The Rose's Bloom (6 page)

“God, you are beautiful,” he murmured, and slid his hands over her cleavage, shaping her breasts in his palms.

She sucked in a breath; her head fell back in delight as he palmed the globes. Her hips rocked of their own accord, grinding her into the hardness she still wanted to explore.

“What is it called, Damon?” she panted, and squeezed her legs into his while he twisted both nipples between his fingertips.

He lowered his head and kissed the lush skin below her throat. “It is called many things.”

“Tell me,” she whimpered, as he continued to pinch and stroke her. Never before had Claire experienced anything like it. He was killing her, sending her to both heaven and hell in the same moment. It was divine!

“Cock, manhood, pego, shaft or penis. They are all names for a man’s member,” he murmured, before he took the flesh of one breast into his mouth, suckling her deeply.

“Damon!” Claire called out as a cluster of sensations rocked her body. She ground herself into him, digging her fingers into his back with eager need. “I want to touch your cock!” she said urgently.

He released her breast, letting it drop from his mouth. Damon looked up into her face while he allowed his tongue to caress the skin he had feasted on moments ago. His pleased expression only fascinated her further.

Claire pushed his chest hard. Damon huffed a surprised breath as he fell back, but he reached out for her at the last second, taking her down with him.

“I want to touch it,” she said impatiently as she righted herself, sliding down his body.

Damon’s breeches bulged with his cock.
Cock.
She liked thinking of it as such, so much more than his ‘man part’. The word seemed to describe it more accurately.

He did not hinder her attempt as she released his cock from the confinement of his breeches. It sprang forth, looking hot and angry red while the blood pumped through it.

“Does it hurt?” Claire asked, and ran her fingers along it in wonder.

Veins pulsed under the skin, and when she touched it, his cock jumped under her caress as if she had burned him. She did not believe for a moment she had harmed him. His moan of pleasure was her evidence.

“You have no idea,” he groaned out.

“Perhaps I shall kiss it better,” Claire whispered, before she took him fully into her mouth.

The night before it had been dark, and she had not had the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of his cock. Though, like before, she enjoyed feeling it on her tongue and how, while she played with it, moisture leaked from the tip, the tart flavour sending heat and excitement between her legs, where she craved his touch most.

Damon growled, his body bucking under her. Before she knew what had happened, Claire found herself spun around, her body now lying flat along his—but where she had faced his head before, she now gazed at his feet.

With his cock still in her mouth, Claire was reluctant to abandon the pleasure it brought her while he ruffled though her skirts. It wasn’t until she felt his hands on her core, then the wetness of his mouth, that she realised what was happening. He was returning the gesture.

Damon suckled hard on her and she mimicked every movement he made on his cock. She felt him groan into her folds as he murmured his approval, thrusting his cock deep within her mouth.

Claire gazed at the ripe, furry sac which hung below his cock. Without thought, she moved her hand from his leg to his balls, surprised when he bucked, his teeth scraping along her womanhood. Pleasure rocked her body and she gently sank her own teeth into his cock, tightening her hands around his shaft and sac in the same movement.

Suddenly she was on her back, looking up at the sky, his burning-hot cock no longer deep within her throat. She grieved at the loss. Damon soon loomed over her, his flushed face looking fierce and oh, so desirable. Claire beamed, unable to control herself. This man was hers, he wanted her, and more importantly, he thought her beautiful.

“No biting,” he growled, settling his full weight between her open legs.

“But I liked it when you bit me,” she said wantonly.

He cursed, claiming her lips with his own. She tasted the muskiness of herself on his lips and for a moment she thought she would be repulsed, but strangely, she was not. In fact, it only increased her pleasure. Was there anything that this man could do to diminish it?

Claire felt the searing heat of his cock come to rest against her core. Oh, how she wanted to be one with him.
No more waiting.
She had waited for him long enough.

