As if in a trance, she did as he bid. She could feel his fingers on the buttons of her gown, undoing each one. She was breathing deep, nervous, frightened, and excited.
She felt his fingers moving down her back, flicking each button until her gown was gaping. She pressed her hands against her bosom to keep it from falling off.
Gently he nudged her back around. Her back was cold, her front was hot. Jacob stepped back, his gaze raking her from head to foot. She stood there self-consciously, holding her gown to her, knowing that she was vulnerable, but feeling safe with Jacob.
“Let it go,” he said.
She let out the breath she had been holding and slowly moved her arm so her gown slipped farther down, caught on her bosom, and hung there for a moment before the weight of the fabric carried it all the way to the ground, where it pooled around her feet.
She wasn’t completely naked, but she felt like it. She stood there in her undergarments, blinking, not knowing what to do.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
He took the tie to her chemise between two fingers, lightly tugging until the bow slowly came undone, and it gaped open. Then he stepped around her and tugged on the laces of her corset, loosening it gently until she could pull in a deep breath without feeling as if her ribs were going to break. The corset fell to the ground, and she was only in her chemise as he stepped back around to face her.
With trembling hands she tugged on his cravat and drew it from around his neck, letting it flutter to the ground to meet her gown and corset. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, taking several attempts with each button to slide it through the buttonhole. Slowly she pulled his shirt from his trousers. Staring into his eyes she ran her hands up his torso. She could feel him pull in a deep breath and hold it. His eyes had gone dark, and he was breathing heavily between gritted teeth as her hands slid up to his shoulders and she pushed his shirt off. He flicked both of his hands, and the shirt fell away from him, and suddenly he was standing before her, his chest naked. A small fur of dark hair sprinkled his chest, arrowing down to disappear into his trousers. Surprisingly his shoulders were well rounded and muscular and his stomach ridged.
His trousers protruded where his manhood lay, and she quickly looked away from that. She was uneducated in the ways of sexual relations, but she wasn’t completely naive. She knew how all of the parts fit together.
“Let’s get in bed,” he said.
She climbed into the bed where she quickly pulled the blankets up to her chin. Jacob shucked off his trousers, and she caught a brief glimpse of his bobbing manhood as he climbed into bed beside her. It looked large and red, like it was angry.
Jacob lay on his side. “It’s been a long time for me,” he said. “I don’t know how long I can last.”
She frowned, not understanding what he meant, but thinking that he was trying to tell her that he had not had relations with a woman since Cora, and apparently that made things go quickly?
Beneath the covers he pulled up her chemise, and his fingers brushed against her naked thigh. She drew in a breath and let the sensation of his fingers overtake her. He was gentle, barely touching her, moving closer to her center where she was throbbing.
Ever so softly his fingers ran over the hair there, and she gasped. He was staring at her, judging her every expression. Very slowly he parted her in that most intimate spot and touched the inner part of her. It made her jump.
“My God,” he whispered. “You are so slick.”
She supposed that was good.
Ever so gently he pushed his finger in, rubbing her nub. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she was embarrassed to hear herself moan out load. Her eyes popped open to see him grinning.
“It’s fine. You can make as much noise as you like.”
Her cheeks felt hot, and she realized she was blushing, but the sensation between her legs was impossible to ignore, and she discovered that her legs were moving on their own to give him more room.
Gently he inserted a finger into her passage, and while rubbing her nubbin he slid his finger in and out. She moaned again. The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before. It was beautiful, marvelous, but also frustrating. She was reaching for something. She just knew that there was more to this, but it was elusive. Her hips began to move in rhythm to his finger. She was gasping now, her hips pumping. She reached down and wrapped her hands around his wrist to keep him there, afraid he would stop before she reached whatever it was she was reaching for.
And this coil of need tightened and tightened and tightened until she didn’t think she could stand it anymore. Her hips were coming off the bed, and her moan was one continuous sound.
And then it broke, and she was so surprised that she cried out, much louder than she had anticipated, but it was as if she had no control over anything anymore. It was like a wave of sensation that washed over her, tossing her from side to side. She ground her hips into his hand. The world turned white, then black, then white again, and that need swirled over her until it was all she could feel, think, and hear.
And then it slowly abated, her hips moved to slow pumps as tremors took over. There was a quivering deep inside of her, and she opened her eyes to find Jacob hovering above her.
With teeth gritted he swung one leg over her until he had mounted her, and with a strangled, “I’m sorry,” his manhood entered her.
She cried out at the swift, sharp pain. Jacob moaned and seated himself all the way inside of her. She felt so full, like she was stretched to capacity and would split in half if he moved.
She was panting, trying to keep the pain at bay, trying to grab onto the sensations she’d had right before the pain, but they were elusive.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he brushed her hair back from her face. And then he started moving, and his face contorted as if he were in pain as well. But he was moaning like she had been moaning, and she suspected that he wasn’t in pain, but rather experiencing the pleasure that she had just experienced.
