Chapter Fourteen #2
Julia stared, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. She had little experience of the lower classes of course, her mother had seen to that—but still, she was under the impression that men of that rank had appetites not easily sated.
In truth, she wanted to taste that appetite. The idea that he would stop merely because she had said his name…
“Lawrence,” Julia said firmly—or as firmly as she could as she ached for his touch—“If I want you to stop, trust me, you’ll know about it. Don’t stop.”
It appeared he needed little additional encouragement.
Julia gasped, her footing almost lost as Lawrence’s ardor almost tipped her to the floor—not the worst thing, of course, she thought wildly.
The bed looked hardly wide enough to take the both of them.
“God, Julia,” Lawrence moaned.
The desperation in his voice did something strange to her. Throwing all her aching desire in turmoil, she clung to him, raising her lips to his.
Because she was his.
“You’ll really marry me? With nothing for me to offer you?”
Now, and forever. Mother’s demands be damned.
“Lawrence,” she moaned as his fingers half undid, half wrenched the ties of her gown.
The sensation of his fingertips brushing down her neck, her collarbone, her arms…
She had never before considered them particularly enticing areas of the body, but Lawrence was swiftly showing her that in the right hands, there was no part of her that could not be awakened.
“I fought this,” Lawrence muttered as his hands pulled her gown to the floor, leaving her solely in her undershift. “Fought it so hard, you cannot know—”
“It appears then that you are a better fighter in the ring than in love,” Julia teased, joy overwhelming her as tingles of pleasure shot through her. “Now kiss me.”
With a growl, he ripped her undershift.
Julia gasped. She had expected to keep it on, though why she could not imagine. After all, if she wanted to delightful sight of Lawrence without clothing, she supposed she would have to do likewise.
Nothing could have prepared her, however, for the way his eyes widened at the sight of her breasts falling past the rent material, her hips now visible, and her secret place—
Julia moved to pull the undershift together. “I—”
“Don’t hide yourself on my account,” Lawrence said softly, capturing her fingers in his own and gently moving them apart. Moving apart the torn shift. “I want to see all of you, Jules. All of you.”
Without taking her eyes from his, as though knowing her resolve would falter the moment the connection was broken, Julia allowed the undershift to fall.
Lawrence growled, pulling her into his arms. His forceful kiss claimed, did not ask.
And she gave it all to him. Why not? Why hold back what they were only to enjoy in a few short weeks anyway?
Had they not wanted this since…she could not remember when, Julia thought wildly as her fingers scrabbled to pull off his jacket, his waistcoat, his shirt, anything that kept them apart.
Since they had met?
“God, you’re as eager for this as I am,” Lawrence laughed under his breath as her fingers, after successfully ridding him of his waistcoat and shirt, tried to undo his breeches.
Julia grinned. “Why not? A lady seeks pleasure just as swiftly as a gentleman, I suppose.”
“Though I,” he whispered, pulling his boots off and breeches down, “am no gentleman.”
She stared. Well, she knew the anatomy, of course, but reality was far different from theory.
There he stood, utterly naked, and there was…
“You’re certainly a man,” she breathed, her curious fingers reaching forward.
Lawrence twitched as her hand enclosed the tip of his manhood. “Jules…”
This was the moment, she knew, where they could just about retain some semblance of respectability and honor.
Well. Hers. A man like Lawrence hardly had it to begin with.
“Love me,” Julia whispered, not letting go of Lawrence’s manhood as she looked up into his eyes. “Love me, Lawrence.”
“I already—”
“Love me as a man loves a woman.”
Lawrence swept her up into his arms before she could say another word.
Another word was not necessary. Julia was laid gently on the bed, and before she could wonder where on earth he would find room for himself, he showed her.
Right between her thighs.
Julia moaned, the heady intimacy of Lawrence’s chest pressed up against hers more than she could bear, and she accepted his kisses with wild abandon.
She had nothing to hold back now, no need to prevent herself from expressing the joy she felt.
And goodness, she felt joy, pleasure, something. A hot something, running through her body like a fire as Lawrence’s hands touched her everywhere.
“I love you,” he breathed against her neck. “God, I love you, Jules…”
“I love you,” Julia whimpered, adoring the way his hips felt nestled between hers, the ache in her building. “Oh, Lawrence…Lawrence!”
He had entered her. She opened her eyes wide, almost astonished it had happened so quickly.
He mistook her expression. “I have put on a French letter, there will be no child until after we are married, when we can—”
Julia moaned as she arched her back, drawing him deeper in. “More.”
There was silence for a moment. She opened her eyes and saw Lawrence gazing at her as though he had never seen her before.
“M-More?”
“Lawrence Madgwick,” Julia said breathily, trying not to laugh. “If you do not see to my pleasure, I will have to take matters into my own hands.”
He groaned at her words, dipping his head to take another kiss before murmuring, “I had always thought Society ladies so refined, so restrained—”
“Not this one,” she said with a laugh, running her eager fingers over his muscular shoulders, reveling in his strength. “Now love me, Lawrence. Love me. Don’t fight this anymore—I want this. I want you.”
Lawrence crushed his lips against hers and began a rhythm with his hips that seeped pleasure into her very core, every inch of her being.
Julia could barely think, only feel, and she clung onto his shoulders as her hips rose to meet his, desperate to match his rhythm.
“Jules,” Lawrence moaned.
She saw his adoration of her and knew that this may be the first time, their first time, but it would certainly not be the last. Her rough and ready boxer would be loving her like this for the rest of her life.
And then she lost all ability to talk. His hand on her hip, tilting her upward, increased the heady pleasure roaring through her, and Julia could do nothing but cry out as the ecstasy grew closer and closer, until—
“Lawrence!”
Her cry was one of abandon, of giving herself over entirely to the new pleasure and understanding they had now found.
Lawrence thrust heavily into her. “Jules!”
When he fell into her arms panting, Julia clutched him to her as though they were to be wrenched apart.
She would never give him up. Never.
Nothing could come between them now.