Claire dug her fingers into his back, scraping down until she reached the fabric of his breeches. Her nails biting into his firm bottom, Claire demanded from him what words could not do at this time, as her mouth was otherwise occupied.

Damon seemed to know her thoughts, and he sucked her tongue into his mouth greedily. His hips lifted and in one sure movement, Damon plunged into her.

A flash of hot, white pain pierced her, and a scream erupted from her without warning as her body clenched. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.

Damon looked down, worry and regret lacing his expression. “I am so sorry. I forgot I needed to be careful. I am so very sorry.”

Claire cut him off with a demanding kiss of her own. Yes, it had hurt. It still hurt, but she would not have him feeling remorse over something she had instigated.

Moving her hips in small, testing motions which seemed to come to her naturally, Claire was surprised and pleased to find the pain diminishing. Damon did not shift, though. His body was tense, and he groaned into her mouth as she stirred.

When the pain had all but left her and was replaced with a need to move in earnest, Claire dug her fingers into the firmness of his bottom again, demanding his participation. He growled before his body seemed to take over, pumping into her with a wild eagerness.

Claire broke their kiss, throwing her head back, arching her body against his. Pleasure, surpassing that which he had given her two days past, built rapidly. Before she could work out what was happening, it spilled over. Claire screamed again, this time as rapture rocked her body.

Damon let out a cry of his own while he pumped into her one final time before collapsing.

Claire wrapped her arms around him tightly as his heavy and welcome weight settled over her.

If this were what he was destined to experience as a married man, he would die a very happy death. Claire was a vixen, for sure, a woman who gave and took what he offered without apprehension or fear. She had actually surpassed every hope he’d had. She had held no reservations. She had not seemed to mind the hard vigour of his thrusts into her—in truth she had met him in every movement. Damon wondered what fantasies he and his soon-to-be bride could explore. He would wager she would be game to give each one a go. He was a lucky man. He had met a true woman of his heart. Finally.

He went to roll off her from where he had collapsed, yet her hands tightened around him.

“Do not leave,” she whispered.

“I will crush you.”

She shook her head, a single tear rolling down her cheek. He would have been worried she was in pain, but the smile which graced her features told him otherwise.

“I am not a delicate flower.”

He nuzzled into her neck, resting most of his weight on his hands now. “You are a flower. You are my rose.”

She huffed a laugh. “Yes, thorns and all.”

He pushed up slightly to look down at her. Her eyes were closed, but the smile remained. Did she tease him? “You do not carry a single thorn.”

She opened one eye, studying him for a moment before she closed it again. “If you say so,” she said, but her voice no longer held conviction.

He glowered at her, though she did not notice.

Regretfully, he slipped his flaccid cock from her warmth, glancing down at her cunt, and was shocked to see the amount of blood which covered him. He had not taken her gently, but she had not seemed to mind apart from his initial entry.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, as he pushed a loose strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear.

“No,” she murmured.

“The blood tells a different story,” he drawled, unsurprised when her eyes popped open in shock.

“Blood?”

He nodded and gestured to her core.

Claire rose onto her elbows and gasped. “Is that normal?”

“I do not know. I have never bedded a maiden before,” he said. “Are you sure you do not hurt?”

She shrugged. “It hurt like the devil, but quickly turned into something wonderful. It is only when I squeeze the muscles inside, now, that it gives me discomfort.”

Damon nodded. “You should rest for a while—perhaps bathe before you return home?”

She nodded and stood, wincing slightly. Though she tried to cover it, Damon noticed. Shame at his animal-like tactics took hold of him. He did not regret taking her. How could he? But he did regret the pain he had caused. Next time, he would take her slowly. She needed to expand to house his girth. Then, later, he could act without restraint.

After helping her to disrobe completely, Damon assisted her into the water. He kissed her tenderly before he watched her wade into the shallows, where she started to bathe herself.

“Are you going to wash?” she asked as he re-buttoned his breeches, thankful no blood marred the fabric. He was still presentable.

“No, my rose. I need to speak with your father.”

