Chapter 23 #2
“No,” he said firmly. “I will not be taking up with another woman. Ever. Bear in mind that at the time, I honestly believed I would never see you again. I don’t mind admitting that I was in a bad state.
I knew deep down that I would never find what I had experienced with you with another woman.
After two months of ignoring Isabella’s flagrant flirtations, I finally gave in and slept with her in the hope that I would discover that I had been wrong.
That what had passed between us hadn’t been as special, as earth-shattering, as I remembered.
That it was possible to replace you with another woman after all. ”
Rosalie drew in a shallow breath. “And?”
He brought his hand up to trace along her hairline. “And I discovered that I had been right all along. That no other woman could possibly compare to you.”
This seemed to be sufficient reassurance for Rosalie because she grabbed him by the lapels, pulled him to her, and kissed him. When he stepped forward into the vee of her thighs, she opened for him like a flower.
Lucian went back to loosening her gown about the neck and pushing it down to expose her stays.
He loosened those, too, for good measure, and lifted her breasts from their cups.
He palmed them as he kissed his way down her neck and was gratified when she shuddered.
He tortured her next, kissing every inch of skin across each of her beautiful breasts before he closed his mouth around a straining nipple.
He was rewarded with her gasp. He felt her nails digging into his scalp and relished the pain as a spur to his pleasure.
Not that he needed any encouragement. It was a good thing she was growing so obviously aroused, because Lucian was on fire.
He hadn’t slept with any woman, hadn’t found release by any means other than his own hand, for a year and a half.
And this was Rosalie, the woman he’d dreamed about every night for the last two years.
He was so painfully aroused and so eager for her that he would be lucky if he didn’t spend in his trousers.
Sensing she was ready for more, he sank to his knees before her. She scooted to the edge of the little table, clearly anticipating what would come next. Lucian smiled. He loved how open she was about her desires.
As a practicality, he removed his handkerchief from his pocket, folded it into quarters, and slid it beneath her.
If they did wind up consummating the marriage, it would be Rosalie’s first time, after all, and although he intended to make every effort to prepare her, there was always the possibility that she would bleed.
If it were more than a few drops, the handkerchief wouldn’t save them, but he figured it was better than nothing.
He pressed a kiss against the inside of Rosalie’s thigh and began working his way toward her center. She gave a thrum of pleasure and wiggled her hips. Lucian couldn’t help but smile.
He started out with light, teasing flicks of his tongue over her bud, and was gratified when she whimpered.
He was starting to get an idea how she liked to be fondled between her legs, and how best to make her come.
But, considering that they were married now, and she had expressed a certain amount of interest in consummating the marriage, he decided to try something he’d never done before.
He brought his finger to her passage. Checking to make sure she was nice and wet, which she was, he slipped his finger inside of her. It slid in unobstructed, but Rosalie stiffened.
Lucian immediately froze. “Does that hurt?” he asked.
“N-no!” Her eyes were wide, with shock, Lucian thought, rather than pain.
“I’ll stop.” It had always been a mad suggestion, that they consummate the marriage here. He would wait until they were alone in his bed, and he could prepare her as thoroughly as humanly possible.
But when he started to withdraw his finger, Rosalie’s thighs clamped around his wrist. “Wait!” she cried. “It feels… I think…”
Her sudden motion caused Lucian’s hand to slide forward again. The tip of his finger brushed the textured spot where some women liked to be stroked. Rosalie’s eyes went glassy with what looked like pleasure.
He wiggled his finger experimentally. “Do you like that?”
“Lucian!” she gasped, clutching his wrist and holding him in place. “That feels…”
He continued rubbing her there as her eyes closed and her head tipped back. “How does it feel?” he prompted.
Rosalie opened her eyes. They were pleading. “Don’t stop.”
Lucian complied with a moan, pressing her thighs open once more and bringing his mouth to her core as he stroked that place inside of her.
Rosalie cried out in pleasure, grabbing fistfuls of his hair so she could position him exactly where she wanted him.
Lucian welcomed it. He relished the chance to do this.
He was going to pleasure her until her eyes crossed and her legs spasmed, until she no longer knew her own name and collapsed in an insensible heap on the floor.
He needed to give her one good reason not to send him away, and this seemed like his best bet.
