Having Patience (7 page)

But when he suddenly removed his finger, Patience cried out in frustration. He leaned over her, his body heavy and hot. Before Patience could consider that he might take her in spite of their agreement, he pushed the finger that had been in her cunny into her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he said. “Suck my finger. Show me how you’re going to suck my cock.”

Again, instinct consumed her and her lips closed around the finger. She sucked and licked, tasting her own sweet cream and wondering what it would be like to taste that same cream on James’s tongue. He slid the digit in and out of her mouth over and over. “I’m going to fuck your mouth like this,” he warned. “But first, I’m going to put my finger back in your cunny and fuck you with it.”

Patience moaned as he pushed his finger into her channel once more and continued his intense, breathtaking onslaught.

“My cock will fill you much more than this finger,” he told her and Patience quivered at the thought of it.

Wonderful sensations built inside her and she struggled to keep from sagging against the bed. She clutched the covers and pushed back to meet his thrusting finger.

“You’ll do as I say for the rest of the night,” James said.

“Yes, yes!” she cried more than ready to submit to anything he might suggest.
Just, please don’t stop…

And then, Patience lost all control as sheer ecstasy rushed like a wildfire out of control through the body. Wilting, she pulsed around James’s finger. Spasm after delicious spasm caused her to jump and cry out but she rode it to the very end and when the last of the tremors eddied away, strong hands seized her arms and dragged them behind her body. She gasped for breath. When he bound her wrists, her body seemed to dissolve as he dragged her off the bed and pushed her to her knees on the carpet.

He seemed suddenly tense. Choking fear rose in Patience. But there was little time to be afraid—or to protest.

His fingers threaded into the hair at her nape and he pulled her head forward until she felt something warm and big prodding her lips. His cock! Her mind screamed that this was wrong, sinful. Her body reacted entirely differently.

At once she parted her lips and engulfed all she could of her husband’s cock. He tasted both clean and slightly salty. Droplets of sweet liquid fell on the back of her tongue.

Rough gasps met her ears and she realized the hand in her hair trembled. His other hand fisted around the base of his cock and he began pumping himself into her mouth with reckless abandon.

Her jaw ached but she relished the sensation of her husband’s brute strength punctuated by his bridled control. He could easily have torn her apart if he wanted and that knowledge drove Patience mad with desire.

“Suck me,” he rasped. “That’s it. Damn, that’s good.”

Encouraged by his ribald words, Patience licked and sucked and ran her tongue along his length despite his thrusts. Her knees hurt. Her cunny throbbed. Her shoulders burned from the strain of having her hands tied.

“This is what you’re made for, Patience,” he said breathlessly. “For sucking and fucking. God, I want to bury this hard cock in your cunny.”

If she hadn’t had a mouthful of his luscious cock she would have begged him to do just that.

“Oh,” he moaned. “Oh, Patience. Oh, yes. Yes.” The hand around his cock joined the one threaded into her hair and he held her head as he cried out and erupted in her mouth.

Patience gulped and swallowed as his essence spurted onto her tongue. His hands tensed and she could tell he was trying with all his might to hold back. And as suddenly as he’d exploded, all the tension melted from his entire being.

Disappointment surged as he withdrew his cock from her mouth. Patience could have sucked him all night. But then, she sensed he’d dropped to his knees in front of her. Reaching around her, he jerked the scarf free of her wrists and then he gently removed the blindfold.

Patience blinked against the light given off by the fire in the hearth. Gratitude and something Patience could not define shone in James’s eyes. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her swollen lips and then lifted once more. Before she could take her next breath, James’s mouth sought hers. His pressure was insistent. His lips teased and his tongue tantalized her mouth until she opened for him. When she did, her heart ran wild. She returned his kiss as if she’d been kissed dozens of times, eagerly exploring his mouth. Everything but James faded until there was only his heat, his strength, his hunger.

He urged her body the rest of the way to the floor and clinging, Patience allowed him to move over her. His knees pushed hers apart while his mouth continued its passionate invasion.

His spent cock raked through her folds and Patience lifted her hips, wishing he was still hard, wanting him to take her. She wanted to thrash, to scream—anything to drive this maddening desire out of her soul.

Through her chemise, he palmed one breast and squeezed. She moaned into his mouth and arched. His penetrating kiss deepened even more and then abruptly, he dragged his lips from hers.

“I love you,” he uttered.

Patience’s lashes fluttered open. Dazed, she stared up at her husband.

A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. His eyes blazed almost black. “I love you, Patience.”

She gaped. All the warmth and desire inside her drained away and in its place, inexplicable panic exploded. She pushed at James’s shoulders. “That wasn’t in the passage.
This
wasn’t in the passage. Enough. Enough!”

Stunned, James stared. For the first time in his life, he’d told a woman—his wife—that he loved her…and meant it. Anger flared urging him to show her what it meant to be loved by him but miraculously, intellect prevailed.

He pushed himself to his knees and did up his breeches as he stood. Patience shoved her wrinkled nightgown back down as she struggled to sit.

James longed to lash out at her. He ached to dominate her, to show her what being a wife entailed. But instead, he forced himself to breathe.

“The scene is over,” Patience said as she scrambled to her feet. “I have played my part.”

Part? Part!

He snatched her arm and hauled her body against his. “I’ve been more than patient with you but it’s high time you understood that you are not playing a
part
, my dear. You are my wife and I—”

Realization consumed him. She’d only grown cold when he’d told her he loved her. Patience did not fear losing her virginity. She feared intimacy. She feared love.

