answered, moving her hand from his throbbing groin to the waistband of his breeches. “Undo the buttons on the right side of my breeches.”

  She did as he asked, reaching around to unfasten the line of buttons at his waist.

  Griffin braced his feet against the floor of the coach, lifted his hips from the seat cushion, and slid out of his breeches. It wasn’t the first time he’d shucked his breeches in a vehicle. He’d changed clothes in his coach numerous times when traveling, and on several occasions, he and a willing female companion had played the seduction game to break up the monotony of a long journey, but he hadn’t done it in quite a while, and his movements weren’t as smooth and practiced as they’d once been.

  Alyssa watched as Griffin pushed his skintight breeches over his lean hips and down his thighs. He couldn’t wriggle all the way out of his trousers because his boots stopped their progress, but his movements were smooth and practiced, and Alyssa thought he must have had other opportunities to polish the maneuver.

  He didn’t wear undergarments. The thought popped into her head as the paler flesh of his muscled buttocks came into view. Of course, it was probably impossible to get undergarments beneath those breeches. She was so fascinated by the play of muscles along his flanks and buttocks that she didn’t notice the arrow of dark hair pointing toward the thick nest of curls at the juncture of his thighs until his prominent male member sprang forward.

  Alyssa’s eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply at the sight.

  Griff chuckled. “So much for subtlety.”

  Leaning closer, Alyssa studied that portion of his anatomy that made him indisputably male, unable to believe that the long hard ridge she’d massaged and traced with her fingertips could be so easily concealed and contained beneath his tight breeches. “Is it always like this?”

  “Only during the past week or so.” He met her gaze, waiting until he saw understanding dawn in her eyes. “That’s right,” he nodded in approval. “It’s been like this—more or less—nearly every day since I first met you.”

  She reached out to touch him, then stopped short. “It looks painful.”

  “It can be very painful,” he told her. “But only if you don’t touch me.”

  As she continued to watch, Griffin stripped off his waistcoat and lawn shirt. He tossed his clothes into the corner of the opposite seat beside Alyssa’s traveling dress.

  Wanting to see him completely naked, Alyssa impulsively moved to the opposite seat and began tugging at his boots.

  Griffin helped, toeing off his Hessians and stripping off his stockings and breeches before leaning back against the velvet squabs so his inquisitive bride could get a look at him in all his male glory.

  Alyssa stared. She had known he was handsome. But she hadn’t realized he was beautiful until he sat sprawled before her like a gypsy slave on display. A blue-eyed gypsy slave…

  Alyssa’s breathing increased. The sight of him fascinated her. She loved the way he challenged her and answered her curiosity, spreading his legs and planting his long, elegantly arched feet on the floor of the coach to give her an unencumbered view of the mysteries of the male body.

  His wide shoulders tapered into a narrow waist, into slim hips and strong thighs. His chest was covered with a patch of dark curly hair that also tapered down into a long slim line that encircled his navel and pointed to the hard erection jutting from another nest of dark curls. He was big. He was all male. And he was hers for the taking. Her blue-eyed gypsy lord. All he needed was a wide gold arm cuff to complete the picture and perhaps an earring…

  “Well?” he drawled.

  She said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve never seen a naked man before.”

  Griffin gifted her with a broad smile. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am to hear that, my lady.”

  “You just did,” she said. “But then, you obviously cannot say the same.”

  “That’s because I see a naked man in my mirror each time I step out of my bed.” His broad smile became an amused chuckle.

  Alyssa bit her lower lip to keep from laughing with him. “I meant that you obviously couldn’t say that you have never seen a naked woman before.”

  Griff arched one eyebrow in an elegantly lazy gesture that spoke of generations of noble ancestors. “I don’t see one now.”

  Alyssa looked down at her chemise, realizing for the first time how very transparent it was. “Close enough.”

  Griff shook his head slowly from side to side. “Not close enough.”

  “But you’ve seen a naked woman before,” she protested, suddenly inexplicably modest.

  “I’ve never seen my wife naked.” He met her gaze, then softened his voice to what could best be described as a soft, rumbling purr. “I’ve never seen you naked. And I want to, Alyssa. Very much.”

  “All right.” Her assent was nearly lost amid the patter of rain on the roof of the coach and the noise of the team.

  He’d hired post riders as protection, and it was a relatively safe drive with the moon nearly full, but accidents could happen, and heaven help them if they lost a wheel, became bogged in the quagmire that passed as the post road, or encountered highwaymen, Griff thought as Alyssa reached up to untie the drawstring ribbon resting along the curve of her breasts. No doubt, his driver, Myrick, and the coachmen and groom, and
the driver of the other coach—not to mention Alyssa’s lady’s maid and his valet—would be scandalized by their game of seduction. No doubt it was worth it.

