Once a Mistress

Full nakedness! All my joys are due to thee,

  As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,

  To taste whole joys.

  John Donne, c. 1572—1631

  Kathryn opened her eyes. Drew looked up at her face. Her gray-green eyes were round and wide-eyed with wonderment. She didn’t realize she was crying until he reached up and caught one of her tears on his fingertip and tasted it. Her face crumpled at the sight and she began to cry in earnest.

  “What is it, love?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s… it’s just that I’ve never…” She paused to catch her breath. I love you. Wren felt an almost overwhelming need to tell him that she loved him—that she had always loved him and always would—but when she managed to speak, other words came out. “You should have been the first.”

  Drew managed a sad smile. He hadn’t expected her elderly husband to be much of a lover, but Drew would have thought that his father was a better lover than was evidenced by Kathryn’s reaction. Drew shrugged. “Judging from what just happened, I think maybe I was.”

  He could tell from the expression on her face that she didn’t understand what he meant. “Hasn’t anyone… ?” He didn’t finish the question because he didn’t want to know the answer.

  Drew let go of her. He pushed himself to his knees and took several steps backwards to allow her some distance. “Forgive me,” he said at last.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He bent down and handed her the towel she’d let fall to the floor. “For not compromising you years ago. It should be a crime for an old man to initiate a beautiful young woman like you into the joys of lovemaking.”

  Wren sighed. It had been a crime. A crime that had precluded joy and lovemaking. The only good thing to come out of her initiation had been her son. “Until a few moments ago, I didn’t realize there were any joys to lovemaking.”

  Drew groaned in agony. “Christ, Kathryn!”

  “Are there more?”

  “Many more.”

  “Show me.”

  Drew shook his head. “Kathryn, I think we should wait.”

  “For what?”

  “A minister. I’d be a first-class bounder if I bedded you now before we exchange our vows. You deserve a wedding and a proper wedding night.”

  Wren smiled. “I had a wedding once and a proper marriage,” she told him. “And they weren’t all they were cracked up to be. What I haven’t had is a very improper wedding night. So, if you don’t mind, that’s what I’d like.”

  “You want…?”

  She wanted to feel loved and cherished and wanted before she became a means to an end, a necessary convenience. “To be your mistress before I’m your wife. Drew, I want very much for you to be the first-class bounder I need you to be. Make love to me. Now. Tonight.” Wren stared at him. She couldn’t bring herself to beg, so she willed him to understand.

  Drew found he wasn’t noble enough to deny her. “Are you certain that this is what you want?” he asked.

  “Very,” she replied.

  “No regrets?”

  “Not if you want to marry your mistress in the morning,” Wren answered.

  “Fair enough.” Drew bent at the knee, scooped her into his arms, and carried her into the bedroom.

  “We’ll make love tonight and let tomorrow take care of itself.” Drew placed her in the center of her bed, then followed her down, shifting his weight at the last moment, until he lay beside her instead of on her. And when he lay next to her he began to pat the bedding—the pillows, the sheets, and the blankets around her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Drew traced the contour of her mouth with the tip of his finger, feeling the words as she formed them. “I’m about to take great liberties with your person and I’m making sure I won’t be bitten by one of your companions for my efforts.”

  Wren snuggled against him. “You may be bitten, my lord, but it won’t be by an Erinaceus eropaeus or any other of my companions. Only yours.” She sucked his finger into her mouth and gently, playfully bit it.

  Drew felt the white-hot line of pleasure all the way to his toes. He pulled her close against him.

  The buttons on his shirt pressed into Wren’s cheek. She stretched out against him, seeking the warmth of his body. Drew was lying beside her. Drew, who made her feel safe and secure and completely desirable; but he was still fully clothed and she wanted him naked beside her, touching her. Wren whimpered her dismay.

  “What is it, love? Did I squeeze you too tightly?”

  “No,” she said, “but your attire is much too formal for this occasion.” Wren grinned an impish grin. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  His body reacted so violently to her words, Drew thought his heart might stop beating. He reached for the top button of his shirt.

  “No.” Wren placed her smaller hands under his and pushed him onto his back. “I’ve never undressed a man before. Let me.”

  “Feel free,” he invited.

  “I do.” Wren unbuttoned the first button, then another, and another, until his shirt gaped open, exposing the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. She rubbed her hands over the furry mat of hair on his chest, then leaned over him, allowing the tips of her breasts to rub against the soft hair. She liked it so much, she repeated the action twice more.

  He shivered, groaning at the tantalizing feel and scent of her. Drew reached for her and would have pulled her down on top of him, but she evaded his grasp. “Enjoying yourself?”

  She paused to give his question serious consideration. “Yes, very much.”

  Drew gave a tight laugh, “Well, don’t stop now. Be my guest.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted shyly. “Tell me what you want.”

  Drew forced himself to concentrate, forced himself to think about something other than her beautiful pear-shaped breasts hanging just out of reach. “Ride me,” he ordered.

  She did.

  He sucked in his breath. His stomach muscles contracted as she settled herself atop him. He strained against the front of his trousers.

