by Jade Lee
He pulled back when she was so breathless that stars had formed in her vision. His own breath came in short pants, but that did not stop him from abruptly bending down and scooping her up in his arms. She didn’t cry out. She hadn’t the breath, and besides, there were people not five feet beyond her walls.
She thought he would take her to bed, but instead he carried her out of her room.
“My lord!” she squeaked.
“Shhh,” he responded as he headed down the stairs.
“But—”
“I’ll not take you on a tiny cot while worrying if we make a sound.”
She smiled and pressed her forehead to his neck. “It’s not tiny.”
“It’s not private.”
She sighed. “And yours is?”
He lifted her, angling her head so that he could kiss her again. And when she was too breathless to say more, he pulled back. “I would treat you as the queen you are.”
She touched his mouth, smiling at his words. “As long as it’s you, I don’t care where we are.”
He smiled then delicately brought her into his room. All those steps she’d counted, and she hadn’t even used one. He’d carried her the entire way, setting her gently on his massive bed. And he moved so quietly that even the dog Sophie—drowsing in her usual place by the fire—did no more than snuffle in her sleep.
Caroline settled on his bed, her eyes soaking in the sight of her fantasies. His shirt was undone, his chest revealed. She reached to touch him, stroking the planes of his muscles, feeling the soft brush of his hair. She touched burn scars and cuts, a surprising number, and she brushed apart his shirt to see more closely.
“So many wounds,” she whispered.
“Happens when you experiment with explosives,” he said as he shrugged out of his shirt. He said the words casually, and when she looked at him, she could see that he was staring. Then he touched her hair, which was tumbling about her shoulders. He brushed the strands from her face then fanned them across her back.
“I cannot believe you are finally here.”
She smiled. “I have dreamed of this.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “The devil you say.” Then he winced. “Sorry I—”
She laughed. “I like a man who curses sometimes. I like knowing I can hear his true thoughts.”
He stepped closer, tilting her head back as he bent to her lips. “My thoughts are simple, Caroline. And they all involve you.”
He gently drew her to her feet, pulling her into his arms. Then he turned her to face away from him as he undid the buttons of her gown. Instinctively, she pressed her hands to the bodice, holding her chest covered. And as the dress loosened to fall from her shoulders, she still held it in place.
He must have realized what she was doing. He must have known that she trembled not with excitement but with shame. And so he pressed a kiss to her cheek and gently touched her hands.
“I know, Caroline. It’s all right.”
“What?” she whispered.
“I saw them that other night. I know you’ve been hurt.”
She shook her head, her eyes watering with tears. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t have seen. But, of course, he had, and his fingers were insistent as he pulled her hands from her chest.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” he said against her ear. Then he tilted her head so she would look into his eyes. “You are beyond beautiful. You always have been.”
It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true, but his expression was open. He meant what he said, and the possibility that he had thought her beautiful—even knowing about her scars—made tears brim in her eyes.
And it was enough for her to lower her hands.
The gown fell away, revealing a shift and a corset pulled tight beneath her breasts. He undid the laces with quick pulls. A moment later, she was breathing deeply as he tossed the restriction away. Then, still standing behind her, he skimmed his hands up her legs. A gentle caress, a soft press, moving higher as he lifted up her shift.
She felt his hands, large and sure, as he touched her hips. He hesitated there, the hem of her shift teasing the skin at her groin. Then he flowed higher, his hands skimming across her belly before lifting up to hold her breasts.
Her body tightened, her heart beat rapidly in her throat, and as he cupped her breasts, he pulled her against him. His lips found the curve of her ear, then the sensitive flesh beneath. He nipped her there before soothing her with his tongue.
And all the while, his hands held her breasts. He caressed her there, letting her get used to his touch. Then he squeezed her nipples.
She gasped, her body jerking in reaction. It was as if he’d caught lightning in his hands, and it sizzled through her skin straight to her core. She cried out, her body moving against him while he continued what he was doing. He twisted her nipples, then pulled, and then pinched with a rhythmic beat that stole her reason.
He kept at her, holding her so tightly that she felt him push against her bottom. He was hot and large as he thrust against her, but though her lower body was naked, his pants kept her from feeling it all.
Then while she was arching against him, pressing backwards, he suddenly moved, lifting her shift up and away. She was naked now, except for her stockings and garters. She might have pulled away, but he surrounded her, and the feel of his bare chest against her back was wonderful. She felt enfolded by his strength, held tenderly against his body. And as he pressed kisses to the curve of her shoulder, his hands stroked her.
Up and down her body, her belly, and her breasts. Long, luxurious strokes that trailed fire in their wake. Then one of his arms curled around her torso. The other hand slipped down over her belly.
She cried out, the sound a soft keening, and she felt his kiss against her ear.
“Let me see this first. Let me watch you just this once.”
