The Tender Days of May (The Belle House Book 1) Page 23

  Wave.

  After wave.

  And again.

  She moaned. A river of heat fled through her as the weakness spread to every cell of her body.

  He moved his hand to cup her face, not gently like he used to, but more insistent as if he was trying to prevent her escape. His lips moved to her cheek, then her neck, kissing her greedily as if there was not enough time to make up for the last year.

  “Ray,” she whispered, trying to stop the madness as if she was drowning, her skin on fire from his mouth. “Ray-Ray-Ray. Wait.”

  She tried to stop him with the words, but her body betrayed her, her fingers strayed through his hair, pressing his head closer to her skin.

  “Ray,” she whispered and gasped.

  “May,” he whispered back, and his mouth was next to hers. “I missed you, May. You don’t know what you did to me,” he exhaled, and his lips were parting hers again, his tongue sinking her deeper into madness. She moaned into his mouth, and another wave of desire flushed through her body, stronger now, down low to her aching belly, to the throbbing between her thighs.

  His hands moved to her breasts and squeezed them.

  “Ah,” a meek moan escaped her as his lips left hers and moved downward, planting greedy kisses on her neck, the collarbone, the upper slopes of her breasts.

  “Ray,” she exhaled.

  “Ray,” she repeated as his hands squeezed her harder.

  “Ray,” she whispered again as his fingers curled over the rim of her low-cut bodice and tugged it down, trying to expose more of her skin.

  His tongue and mouth went to work, attacking the upper slopes of her breasts, sliding the tongue down between the skin and the fabrics, trying to reach her nipple.

  May moaned and arched her back to push herself closer to him, her body aching with desire. She could only breathe in sharp strokes that escaped to the rhythm of his tongue, his insistent kisses, his hands pulling the bodice further down, trying to get deeper underneath it, uncover the rest of her.

  “Ray,” she whispered, and her hands grabbed his. “Ray!” She cupped his face, tore it off her skin, and pulled it towards hers, panting to the rhythm of his heavy breathing.

  “Yes, May,” he whispered, their foreheads touching, his hands stroking her skin, soft as silk.

  Oh, how she wanted to tell him how much she missed him! That she had wanted to write to him all this time! To talk to him! To see him again!

  “We need to stop, Ray,” she said quietly instead.

  He kissed her gently on the corner of her mouth. She moved his hands away and pulled the bodice back up, fixing it into place.

  “Why?” he whispered back, and his hands moved to cup her face instead as if he needed to touch her somewhere.

  “Not now,” she said softly. “I need to be out there,” she caught his lips for just a brief kiss and let go.

  “Fuck the people,” he whispered, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, his body pressing into hers. “I don’t care if the whole world dropped dead. As long as you are with me.” He caught her lips and kissed her again.

  She pulled away and lowered her head, smiling, burying her face in the crook of his neck as his hands slid around her waist.

  “We’ll have time. Later. I promise!” She pressed against him tightly for a brief moment, then pulled away and kissed him again before fleeing towards the light of the party.

  Gone!

  Again!

  Lord Ashbee exhaled loudly, trying to compose himself, his body, his thoughts. He throbbed with tension and desire, but something else was bothering him, something that couldn’t be satisfied with a lustful act. Now, that May, or Mary Ann, or Lady Yvense, was out of sight, he felt the same desperation of the last year—as if he was losing something essential in his life.

  Like air.

  Like reason.

  Like the meaning to the hopelessness of the world.

  He raked his hair with his hands and smirked. This time the tiny movement of his mouth wasn’t directed at the world. Instead—at himself, the pathetic realization that he was desperate. Not for pleasure, or pain, or danger. He was desperate for the closeness of a woman, the one that walked away from him, from the darkness of the corner he was in, towards the light of the world.

  He raised his face to the ceiling and exhaled again, collecting the strength. Then turned and followed in the direction that May had disappeared in.

