Lisette (14 page)

She closed the distance between their bodies,
her hands smoothing up his sides. When the kiss deepened, her
fingers grasped the material of his shirt and the shawl slid to the
stone courtyard.

Breathing harshly, he lifted his head inches;
lashes parting as hers did, revealing their hungers. Elisha moved
his hand to her nape, under her hair; his other one cupped her side
before it eased up to cup her breast. The thin material and low
bodice hid nothing and only added to the erotic vision when he
flickered his glance downward and saw the upper half of her breast
shimmering ivory in that same light. The nipple was barely hidden
beneath very little material.

“Mmmm.” She uttered when his thumb brushed
over her nipple.

“Let’s move out of the light,” he suggested
roughly, and stepped back to take her hand. He led her off the main
courtyard, beyond some of the main garden until they stood in a
small circular clearing.

Lisette’s breathing grew shallow watching him
lower her bodice. The backs of his warm fingers brushed her skin.
When they were exposed, Elisha dipped his head, softly kissed, and
by turns licked her nipples, making her dizzy and hungrier for
him.

Finding their differing heights a challenge,
he lifted his head and looked around again before he led her to a
half moon bench. He sat himself and had her stand before him.
Lisette could watch his lips on her nipple unhindered now, as well
as touch his face and hair as he aroused her to trembling.

“Elisha.” She arched her neck, enjoying it
almost too much.

He eased up her hem, finding the uncovered
flesh that apparently pleased him. His breathing was deeper, his
eyes hotter when he looked at her. She was watching his face while
he caressed her backside and hips. He finally eased his hand
between her thighs.

She was wet and hot. He smoothed his hand
down her thigh, then lifted and braced her foot beside his hip, so
the material of her skirts draped back in a ripple, and her ivory
limb was exposed. Her stance gave him access. Lisette felt quite
decadent having his fingers ease in and out of her sex. She heard
her sounds of abandoned bliss when he held up the hem, leaned
forward and down—kissing her there.

“Wait.” She panted, touching his head and
waiting for him to lift and look at her.

His tongue laved his lips, his eyes were
heavy with pleasure too. Elisha did not free his finger from deep
in her channel quickly, but thrust a few slow times before easing
out.

She leaned down and kissed him, erotic, loose
and exposing the intense degree of hunger in her. Upon rising from
the kiss, Lisette stepped back and motioned for him to stand. When
he had, she undid the buttons and freed his shirt, getting a rumble
of pleasure next from him as she laved his nipples and mapped the
plains of his hard torso. Loving his flavor, his scent, the heat of
his male flesh, she kissed every inch available both standing on
her tip toes, and bending down, to flick her tongue in his
navel.

“Christ…Lisette.” Elisha breathed in a hot
rush. His hands cupped her face.

However, she would not let him have control
back just yet. Taking his kiss, a hard and deep one, she worked the
latches of his trousers. It took him a moment to realize what she
was about.

Elisha was going to sit again and bring her
onto his lap. But Lisette sat instead, and peeked up at him. Her
hand cupped the ridge of his thickly hard cock. She could read his
mixture of desire and anxiety when she worked the material aside
and her fingers touched the hot silken skin.

It was a tense few seconds. His swarthy hand
was unsteady when he moved hers away and exposed the thick shaft
and plump head. Given his stance and her sitting position, it was
obvious what was possible. And it was a carnal moment, and an
erotic sight.

She cupped it under the crown and brought her
lips to it, kissing it softly and tender, aware of his trembling.
Her tongue liked the tang and feel of ultra-soft skin, and her palm
enjoyed feeling the breadth and shape, the warm pulse in the
veins.

Elisha’s hands cupped her head. She peeked up
to see his neck was arched, the veins and sinew full. Lisette
continued to kiss, lave, and attend it with the utmost pleasure.
Her lips rimmed it and she sucked.

He lowered his head and moved her off
him.

She met his gaze for a wild passionate
moment. “Did I hurt you?”

“Christ no,” he sounded feverish before he
pulled her up and turned her around. His hands raised her hem above
her hips, her ass. He was seeking entry to her sex.

