Chapter 21 #3
Ezra didn’t hesitate before grabbing her around the waist and lifting her up, leaving her no choice but to stifle a yelp of surprise and wrap her legs around him to keep her balance—something difficult in the ornate silk dress she still wore.
He carried her, hair streaming like a banner, down the corridor to his bedchamber while she clung to him, sending up prayers of thanks that the rest of the household was already abed.
In the room, he kicked the door shut behind him—only a bloody duke would ever be so careless with furnishings this fine—and carried her over to the bed.
He laid her down, pausing only long enough to press a long, probing kiss to her mouth before returning his hands to her hips.
He helped her turn over and find her feet so that she stood, slightly bent, with her hands braced, as he began to attack her laces.
“You look like a fantasy like this,” he murmured as he kissed down each revealed inch of her spine. “I shall never recover.”
She tried to find her breath enough to make a quip. “It is rather impractical. If it laced in the front, then I could undo it myself.”
He paused, resting his forehead against her shoulder blades.
“Well, then, a man definitely invented this,” he concluded, even as his hands remained busy with the long ties that held her corset together. “Because if you could do it yourself, then maybe you would. And that would rob me of the treat of doing it myself.”
Letitia didn’t have much to say about that. She simply let him care for her, in this small way—like she had performed for others a hundred times—and allowed herself to accept it.
By the time he was done, by the time her skirts dropped to pool around her feet, an expensive, shapeless pile on the ground, she was trembling, half with need, half with an emotion she didn’t dare name.
His hands came back to her waist, warmer now with no fabric between them. He pulled her close, then kissed her senseless enough that by the time she realized that he was unbuttoning his own clothing and kicking it away, he was already nearly done.
“Excuse me,” she said, pouting, just a little. “I wanted to do that. What did you say about it being a treat?”
He looked wholly unrepentant.
“A man invented mine, too,” he said with a smirk. “Much simpler.”
She scowled, but the scowl died as soon as his trousers dropped to the ground.
God, but he was beautiful. She had seen him before—but not enough. She didn’t think it would ever really be enough. But she had not had enough touching him either, and that need seemed more urgent at the moment.
“Come here,” she urged, holding out a hand to him.
He didn’t deny her, not for an instant. His arms went around her, and hers around him.
Kissing him was even more delicious when they were skin against skin, she found.
She reveled in their differences—in the way he had to bend down to reach her, the way his body was all hard lines where hers was soft curves.
The rough prickle of hair on his belly, leading down to where he was hard against her.
“Fuck,” he groaned, and she had heard village men and laborers speak in such ways all her life—so why was it such a thrill to hear the profanity spilling from Ezra’s lips? Was it just because she was the cause? “Letty. You threaten to make me unman myself.”
“No,” she urged, winding her fingers tighter in his hair. “Please. I need you.”
He made a pained sound as if she had asked him to cut off his own arm, instead, but he nodded feverishly into the kiss.
Together, they mounted the bed again, a little awkward with four legs instead of two, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered as much as keeping their mouths pressed together.
Nothing meant anything compared to the feeling of everywhere they touched.
She hitched up one of her knees at his side, giving him more space to move close to her center. He ground against her, and though he was not pressing inside, the friction between them sent pleasurable sparks through her.
“Do you really want this, my sweet?” he asked, pulling back just a fraction of an inch, just enough to show her that he could—that he would. “If you do not, say the word and I—”
“Please, Ezra,” she gasped, because if he didn’t soothe this ache inside her soon, she really feared that she might actually die. “I need you. Please, please.”
“Fuck,” he growled again, and she felt like a goddess for being able to so fully rob him of his vocabulary. “Yes. Letty. God, yes.”
He reached between their bodies, swearing again when he saw her soaked with the intensity of wanting him.
He dipped his fingers inside her, causing her body to tighten with pleasure.
She knew she could reach her climax like this—he had done it to her before.
But she wanted everything. If this was the last time—and it had to be the last—she wanted all he had to give.
The blunt pressure against her body was strange, not quite comfortable at first. She squirmed a little as she fought to accommodate him, trying not to show that the stretch was just a touch painful.
But she could not hold back a wince when one sharp stutter of his hips pressed him in quickly, and Ezra released another oath.
“Bollocks, I am sorry, Letty, darling, are you all right?” he asked through clenched teeth, his muscles straining with the effort of holding himself back.
“Yes, I am fine,” she said, running her hands up the hardness of his back.
“I—damn—I have never bedded a virgin before,” he said, sounding apologetic, though she wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for his lack of experience despoiling innocents or because he had bedded anyone else at all.
Aristocrats really could be terribly precious about such things. “I am trying to be gentle.”
“You are doing marvelously,” she said, not because she was trying to soothe his fears but because it was true. Even with the parts that were challenging—and those were rapidly fading—she felt wonderful. He was here with her. They were joined in all ways.
“What have I ever done to deserve a woman like you?” he muttered, but the question seemed to be rhetorical, so Letty forewent answering in lieu of letting out a long moan of pleasure when he jutted forward a little bit further.
He was seated fully within her now, and goodness. She felt…
Happy. It was a joy to have him here with her, even for a short time.
And then he started to move, and Letitia found she could no longer parse her emotions, because it became impossible to think about anything except the gasping, deliciousness of it when he reached something inside her that she had not known existed.
“Oh,” she said, because it was a great deal, as it had been with his hands and fingers, and yet it wasn’t; it was more—it was deeper—it wrapped around her and consumed her.
“Letty,” he said, staring down at her with his storm cloud eyes. A long flop of hair had fallen over his brow, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his chest. His broad shoulders bunched and smoothed powerfully as he surged into her. “Letty, Letty. God.”
He had little in the way of speech; she had less.
She gripped the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers in a rough, uncoordinated gesture that could barely be called a kiss.
She didn’t care, though—didn’t care about anything except that his breath moved with hers, as her body moved with his.
And, just like that, it all became too much, overwhelming her, and she reached her breaking point so suddenly that it was almost violent.
There was a sharp ringing in her ears as her pleasure devoured her whole, and behind that, she could faintly hear Ezra’s praise.
“Fuck, yes, that’s my girl. Goddamn it, Letitia, you are so beautiful, you do not know what you do to me—”
And then she gasped again, blocking out the sound of his voice as, with a curse, he pulled from her and spilled into the sheets, rather than into her.
It was sensible, of course. It was the only sensible thing to do. But instead of feeling grateful, Letty could not help but feel a sense of… sadness. Loss, even.
That particular bit of absurdity was quickly soothed; Ezra moved them to a less rumpled part of the bed, grumbling as if he was already battling with consciousness.
Somehow, this charmed Letitia beyond reason. Her duke had been made weary by his exertions, it seemed.
He mumbled something utterly incoherent into her hair, and then he wrapped her in his arms.
He held her tight as though he never intended to let her go. And, just for a little while, Letty decided to pretend that the lie was the truth. Just for a few minutes more.