She stood, shock covering her features. “Now? Wait—I will come too.”

“No,” Damon said simply. “I must do this alone.”

“Damon,” she started, but he shook his head.

“My rose, you said you trusted me and I ask you to do so at this moment. You will be my wife, and I am going to ensure that now. Do not rush, and take care whilst you ride. I do not want you to harm yourself further.”

As he turned and headed for his steed, Damon was not surprised to hear Claire voicing her disagreement. She was a feisty woman, and one he was proud to call his own.

Chapter Five

“Lord Belfort is here to see you, my Lord.”

The tone of the butler’s voice reeked of disapproval, and Damon could understand it. He would not have appreciated a lord barging into his home and refusing to wait before being announced, either.

Lord Killory looked up from his desk and frowned for a moment at seeing Damon standing behind his butler, though he quickly concealed it.

“Thank you, Hamish. Lord Belfort, please come in,” Killory said with an inquisitive smile. He indicated a chair that sat before his desk.

As Damon took the seat, Killory rose and poured brandy into two small glasses. He placed one in front of Damon and returned to his seat.

“I am surprised to see you, Lord Belfort. Normally I deal with your man of business on estate matters. My wife was quite pleased to see you in attendance last night. I must tell you I fear your appearance at our ball will be the leading gossip at her high teas for some time.”

Not caring for small talk, Damon got straight to the point. “I am here today to discuss your daughter.”

The older man smirked. “Ah, I see. Yes, my Lizzy has already had several men come to seek my favour.”

“I do not refer to your youngest.”

A furrow creased the brow of Claire’s father. “Pardon? Who do you refer to?”

Damon could not understand the man’s naïvety. Was he daft? “Your eldest. Lady Claire.”

“Claire?” The man appeared shocked. “Really?”

“Yes. I have come to ask for her hand.”

If possible, the man appeared more dumbstruck than before. “Claire?”

“Yes,” Damon repeated with irritation.

Seeming to come out of his startled reverie, Lord Killory shook his head. “I did not realise you were in need of coin?”

Now it was Damon’s turn to be shocked. “I assure you, my Lord, my wealth surpasses your own and I do not seek your daughter’s hand to enrich my estate. I intend to take her as my wife for my pleasure, and not as a matter of business.”

Claire’s father raised an eyebrow, but did not move to comment as he sat in his chair. The older man studied Damon over the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

“I was not aware you and my Claire had met before last night. Are you telling me these feelings come from only your dance together?”

Damon’s teeth ground together. “We met two days past, while she was out riding.”

Lord Killory nodded, never taking his eyes off Damon. “So you are telling me Claire was the reason you attended our ball last night?”

Damon was not known to be social. In truth, he had not attended a ball in several years. “That, and my mother wished to attend.”

“Claire is already promised to another.”

“I am aware of that,” he ground out.

Surprise lit Killory’s features. “How so? I have only send word to London this morning. I doubt it has been received yet.”

“Yes, and I have sent a man after your mail. He should reach it before it is delivered. It will be returned to you, unopened.”

Surprise quickly turned to rage. Killory slammed his fist down on his desk. “You had no right!”

“I have every right! She is mine!” Damon roared back.

The doors to the study banged open and Damon turned to see Claire rushing in. Her face was flushed, but her dress was not the same as the one he had seen her wearing by the river. She had changed. Most likely a good thing.

“Daughter, you do not enter here without my invitation!” her father bellowed, his anger seeming to increase.

Damon stood, clenching his fits at his side as he looked back to Killory. How dare this man yell at her for simply coming into a room? He was her father!

Tender hands touched his clenched fists, and Damon looked down to see her gazing up at him with concern. She laced her fingers with his. She worried for him, he realised. His heart swelled. Looking into her silver eyes, Damon could not help himself. Leaning forward, he let his lips fall on hers, which were already swollen from their earlier meeting. Claire kissed him back tenderly and without reservation.

Would he ever get enough of her?