“Oh, yes.” She bent and spread her legs a
bit.

“I have to. I have to be inside of you.”

“Yes!” her gasp filled the space as he filled
her. Tense, tight, wild and excited, she absolutely loved his
fevered thrusting that followed.

He held her hips, bent his, moving up and
inside her, pumping, stroking. She groaned and murmured her
pleasure even when he cursed, pulled out.

His seed bathed between her buttocks, and he
was rubbing the soft head of him between them. His handkerchief
cleaned them, thanks to a bit of water a fountain.

Elisha sat her on his lap, facing him,
afterwards. His arms around her and her head on his chest. Lips
grazing her hair, he husked, “You didn’t get your pleasure.”

“I very much did.” She laughed huskily and
nuzzled his skin. “But how soon…”

“Embarrassingly soon.” He groaned on a
laugh.

Feeling him swell under her, she raised her
head and touched his lips with hers for several long and deep
kisses. Touches came, and grew more desperate. There was some
figuring how to position themselves for the ultimate closeness. In
the end, he lay his coat down on the grass for her to recline
on.

On his knees and between her thighs, Elisha
lifted her hips for his deep serge. He thrust and watched her in
the spill of moon light, her pleasure, her bliss, her blood getting
hotter as she abandoned herself.

Going deep and steady, her sex was stroking
him so exquisitely his control nearly slipped. He felt that
intoxicated miasma of eroticism wrap around them. They were making
love in a garden, under a spring moon. It was earthy, sexual. She
was his goddess.

“Ummm." Her lashes opened enough to reveal
that glitter and fog of being in the moment.

“You are beautiful. Enchanting. So sensual.”
He moved for his finger to rub her clit. His thrusts more shallow
to accommodate his petting it.

When she began arching her neck and sinking
into a climax, Elisha could feel the squeezing on his cock.

He found himself murmuring, “Yes, Ah
Lisette…yes.” His own climax joined hers in a shuddering explosion
that went on and on in the most exquisite way.

Later, they went to the courtyard, and were
seated in one of the wicker loungers. He lay on his back, his arm
around her as Lisette lay on her side, against him. Her shawl
covered her repaired gown, but he had put his jacket over her
too.

Smoking a cheroot, Elisha fought the pull of
sleep from an early morning and full day of sports, as well as the
repletion of his body. Having ached for her thorough the winter,
his climax had made him dizzy. It released his muscles of long held
tension. Just having her beside him too, was a certain
contentment.

Her hand on his chest where his shirt was
unbuttoned, she said in a sleepy voice, “I shan't ever find a lover
who makes me feel as you do, Elisha. One that I want to pleasure,
just as much as you give it to me.”

Christ. Christ. He had no defenses with her.
Though he knew he should not, Elisha drew her over, so that she was
atop him. He kissed her with desperate passion and emotion.

They enjoyed intimacy one more time, with her
astride him on the chaise. Lisette’s slow rise and fall, the
undulations with his hands on her moving bottom or breasts, brought
a dozen rasping words from his lips.

They were drugged, intoxicated. When their
gazes clung, they knew it. They exposed it. For all the reasons her
beautiful body brought him pleasure, her abandonment, her savoring
of him, giving and taking, burned cleared to his soul.

Afterwards, they parted and went inside, she
to her rooms and he to the apartments.

Elisha bathed and fell to the bed with the
towel on his hips. He slept soundly for the first time in
months.

Smith leaned in the doorway, grinning. Elisha
looked at peace.

* * * *

Rising on time to have breakfast and coffee
with the duke, Elisha dressed in riding clothing afterwards and
rode to the Wolford estate with the other men.

They were all in a good mood, as was he,
thanks to those passionate hours in Lisette’s arms. The jesting was
good natured, though the younger men were getting the brunt of it.
And, Elisha found himself laughing along with the others, realizing
that here, away from all other eyes, there was a brothership, a
kind of trust and affection too, that showed in various ways. The
men were of all types of character, yet they obviously enjoyed each
other’s company.