  Griff smiled like the cat that ate the cream and crooked his index finger at Alyssa. “Closer.”

  She scooted to the edge of the opposite seat.

  Griff patted the seat beside him. “Closer.”

  Alyssa moved to sit beside him.

  “Allow me.” He faced her, then reached over and untied the white satin drawstring ribbon holding her chemise in place. When he’d successfully unknotted the bow, Griffin looped a finger in the gathered neck of the garment and tugged. The chemise slipped off her shoulders, sliding down her chest until it hung suspended on the slope of her upturned breasts.

  Seeking a solution to the problem, Griffin leaned forward and kissed the hard, rosy tips of her breasts through the fabric of her chemise.

  Alyssa closed her eyes and arched her back as Griffin teased her with his tongue, pulling her nipples into his mouth, dampening the fabric before breathing upon it, forcing his hot breath through the wet material. The sensation sent delightful shivers up and down her spine.

  “Like it?” he asked, leaning back just far enough to breathe the words against her breasts.

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He placed his hands on either side of her ribs and palmed her undergarment off her breasts, trailing it over her stomach, motioning for Alyssa to lift her hips so that he could push the chemise down her thighs and allow it to fall in a puddle of delicate lawn fabric at her ankles.

  Pressing his back against the wall of the coach, Griffin shifted Alyssa’s weight until she was able to lie comfortably on her back against the velvet seat cushions. He knelt over her and cupped her bottom with his hands. Leaning forward, he placed his mouth against the dark triangle of hair beneath her lacy drawers and blew warm, moist air through the fabric, then he slid her drawers and her stockings off her hips, down her legs, and over her feet.

  Alyssa kicked free of the remainder of her clothing, sighing with relief, welcoming her nakedness as clothing—any clothing—had suddenly become a hindrance. She wanted to feel him against her skin.

  Griffin surprised her by sitting back on his heels and declaring, “Your turn.”

  Achy and trembling with a need she couldn’t name, Alyssa pushed herself into a sitting position and reached for him. She placed her palms against his chest and then traced that intriguing arrow of rough hair down to its base.

  His skin rippled beneath her delicate touch, and he gasped aloud as she gripped him.

  The feel of him caught Alyssa by surprise. She expected the hardness, but she never expected the exquisitely soft feel of the flesh that encased it. He was hard yet velvety soft, and the contrast intrigued her. She discovered that she enjoyed caressing him, enjoyed experimenting with the weight and feel and the motion of him. And, she discovered, she loved the sense of accomplishment she felt when she gave Griffin such obvious satisfaction.

  Griffin quivered with pleasure and came very close to spilling himself in her hand as Alyssa fondled him without shyness and with what could only be termed a natural talent.

  “No more,” he muttered, leaning his head against her breast.

  “More?” she asked, pumping him slowly and gently.

  “No!” Griffin reached down and placed his hand on her wrist, forcing her to cease the exquisite torture.

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “I love it,” he groaned, panting for breath. “But there is a limit to how much I can endure.”

  His rationalization captured her imagination. How much could he endure? And what happened when he could no longer endure? What would be the outcome of her teasing? Alyssa decided to ask him. “What happens when you exceed your limit of endurance?”

  Griff struggled to catch his breath and process her question. “I reach satisfaction by spilling my seed.” He opened his eyes and focused his gaze on her. “Right into your clever hand, my lady.” Or her mouth. Or the intimate part of her his body was begging to explore.

  Alyssa wasn’t ignorant She had no practical experience, but she was very well read. She knew enough to know that in the Bible, men spilled their seed all the time—often with undesirable results. She knew it could be done; she had simply never seen the process…

  Except when she’d sneaked peeks while Abrams and the stable hands were breeding the studs and mares.

  She’d seen the stallions about to cover the mares. And she knew that about a year after the mares were successfully covered, the foals arrived.

  Alyssa glanced down at the hard member in her hand. The equine and the human male anatomy was remarkably similar. She supposed the results would also be similar should Griffin cover her and deposit his seed in the right place at the right time. Somehow, she didn’t think her hand was the right place.

  Alyssa gently released her grip on him, then smiled ever so sweetly and whispered, “Your turn.”

  “You’re very good at this game, my lady,” Griffin praised her.

  “I’m very good at everything I do, my lord,” Alyssa informed him.

  “And modest, too,” he teased.

  “Yes,” Alyssa retorted. “And I’m certain you were able to discern that little trait just by looking at me.”

  “But of course,” he agreed, staring down at her. By Jove, but she was beautiful. And witty and intelligent and as uninhibited as a wood nymph. He ought to be on his knees thanking the gods for his good fortune in having her choose him.

