Chapter Seventeen #3
“Hush, my love,” he said, kissing her breast, his warm breath caressing her skin. “You are the only woman I want—and tonight I give myself to you, wholly and utterly.”
He kissed her other breast, drawing it into his mouth, then he flicked out his tongue and traced a path along her body, toward the juncture of her thighs. When he reached the nest of curls at her center, he drew in a long, slow breath.
“Ahh—have you any idea how I’ve longed to breathe in your scent?” he whispered. “The most delectable scent in the world, and it’s for me.” He pressed his lips against her curls. “All for me…”
A surge of moisture swelled in her center, but she conquered her shame as his nostrils flared.
“Only for me.”
The fierceness in his voice held a note of possession, and though her mind warred against it, her body pulsed with longing, aching to be claimed.
Then he parted her thighs, his fingers gentle but insistent, and a rush of shame engulfed her.
Surely he didn’t want to look at her…there?
She looked up to see him staring at her, his eyes the color of midnight with silver stars pulsing in their depths, as if he were revealing his soul, while she bared her…
“Shh,” he whispered. “Do you trust me?”
For a heartbeat she hesitated. Then she nodded, fisting her hands in the bedsheets while he nudged her thighs apart. Then he grew still and lowered his gaze to her thighs. His eyes flared and a slow smile curled on his lips, as if he could devour her with a single look.
“May I?” he breathed.
She nodded, and he flicked his tongue out, running the tip along his lips until they glistened with moisture. Then he parted her thighs further and dipped his head.
She let out a whimper at the tickling sensation as he placed kisses on her skin, his hair brushing against the inside of her thighs. Then he dipped his tongue into her curls. A low groan escaped her, and he stopped, looking up.
“Does it pain you?”
“N-no,” she whispered. “I feel only pleasure.”
“Ahh—pleasure…” His whispered word brushed over her skin again. Then he dipped his tongue in and caressed her flesh. She bit her lip to stem a cry as pleasure swelled deep inside her, and the wicked moisture between her thighs surged once more.
“No…” she panted. “I-I’m… I mean…down there… It’s…”
He lifted his head again and fixed his gaze on her.
“Forgive me,” she said, her cheeks warming with shame at the slickness between her thighs. “I-I didn’t mean to…”
He smiled, then licked his lips.
“Oh, Portia,” he breathed. “You have nothing to fear, and nothing to be ashamed of. Your body is only giving me a sign of your pleasure.”
“I-it’s a sign of pleasure?”
He nodded. “Our bodies show nothing but honesty. There’s no need for words.”
“Stephen, I—”
“No, my love,” he said. “Say nothing—listen to your body. It speaks so prettily.”
He lowered his head once more then caressed her with his tongue, gently at first, then more insistently, until the tip reached that part of her where the first fizz of pleasure had ignited.
As if he knew her body’s desires, he circled his tongue around it until a shock of pleasure ignited in her center, sending soft ripples through her body.
She gritted her teeth, but could not temper the low groan in her throat.
He kissed her thigh once more, then lifted his head and sat up, a soft smile on his lips.
“Are you ready for me?” he whispered.
“Have we not just…”
“Oh no, my love,” he said, shaking his head. “That was the appetizer. Are you ready for the main course?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”
He fumbled at the buttons on his breeches, then his manhood sprang free. A pulse of fear threaded through her.
It’s so…so big.
He smiled, took his length in his hand, and stroked it—almost as if in pride.
Sweet Lord. Had she just spoken aloud?
He slid his body against hers, and her stomach fluttered in delicious apprehension as she felt him, hard and hot, moving slickly against her flesh. His scent filled her senses—spicy and woody—and she drew in a sharp breath as its potency almost overwhelmed her.
“Yes, my love,” he whispered. “Can you not hear my body also, saying that he is ready for you?”
“He?”
His eyes glittered with desire. “He is here to serve you, worship you, if you’ll welcome him.”
“I…” She caught her breath, and the world shifted out of focus. “Wha… What’s happening?”
He grew still. “I have no desire for you do to anything unwillingly, Portia,” he said. “I can wait—a lifetime if I must—until you’re ready. For I fear it will hurt you.”
“H-hurt me?”
“The first time,” he said. “Only the first.”
“Did your first time hurt?”
He shook his head. “Only the woman feels pain the first time—but afterward, there will be no pain.”
She fought to dispel the images from her mind of his lying with other women. But had she really expected him to be different from other men?
He placed his hand on her cheek and brushed his lips against hers. “The only woman I want to lie with is you,” he said, “but I’ll not take you if you’re not certain.”
She hesitated, as two paths stretched before her. Then she stepped onto the path leading to happiness.
“I am certain, Stephen,” she whispered, nodding. “I love you.”
