“My thoughts exactly,” he said, his tone thick with what she recognized was desire. Again her mind turned to the carriage. To his mouth on her, to the racking pleasure that had turned her inside out and changed her forever.
“The bed,” he grunted, pointing to it. “Now, please.”
She looked at the bed. When they entered the room, she had been too distracted by his touch to really take in the chamber. Now she caught her breath. It was a large bed, with crisp white linens. It faced the fire, so there was a golden glow across it, almost welcoming her to the future she had never guessed she would now be facing.
A future as this man’s lover.
She climbed into the high bed and settled back on the pillows, watching as he parted the buttons on his trousers and slid them down his trim hips. She stared at what he revealed.
“Do you know what it’s called?” he asked, staying right where he stood.
“That?” she whispered, pointing to the hard thrust of muscle between his legs. It had a mushroom head, a long shaft and a thatch of dark curls at its base. Where her sex was soft and wet and pliable, his looked like a weapon.
“A cock,” he said. “Do you know what I’ll do with it?”
“I saw…animals on my father’s estate in the country,” she admitted. “And once I found a very naughty book in his study. So I have some idea.”
“But your mother never spoke to you of this?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I was young when my mother died, not close to marriageable age. She never talked to me about this, nor did anyone else.”
He shut his eyes, and for a long moment he said nothing, nor did he move. Then he looked at her again. “It will hurt the first time. I’ll do everything I can to ease the pain, but it is part of what will happen. But after, once this first time is through, there will not be pain again. Do you understand?”
“And what I’ve felt when I touched myself, when you…licked me?” she asked, blushing so dark that she was sure she looked like a beet. “Will that happen again?”
“I’m going to make sure of it,” he whispered, and at last he moved toward her. He was like an animal, stalking its prey. Slow and steady, he never removed his gaze from her, focused and intent. She, like a rabbit facing a fox, froze, waiting for him, her breath short and her body tense with anticipation. He joined her on the bed, his big body dipping the mattress as he stalked toward her, now on all fours like the beast she could see living inside of him.
He moved over her, caging her against the pillows with his arms and staring down at her, his expression hard to read beyond intense, powerful desire. He dropped his mouth and brushed his lips back and forth against hers. She sank into the kiss once more, memorizing the feel of his mouth on hers, the sensation of the slightly raised mark of his scar rolling over her skin.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered as he pulled away.
She swallowed. Despite his darkness, this man inspired honesty in her. Perhaps in part because she sensed he would settle for nothing less than that. If she lied, he would see it. And he would not allow it.
“There are so many thoughts,” she began. “A thousand bouncing off each other and creating such cacophony that I can hardly discern one from the other. So where do I begin? Or do I—”
He let out his breath. “Marianne.”
The interruption, her name said so softly, settled her mind a fraction.
“I’m afraid,” she admitted. “Not just of what is about to happen, but of how much I want it. How much I want…you. Is that wrong? You are hardly more than a stranger and I’ve spent my whole life being told to guard what I am about to hand over to you.”
He pushed off her, rolling to the side where he faced her, his expression pensive. “Not wrong. Ladies are taught that what they want, what they feel, is to be hidden, but it’s natural to feel desire. After all, you’ve experienced that pleasure that comes from orgasm.”
She tilted her head. “Orgasm?”
He shook his head slowly. “Release. The pleasure you felt here—” He glided just the tips of his fingers down the apex of her body, settling them gently at the soaking entrance to her sex. “—when you came. That drive to feel that release is natural, even if the arrangement we’ve come to is unorthodox.”
He didn’t move his hand when he finished speaking, but gently massaged the sensitive flesh between her legs. She shut her eyes on a ragged breath and began to lift toward him.
“This is the last chance, though, Marianne,” he whispered, his breath rolling over her throat before he kissed her neck, nibbling the sensitive flesh. “Once I take you, there’s no going back. So you must tell me now, is this truly what you want?”
She opened her eyes, watching as he dragged his mouth down her collarbone, over the heavy swell of her breast, and then his pink tongue stroked out over her nipple. She gasped, lifting her hips hard into his hand, feeling his fingertips breach her just a fraction as sensation rushed through her, powerful and almost overwhelming.
In that moment, the truth hit her like a slap in the face. She was doing this not to save Juliet, not out of desperation, not for any other reason but that she wanted this man. She wanted the pleasure he seemed capable of giving with just a flick of his wrist or his tongue. She wanted it for herself, with no other ulterior motive, even if she would benefit from her decision in the future.
She reached for him, tucking a finger beneath his chin and forcing him to lift his face to look at her. “Yes,” she said, holding his gaze steady. “I want this. I want you. The answer is yes.”
Chapter Six