  —————

  Back in the drawing-room, the party continued, laced with the heavy smell of perfume, cigars, and wine. The servants fussed around with trays of drinks and appetizers. The music played. The guests laughed. The men got drunk and more obnoxious. The women—flirtier. The party seemed a success.

  “We are quite less civilized about drinking in these parts of the country, as you’ve probably noticed,” Lady Mildred commented, quite tipsy herself.

  It’s in this loudness that Lord Ashbee looked at the cheerful faces around and wanted to leave. There was just one complication. He wanted to leave with May.

  May…

  She was talking to a group of ladies, smiling and laughing as if he wasn’t in the room. He, on the contrary, didn’t let his gaze off her. Occasionally, she would throw him a glance through the crowd, smiles chasing each other.

  He kept watching her, her face flickering here and there.

  She was mesmerizing!

  Like a queen. Her posture and manners graceful and elegant as if she was born into them.

  Wait, she was!

  The thought drove Lord Ashbee crazy! He knew she was of proper upbringing. He knew she was educated and well-versed in the way that only money and social status permitted. Why was it that it never occurred to him she might be of the upper class? Back in that room in the Belle House, all he saw was her nakedness. All he heard were her thoughts. Back then, without the fancy dress and expensive jewelry, he was enthralled with her already. And now…

  Now she took his breath away.

  Oh, if he only knew back then what she was, he would save her, protect her. He would be more insistent. Ah, human nature! He, Lord Ashbee himself, fell into the trap of judgment. He should’ve known better! Now, when he saw May so admired and on par with everyone else, his mind went wild.

  But back then, none of that mattered.

  Back then…

  Someone laughed too close to him, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t notice, kept his gaze on May in the crowd.

  She brought the memories back with her every move.

  Her figure reminded him of her naked body between the sheets.

  Her glances at him—a flashback of her eyes in the light of the candle shade by their bed.

  The wave of her hand—and he remembered her touch.

  The move of her shoulder—the memory of her soft skin.

  A smile—and he could feel her lips on his.

  He was going crazy, he thought. Never before did he burn with desire so deep as the one for this young woman. If it wasn’t madness, he didn’t know what was. He tried to escape it all his life. But it seemed that fate brought her to him. So he had thought back then, too. The biggest torments of humanity come down to that phrase—if only we knew back then…

  —————

  He finally managed to find his way into her company again. And for a moment, it was just the two of them.

  “May,” he said with a polite smile.

  “Ray,” she mimicked it.

  “I do have to admit I want you more than ever,” he said in a low voice and noticed her blush. “You can hide all you want under this pretty dress and reserved manners, but I know you want me too. Why don’t we leave?”

  “Not now.”

  “The longer we wait, the sooner it will be obvious to everyone that you and I have known each other before.”

  She lowered her eyes, then looked around as if searching for help, trying to avoid looking at him. At that moment, her face was an open book—the hesitation, the vulnerability, the emotions, her st
iffened body as she tried to compose herself.

  “If you ask me, it is already obvious.”

  “Lord Ashbee, please,” she pleaded.

  “I warned you,” he said in a low voice and with a devilish smile but with a strange hesitation in his dark gaze.

  “Ah! Don’t warn me!” she exhaled loudly as if shaking off her uncertainty. “The warning of a clever man always intends the opposite effect. You taught me that yourself!” She finally looked at him and pulled a hesitant smile.

  He chuckled.

  “If only you weren’t such a good student, I wouldn’t get in trouble.”

  “Trouble is what you teach. But I have to admit I got to like it.”

  She flashed another smile.

  “Your brother, he knows,” Lord Ashbee said.

  “Of course, he does.”

  “He doesn’t like me, does he?”

  “He doesn’t know you. He is afraid that you are going to ruin me.” She laughed nervously.

  “By ‘ruin’ your brother means that you will give in to your desires?”

  This very moment Charles approached them.

  “Judging by the smiles,” he said, “you are having quite an entertaining conversation.” He looked at smiling May with amusement and then squinted at Lord Ashbee.

