He was going to spill in her mouth, which he couldn’t imagine any woman would want.
But, as usual, she shocked him.
“I want it,” she said, between licks.“Give it to me.”
That did it for him.He might be a marquess, but he was only human, after all.
He jerked and began to spill.Then he could feel his seed pouring out of him, filling her mouth.
“I—am—sorry,” he spluttered, aware even through the haze of pleasure that his spend was indecently tremendous.
But she didn’t seem to mind.She swallowed it all.
Once he was finally done, she looked up at him and smiled.
“I am sorry,” he said, wincing.“That was beastly.”
She shook her head.“You never need to apologize for such a thing.Not with me.”
“Come here,” he said, pulling her up from the floor of the carriage.
She obeyed, situating herself on his lap.
He buried his face into her hair.
He couldn’t bear to move.
No, after that, he needed to hold her.
And, then, with a dawning dread, he realized that only a week and a half did not sound like nearly enough time with her.
No, he reflected, panic rising in his chest, it was not even close.
Chapter Twenty-Four
He had beenmagnificent in the carriage, Beatrice thought later that afternoon, as she luxuriated in her bath.
She had not understood that he had felt insecure about his cock, but now that he had told her, many more things made sense.
And she understood why he would have such an anxiety.Women often crowed about the necessity of large cocks, in part, she was sure, because some women preferred them.But sometimes, she thought, such crowing happened because it was one of the only areas in which men could be held to the exacting, cruel standards that dictated the lives of women.
But the truth was that, while small, his cock was, to her, magnificent.She was sure many other women would agree.It was, truthfully, perfect for her.One of the many things, she reflected, that made the week and a half that she had left with him seem like not nearly enough time.
She would happily be his mistress for much longer.
But she resolved not to think of that now.
She did not want to occupy herself with thoughts of what she knew must come soon enough.A new protector.A man who wasnotLord Leith.She didn’t want to think of that now when she felt strangely…happy.
Beatrice had told herself that she was happy before she came to London.And, in her way, she had been.She had her family and Parkhorne Hall and the running of it to occupy her mind and days.She had her occasional lovers who offered excitement and passion.
But what she had shared the past two days with Thomas was somehow different.It gave her a different feeling.She felt lighter than she had in years.Life appeared brighter.
She sighed.She would put away those thoughts for now.
Indeed, Beatrice had enough to worry about without thinking past tonight.
Tonight, she and Leith were to attend dinner at the Duke of Edington’s.Apparently, his wife, Catherine, had “indoor picnics”—the term Leith had used, with a little scoff—that functioned as a kind of gathering for their most intimate friends.She understood that Lord and Lady Tremberley would be there as well.Lord and Lady Montaigne would not be in attendance, as they were currently visiting his brother in the countryside.Their absence was a relief because, as far as Beatrice knew, she and Leith were still supposed to be in a chaste arrangement, according to the absurd prohibition Lord Montaigne had tried to put on their relationship.
