“Fuck,” he swore, beating back his spend with all the willpower that he had.
“Are you well?”she asked beneath him.
“Of course,” he managed.
Christ, her quim was perfect.He had never felt one that fit him so perfectly, that tortured him with such succulent tightness.
He was afraid to move and yet his body urged him, begged him, to do so.
He waited a moment, fortifying himself.
When he couldn’t take it anymore, he withdrew slightly.
“Ahhhhh,” he heard himself moan, before biting back the sound.
“Yes,” she panted underneath him.“Oh, that’s good.”
“Shhh,” he said to her, not wanting her speech, finding it too much when he was already on the verge.
She listened, thank Christ.
He pushed back into her again and, this time, he was able to stifle the sound of his pleasure.Just barely.
She was heaven.Never had he experienced such a pussy—with each of his strokes, her muscles clenched around him, tightening and squeezing around his cock.
“Leith,” Beatrice panted beneath him.“I am going to spend.”
He gritted his teeth.Was her insistence on spending some kind of performance?Like her hypothetical narrative in the carriage?
But as he continued to thrust, his cock swelling at the exquisite sensation of her pussy, he noticed that she was tightening around him more and more.She began moaning and he bit back the desire to urge her to silence.She was distracting him, making it difficult for him to prolong his own pleasure.
Then, she was crying out under him, and he felt her innermost muscles spasming around him and stroking his cock, as if trying to urge his seed from him.
He could take no more.
He spent, filling the letter to the brink.
He stifled his own reaction the best that he could, not wanting her to hear how she reduced him.
But, in the end, he failed and let out a shuddering, racked sound.
And when he came, he knew with a terrible clarity, that he would need to bed Miss Beatrice Salisbury many more times to be satiated.
It was a horrid realization.
Bedding her just once would be far worse than if he had never bedded her at all.
Volume the Second
Chapter Thirteen
Beatrice could notbelieve it.
The Marquess of Leith had just made love to her.
As primly and dryly as if he were a church rector tasked with bedding his virgin bride!
No, she reasoned.The church rector would have allowed the convenience of a candle, surely.He would be a practical man.And might actually enjoy seeing his wife’s face during the act.
