Chapter Eight
Beatrice swallowed as John loomed over her. This was probably a terrible idea. Merely being alone in the same room with him could lead to her ruination, and here she was, lying half-dressed beneath him!
And yet, it didn’t feel like a terrible idea.
It felt…right.
John kissed her deeply, which had the same effect it’d had the previous two occasions. Soon, Beatrice was gasping for breath and tingling in places that made her blush.
He pulled off his own shirt and started kissing his way down her neck.
She felt a thrill go through her—part excitement, but part trepidation—as he pushed her shift down, exposing her shoulder.
His lips followed, pressing kisses on skin that had scarcely been exposed to another person’s view, much less touch.
She squeezed her eyes shut as he pushed her shift lower and lower. She felt a rush of cold air as it dipped below her breasts. John paused, and Beatrice held her breath. She knew very well that she did not have the sort of ample bosom that men liked.
John touched her with featherlight fingertips. “God, Beatrice,” he breathed. “You’re so lovely.”
Her first instinct was to argue with him, but she bit her tongue. Cautiously, she slitted her eyes open.
John was staring down at her in wonder. His eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated desire.
Well! If he thought she was lovely, who was she to tell him otherwise?
Feeling a surge of confidence, Beatrice grasped her shift, which was pooled about her waist, pushed it off, and flung it to the floor. If John was put off by her sturdy thighs and ample bottom, he gave no sign of it. In fact, his hands flew to her hips and caressed them eagerly.
He kissed her again, and the sensation of his bare skin pressed against so much of hers made her tremble with pleasure.
His hands were everywhere, and his lips soon followed, tracing across her collarbone and settling on her breast. Beatrice sat halfway upright, almost dislodging him.
What her breasts lacked in size, they apparently made up for in sensitivity.
Who would have imagined that his mouth there could feel so good?
He tore his lips away, and Beatrice was so busy lamenting the loss that she did not immediately notice where he was heading. John was already trailing kisses below her navel when she realized what he was about.
“John?” He did not seem to have heard her. She watched, stunned, as he spread her legs open before him. Giving a deep hum of pleasure, he pressed a kiss on the inside of her thigh!
“John!” she cried.
This time, he looked up. He looked dazed. Almost drunk. But he shook himself and said, “Yes, darling?”
She could feel her cheeks burning. “I know you said you would have to touch me between my legs. But surely you do not mean to, err…”
She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Fortunately, John seemed to understand her meaning. “If you do not wish for me to kiss you there, I will not. But I think you would enjoy it very much.”
Beatrice bit her lip. “Would I truly?”
“I believe so. And allow me to reassure you, I would enjoy kissing you there. I would enjoy it beyond anything.”
She could see the sincerity in his eyes.
Well. She didn’t understand it. But he was the expert, after all.
“I trust you.”
His lips returned to her inner thigh. Beatrice felt this rather than observed it, because she had collapsed back on the mattress and covered her eyes with one arm. She was trying to be brave, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t embarrassed.
She felt his lips inching closer to the pulsing place between her thighs…closer…closer…
She gasped when his tongue made the gentlest of contact there. Gasped and clamped her knees closed around his ears.
He looked up, concerned. “Was that all right?”
All right? How could he have even asked such a question! It had not been all right!
Even such a glancing touch had been exquisite.
Beatrice’s breath was coming in pants. She couldn’t seem to form words, but she gave him a tremulous nod.
John eased her thighs open again.
This time she was a bit better prepared for the onslaught of beautiful sensations. They were almost too much, too pleasurable, and yet they built and built, unrelenting. Merciless, even.
Her thighs began to quaver. “John!” she gasped. “John I…something’s happening!”
Rather than seem concerned, John redoubled his efforts, swirling his tongue even faster and firmer and in just the right place, and…and…
Beatrice screamed, actually screamed, as the pleasure crashed over her. She had never imagined that something could feel so good. Her legs quaked wildly and that place between her legs throbbed in a rhythmic pulse.