The lake chosen was well stocked, and it was
not long before time mattered little because the company was so
entertaining.

However, half way through his fishing, a
running servant not only ended his holiday—but brought reality
crashing down on Elisha.

“This came, my lord. Man said it was urgent.”
The out of breath servant handed the note to him.

Standing by the lake with all the men
concerned, and now on their feet where they had beforehand been
seated on jutting rocks, they were waiting while he broke the seal
and read the missive.

Elisha did not recall exactly what he said to
the servant, nor did he know what his face revealed when he looked
at the others—Smith, having reached his side, had taken the missive
from his shaking hands.

Elisha bowed. “Will you excuse me, my lords,
and accept my gratitude for your hospitality. I must depart for my
estates immediately.”

“Yes. Of course. Is there anything we can do
for you?” The duke’s frown of concern matched the look on those
around him.

Elisha said, “Thank you, your grace. Will you
convey my gratitude to your wife and family?” Bloody hell, his
voice was cracking as he finished. “My mother is—dead.”

He was trying to breathe while the men
immediately came to him—offering condolences, comforting words.
Someone placed a hand on his back. However, Elisha could not seem
to catch his breath.

Smith noticed and subtly moved everyone
back.

Marston bent over, hands on his
thighs—dragging air in his lungs. Finally sitting down on his
haunches, he took a flask someone—Monty he thought, handed him. He
gave it back after several bracing pulls, and got himself together.
Standing finally—avoiding their eyes, if he could.

“Your mount is ready,” Monty offered.

“I’ll be right behind you.” Smith
supplied.

Nevertheless, Elisha scarcely felt himself
walking to meet the groom and then taking the reins, and
mounting.

He was heading for the Wimberly’s.

Before he reached it, all the men were there,
riding with him.

It would later amaze and comfort him, to know
such genuine friendship was offered. In his numb and yet gut-sharp
haze, he was focused on saying the right things and controlling
himself until he could get to his estate.

He dismounted. Smith was there. Elisha was
saved from explaining to anyone else, thanks to the duke and Aiden,
who had gone directly to the house.

Servants were packing his trunks. A bath was
prepared, and his clothing laid out, and the same for Smith.

Elisha emerged from the manor again at some
point and stood in the drive while the coach was loaded. A footman
held the door opened. He turned to see everyone standing a few feet
away, offering sympathetic smiles.

He bowed again and saw Lisette as he was
rising. Her face looked stark. Her eyes searched his.

He turned away and got into the coach,
somehow not surprised when before it pulled out, she was there at
the window.

Those aqua eyes held his. “Ask me to come
with you.”

He shook his head.

Her eyes filled. “I can share this pain with
you Elisha. I can help you…”

“You can’t.” He shot his gaze to hers and
said colder than he intended, because his emotions too raw to
censor. “You can never feel what you haven’t experienced.”

“I could love you.” Tears stood in her
eyes.

“Don’t.” he uttered in an awful voice. “Don’t
love me.”

Hand to her lips, Lisette moved her gaze to
Smith when Marston looked away and the coach was pulling out. His
gaze held an equal pain, but also sympathy. Yet all he did was
shake his head, as if to say, I cannot explain what he will
not.

The coach rolled down the drive.

Lisette realized that Haven and Juliette
stood beside her. Their arms instantly went around her. She was
crying but had not realized it.

Lowering her hand, she whispered, “He won’t
come to me again. He will not. I know it.”

They turned and were walking her to the
house, the others having gone in. Haven said, “Then I guess, in
time, you’ll have to go after him.”

Stopping, Lisette regarded her sister in law,
and then, as they released her, looked at Juliette too. “Why did I
wait too late? Why won’t he trust me, talk to me. Why—what is
it!”

Juliette cupped her face, her eyes showing
that she was feeling Lisette’s pain. “Give him time. Then go after
your answers. You love him, don’t you?”

“Yes. I do not know how it happened. I don’t
even know how I can, when half of whom he is, he keeps in the
dark.”

They both hugged her again.

Lisette said, “I need some time to think. I
need to cry. I—thank you, for being here for me.”