His nostrils flared at her words, and a sheen of moisture glistened in his eyes.
“Sweet Lord,” he whispered, “what have I done to deserve you?”
He shifted his body, then thrust forward, and she suppressed a whimper at the sharp sting.
He leaned against her, trembling, his breath coming in short, shallow pants.
“D-did I give you pain?”
“Only a little.”
“My sweet, brave girl.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then remained still while her body stretched around him and the pain began to ease to a delicious ache that held the promise of pleasure.
Then he moved, slowly at first, and her body pulsed with pleasure at the delicious sensations that ignited the flame flickering in her center.
“Oh!”
“Hush, my love,” he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek. “Not a sound, remember?”
She clamped her lips together, battling the urge to cry out. With each movement, the flame swelled, and a low groan reverberated in her chest as he quickened the pace.
Then the flame ignited and her body disintegrated as waves of pleasure tore through her. She threw back her head, drawing in a lungful of air. Unable to suppress the cry, she parted her lips, his name filling her mind until nothing else existed in the world—only him.
“Ste—”
He plunged into her once more and silenced her cry with his mouth, thrusting his tongue in, mirroring the actions of his body to mark her as his.
Her cries were joined by a deep groan coming from the man inside her.
He shuddered while she writhed beneath him, chasing the pleasure.
Setting aside all shame at her wantonness, she parted her legs further, then wrapped them around his body, drawing him in deeper.
A primal growl escaped his lips, and he nipped her earlobe, a beast laying claim to his mate. Such baseness—such wicked wantonness—and yet she could never have imagined such pleasure could exist.
Holding her close, he shifted onto his side, still inside her, their bodies entwined as if they were a single creature. She curled into his embrace, nestling her head against his chest until she could hear his heartbeat, thick and strong.
A heart that belonged to her.
He caressed her hair, entwining his fingers through her tresses while she relished the warmth of his body and the tiny pulses of pleasure in her center.
If only they could lie together in that attitude forever! The world outside mattered not compared to the man who cradled her in his arms as if she were the most precious thing on earth.
“Portia,” he whispered.
“Mmm?” she murmured, unwilling to open her eyes.
“There’s something I ought to have asked you.”
She smiled. “Isn’t it a little late for that? You’re already in my bed.”
“No, something else.”
She opened her eyes, and her heart fluttered at the expression in his eyes, the rawness, as if he were baring his soul.
“Lady Portia, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I…” His voice faltered and he inhaled and continued. “Forgive me for not asking as you deserved to be asked. But I ask now—will you marry me?”
“Well…” She tilted her head to one side and frowned.
His forehead creased, and his eyes filled with apprehension. Then she smiled.
“Given that you’re still inside me,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm at such unseemly language, “it really would be rude to refuse, would it not?”
He laughed, softly, then kissed her. “Not the most conventional of responses, but then, you’re not the most conventional of women. Perhaps that’s why I love you. Would my fiancée permit me to hold her for a moment and bask in my good fortune?”
She closed her eyes once more, lulled by his heartbeat, until she drifted into a doze.
When she woke, he was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling his breeches on.
“Colonel, am I to be insulted that you leave my bed so soon?”
He turned and smiled. “Much as I wish to remain in bed with you all night, I must at least give the appearance of propriety to prevent your brother from horsewhipping me in the courtyard.”
“Is there any likelihood of that?”
He straightened his stance and pursed his lips. Then he lowered his voice to a deep growl, made an exaggerated gesture, and spoke.
“Make the slightest attempt to dishonor my sister and I’ll feed you to Whitcombe’s dogs, then have you stripped naked, carried into the center of the village and horsewhipped for the entertainment of all.”
“Is that supposed to be my brother?” she said, suppressing a giggle.
He nodded. “Foxton is many things, but one aspect of him that I admire is his determination to do right by you.”
She let out a snort. “Pity, then, that his and my idea of what’s right seldom coincide.”
“Ought I be insulted?”
“Perhaps this once instance is the exception to the rule,” she said.
“Which is why I must ensure that we’re not caught in the morning.” He leaned toward her to place a swift kiss on her lips. “But tomorrow at breakfast, I shall announce to the party that we are to wed—if my future wife consents, of course.”
She nodded, and he kissed her again. Then he exited the chamber, pausing at the door to blow a kiss in her direction before slipping outside, closing it softly behind him.
She lay back, squeezing her thighs together to relive the delicious sensations he’d elicited. Then she drew the bedcovers over herself and turned onto her side, watching the flames of the fire while they danced and crackled.
My future wife…
To think! She finally understood what made her friends—Eleanor, Henrietta, and many others—so blissfully happy.
And tomorrow she would witness their joy on knowing that such happiness awaited her.