Her mouth worked over him and her soft pink tongue rubbed him as she moved up and down his throbbing length. He tried to regulate his breathing, to keep from spilling his seed inside her mouth. If they were going to consummate their marriage tonight, by God hewanted to do it right. He wouldn’t be able to if he allowed this to continue for much longer.
Wives did this sort of thing? “Meg, where did you… How did you…?” Did it even bloody matter where she’d learned how to do this? He didn’t care. Definitely didn’t care.
Meg’s mouth came off him with a sucking sound. Her cheeks were pink.
Hart panted. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He groaned again as his wife’s mouth covered him once more. As much as he was loath to, he had to put a stop to this. He wanted to make love to her. This was not helping.
He cupped her shoulders and gently pulled her up on top of him. He kissed her again. His mouth ravaged hers. She kissed him back with fiery passion. He rolled her over so he was on top of her. “Meg,” he said. “I’ll try my best not to hurt you, but I’m told it… I understand it can be…”
“Sarah told me.” Meg looked at him with those unfathomable pools of green she had for eyes.
Hart gathered every bit of patience he’d ever had and every ounce of finesse he possessed. He wouldn’t allow her first time to be uncomfortable.
He leaned down and kissed Meg. He played with her nipples, sucked them, stroked them. He slipped a finger inside her again and circled that same spot she responded to. He didn’t stop until her legs thrashed and her head moved fitfully on the pillow. Then he pressed her thighs wide with his and slowly, more slowly than he’d ever moved in his life, slid inside of her. He pressed himself in bit by bit, higher and higher until finally he was in tothe hilt. He stared down at his wife, whose eyes were squeezed tightly shut. He didn’t want to laugh at a time like this, but she was adorable. Doing his best not to move while her body adjusted to his, he memorized the freckles along the bridge of her nose.
“Meg,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”
She gasped for air but kept her eyes screwed shut. “Yes, I’ll be all right. Please tell me when to expect the pain.”
He buried his face in her neck to keep from laughing. “The, ahem, painful part is over.”
“What?” Her face exploded in ecstasy as Hart moved inside her for the first time. He pulled out a small bit and slid back in.
Meg moaned. “Oh.”
He pulled out again, farther this time, and slid back in. “My,” Meg groaned.
The third time he pulled out nearly all the way and slid back in ever so slowly.
“God,” Meg cried.
Hart bit his lip, sweating with the effort of control. He wanted this to be the most unforgettable night of her life, and he would make it good for her if it was the last thing he did. How he’d kept from coming already was a bloody miracle. She was so tight and wet and felt so good and was so responsive. When he remembered how she’d sucked his cock… that wasn’t helping.
He buried his face in her neck. Passionflower. God how he loved the scent of passionflower. It drove him mad. He pumped into her again and again, trying to ignore the soft cries that came from her lips every time he moved. He reached down between them and touchedthe spot he knew she needed. Forcing himself to stop moving inside her, he circled her again and again as Meg’s body thrashed beneath his.
She moved up and down beneath him, forcing him to pump into her. He groaned and steeled himself against the thrumming in his balls that told him he was about to come. She had to come first. Had to. He flicked his finger back and forth on the nub of soft flesh. Sweat beaded on his brow and he bit the inside of his cheek, hard. She tensed against him, her nails carving into his shoulder blades. She cried his name against his cheek as Hart pushed one last time, allowing his seed to spill inside her.
CHAPTER FORTY
Meg woke the next morning in her bed. She sighed and stretched. Had she and Hart actually done what she remembered doing last night? Had she actually performed the scandalous act Lucy had explained to her? She’d pinched herself to ensure she wasn’t dreaming. It had happened. The night flashed through her mind in a series of highly tempting images. A smile spread across her face. They’d consummated their marriage in her bed. There was no doubt about it.
She reached out, wanting to trace the outline of Hart’s muscled shoulder with a fingertip. Goose bumps popped along her skin as she remembered in explicit detail everything they’d done last night. Her dreams had come true. She was married to Hart, was desperately in love with him, and he’d made unforgettable love to her. It was so much better than she’d imagined. She would tell him she loved him now. He had to believe her after last night.
Her searching hand met only with the sheets. She turned over and sat up. The space next to her was empty.
She frowned. Perhaps he’d had an appointment today, some reason to wake early and leave. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to bother her. She slid from the bed and padded over to her wardrobe to get another dressing gown, which she pulled on and fastened around her waist. Then she made her way over to the door between their rooms. She knocked once, tentatively, and was greeted with, “Come in.”
She pushed open the door. Hart sat on the edge of his bed, pulling on his boots. His valet was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t help but smile at him. “Good morning, husband.”
“Good morning,” Hart replied. He didn’t look at up at her.
Something was wrong. “I thought we might have breakfast together.”
“I have some business to attend to.”
“Very well.” She forced herself to nod. “Will you be home for dinner?”
He finished with his boots and stood. “No.”