  Wren wiggled again, moving up his torso until her bare bottom rested squarely on his stomach, then leaned forward.

  Several of Drew’s dreams came true at once. He struggled briefly, yanking free of his shirtsleeves, before raising his head to meet her.

  She’d meant to kiss his mouth, but overshot her mark. Her lips brushed his forehead and his thick hair. She would’ve moved back, but Drew wrapped an arm around the curve of her buttocks, holding her in place while his other hand moved up to caress her breast and his mouth closed over the hard nub at its crown.

  His blood rushed downward and the hard, male part of him throbbed with each beat of his heart. He ached to sheathe himself inside Kathryn’s warmth. Desperate to end the exquisite torment, Drew tightened his grip on Kathryn and rolled her to her back.

  He let go of her breast and found her mouth, kissing her as if his life depended on it. Wren tasted herself on his lips and on his tongue and realized she had marked him as her own, branded him with her essence. The idea excited her as much as it shocked her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss.

  Drew broke off the kiss. He braced himself on one elbow and worked his other hand between their bodies, caressing her stomach and the soft delta between her legs. He slipped his fingers between her soft, moist folds, and touched her there.

  Wren jerked in reaction. She slid her hands down his back, over his tight buttocks, then back to the waistband of his trousers. She followed the strip of fabric from back to front. Drew groaned aloud as Wren brushed her fingers across his bulging fly. She searched for and located his buttons. Forcing each button through its hole, she opened his trousers and pushed them off his lean hips, over his buttocks, and as far down his long legs as she could reach. Drew kicked free of them, moaning his pleasure as the hard jutting length of him spilled into her waiting hands.

  She marveled at the fee
l of him. She never dreamed anything so hard, anything capable of inflicting so much pain, could be so velvety soft and hot and enticing. She closed her fingers around him and before Drew could stop himself, he thrust against her hand.

  She let go of him.

  Drew took her hand in his and gently guided her back to him, showing her the motion he preferred. “It won’t hurt you,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” He tried to smile, but the movement of her hand made a smile impossible. The best he could manage was a heartfelt groan that bared his teeth. “You’re in control now. I may seem strong to you, I may appear invincible to the rest of the world, but this is the secret foolish men don’t want women—especially virgins and wives—to know. You see, when you hold us like this, we’re literally putty in your hands.”

  “How does it feel?” she asked, entranced by her newfound power over him.

  “Like you felt when I put my fingers on you.” He bit out the answer, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

  Kathryn groaned. “As good as that?”

  “Every bit.” Drew shuddered, straining to regain a measure of his control. “Kathryn,” he breathed her name. “God, I…” He wiggled his fingers against her.

  She gasped out her pleasure.

  “Take me,” he ordered, “take me inside you.”

  She froze.

  She didn’t know how. She had no idea where to guide him or how. She’d given birth to a child, but she behaved as if she were a virgin. Those thoughts registered in a recess of his brain as Drew lifted her hips and guided himself into her welcoming warmth.

  Wren cried out his name as he entered her. She lifted her legs and locked her thighs high around his waist.

  Drew closed his eyes, threw back his head, and bit his bottom lip as he sheathed himself fully inside her warmth. His entire body shook with the effort of holding back the tide of pleasure he knew would come. Drew lost his battle to maintain control as her movement forced him deeper inside her. He began to move his hips in a rhythm as old as time.

  Wren moved with him, her hips matching him thrust for thrust as she followed the primitive cadence of their pounding hearts. She clung to him, reveling in the weight and feel of him as he filled her again and again, gifting her with himself in a way she’d never thought possible. She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears of joy trickled from the corners, ran down her cheeks, and disappeared into her hair. He felt so good, so right. Wren gave herself up to the emotions swirling inside her, gave voice to the passion with the small moans that escaped her at each wonderful thrust. She tightened her muscles around him, holding on as the exquisite pleasure peaked. She muffled her scream against his shoulder.

  “Kathryn!” Drew felt her tremors surrounding him and called out her name in a guttural cry wrung from the very depths of his soul. He shuddered as he collapsed atop her, completely spent, completely satisfied. He brushed his lips against her cheek and buried his face in her blond hair. Tasting the saltiness of her tears, Drew lifted his head and looked down at her beautiful face.

  I love you. Her eyes were shining with emotion. He touched his mouth to hers in a kiss so gentle, so loving, so precious, it brought fresh tears to her eyes.

  “What’s this?” he asked, kissing one away. “More tears?”

  Wren nodded, pressing her lips against his shoulder. “Special tears,” she said, “tears of joy.”

  Drew smiled down at her and took a deep breath. “When two people have shared kisses like ours, and lovemaking so exquisite the earth spins out of control, there’s only one thing left to do.”

  “What’s that?” A lump caught in her throat. She expected him to say something profound, something so incredibly beautiful that she could open her heart and declare her love for him, but when he answered her, all she could do was laughingly agree.

  “Do it again,” he teased. “As soon as possible.”

  Chapter Twenty-six