  “We were talking about one’s desires,” she said.

  “With Lord Ashbee out of all people? You don’t say!” Charles smirked in sarcasm.

  She laughed.

  “I was going to tell Lord Ashbee,” she said with a coy smile, “that giving in to one’s desires can ruin a person just as well as the regret for not doing so.”

  “Indeed!” Charles exclaimed in surprise. “My lady, why does it sound as if Lord Ashbee’s own words come out of your mouth?” Charles chuckled and looked at his friend. “I was telling Ray before we left London that he might find it quite interesting to make your acquaintance.”

  “Indeed.” Lord Ashbee gave May a stare. “Though going back to the topic, I am not sure the word ‘ruin’ is quite necessary in the context.”

  “It depends on what is being ruined,” May explained. “If it’s one’s peace, then what life is if not the constant attempt to escape peace? Peace, in its core, seems quite a boring concept anyway,” she smiled.

  “Ah! Lady Yvense!” Charles exclaimed. “Your words remind me so much of Ashbee’s philosophy.” He turned to his friend. “Can it be possible that you just met your soulmate?” He gave a loud laugh as Lord and Lady Chapman came over to join the conversation while Lord Ashbee and May stood gazing into each other’s eyes.

  CHAPTER 5

  Sometimes a year seems like a moment. Sometimes an evening can feel like an eternity.

  Seeing May again felt as if they had never parted. Waiting for the party to be over to be alone with her felt like torture.

  May felt Lord Ashbee’s eyes fixed on her almost constantly. It made her aware of herself and her every move. But he couldn’t help himself. Even when he didn’t look in her direction, he could feel her presence, hear her voice and laughter. For the first time in ages, he felt jealous of the woman’s attention to others.

  He drank the champagne, half-listening to others’ conversations. Noticed that Sir Yvense occasionally threw cold glances at him. Charles was loud and excited the way he had rarely behaved in London.

  It was close to midnight when a young maid approached Lord Ashbee and asked to follow her out. He threw a glance at May, and she nodded with a shy smile.

  —————

  Life is a cunning creature, Lord Ashbee thought walking around May’s room dimly lit by the candle lamps. He was studying its simple design, marveling at the fact that this was where May spent every night, the thought so peculiar and intimate. Then the door opened, and May walked in.

  “How ironic,” he said, looking at her as she closed the door and walked slowly towards him, “that I am now in the room waiting for you to come.”

  “You put too much thought into everything,” she said softly, and to him, she looked even more beautiful in the orange-yellow glow of the candles. “Did you enjoy the party?”

  “Is that what you want to do right now? Discuss the party?” His eyes were fixed on her as she stood in front of him. “May?” he said quietly.

  “Ray?” she answered. A smile flickered and disappeared from her lips as if spooked by her sudden timidness.

  It was different this time. Their closeness. The circumstances. He knew who she was. There was a different way about her. The air of confidence and power, and it stirred him even more. Yet, there was still the shyness in her eyes that confirmed that nothing in this world could beat the power that he still had over her.

  He saw it. But it made him feel weaker. He came closer and lowered his face towards hers, paused, studying every inch of her. Amidst the smell of champagne and food and other people’s perfumes, he could trace the familiar musky scent, mulberry, water-lily. Oh, May! The scent triggered his mind with familiar memories.

  His fingers traced her cheek, the jawline, the chin, enjoying the familiar sensation. Brushed over her lips as her eyelashes fluttered timidly at his touch. Her eyes searched his face for the sings of what was on his mind. And when she didn’t find them, she took a step closer and kissed him.

  Softly.

  Slowly.

  As if the kiss asked what was next.

  So much passion just hours ago, and now, when they were finally alone, they were careful.

