The Truth by Jane Lark ~ a free book exclusive to my blog ~ part thirty-seven

The Truth

© Jane Lark Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark,

this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14,15,16,17,18 ,19,20,21,22,23,24,25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36

*** Before you begin reading this week’s episode here is a warning***

If you read my books you will know that they are very passionate in places, sometimes early on in a story and sometimes later, depending on the nature of the characters, and in this story we have reached that stage so if you dislike an open bedroom door then from this point forward I’d suggest you only read the posts without a warning

Emerald

She could not imagine herself doing this with any other man, she could picture none of the young men she had spoken to at home being capable of creating the fire that was melting her on the inside – and the room was crowded with Richard’s particular aura of power and command. She may have been wary of him before this voyage but now she was in awe of him, like everyone else.

His mouth covered hers, taking control of the kiss she’d begun and stealing her breath from her mouth. Her fingers ran over his velvety skin feeling the lines of muscle and sinew beneath and the coarse hair on his chest brushed against one of her breasts. Her skin tingled as his thigh pressed between hers.

The little death. When he’d done that to her, it had begun as a delirious pain then a wild fire had caught her alight. It had skimmed across her skin and raced through her nerves, in a miraculous phenomenon. He broke the kiss, pulling away by inches, leaning up on one elbow. His face was in shadow as his breath brushed over cheek. “Emma, you are sure?” The pressure of his thigh and his knee seemed to push for her legs to be parted wider. She wanted the part them. Her whole body ached for him to be in a position between her legs with an instinctive desire she could not have dreamed of.

“Yes. I am sure.” she was – she was sure. “Please.” Her body arched against his thigh.

A long breathy sound came from his mouth as he moved over her, while she opened her legs as wide as she could to make space for him there.

His dark eyes glittered as they caught a touch of moonlight while he positioned himself. She could feel the first touch of his body against her, between her legs. It was a soft touch. “Emma, I love you,” There was a husky lilt of emotion in his voice. Then he thrust into her – piercing her, lancing into her with a sharp hard pain. It ripped her, tearing through her. She cried out, unable to hold it back as she clasped his arms, her fingernails digging into his skin. Then she bit her lip hard and shut her eyes fighting against the pain. It hurt. She felt stretched and torn.

He lowered his body to cover hers, though some of his weight was on his hands, and his nose brushed her cheek, stroking, then he kissed her cheek before whispering, “I will make this right, Emma, I swear it to you. When we reach England I will make you my wife. I would do so on the ship, but I wish to save your reputation, we cannot give your family a fait accompli, you are not of age, it should look right. I will seek permission and marry you properly in England. But for now, Emma…” He kissed her cheek again then lifted up a little. She opened her eyes “Emma Martin, I give you my life, I pledge it to you. We are married in my eyes from today. I love you.”

Oh God, she loved him too. Richard Farrow was hers! He had pledged himself to her! The man that every one of her friends in Calcutta had wanted and she had never liked. Her heart skipped and danced. He was inside her now, bedding her as a husband would a wife.

She reached up and brushed his hair off his brow. “My name is Emerald.”

“What?” His eyes looked his confusion.

“My name is Emerald. Emma is an abbreviation my mother and father have always used, but my name is Emerald.” She couldn’t say why it was important to her that he knew but it was. If he was committing himself to her she wanted him to know who she really was. Her parents had named her as a jewel of India. They’d thought her precious and they’d been so in love with each other and the country they’d made their home, full of exotic colours and spices and people, they had given her an exotic name, but they had always kept that side of them private. She’d only ever been Emma before anyone else. She wanted to be Emerald to Mark.

“Emerald Martin,” he whispered down at her in a solemn husky tone. “I promise to love you forever, to cherish and keep you. I give you my life no matter what fate may throw at us.”

“Richard Farrow,” she whispered back. Richard Farrow! She was swept away and the waves and stunned by this, it was so hard to think it was real. “I will love you forever. I shall be your wife and I give you my life, and my body and myself.”

“I love you,” he said again as he began to withdraw from her slowly and carefully. Her fingers held on to his arms, as he lifted his weight from her and she fought the new surge of pain. He slid out to his very tip.

She gritted her teeth, preparing for his next invasion. It came swiftly, mercilessly, as he thrust inward. “Hold on,” he whispered, “relax and the pain will ease.”

She tried to relax, slackening the muscle in her thighs as he withdrew again, with agonising slowness. Then he thrust in. The air left her lungs on a whoosh of breath and he was withdrawing again before she knew it. She clung on to his arms, with her eyes shit, and her teeth pressing into her lower lip as he plunged in once more. “Ahh.” She could not help it the cry escaped as the sensation became both pain and a strange pleasure.