He could sense she was getting close, but when he sealed his lips around her bud to push her over the edge, she yanked at his hair. He paused, glancing up.
“Get up here,” she demanded. She was panting as if she’d been running. “I need… more. Need… you.”
Lucian had thought he would just see to her, in spite of his earlier words about consummating the marriage.
But if she insisted…
He stood. Her fingers were yanking at the buttons of his falls before he had the chance to reach for them.
“Rosalie,” he gasped, “we don’t have to—”
“Yes,” she hissed. “We do.”
He tried again. “Are you sure you want to—”
Annoyance flared in her eyes. “Completely sure.”
His cock sprang free, and she seized it with her soft little hand. “Because,” he gasped, “we don’t have to… Oh, fuck.”
While he’d been busy trying to be noble for once in his misbegotten life, Rosalie had aligned his cock with her wet, hot, tight entrance and pulled him halfway inside her.
Lucian’s eyes crossed from the pleasure. He struggled to maintain a shred of composure. “Are you all right? Did that—”
She responded with a snarl and pulled him the rest of the way inside.
Something inside Lucian broke. Because… he was making love to Rosalie.
How many lonely nights had he tossed and turned, dreaming of this moment, the pleasure he found in picturing himself with Rosalie tainted by the knowledge that he would never be with her in truth?
And yet, here he was. He was fairly certain he hadn’t done anything in his misbegotten existence to deserve this.
He honestly thought his heart might burst from the overwhelming happiness coursing through him.
Rosalie did not seem to be experiencing a similar predicament. Indeed, her thoughts seemed fixed on how to achieve some more friction. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was bucking against the table, oblivious to the knocking sound it made against the wall.
Shaking himself, Lucian moved to assist her. She made a sound of protest when he withdrew, but her eyes went wide when he slid back in. “Better?” he asked.
“Do that again,” she gasped.
He complied, and she moaned. Recalling himself, he threaded a hand between their bodies and began rubbing the pearl between her legs.
Although she seemed to be deriving pleasure from this part of lovemaking—which was a fucking miracle, because, in his experience, most women did not—she had been a virgin two minutes ago, and helping her along was literally the least he could do.
All the while, he continued sliding in and out. It was hard to focus while experiencing the most overwhelming pleasure he’d ever felt, but he clenched his jaw. She was a virgin, damn it. And this was Rosalie. “Does that hurt?” he asked.
“It doesn’t. Truly.” Her voice was full of wonder. “I was always told that it would, the first time. And that this was something only men enjoyed. But…”
“But?” he asked, quickening his pace a hair, because damn it, he wanted to thrust.
“But it feels wonderful,” she said, her voice dreamy.
Something inside Lucian snapped. He needed her, had needed her for so long, and for her to want him, too, in this, the best moment of his whole fucking life… How could he bear something like that?
He started thrusting faster. “Tell me if it hurts,” he ground out. “I’ll stop. I’ll—”
“Don’t. Stop!” she cried, digging her fingers into his shoulders so hard he could feel her nails through the fabric of his coat.
“God, Rosalie.” He buried his face in her hair. “So fucking perfect. You’re everything I’ve ever—”
“Lucian!” she shrieked, and her thighs tensed around him. “You’re… I’m… I’m going to…”
She didn’t finish that sentence, but Lucian had a fair idea what was about to happen.
He swirled his thumb as fast as he could and moved his hips desperately.
And the only thing better than the mind-bending orgasm bearing down on him was hearing his name on Rosalie’s lips as she came apart in his arms.
She swept him over the edge with her, and in all his years of debauchery, he had never experienced anything that came close to making love with his Rosalie. The only thought in his pleasure-addled brain was that he had been right; he had been right all along.
He had known that she was the only one for him. That they were made for one another.
It took a moment for the room to come back into focus. The way Rosalie clung to him, as if he were the only stable thing in her world, made his heart twist.
Lucian smiled at her, and she responded with a crooked grin of her own.
He kissed her deeply. “So, Lady Valentine.”
She lifted her chin. “Yes, Lord Valentine?”
He stepped back, flicking her skirts back into place. “What do you think—should we straighten our clothing and put in an appearance at our wedding breakfast?”
She gave him her hand and allowed him to help her off the table. “Why, yes, my lord. I believe we should.”