His fingers loosened on her arm and she seized the opportunity to yank away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Hugging her arms, she turned away. God, she was shaking. He felt like an ass. “Patience, you don’t have to be afraid,” he said gently.

Her head snapped around and she burned a stare into him. “I’m not afraid.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I think you are. I think you’re afraid of loving me.”

“That’s ridiculous!” she cried, her voice rising almost hysterically. “I married you. I wouldn’t have married if I didn’t have…if I weren’t…”

James swallowed. His heart broke for her—for himself. “You can’t even say the word,” he said bleakly.

“That’s not it,” Patience insisted. She began to pace.

“Patience, let’s see if we can work through this,” James suggested.

“There’s nothing to work through!” she wailed.

He stared. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps she’d married him out of obligation or because her father had forced her. One thing was obvious. She had not married him out of love. He sighed, resigned. “This farce must stop. Once we produce a male heir, I will trouble you no more.”

Her lips parted as if she might speak but instead she clamped them shut. She blinked as if trying to combat tears.

James straightened his clothes before he raked his hand through his hair and started toward the door. He stopped and glanced back at her. “Tomorrow night, I
will
consummate this marriage. The sooner we produce an heir the better.”

A chill ripped through Patience as soon as the door closed behind James.
A male heir…

If James died without a son to inherit his title, his estate would be scuttled off to some cousin or nephew—just like her father’s estate would be when he passed away.

Gut-wrenching guilt consumed Patience. Once again, she was responsible for tragedy, for the loss of wealth and the end of a family name. She gulped but could not stop the sob that tore from her throat or the tears that flowed down her cheeks.

She stared, hoping he would come back so she could apologize. She needed to change this, to change herself. Her fears were selfish and silly…and so terribly, terribly real.

But James did not return. She took two faltering steps toward the door intent on going after him but stopped herself. She’d humiliated herself enough for one night.

Afraid to love him! The very idea. Of course she loved him. She married him.

She swallowed hard. Was he angry with her because of what they’d just done? It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t mistaken the look of lust and…oh God—love—in his eyes.

Her knees gave and she grasped futilely at the post of her bed as she dropped to the floor. Tears welled in her eyes. James loved her. And she’d all but laughed in his face. Patience was mortified. How could she ever redeem herself?

* * * * *

“Dammit!” James slammed the door to his own rooms and marched straight to his liquor cabinet.

He slapped a crystal tumbler on the counter and started to pour a shot of Irish whiskey. “Fuck it,” he muttered, dispensing with the glass and instead, turning up the bottle.

Although the whiskey had a reputation for being smooth, the way James slugged it down set his throat on fire. His eyes watered and blurred. Heat unfurled through his limbs but the liquid comfort did little to assuage his anger and disappointment.

Just moments ago, his cock had been buried practically to the hilt in Patience’s mouth. James had never felt more alive and thrilled that he was married to a beautiful, intelligent woman who was willing enough to experiment sexually. But all that had been dashed by her cold response to his kiss.

Briefly, he closed his eyes as he dispelled a breath.

He’d told her he loved her. Cringing, he regretted the admission. His heart twisted. At the moment, he had been so overwhelmed with emotion and had felt so connected to her, he’d uttered the first words that had sprung to his lips.

The problem was that he
did
love her. He loved her with all his heart and he wanted only for her to return his affection.

His stomach churned and he thought for a moment he might vomit. When the queasiness subsided, he turned up the bottle again. After a third slug, his heart rate slowed and some of the tension eased out of his body.

There had to be more to this. Other than her reticence to be intimate with him, she had not demonstrated anything but kindness and respect for him. He began to think his initial observation of her actions was correct.

She was afraid to love him and she was definitely afraid of his loving her. But why? He’d never been anything but kind to her. He’d never said a cross a word to her. He was certainly not the type to ever raise a hand to a woman—unless of course, she asked for it.

Despite everything else, James smiled at the thought of spanking his wife’s scrumptious bottom.

No. Patience would never have asked him to do such things to her if she hadn’t trusted him on some level.

He stared at the dark amber liquid in the crystal decanter. Her terror stemmed from something else and the way she behaved indicated that her fear was dark and deep seated.

He sank into a chair, decanter in hand. He’d first met Patience during her debutante coming out when she’d been eighteen. At once, he’d been astounded by her beauty but her quick wit and sharp mind had won his heart. As society dictated, they’d had a respectable engagement. When they married, it had been under the high honor of a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury which was difficult and expensive to obtain. During none of that time, had Patience ever given him any cause to doubt her. So what about love and sexual intimacy frightened her into frigidity?

“I only know what I was told by Miss Killian.”

James wondered exactly what the all-too-venerable Miss Killian had taught her charge. Since Patience’s mother had died, it was doubtless that Patience had been forced to rely on Miss Killian for all aspects of her education. James knew full well that
Miss
Killian would have had no marital experience to impart.

He thought back over his own governess. Miss Marjorie Makepeace had been a shy, homely spinster who’d never entertained the affections of a man in her life. No doubt Miss Killian had been of the same ilk.

He took a sip of his whiskey, this time savoring its woody redolence before swallowing. With the loss of her mother, Patience had missed a proper education. James wondered how the woman had died. Patience had never spoken of it and James had never been curious—or rather bold enough to ask—until now.

Given Patience’s current state, it was doubtful, however, that she’d be forthcoming. Especially if the incident had anything to do with why Patience seemed terrified of intimacy.