The pain lessened to a dull sting, and she watched his face, mesmerized as it contorted. He moved faster, and she instinctively put her hands on his hips, feeling the pumping motion both inside and outside of her. He was pushing her into the mattress, and she widened her legs to accommodate him.
“I can’t… Oh, God, Charlotte.” He moved faster and gasped, groaned, then shouted and surged forward. Warm liquid shot into her, and she felt his manhood pulse over and over as he groaned with each thrust.
Sticky wetness flowed out of her, wetting her thighs, and Jacob rolled away, slipping out of her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jacob struggled to breathe as he stared at the canopy above them. He couldn’t look at Charlotte just yet.
Even though his head told him that Cora would want him to move on, he still felt a certain amount of guilt.
“Why did you say you were sorry?” Charlotte asked, bringing him back to the present. Back to his new wife.
His new wife.
This marriage was his idea. He was the one who had pushed for it. Hell, he was the one who could barely walk home for want of Charlotte. Now was not the time for regrets.
And there were no regrets. He was just struggling with the fact that his past was obstructing his present.
“I said I was sorry because I knew I was going to hurt you. I should have warned you ahead of time.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” She grinned. “The pain was a good tradeoff.”
“Ah, Charlotte,” he said softly. “You won’t always feel the pain. That was just a one-time experience. From here on out it will all feel good.” He would make sure of it. He would assure that there was no more pain for her.
He slipped from the bed and padded across the room, well aware that he was completely naked and that she was watching him. Sometimes he forgot that he was still a young man, in the prime of his life. The death of his family had aged him, made him feel that he was older than time. Charlotte made him f
eel younger.
He grabbed a wash rag, dipped it in the basin of water, and made his way back to bed.
“I apologize that this will be cold. I should have thought ahead and warmed the water.” He tugged on the blanket, releasing it from her white-knuckled grip.
“What are you doing?” There was a note of panic to her voice as she grabbed for the trailing sheets. He shushed her, taking the cloth and cleaning between her thighs.
“Sometimes there is blood,” he explained.
“Blood?” She craned her head to see what he was doing and then let her head fall back to the pillow and closed her eyes, throwing an arm over them. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered. “Please.”
Finished, he pulled the covers up to her chin. “All done.”
She lifted her arm to look at him from beneath. “You’re a good man, Jacob.”
He put the cloth back, pulled on his own night dress, and came back to bed. There were times he liked to believe that he was a good man, but mostly he thought that he wasn’t because he hadn’t been able to save Cora or their son.
He rolled to his side and curled an arm around her waist, dragging her close to him. “Sleep,” he said.
She settled into him and sighed. Jacob let the events of the day drag him into a deep slumber.
He awoke the next morning fully aroused and tried to ease away from Charlotte, knowing it was far too soon to have relations with her again, but she was already awake, turned to her side, looking at him. Her hair was sticking up in the back like birds’ feathers, and her eyes were soft and sleepy.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning.” He tried rolling away to keep his predicament from her.
“I guess this is our second day of marriage,” she said.
“Yes, it is.”
“How… Um… How often do we do what we did last night?”
Jacob closed his eyes and tried not to groan. He was in some amount of pain. Now that his body remembered what it was like to have a woman, it wanted more.
“W—” He cleared his throat. “We can do it as often, or as little, as you like.”
“What is normal?”
Good God.
“I suppose normal is whatever we deem it to be.”
“Can we do it again?”
“Now?”
“Oh.” A crease formed between her brows. “Is that wrong?”
“I just thought that it might be too soon for you.”
She glanced down at his erection, prominent through the blankets. “But not too soon for you.”
“Charlotte…”
“I want to do it again. I…liked it.”
“I liked it, too,” he admitted.
“My aunt would call it sinful. Fornicating is only allowed for begetting children. One shouldn’t enjoy it.”
“First of all, you are forbidden to say the word ‘fornicating’ ever again.”
She burst out in a laugh and ended in a giggle, covering her mouth with the blanket, her eyes dancing above.
“I will never say that word again,” she said. “I’ve never liked it anyway.”
“And let’s not mention your aunt while we are in bed together.”
Her eyes crinkled. “I agree.”
He rolled toward her and winced at his painful erection. “Let’s not mention your aunt unless we absolutely have to.”
She made a motion of locking her lips and throwing away the key. Jacob reached for her to kiss her. He loved kissing Charlotte. She was so receptive to his kisses, to his touch, to everything. She was animated and full of life, and he loved everything about her.
She reached between them to skim his erection with the back of her knuckles.
“Be careful,” he warned. “It might end before it even starts.”
“It’s very hard,” she said in wonder.
“Good God, woman.”
“Am I not supposed to say that?”
“You can say anything you want. You just surprise me sometimes.”
“Can I touch it again?” Her eyes were full of wonder, and her breath was becoming shallow, as if she were excited as well.