“Remember to be quiet, my love.”

She nodded as he withdrew.

“Richard,” she whispered up at him as he took possession of her once more and the pain eased a little more.

“Richard?” The amazement of what she was discovering resonated in her voice.

Oh Lord. Oh Heavens. His invasion now was blissful and the sensation of being stretched seemed to whisper into every muscle she had.

Her hips pressed upward to receive him, pushing back against him as her heels sank into the mattress. A low growl left his throat.

“Ah.” The sound of pleasure slipped from her lips as his pace increased, firm and hard, rubbing her internally as his fingers had done before. He was taking her towards the little death again – racing her towards it.

“Ah.” The sound became louder as he pushed in to his fullest depth and his pelvic bone struck hers.

“Hush,” he whispered to her ear. “Joseph is above.” She nodded as he withdrew, biting on her lower lip again, but as he thrust into her again, she cried out. She could not help it.

A sound that was more like humour escaped his throat, then his hand covered her mouth, gently smothering her sounds as his pace increased and he began to thrust into her more firmly and quickly as though he was forcing her toward the little death.

Her cries rang out muffled beneath his hand.

“Let it come,” he whispered to her ear. “Fall.”

Five – six – more thrusts, and then she did fall, tumbling from a cliff. Grasping even tight at his arms and biting the skin of his palm that covered her mouth. Blissful sensations swept through her limbs, like a boar tide washing into the dock and her body shook and delicious pain slipped through her blood.

In the darkness behind her closed eyelids she could not imagine any of the men she had spoken to in Calcutta knowing how to bring to teach a woman the little death. Richard Farrow was a master at everything. And now he was master of her.

“Emma, Emerald,” he said quietly. He’d stopped moving inside her.

Richard

“Emma. Emerald.” She was his jewel. His treasure. He’d claimed her. No one else could have her now. And she was wonderful, everything he’d imagined her to be – brave, adventurous and passionate. He’d felt her burn and die for him. “Put your legs about my hips.”

Her silk soft thighs lifted and embraced him as he’d asked, just as she had done in his fantasy for weeks. Her thighs gripped his waist and her shins crossed over the flesh of his buttocks. He moved slowly then, slowly in and slowly out, teasing her sensitive nerves, lifted his hand from her mouth and kissed her to hold her silent.

She was delicious – his siren – a drug passing by osmosis into his blood – a charm weaving about him. Mentally he was on his knees before her. “Emerald.” he whispered, into her mouth, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“It cannot be as much as I love you, no one has loved as I love you.”

She laughed, quietly, her breasts wobbling against his chest as the ship rocked from side to side.

Her fingers embraced the back of his head as he withdrew and pressed into her again. “Richard Farrow is mine.” It was a statement that rang with victory.

Yet he was, absolutely and completely, he would not deny it. The pressure of her fingers pulled him down and brought his mouth to hers again and he kissed her as he worked more quickly, to reach his conclusion, hoping that she might find another too.

She went over the edge in moments, her fluid warmth flooding about his intrusion while her inner muscle clasped and the feel of her release brought on his own, tumbling him into oblivion with her.

When the ecstasy faded he slid free of her body, rolled to his side and then drew her close, his limbs heavy. He laid side-on beside her in the narrow bunk with her breath brushing against his chest as sleep began to creep over him. But he could not fall asleep she had to go back. He kissed the crown of her head. “Emma, you have to go. We can’t risk you being caught here if we fall asleep.”

“I am languid and happy here, let me stay, I am tired.”

“Come on, Emerald, my love” he kissed her shoulder. “You need to get back to your own bed before Rita sees you are gone or we fall asleep and Joseph walks in here to wake me in the morning and discovers you.”

He lifted her leg and turned her, to move her off the bed. She gave into his pressing and got up then picked up her nightgown from the floor. It was rolled up then places over her head then it sheathed her in one fluid movement as he stood up. He walked over to the door without attempting to cover himself.

She began buttoning up her nightdress her eyes on him as he opened the door into the day cabin and stood in front of it to hold it wide. He looked out into the room just in case there was anything in there. “Do the rest of your buttons up in your room, run along.”

