“Ohhh,yes,” she breathed. “So . . . very . . . good.”
“Close your eyes. You’ll like it even more.”
When she did as he bade, she discovered he was right. Shedidlike it even more. Until something larger than fingers edged up inside her.
Her eyes shot open. “Heywood?”
Then she realized what she was feeling. Heywood had moved to kneel between her legs and was putting his . . . disturbingly large member inside her.
“Is this really necessary?” She wanted to go back to the pleasurable part.
“To make you mine?” His eyes glazed over as he paused inside her so he could meet her gaze. “I’m afraid it is. But if you want me to stop—”
She stared up at his strained expression. “No, please don’t.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then began to move again. At first it was uncomfortable and not at all what she’d expected. Their bodies were so entwined, so intimate, that she felt he could see to her very soul. But the deeper he thrust inside her, the more she adjusted to it, and soon she was undulating against him, trying to find . . . exactly what she needed.
As if he guessed what that was, he pulled her knees up, and she felt a stirring between her legs that had her nearly swooning. Then he reached down to finger her in the same place as before, and the caress catapulted her into a new realm of enjoyment.
“Heywood,” she whispered. “Oh, goodness,Heywood.”
“Do you like that, dearling?” he choked out.
“Very . . . much.”
He did both for a while—stroking her while also driving into her with his rather large rod of flesh. Briefly she wished her aunt had prepared her for such an . . . unusual act, but she soon forgot about anything except the feel of him inside her, the sweet bliss of him touching her down there.
“Dearling,” he said, “are you . . . all right?”
She choked out a laugh. “That’s an . . . understatement for . . . how I’m . . . feeling.”
Her response seemed to make him swell inside her. “Good,” he bit out.
Then they were too caught up in pleasuring each other to say more. He fondled her in every part he could reach, and she clung to his shoulders as a butterfly clung to a flower. He made herfeellike a flower—pretty and feminine and oh so worthy of his desires.
He drove into her over and over, rousing her blood, making her wish to climb ever higher. Then, as if a lightning bolt from the sky had hit them both, she felt a deep keening down there, which was answered by a coarse oath from him.
Soon they were sliding into oblivion, reaching a pinnacle of ecstasy. She cried out, which spurred him, too, somehow, and then they were vaulting into a world of glorious physical sensation.
“My love,” he whispered as she went over the edge with him. “My dearest love.”
It was the sweetest thing he’d said to her. “My love,” she replied.
Then they fell into that place where only lovers go—that perfect happiness of needs fulfilled and love requited.
There was no going back now. She was his. And Lord save her if this proved to be the end of it. Because now that she’d put her trust in him, she could never return to the life she’d led before.
* * *
Heywood dozed off. When he awakened, he realized that Cass lay beside him, sleeping blissfully. He sighed. Their union had been everything he’d hoped for. He couldn’t and wouldn’t regret it. Still, having decided to marry, they must now deal with Hawkcrest. He was going to have to sell it.
She must have sensed his gaze on her, because she opened her eyes to stare at him with that sultry look that made him want to ravish her again and again.
“Merry Christmas,” he said.
She snuggled against him. “Is it here already?”
“It is indeed. Christmas Day in the morning. The very early morning, that is.” He brushed a kiss to her lips. “And apparently you’re my present.”
