Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

Will forced a serious look to his face. "It's all right, Prissy. I'll never tell a soul."

She poked his chest with her finger. "I'm

not

afraid of you or anyone else, William Westfield."

He raised his brow in disbelief. "Well, then, do you need help getting out of your dress?"

Prisca sucked in a breath and took a step away from him. "I think you misunderstood me. Just because I'm not afraid of you doesn't mean I'm going to climb into your bed."

Will scratched his chin. "Whatever you say, Priss."

"I think most of the women who land in your bed make the task much too easy for you."

"And you plan to be different?" he goaded her.

Her face darkened a shade before she put her hands on her hips and said, "I don't plan to land in your bed at all."

Will shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. But, in reality, his gut twisted at the thought that she might not let him make love to her that night or ever. "We don't have to land in bed." His voice lowered as he walked closer to her. She took another step back. And another until a chair blocked her retreat. "I can ravish you on the chair." He touched his lips to hers. "Or on a table, if you prefer." He palmed her hips and drew her to him until their bodies touched. "We can do it anywhere you please."

"I don't plan to make this easy for you," she said as he began to unpin her veil from her hair and proceeded to remove her hair combs, one by one. When her hair fell over her shoulders, his hands massaged her scalp gently. "I plan to make it very hard." She gulped.

"You already make me very hard," he replied as he ground his hips against hers.

Prisca's brows drew together in confusion. "May I ask you a question?"

"You may ask anything you like," he assured her while his hands skimmed her sides.

"What is it that you carry in your pocket?"

His pocket? Will stood up tall and looked down at her. "Pardon?"

She pointed down to where their bodies touched. "Your pocket," she said again. "There's always something in your pocket."

Will took his hands from her hips and filled his pockets with them. "Nothing there, love."

Prisca reached down between their bodies so she could feel for the object she'd just mentioned a moment before. When her hand approached his waistband and then went farther to touch his manhood, he groaned and pulled her hands away from him. Her innocent probing could be the end of their wedding day, as he'd been hard for hours. Days. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. Her brow rose in confusion.

He chuckled softly. "I'll show you later, love."

"Are you laughing at me?" She swatted his chest.

"Definitely not," he said, though he was sure a grin tilted the corners of his mouth just a bit.

Prisca narrowed her eyes at him.

"So, what shall we do now, Priss, since you are too afraid to let me make love to you?"

"I'm not afraid," she quipped, spinning away from him to glance about the room.

"Good. Then we can dispense with the seduction and go straight to bed." He started to loosen his cravat.

"It's not even dark out yet," she protested, dancing farther away from him.

"Prisca," he intoned slowly, stalking toward her.

"William," she said, mocking his tone with false bravado, drawing her eyebrows together like his.

"I bought you a gift," Will said as he turned from her and reached into the wardrobe.

"A gift?" Her eyes sparkled as she stepped closer to him, warming to him just a bit. "Oh, but I've nothing for you," she began, clapping her fingertips over her lips.

"But you will," he whispered softly as his bent finger stroked her cheek. "Open this." He placed the gaily wrapped package in her hands.

Prisca dropped her angst for a moment, like one might drop a robe, and immediately tore into her present. She never could resist them, which he well knew. He may have to buy her an entire room full of baubles if this didn't work.

As soon as she untied the ribbons and lifted the lid, she gasped. Her eyes rose to meet his in surprise.

Inside the box lay a sheer garment, edged in lace. Prisca pulled it from the box and turned toward the mirror, where she held it in front of her body. The soft silkiness of the lavender garment was in stark contrast to her black dress. He immediately wanted to see the fabric drape her alabaster skin.

"This would be horribly indecent," she whispered, turning to look at him shyly. She obviously liked it but was concerned about him seeing her in it.

He would see her in less. Every day from now on. "Indecent?" he asked as he slowly approached her. "There's nothing indecent about seeing my wife's perfect body." Taking the peignoir from her, he draped it over a nearby chair. Then he very slowly walked around to stand at her back, where he could untie the laces of her gown. The bombazine crinkled as he unlaced the dress and pulled one shoulder down. He replaced it with his lips, letting them slide slowly over her skin. He had to hold back a smile when she shivered. Perhaps this would go better than planned.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked.

"You've no maid. So, I thought I'd help you undress." He caught her earlobe between his teeth and gently tugged before he kissed down the side of her neck.

Prisca willingly leaned her head to the other side as he tugged her gown from the opposite shoulder. She smelled of lilacs, and the scent of her grew stronger and stronger as her body warmed beneath his touch.

When he'd freed both of her arms, she still clutched the scratchy black dress to her breasts, refusing to let it fall. He came to stand before her and tugged it gently. She held tightly to the fabric. She even shook her head in denial. There was still work to be done.

Will's fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of her neck, and he tilted her head so he could take her mouth as he pleased. The first touch of his lips was gentle. But then she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed back against him. All thought of gentleness left his mind. He devoured her with a single-minded purpose—to pleasure her. When he was finally convinced that his mouth held all her attention, he lifted her arms to bring them up around his neck.

The dress made a crinkling sound as it fell. She didn't notice. He must have been doing something right. But this was not the time to gloat.

Without lifting his mouth, he took a tentative step toward the bed. She stepped with him. He took another. And another, until she could step no farther. Then he picked her up gently and laid her down.

Will climbed over her, now kissing across her collarbone as she held tightly to his arms. Her beautiful violet eyes stayed closed, her mouth hung slightly open.

She opened her eyes only for a moment when she heard the delicate fabric of her chemise tear.

"I'll buy you another," he mouthed against her skin, where he kissed the plump skin of her breast. She didn't protest. But just ran her fingers into his hair, holding him directly over her breast.

"What do you want, Priss?" he asked. He very lazily traced a finger around her nipple but refused to touch it.

She tugged his head and arched her back, bringing her quivering flesh within a breath of his lips. He wanted to tease her, to make her ask him. But the beat of her heart flooded the room and the scent of her desire nearly toppled him to the floor.

He took her nipple into his mouth, tonguing the turgid peak until she sighed with pleasure. He cupped her breasts, which would have overflowed a normal man's hands but fit his just perfectly. As his mouth devoured her flesh, the fingers of his other hand rolled the opposite peak between his fingers, tugging gently in time with his tongue.

Her legs opened finally, and he wanted nothing more than to surge between them and find her heat, making them one. But this was about more than pleasure. It was about mastery. In one thing, he could master her. If that one place was the bedroom, he'd take it.