She was a Venus come to life.
The last of the buttons came undone.
And then she was as naked as he, their bodies entwined. He palmed her breasts, caressed her waist. She ground herself against him, undulating her hips and thrusting herself forward, an offering he could not resist.
He sucked her other nipple as his fingers dipped between her folds. Her clitoris was plump, responsive as ever, and slick, so slick, with her dew. Oh yes, she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. He played with her, remembering exactly where she was most sensitive, knowing the precise rhythm, the pressure.
She came almost instantly, jerking into his hand, crying out her release as he suckled her breasts.
“I want you inside me,” she said.
The words were unnecessary. If he was not inside her in the next minute, he was sure he would explode.
With one hand, he urged her to rise on her knees, and with the other, he guided his cock to her drenched cunny. She moved before he could, sinking down on him, taking his cock deep.
After so many nights of taking himself in hand to thoughts of her and then wallowing in shame and self-loathing afterward, there was a delicious freedom in being wrapped in her, her channel tight and demanding and hot.
He was not going to be able to last, and he knew it. This was a moment he had imagined so many times, a moment he had told himself he must never allow to happen, even after they had wed. And yet, as she began moving now, and his hips met her thrust for thrust from below, their bodies working in tandem, he knew it could not have been avoided.
It was meant to be. They were meant to be. In physical joining if nothing else.
He kissed every bit of skin he could find. Breasts, nipples. His tongue flicked madly over the taut peaks. She dipped her head, her fingers grasping his hair, and smashed her mouth on his. It was her turn to kiss with furor and possession.
And he loved it.
Try as he might to remain unaffected, her ardor only served to heighten his. Mindless, that was what he was. She moved atop him, riding him, making him wild as her lips played over his and her tongue swept into his mouth.
Her sheath tightened. She moaned into his mouth.Oh God, oh damn.He was going to…he could not wait…
Every urge to prolong their coupling was obliterated in the next second as the fierce need to fill her with his seed surpassed all. Heat flared up his spine. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the curtain of her curls falling over him as he cried out, surging into her from below, spending in a fierce rush.
In the aftermath, he lay on his back, his breathing harsh. Tilly moved, and he slipped from her body. He was scarcely aware of the bed decompressing as she left it. Of the soft pattering of her feet crossing the Axminster.
Good. She was leaving.
Perfect. That was what he wanted. What he needed. Along with a drink. Anything would do. Preferably brandy. Or whisky.
Hell.
What had he done?
But instead of the familiar creak of the door opening and closing, a lamp flared to life, casting the chamber in a low, warm glow. He threw his forearm over his eyes, blinking mightily as he grew accustomed to the sudden light. Darkness had been preferable. He had no wish to see the evidence of what had just happened in his bed, with the woman he had married. Far better to pretend none of it had occurred.
He would have to steel himself against the old feelings.
He could not afford to allow them to return, and no one knew that better than he did.
“Adrian.”
He peered at her from beneath his arm. She took his breath again. For a moment, he thought of the carving of the goddess Diana at Coddington Hall. From her lush, burnished curls to the swells of her generous breasts and hips, to the undeniable beauty of her face, she was a thousand times more beautiful than that cold, white piece of marble.
What was it she had said that day during their impromptu tour of the grounds? Ah, yes.She is always such a lonely figure when I see her.And he could not help but to think the same of Tilly as she stood in the center of the room, looking vulnerable and sad and thoroughly fucked.
His whisker burns were on her throat, face, and breasts. Likely, she would have to cover them with powder in the morning if she wanted to escape scrutiny from the servants or any visitors who paid her calls. He wished he could summon some remorse at the sight, and likewise at the realization he had filled her with his seed. More children had not been within his plans. Especially not with a woman he did not trust.
But what if I can trust her? What if Idotrust her?
“Will you not speak to me now?” she asked softly, her voice so entreating he had to swallow hard to keep his silence.