He gritted his teeth and braced himself for her touch. She explored him with her fingertips, all of the ridges and dips and hollows. With just one finger she touched his tip, making him jump.
“Oh.” She pulled back and grinned, then reached out and touched him again.
Jacob ran his fingers through the hair between her legs and found her wet again. He was astonished at how ready she was after such a short time. He gently touched her hidden nub, and she gasped. He pulled away, thinking he’d hurt her since she had to be tender down there.
“Do it again,” she said.
Instead he slid down the bed, pulling the covers over his head as he settled between her legs.
“Jacob! What are you doing?” She grabbed his ears and tried to pull him up, but he nudged her legs apart and blew on her curls.
She stilled. “Oh. Oh.”
Jacob flicked his tongue out to lick her. She gasped, and her hands went from his ears to cup his head, locking him in place. Separating her slit with his tongue, he sucked her nubbin, and she squirmed beneath him. He began a rhythmic sucking, and her hips moved with him. He could hear her moaning above him. Her movements made his cock rub against the bedsheets, and it took every ounce of self-control to not lose his seed all over the bed.
She was so responsive to him and quickly was racing toward her completion, grinding her puss into his face, rocking her hips until she went rigid, and he heard her muffled scream. She contracted around his finger, and he almost lost his self-control right then.
He surged up and buried himself in her, closing his eyes as her tight warmth folded around him like a glove. His entire body bore down. His eyes lost focus, and everything around him dissolved. It was as if every bit of him had drained out of him, and he went limp.
“My God,” he said. “My God.”
It had never been like this for him before. Never had he felt this way when he’d made love to Cora. This was so different. So wild. He couldn’t even name it, but he knew he wanted it over and over again.
Charlotte was also breathing hard, her chest heaving.
“I think…” She licked her lips, took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to think, but that was the most amazing experience ever. You’re right. It does get better.”
He laughed and threw his arm over his eyes. He had no idea what to do with this new wife of his, but he knew that he wanted to love her well, every single night.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A few days later Charlotte was in the upstairs private sitting room when Mrs. Smith came in all breathless, her dust cloth waving. “You have callers.”
Charlotte shut the book she’d been reading, a mystery that she had purchased from the bookstore.
“Callers?” she asked, confused. “Here? For me?”
Mrs. Smith nodded, a look of almost terror on her face. Jacob had to have had callers before. This couldn’t be the first time Mrs. Smith had to accept a caller.
“Where do we put them?” Charlotte asked.
“I don’t know. I guess in his lordship’s office.”
Charlotte closed her eyes. “We have to get a better formal receiving room.” Then she looked at Mrs. Smith in horror. “Who is it?”
What if it was someone she didn’t want to see? She wasn’t really prepared to come out into Society as the Countess of Ashland just yet. She didn’t know how to act like a countess!
And here she thought she could educate American girls on the aristocratic ways.
“The ladies—” Mrs. Smith squeezed her eyes shut as if she was trying to recall exactly the names of the women downstairs. “Crawford. The ladies Crawford. A lady and her daughter.”
Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. Sarah and her mother. She’d known them practically her whole life. They wouldn’t expect her to act any differently.
“Do you
have tea and food to serve them?”
Mrs. Smith nodded so vigorously that her cap slipped over her eye.
Charlotte took a deep breath. “Then I will greet my very first callers.”
She found them in Jacob’s office—thank goodness he was out at business meetings today or they would have had to kick him out of his office. Sarah immediately went to Charlotte and gave her a warm hug. Her mother, Lady Crawford, was a little more reserved in her greeting but still warm.
“Congratulations on your marriage,” Lady Crawford said. “Your mother would be proud.”
Charlotte’s throat tightened unexpectedly at the mention of her mother. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh, I know so, dear. She would have been proud of everything you have done.”
Charlotte blinked the wetness from her eyes. “Thank you for saying that.”
“She was a beautiful bride,” Sarah said, causing Charlotte to blush.
Mrs. Smith bustled in with tea and put it on Jacob’s desk, and Charlotte realized that they were all still standing.
“I apologize that I don’t have a proper sitting room,” she said. “I guess we’ll have to make do.”
“This was a bachelor’s home for so long,” Lady Crawford said. “It will be good to bring a feminine touch to it. It will give you something to work on while Lord Ashland is busy with other things.”
“Yes.” They all sat in uncomfortable straight-backed chairs. What would her life be like if she stayed on as the Countess of Ashland? What would she do with herself all day?
Lady Crawford was an excellent conversationalist, and for the next twenty minutes or so the three of them caught up on each other’s lives. When the two women stood to leave, Charlotte was sad to see them go.
“If you need anything,” Lady Crawford said, “you just let me know. It must be hard without a mother to guide you through all of this, being a new countess and a new wife.”
Charlotte couldn’t express her gratitude in words because her throat had closed up. It’d been so long since she’d seen Lady Crawford that she’d forgotten just how kind she was.
An Unwilling Earl Page 17