  “Lord Abernathy?” She caught his attention by trailing her fingers along the top of his thigh, dangerously close to the conflagration she’d aroused.

  “Yes, Lady Abernathy?” Griffin decided he liked the sound of his name and his title on her lips.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked.

  He also discovered that he liked teasing her. “And what might that be?”

  “It’s your turn.”

  “How could I forget?” Turning his attention back to her breasts, Griffin dipped his head and trailed his tongue along the valley between them, licking at the tiny beads of perspiration he found there. Moving closer, Griff cupped one smooth, satiny globe in his hand and touched his lips to the rosy center.

  Alyssa sucked in a breath at the wonderful sensation his tiny kiss evoked. Desire gripped her. She tangled her fingers in Griffin’s thick, dark hair and held his head to her breasts. “More,” she ordered.

  Griffin obliged. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. It was warm and inviting—a mixture of old roses and fresh lavender—and it was all Alyssa.

  Griff took the time to savor her, despite her urgent command for more. He touched and tasted and gently nipped at the hard bud with his teeth. And then he suckled her, careful to give equal time to each perfect globe, and Alyssa thought she might die of the pleasure as her nerve endings became gloriously alive and sent tiny electrical currents throughout her body, igniting her responses. He continued at a leisurely pace, working his way from the rosy aureole of her breasts, down into the valley between them, the soft rasp and moisture of tongue igniting little brushfires wherever he touched her.

  He tasted the skin above her rib cage, trailed his tongue over her abdomen, circling her navel before dipping his tongue into the indention. And while Griffin tasted her with his tongue, he teased her with his fingers.

  Skimming his hands over the sensitive flesh covering her hipbones and outer thighs, Griff felt his way down her body, finally locating and tracing the deep grooves at the juncture of her thighs with the pads of his thumbs.

  Easing his way ever closer, Griffin massaged the womanly flesh surrounding her mound and then tangled his fingers in the lush brown hair covering it.

  Alyssa reacted immediately, opening her legs ever so slightly to allow him greater access. She couldn’t seem to get close enough to him. Her anticipation rose to a fever pitch. She began to quiver and make little moaning sounds of pleasure as he t
raced the outer edge of her folds with his finger before gently plunging his finger inside until Alyssa squirmed. She arched her back to bring herself into closer contact with Griffin.

  Griffin gritted his teeth. The slick warm feel, the smell of her perfume, and the scent of her arousal nearly drove him mad. The swelling in his groin grew until he was rock hard and close to bursting. He was naked. She was naked. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to have her.

  He had to feel himself inside her, feel her surrounding him, feel them joined together the way men and women were meant to be joined. He sat up and positioned himself between her thighs. He ached with the need for release. He throbbed with the need for satisfaction. It was there within his grasp. All he had to do was…

  Stop, Griffin realized. He had to stop before he reached the point where he couldn’t. Squeezing his eyes shut, he prayed for the strength to stop.

  And the gods heard his prayers, for the coach bounced through a rut in the road, jostling the occupants and banging Griff’s head against the paneling.

  He saw stars. And in that brief moment, he forgot about his need for release. All he felt was pain. And gratitude.

  The knock on the head brought him to his senses, reminding him that he was the fool who had set the rules of the game. And he would not break them.

  He would not tumble his bride in a coach on the post road to Abernathy Manor.

  And that meant that it was time he delivered on his promise to give only pleasure. Time to give Alyssa her first real understanding of the delights of lovemaking. So that she might spend the remainder of the journey anticipating their arrival at the manor and the culmination of the hours spent learning the game of seduction.

  He slid his fingers inside her.

  Alyssa sighed her pleasure, thrusting against him as he touched her in ways she could not have imagined.

  “Griffin?” Her voice was higher than normal, her breathing ragged.

  “I’m with you, my lady.” Griffin skimmed the pad of his thumb through her slick womanly folds and pressed against the hard little bud hidden there.

  Alyssa’s eyelids fluttered open, then closed again. Somewhere inside the coach a tiny bell began to chime. Alyssa gasped.

  Griffin ignored the sound of the chime and focused all of his attention on his bride. He leaned forward and covered her mouth with his own before increasing the exquisite pressure—with his lips and tongue and with his fingers. He kissed her tenderly, fiercely, possessively, hungrily, then tenderly once more, over and over again, skillfully plying his talented fingers until he felt her scream her pleasure as she shuddered against him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I have discovered that honeymoons are worth all the fuss and bother of planning the wedding that precedes them.”

  —Alyssa, Lady Abernathy; diary entry, 05 May 1810