He turned her then, not toward him, but away so that she was revealed in his mirror. She saw herself wrapped in his arms, her white flesh surrounded by his powerful arms and golden skin.
Her gaze went first to her scars, the letters DP raised and white across her chest. But in the candlelight and with him surrounding her completely, she didn’t see them as much. His presence made them fade in her mind. And suddenly, she didn’t care. It had happened so very long ago. Her heart and mind were absorbed in this moment, so she raised her gaze to his in the mirror.
“No one has ever seen this,” she whispered, referring to her scars. “I even covered them with the doctor.”
He kissed her temple, and his arms tightened briefly around her. “You are beautiful,” he said, the statement loud enough to be a command. Then he said it again as he pressed his lips to her cheek. And this time his words were reverent. “So beautiful.”
She let his words sink into her, focused on the feel of his mouth against her, and she exhaled a sigh that was pure pleasure. Not in the excited coil of longing that still beat in her belly, but in the way of a woman dropping a burden long held. That was what he did. He took away her burden, and in this way, she felt every part of her tumble completely into love.
What she had felt before was simple adoration, perhaps a worshipful longing as a girl who yearns for a handsome man. But now, in this moment, she felt her heart well with true love. It was powerful, and it was enough that she relaxed to his command.
Then his fingers slipped between her legs. She had never felt such a thing, never had a thick calloused finger push between her thighs. And never had she felt the shocking waves of pleasure that erupted inside.
He held her, crooning against her ear as she writhed beneath him. He didn’t move his fingers from where they were pushed deep against her, and then suddenly, the waves crashed through her body. She cried out, shock and wonder reverberating in every cell of her body. He kept stroking her, kept the explosive pulses going. On and on, while she dan
ced in his arms.
Until it eased. Until he finally slid free. By then her legs were limp, but he supported her. And as the waves of delight slowed, easing enough for her to hear, she at last understood what he had been saying to her.
“So beautiful. So beautiful, my Caroline.”
She quieted, still cradled in his arms. Then she twisted enough to kiss him, long and deep. And when he pulled back, she whispered what she felt.
“I love you.”
He stilled at that, his eyes going wide. “Caroline…” he said, his voice strangled.
She didn’t want to hear his thoughts. She knew all the reasons why they could not be together beyond a short time. But for now, for whatever time they had, she wanted it all.
“Will you make love to me now?” she asked.
His gaze darkened, his nostrils flaring with hunger. Then for the second time that night, he bent and lifted her in his arms. But this time when he set her on the bed, he arranged her on the edge, her legs spread as he stood between her knees.
And while she sat there, completely open, he unbuttoned his pants and shed his clothing in quick movements. A second later, he was back between her thighs, his organ thick and large.
She touched it. She couldn’t stop herself, and he didn’t seem to mind. She stroked along the edge, feeling the ridges even as his heat seemed to sear her skin. There was moisture on the tip, and she smoothed it, rolling it around while she heard a rumble build low in his chest.
She looked at his eyes, about to voice a question, but he shook his head. “So good,” he said, his words breathless. “Very good, but I am finding it hard to wait.”
She looked at his cock as she slowly—boldly—wrapped her hand around it. She wanted to feel his girth. She wanted to measure it with her hand as she wondered if it would fit.
He let her hold him for a moment, but then the rumble became a growl. He reached for a drawer in the table beside his bed. A moment later, he opened an envelope and pulled out a sheath.
“It is called a French letter,” he said.
She nodded. She had heard of those before, but never had she seen one. And certainly, she had never seen a man pull it over his cock, smoothing it in place.
Then before she could do more, he was stroking her cheek, lifting her mouth for his kiss. She arched into him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. And as he claimed her mouth, he pressed her backward on the bed.
She went easily, loving the soft linens at her back and the hard planes of him on top. Her knees widened as his hips settled on hers. She gasped when she felt him press against her, moving slowly by tiny increments. She felt the heat of him stiffen, then quickly grow slick.
She raised her knees, her back arched as she pulled away from his mouth. She wanted to ask him a question, wanted to know if it would hurt. But she hadn’t the breath, not with him moving up and down between her folds. And then there was no more time.
He captured her mouth at the exact moment he thrust hard and fast inside.
Pain split through her mind. She cried out and jerked back at the intensity. He was so large, and she was so small. And it hurt!
He froze on top of her—inside her—and she panted as she fought through the pain. It eased quickly enough, but he was enormous.
In time, though, she grew accustomed. Eventually she was able to open her eyes and look at him. His face was set in an expression of horror, and the blood had drained from his face.
“You’re a virgin,” he said, his voice a harsh rasp.
Not anymore, she wasn’t. She thought the words, but didn’t say them. Instead, she gave him a smile. “I am your lover, Gregory. It is exactly what I wanted to be.”
His head dipped, and he closed his eyes. “You give too much,” he finally said. “Too much to me.”
