Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Priscilla attempted to think as his hands slid up her thighs, her skirts slowly yielding to the gentle push to reveal more and more of her legs.
They were now bare and her skin appeared pale against the darker hue of his hands.
Somehow the contrast was mesmerizing and she couldn’t look away as her skirts scrunched higher and higher. And then he murmured, “Lay back.”
Instantly, she did as he commanded, eager beyond measure for whatever came next. And he didn’t disappoint.
Her skirts settled about her waist, his hands molding first her hips and then sliding inward to brush over her apex.
She jolted against his touch, a gasp of pleasure falling from her lips.
She expected him to use his hand again. The touch had been beyond lovely but as his fingers brushed through her curls, they’d didn’t settle on her nub of pleasure but rather, spread her wider.
Priscilla started to lift her head. To ask what he was doing? To see?
But it dropped back down on the soft mattress with a decided thud when not his finger, but his tongue slid through her intimate flesh. A shiver of pleasure moved through her with such force, she cried out for more.
And he obliged.
His tongue worked her most sensitive nub, his fingers stroking her until a frenzy built inside her even deeper and stronger than the last time he had touched her.
She slid her fingers into his hair, urging him closer as a need built inside her, muting everything else out.
He answered by increasing the pressure and tempo, making her cry out again. And just when she thought she might not be able to stand another moment, her pleasure crested, breaking like a wave over her.
Spasm after spasm washed through her until she lay limp on the bed, a deep sigh escaping her lips.
If she had become near boneless in her satiated pleasure, Wyatt was anything but. He reared up, stripping off several items of clothing as he exposed more and more of his skin.
In answer, she managed to lift her fingers to her now-tangled hair, pulling out pin after pin to allow the curls to tumble out on the bed behind her.
Wyatt watched her, a growl rumbling from his lips as he leaned his lithe body over hers to run a hand through the tresses. “That hair.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Brown.”
He chuckled. “You’re not trying hard enough. It’s laced with gold and silk, winking and shimmering in the light.” He drew in an unsteady breath. “I dream of seeing it splayed across my chest while you sleep.”
Her own breath caught, her body tightening once again. Those words, they were as exciting as the sight of his chest, the feel of his hands. “You dream of my hair?”
He gave her a molten stare as he ran his fingers through the tresses. “And those lips. Your curves…”
He stopped speaking, lowering his mouth to hers in a kiss that robbed her of thought and reason.
She was hardly aware of his fingers sliding under her back and undoing the buttons of her dress until he broke their kiss to tug the sleeves from her arms.
In a blur of lips and arms and touches, the rest of her clothing came off, landing in a heap on the floor.
He’d stripped down to nothing but his breeches. Her hands roved over his back, chest, and arms.
Not a hero… Ridiculous.
As she traced the deep lines of his arms, she wondered what woman wouldn’t think of this man as her knight in shining armor…
* * *
Wyatt was drowning in a sea of pleasure and he never wished to find land again.
Priscilla’s arms were twined around his neck, the velvet of her skin rubbing his in the right ways.
He ran a hand over her breast and down the flat of her soft belly, wishing he could kiss the same trail.
But need throbbed through him, tired of being denied. Priscilla cradled him between her legs, their bare chests pressed together.
He still wore his breeches and he fumbled with the buttons, wishing to remove the last layer between them.
Priscilla’s fingers traced the lines of his back, the light skimming of her touch only adding to the urgency he felt as he finally managed to get enough of the falls undone that he could tug the clothing down over his hips.
When his staff sprang free, it landed in the soft folds of her waiting sex, making him groan in pleasure.
Her eyes grew wider as she stared up at him, their eyes locking. “Oh.”
What had she realized? He wanted to ask but words failed him as the tip sunk into her waiting warmth. “Priscilla,” he ground out, his teeth clenched. “I’ll go slow…”
In response, she held him tighter, pressing their bodies closer together. “It’s all right. I’m ready.”
He took her at her word, giving a quick thrust, breaking her maidenhead and seating himself inside her.
He groaned in pleasure, gathering her closer to his chest as she stiffened in pain. He rested on his elbows as one of his hands cradled her head in his palm. “Are you all right, love?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “I think so. It hurt.”
“I know,” he answered, sprinkling kisses along her brow. Much as he wanted to move, he held still, allowing her time to adjust. “I’m sorry for that.”
She shook her head as he slowly pulled out and then pushed back in, stopping as she winced.
His arms shook with the effort of control, but finally, he was able to slide out and push back in without a visible sign of pain from Priscilla. With that, he began to methodically move, keeping his pace measured and his touch light.
Much as he’d been craving this release, he wanted her to be comfortable, happy in his arms.
More than anything, he wished for that.
But as he moved into her again and again, his vision blurred, his intentions nearly giving way to his desire. But still, he held back.
This was her first experience and he’d make certain she remembered it without fear.
Even with his lighter pace, his finish barreled closer, threatening to overcome him. He’d never wanted something more and here she was, cradled in his arms.
His wife. Priscilla.
He kissed her again, their mouths melding together as his finish overtook him, racking through him with a force that took his breath.
Her arms tightened about him, holding him even closer as he pressed into her, the tension that tightened his body gone.
“Love,” he whispered, kissing the shell of her ear.
She smiled against his neck. “Why did no one tell me this was part of marriage? I would have said yes sooner.”
He chuckled, knowing full well she’d had several very compelling reasons for not marrying sooner. “I think our timing was near perfect.”
She shook her head. “Can I tell you the truth?”
He heard a catch in her voice and he lifted his head to look down into her eyes. “Of course.”
She caught her bottom lip between teeth. “I wish I’d eloped with you to Gretna Green. If I had, my mother wouldn’t have been hurt.”
He brushed back the stunning tresses of her hair, something Ralph had said, returning to him about not being omniscient. He understood what Priscilla meant, it was so easy to look back and be angry for not making better choices but it wasn’t her fault. “You couldn’t have known.”
She shook her head. “I knew that Eugene was becoming angrier, but I just never thought he’d hurt one of us. Not like that.”
“What was he like as a child?” he asked, sure that he’d been one of those spoiled children who always got what they wished.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know he existed until the solicitor brought him to our home.”
It wasn’t unheard of as branches of family became distant or broke away. But it wasn’t entirely common either. Most families of the peerage kept close track. “So you had no idea who he was? How is he related to your father?”
She shook her head. “He’s from a second marriage that begat a son from my grandfather’s brother’s children.”
He blinked several times, thinking back to Clara and her use of distance relations by marriage to explain his introduction.
But surely Eugene was who he claimed?
Still, it bore investigation.
Tomorrow.
Or perhaps the next day.
Because right now, he had the woman of his heart in his arms and nothing was more important than that.
Not ever.