“Yes, Cap’ain,” she answered, mocking the commanding tone that he’d used and bobbing a mocking, insulting curtsey as her fingers let go of her buttons, her nightgown revealing the first curves of her breasts. When she straightened she came towards him, to do as he’d asked and leave. But he reached out and stopped her before she could walk past him and drew her mouth to his with a palm at the back of her head drawing her mouth to his. “Minx,” he said against her lips before he kissed her again. When he broke the kiss he said, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She slipped free from his hold and ran across the moonlight day cabin to the door leading into her cabin.

He breathed out. His life had entirely changed this night.

To be continued…

The Marlow Intrigues: Perfect for lovers of period drama, like Victoria and Poldark.

The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel #1 ~ A Christmas Elopement began it all

The Illicit Love of a Courtesan #2

Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ A Free Novella #2.5

The Passionate Love of a Rake #3

The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ A second Free Novella #3.5

The Scandalous Love of a Duke #4

The Dangerous Love of a Rogue #5

The Jealous Love of a Scoundrel #5.5

The Persuasive Love of a Libertine #5.75 now included in Jealous Love, (or free if you can persuade Amazon to price match with Kobo ebooks) 😉

The Secret Love of a Gentleman #6

The Reckless Love of an Heir #7

Jane’s books can be ordered from most booksellers in paperback and, yes, there are more to come

Go to the index

For

the story of the real courtesan who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
another free short story, about characters from book #2, A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
the prequel excerpts for book #3 The Scandalous Love of a Duke

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark

The Truth by Jane Lark ~ a free book exclusive to my blog ~ part thirty-six

The Truth

© Jane Lark Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark,

this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16,17,18 ,19,20,21,22,23,24,25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35

shutterstock_8588308_rendered

I thought we’d have an extra post tonight.

*** Before you begin reading this week’s episode here is a warning***

Richard

Emerald looked at him with an expression that gloated and glowed with success as she moved from beneath him, getting up to take off her nightdress, as ordered.

“We will need to be quiet,” he whispered as she stood. “Joseph is on the deck above.”

Her fingers lifted to the buttons at the neck of her nightgown and began sliding each one free, slowly. His siren. Was she deliberately tormenting him or was it uncertainty? Did she even know what happened between a man and a woman in a bed?

When the buttons were free the material hung open to her stomach, with far more buttons undone than needed to be. She smiled at him as her long slender fingers grasped the cloth covering her thighs and then in one swift movement she pulled the nightdress up and over her head.

He felt as though someone had thrown him into the sea or pushed him off the rigging. He was in awe of her, stunned into silence, as she stood there in the moonlight and let him look. She was beautiful, tall and slender, but not thin, she had soft tempting curves in her hips and her thighs that had been hidden by her skirt and petticoats. Her body called for his hands while her small pert breasts begged for his mouth as her nipples protruded from their crests.

Her hand rose and swept her long hair off one shoulder. She stood before him without shame. Where had she learned to be so brazen? Swimming with servants…

“Emma.” He lifted his hand, calling her back to him. Now he did not want her to go. Now he was only desperate for her to stay. All his thoughts of denial had gone. This was inevitable. He was determined to marry her anyway. What did it matter if they pre-empted the date?

He moved to let her lay down next to him, naked as he was naked. Her soft body felt cooler than his. When she looked up at him he could see no fear or reservation in her eyes – there had been none in her movements. Was it because there was a lack of knowledge, though?

He brushed her hair from her brow and touched the scar there. “If you stay in my bed and we join as a man and wife would do you know what will happen? Do you even know what you are agreeing to?” This would be her first time. What did a girl learn of such things?

Her eyes laughed at him, silver and black in the moonlight. “I am not ignorant. I have heard people speak and I have seen what animals do.”

“That is blasphemy.” He let amusement ring in his voice as he leant more across her and his fingers stroked over her brow and then her cheek. “We are not animals,” he teased in a whisper.

“We are just like them in this.” she responded, his intelligent woman who analysed life through the eyes of innocence.

“Except that we know love, do animals know love?” Before she began debating the fact, as he knew she would, he claimed her lips. Perhaps he had been like an animal in all his other encounters but not in this. This was no act of sexual gratification this was about her.

“I love you,” he whispered as he broke the kiss and looked down at her breast. He bowed his head and claimed it in his mouth. The hard bud was an erotic thing.

She moaned and her body arched up to him. His hand slipped to her narrow waist his fingers reached to the small of her back. Her hips may have been broader than he had imagined but she was still so exquisitely delicate, it felt like touching a very thin, fine, china that one held carefully so it would not break.