“Never,” she said. “And anyway, it is mine to give.” She touched his cheek, and as she moved her arm, she was able to shift her legs. She raised her right knee to cradle him. And she shifted her other to grip him.
“Is this all?” she asked. “Or is there more?” It was a half tease. She had heard from women with good husbands how wonderful it could be, but perhaps, she had heard wrong. She hadn’t realized the pain would be so bad or that he would make her feel so stretched.
Finally, he lifted his head and pressed a slow, tender kiss to her lips. “There is more,” he said. And then, as he held her gaze, he began to move.
Six
She was a virgin.
No, he thought, as he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, she had been a virgin. Now she was his.
That thought made him smile despite the weight of guilt. He decided to focus on her instead. He would make this first time a night filled with wonder.
He moved slowly at first, the gentle slide out, the deeper heaven as he went back in. He watched her expression closely, trying to read when the pleasure overcame the pain. It was difficult to be so careful because his need was hard to ignore. Every second inside her was pure bliss, and the drive to embed himself ever deeper rode him hard.
But he kept his pace measured until her expression began the shift into surprise and then delight.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Just relax and feel this.”
He pushed in all the way, grinding his pelvis against hers. Her gasp of delight was his reward, and he knew he would remember the look on her face for the rest of his life. Her lips were red and shiny from his kisses, her mouth open in surprise. Her beautiful green eyes held his gaze, but there was a vagueness in them as she focused on what they did. Pink cheeks, a crown of glorious hair, and an arch to her neck as he increased his pace.
He would make this good for her. He would wait until she was ready. But damn, the patience was difficult to maintain.
Then she did something incredible, something that shredded his control. She focused on him and whispered one throaty word.
“More.”
And in case he hadn’t been electrified by that one word, she squeezed her thighs around him, increasing his thrust until he slammed against her.
Pleasure made her gasp at the impact, and Gregory could not stop what happened next. Not if his life depended on it.
He rose up higher on her body, lifting his hips to give himself more room. And then he pounded into her, over and over, while she made tiny cries of delight. The sensation rippled along his flesh, sizzling in his blood.
The beat of impact and slide overrode all thoughts. He thrust. She gasped.
Then she contracted around him. Like a sweet, hot fist that gripped everything he was and held it to her.
His mind went white.
His body became hers.
And he erupted, giving her his all.
***
She murmured something, her body warm in his arms as he carried her quietly up the stairs. She twined her arms around his neck then lifted her mouth to nibble his neck.
His breath caught, but he made no sound beyond that. He would not risk her being caught like this: naked, her clothing piled neatly on top of her belly, as he carried her to her room.
But then her hand slipped to caress his chest, a nail flicking across his nipple. She learned fast, the little minx, and his arms tightened their hold as he slipped into her bedroom.
“Stay with me,” she murmured as he settled her on her cot.
Good lord, he was tempted. But there were limits to his endurance, even with her. After he had taken her virginity, he had cleaned her, washing her gently. The sight of the blood on her thighs made him clench his jaw in guilt. He had never taken a virgin, never thought to do such a thing outside of his wedding night. That she had given up such a treasure cut straight to his heart. That she had whispered again the words, “I love you,” had cut straight to his soul.
So he had pleasured her again, kissing between her thighs, stroking he
r flesh until she cried out. Then she had collapsed, slipping into sleep on his bed. He had watched her for a time, watching as her face smoothed into an ethereal beauty.
Gone were the care lines, the strain of balancing the disparate personalities in this household. Harder still was the anxiety that came with navigating the vipers of the haut ton. With those worries gone, her face had settled into classic lines, making her look like a living, breathing, Greek goddess. Porcelain skin, high cheekbones, and the most tempting lips he’d ever seen.
How had he resisted her for so long? How had such a woman been living under his roof for nearly three years, and he had never claimed her as his own? Until tonight.
He lost himself for a time in contemplating her. Not just her, but the many routes to keeping her by his side. He had to choose a path, he knew. But he had no doubt that she would remain his, and his alone, for the rest of his life.
Then she tweaked his nipple and murmured endearments against his chest, and he lost the battle again.
“You will be sore,” he said as she stroked open his dressing gown.
“I don’t care. Fill me again. Please.”
So he did. Without thought, without preamble, he thrust between her willing thighs. She was lying down, but he was standing. That gave him room to tease her nipples and then push a thumb between her folds.
And when he felt her tighten around him, when her breath came in short pants and her body arched to deepen the contact, he leaned over her.
He captured her cries in his mouth.
And when her pleasure gripped him, he loosed himself.
Again.
Sweet heaven, how could this have happened? he wondered as he collapsed beside her.
The cot was narrow, but she made room. So he held her, pressing kisses to her shoulder, the only part that he could reach. His body was languid, his soul at peace for the first time in many years.
But he dared not sleep.
“I must go,” he murmured.
“I know,” she answered as she tucked her face close to his.