Suddenly, it was all too much. John must have noticed her body tense, because he lifted his head. Beatrice found herself returning his lopsided grin.
He crawled up the bed and took her in his arms. “How was that?”
“Magnificent,” she purred, enjoying the press of his chest against hers.
After a moment of lying there in contented silence, she became aware of something else pressing against her, something hard and insistent. She combed her fingers through his hair. “What about you?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Don’t tempt me, Menace. Tonight is for you.”
“But I want to do more. To do everything. With you.”
The words were out of Beatrice’s mouth before she had time to properly consider them. But she realized that they were true.
To be sure, things were happening quickly with John.
But he had been right—his actions in her hour of need told her who he really was, deep down where it counted.
Beatrice realized with a start that he had done more for her than she had realized, because of course, he had been the one to grant her sister’s husband a respectable living.
If she was being honest with herself, she had wanted to marry John since she was fourteen years old. And it seemed that he had felt the same way.
Some things were meant to be.
She looked at him and found him frowning. “In all seriousness, Beatrice, I don’t want you to feel pressured, or—”
She cut him off with a kiss. “I don’t.”
The creases on his forehead did not ease. “It would kill me if you came to regret—”
“No regrets.” She reached down and began fumbling with the buttons of his falls. “I’m also accepting your proposal, by the by.”
That earned her an incandescent smile. “Are you truly?” At her nod, he said, “Oh, Beatrice!”
As he leaned in to kiss her, Beatrice mused that it was a good sign that he was happier about the prospect of their marriage than her offer to relieve the tension inside his trousers.
Speaking of his trousers, as soon as he lifted his head, John applied himself to the buttons with far greater efficiency than Beatrice had managed. She giggled as they fluttered to the floor. “You seem eager.”
“You have no idea.” He groaned as he settled his weight on top of her. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years. I’m so glad you held up my carriage so we could find one another again.”
“Held up your carriage?” She laughed. “That’s doing it a bit thick, don’t you think?”
“Not at all.” He reached down and aligned his member with her opening. “I intend to embellish the story every time I tell it. By the time I tell it to our grandchildren, you’ll be a notorious highwaywoman.”
“Humph. I may have something to say about that.”
Above her, his eyes grew serious. “This part might hurt, as it’s your first time.”
Beatrice nodded. “I know. It’s all right.”
John nodded. Closing his eyes, he pressed forward.
It did hurt a little. Beatrice felt a sharp pinch. She gasped, and John froze. “Are you all right?” he gasped.
Beatrice wasn’t sure. The pain had eased slightly.
She gave an experimental wiggle of her hips, and John moaned.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
His expression was one of agony. “I… I…”
She wiggled her hips again and was gratified when he whimpered. So! He was suffering from the same complaint that had bedeviled her these past few weeks.
Desire.
For her.
She traced her fingers across his broad back. “Go ahead. It’s all right.”
He looked at her with a desperate sort of longing. “You’re sure?”
She wasn’t, but she nodded. “I’m sure.”
John buried his face in her neck and began sliding his hips back and forth.
It did still hurt a little, but Beatrice figured that was inevitable.
And she found much to enjoy, in spite of the pain.
The way he clung to her. The expression of agony mixed with ecstasy on his face.
And the way he called out her name and shook in her arms in the moment he found his own bliss.
Afterwards, they lay together for as long as they dared. “I’d best go,” Beatrice finally said, “before someone marks our absence and grows suspicious.”
John’s response was, “That’s probably wise.” But he sounded distinctly grumpy about it.
She laughed as she rose and slipped into her gown. “There’s no need to sound so petulant. We will have literally thousands of nights when we can fall asleep in one another’s arms.”
John sat up. He pulled Beatrice to him and kissed her deeply.
Pressing his forehead against hers, he murmured, “I’m going to hold you to that.”