He slid a little down the bunk and turned his attention to her other breast, not wishing to exclude one. She laughed , a light low sound.“Mmm,” she murmured as she pressed up against his thigh. He smiled against her breast, then chased the peek of her nipple with his tongue, circling and playing. “Ahh,” another sound escaped her lips as the movement of her lower body sought to match the rhythm he’d formed earlier when he’d pressed against her. The ship gently rocked them, side to side, back and forth.

It had been years since he’d lain with a woman on one of his ships. Women were bad luck on a ship, celibacy was safer. But God on the sea every sensation seemed to multiply tenfold.

Her whole body was temptation to him. He was going to relish every inch. He slid farther down the bed and kissed the skin below her breast, then the skin beside her navel, then her navel. “You are beautiful,” he whispered, descending lower and kissing below her navel.

Her hands slid free of his hair. “So are you.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his breath stirring the hair at the juncture of her thighs.

“Yes.”

“Then lift your hands above your head and to do not try to touch me, only let me touch you.”

Her arms rose and lay where they had been when he’d held her wrists.

Yes she trusted him. What had he done in his life to deserve such a woman? He would spend his whole life worshipping her. He’d be devoted to her for evermore. He kissed the very edge of her hip, where her pelvic bone pressed against her skin, then slid lower and his hand rested on her thigh. Her knee moved outward, her legs instinctively opening. He kissed the hollow where her thigh joined her pelvis.

The muscle in her legs shivered beneath his touch as he opened her thighs wider and moved to kneel between them, looking down at her. His idol had become a sacrifice. The dampness on her skin from the warmth of the night shimmered in the moonlight adding an ethereal, otherworldly, quality to his endeavour.

He had no words – there were no words to describe how he felt. He’d never known this emotion before, it gripped about his heart like a clenching fist. His gaze lifted to her face and met hers, but then she looked down. The sheet did not cover him anymore. Her lips parted a little. She had thought she’d known – but she had not known, he could see it. There was surprise in her expression.

A smile parted his lips. This, her innocence, was a novelty he would relish. His fingertips pressed into her thighs as he pulled them wider and looked down. He leant and kissed her there, then kissed her inner thigh, then kissed her there again. Her muscles tensed, uncertain and unknowing, but he did not cease. He kissed her tenderly on the bud at the fore of her sex and relished her womanly scent and let his tongue taste, tentatively. Her whole body jolted, the surprise now definite. But he did not cease he tasted her more deeply to let her learn the feelings and grow accustomed to his presence at the apex of her thighs. Her hands came down and settled on his head.

He stopped kissing her. “Lift your arms above your head. I asked that you do not touch me.”

“Oh.” It was a huff of complaint and a sound of happiness wrapped into one as his finger slipped into her. He used his tongue and his fingers and within moments she was moaning, sighing and fidgeting. Her body rocking up against his invasion as the ship rocked them both. His free hand slid beneath her bottom and lifted her hips.

“Richard,” she whispered into the air above them, her muscles trembling.

She could not understand this – she could not know these sensations or what to expect. He was probably confusing her. If she had imagined anything when she had come to his cabin she had imagined animals.

He kissed the small bud of her sex then sucked it gently as his fingers continued their invasion. Her body shivered, despite the warm night. He was determined to help her reach a conclusion. He’d heard men say it was impossible for a virgin. He did not think it impossible for Emma with her challenging nature. He rose up and leaned over her, while his fingers continued pressing into her. He met her gaze. Her eyes were hazy with the discovery of the unknown.

Her fingers had clasped the sheet above her head but now one hand lifted again and brushed over the stubble on his jaw. He did not tell her to take her hand away.

His caress became more determined, harder and faster, sliding in and out, rubbing up against the front of her passage and pelvic bone. Her gaze fractured, losing focus and her fingers fell and cling to his shoulder. “Richard,” she begged on a harsh whisper full of doubt but then her body suddenly flushed with glistening sweat and she broke, jolting and tumbling over ecstasy’s edge. Her fingernails pressed into the skin of his shoulder and her other hand grasped at his arm as her warm fluid surrounded his fingers and her inner muscle clenched in spasm . She had done it. This innocent beauty. She could be no more precious to him.

“Emma…” He leant over her seeking permission and preparing to claim her in full.

“What was that?” she whispered, as he set his hands on the sheet beside her shoulders, his body above hers.

“The little death. Did you feel like you died?”

“And went to heaven…”

“I’ll take you to heaven again, if you stay with me now. But if you wish to leave you must say. I will let you go.”

“I do not want to go.” Her fingers touched his cheek, then slid to the back of his head and pulled him down so that he would kiss her.