away, until she had him wrapped up in knots so tight that he had not been able to escape her.
Truth to tell, he had never wanted to escape her. If she had not died, he would be with her still, as faithful as he had been since he first met her and fell in love with her, harder and faster than he would have believed. With one sideways look from her dark eyes, she had set his head to spinning. Only her death could have chased him halfway around the world, away from the land he loved and back to cold, gray England.
Girls in England, he had been warned, were not like Maya. They were as cold and passionless as the cold, gray English skies. Water, not blood, ran through their veins. The only thing that could put a fire in their eyes and in their bellies was the prospect of marrying a man with money, lots of money. Everything else left them unmoved. They submitted to a man’s embrace only for the sake of capturing a wealthy husband.
The avid-eyed matrons he had met, eligible daughters in tow, only confirmed those warnings. The gleam of greed that he saw sparkle in the eyes of every seemingly demure young virgin he met had given him a decided distaste for English girls.
Until he met Caroline. In her, he had found the exception that proved the rule. She had not asked a single delicate yet probing question as to the state of his finances or the creditworthiness of his investments. His prospects, the ready cash held for him in the bank of England, were of no interest to her.
No, from the expression in her eyes, she had only ever been interested in him, Dominic the man. She did not care about Dominic the newly arrived from India tycoon with business interests in half the railways in England. Chances were she did not even know. Emboldened by the smoldering desire he espied in her, he’d had the temerity to introduce himself, after all, rather than making use of a go-between. No friendly acquaintance had pointed him out to her as a good catch, encouraging her to wangle an introduction, an invitation to dance, and a chance to flutter her eyelashes at him.
He would wager that Caroline Clemens never fluttered her eyelashes. She had too much pride in her self-worth to make use of such a transparent and silly ploy. Honesty and directness was more her style.
She had captivated him with the plain expression of her wants and desires, especially seeing as he had figured largely in those wants of hers. Enticement, not submission, was her game.
Although he had certainly wanted her, he was not the only culpable party. Not content with being a passive recipient of his attentions, she had urged him on, moaning and clutching at him and leaving him in no doubt as to what she needed. His tongue was in her mouth and his cock was sunk deep into her pussy before he’d had time to think better of his impetuous actions.
She had welcomed his fucking, maybe hoping that he would be in a position to help ease her financial troubles, but first and foremost because she had desired him.
He turned his pillow over, trying in vain to ignore the insistent throbbing in his groin that assaulted him whenever he thought of Caroline. The damned pillow refused to mold comfortably to his head. It was so hard and lumpy the damned innkeeper must have filled it with gravel. The lack of such a basic creature comfort as a decent down pillow did not improve his temper any.
He reached down and stroked his cock, hardened by thoughts of Caroline. Damn it, if he couldn’t have her in his bed right now, he could think of her while he pleasured himself.
He could remember the taste of her pussy and the tightness of her cunt as he thrust his cock into it. He could imagine the sounds she would make as he undressed her until she was naked for him. Laying her on the bed, he would part her nether lips and thrust first one finger and then another inside her, fucking her gently with his hands. Only when she was dripping wet and begging for him to come on
Truth to tell, he had never wanted to escape her. If she had not died, he would be with her still, as faithful as he had been since he first met her and fell in love with her, harder and faster than he would have believed. With one sideways look from her dark eyes, she had set his head to spinning. Only her death could have chased him halfway around the world, away from the land he loved and back to cold, gray England.
Girls in England, he had been warned, were not like Maya. They were as cold and passionless as the cold, gray English skies. Water, not blood, ran through their veins. The only thing that could put a fire in their eyes and in their bellies was the prospect of marrying a man with money, lots of money. Everything else left them unmoved. They submitted to a man’s embrace only for the sake of capturing a wealthy husband.
The avid-eyed matrons he had met, eligible daughters in tow, only confirmed those warnings. The gleam of greed that he saw sparkle in the eyes of every seemingly demure young virgin he met had given him a decided distaste for English girls.
Until he met Caroline. In her, he had found the exception that proved the rule. She had not asked a single delicate yet probing question as to the state of his finances or the creditworthiness of his investments. His prospects, the ready cash held for him in the bank of England, were of no interest to her.
No, from the expression in her eyes, she had only ever been interested in him, Dominic the man. She did not care about Dominic the newly arrived from India tycoon with business interests in half the railways in England. Chances were she did not even know. Emboldened by the smoldering desire he espied in her, he’d had the temerity to introduce himself, after all, rather than making use of a go-between. No friendly acquaintance had pointed him out to her as a good catch, encouraging her to wangle an introduction, an invitation to dance, and a chance to flutter her eyelashes at him.
He would wager that Caroline Clemens never fluttered her eyelashes. She had too much pride in her self-worth to make use of such a transparent and silly ploy. Honesty and directness was more her style.
She had captivated him with the plain expression of her wants and desires, especially seeing as he had figured largely in those wants of hers. Enticement, not submission, was her game.
Although he had certainly wanted her, he was not the only culpable party. Not content with being a passive recipient of his attentions, she had urged him on, moaning and clutching at him and leaving him in no doubt as to what she needed. His tongue was in her mouth and his cock was sunk deep into her pussy before he’d had time to think better of his impetuous actions.
She had welcomed his fucking, maybe hoping that he would be in a position to help ease her financial troubles, but first and foremost because she had desired him.
He turned his pillow over, trying in vain to ignore the insistent throbbing in his groin that assaulted him whenever he thought of Caroline. The damned pillow refused to mold comfortably to his head. It was so hard and lumpy the damned innkeeper must have filled it with gravel. The lack of such a basic creature comfort as a decent down pillow did not improve his temper any.
He reached down and stroked his cock, hardened by thoughts of Caroline. Damn it, if he couldn’t have her in his bed right now, he could think of her while he pleasured himself.
He could remember the taste of her pussy and the tightness of her cunt as he thrust his cock into it. He could imagine the sounds she would make as he undressed her until she was naked for him. Laying her on the bed, he would part her nether lips and thrust first one finger and then another inside her, fucking her gently with his hands. Only when she was dripping wet and begging for him to come on
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