  He pulled away and looked at her, and their eyes locked again. His dark ones, pulling her in, and hers, grey, melting his heart, glistening with the reflection of the candlelight. As if they could communicate without speaking. He kissed her again, deeper this time, pulled her closer, and her body gave in to his, her fingers sliding into his hair. His tongue, so warm, so familiar, was stroking hers, doing the dance of passion, every wave drowning her mind with blind desire, like a drug, sipping into her bloodstream, soaking the junction of her thighs with the wave of want. Her fingers found the buttons of his waistcoat and the shirt, trying to reach the warm skin. And he started taking her clothes off, bit by bit, in quick movements as if he knew her by heart, his kisses covering every part of her skin free of cover. His fingers worked in sync with his mouth. The bodice slid off her shoulder—and he traced her collarbone with kisses. The dress slipped off—and his mouth found the soft skin of her round breasts, gently tugging with his lips at the hardened nipples. He made his way down to her navel until he was on his knees, and pulled the rest of her clothes to the ground, kissing her thighs, then slid off her stocking and set her foot on the ground gently as if he was handling a precious piece, then did the same to her other one.

  He was burning up with desire, but more than anything, he wanted to please her, to show her what she had been missing. His mouth came back up to her thighs, and he kissed the inside of them, nudging his head in, pushing her legs apart. His hair brushed against the brown curls around her sex, and he felt her nudge towards him, her heavy breath the sign of her impatience.

  He hooked her one leg behind the knee, lifted it and planted her foot on his shoulder, opening her wider to him, and when his kisses, more intense now, went higher up her inner thigh, he felt the soft skin slick with wetness, and that told him everything he needed to know. His mouth opened wider and mounted the spot between her legs that breathed warmth and moisture, his tongue soft but insistent, swallowing her nectar, soothing her throbbing.

  She moaned, loudly, forcefully.

  God, how he missed this moan!

  Her smell.

  Her taste.

  Her body, so responsive in his hands.

  Her hand dug into his hair as his tongue applied more pressure, sliding up and closing with his lips on her little clit, as she arched her back in pleasure.

  “Ray! Don’t stop! Please!” she whispered in sharp breaths.

  He could feel her legs shaking, her hips moving, trying to open wider. He stood up abruptly and picked her up. C
arried her like a volcano to the bedroom bench and lay her there. In one swift movement, he hooked her legs behind the knees and raised them into the air exposing all her charms to him. His mouth went at her private part again and took it in.

  “Oh, God!” she exhaled with pleasure. “Don’t stop!”

  Oh, he wasn’t going to! His hands were holding both legs bent at the knees up in the air, her white thighs, like the wings of a butterfly, splayed in front of him, and the core, like a beautiful ornament, swollen and wet with desire.

  She was beautiful! Her hair, still done, but with loose strands splayed around—the sign of their passion.

  “Please, don’t stop,” she repeated, and he attacked her beautiful bud again, licking at her wetness, every move of his tongue resonating with her moans. His one hand left her thigh, and he slipped the middle finger inside of her, and she cried out. Her arms went flying above her head, and she clung to the sides of the bench. Lord Ashbee’s finger kept gently pushing into her with the rhythmic strokes, and his tongue slid between the beautiful lips of her sex, around the clit, over it. He felt her hips move along with his finger. Her whisper-moans got heavier, her hips trembled, and in seconds, the room echoed with her loud moans, one after another.

  “How can you be so patient?” she panted, hurriedly unbuttoning his trousers, and finally freed his erection, hard as a rock. “Ray…” she whispered.

  “Mmm,” he exhaled into her mouth as her one hand wrapped around his swollen member, moving up and down, gliding over the tip of it, and the other cupped his balls. She tilted her hips upwards to reach his sex and moved them up and down his length, wetting it.

  Oh, how he missed her hands and her fine sex! He moaned, pushing with his hips. His hand slipped down to hers, and for a second wrapped on top of it over his erection, guiding her, then he pulled himself out of her grip and down to her entrance and penetrated her in one swift move. She cried out, but he didn’t stop, instead, pushed again, and again, rose above her and saw her gaping mouth and the eyes half-closed with pleasure.