“All right,” she said. “I’m ready.”
The devil take him, he should have drunk the whole damn bottle of whisky. He was brimming, on the verge of coming, and he hadn’t even let his cock touch her, angling his lower half away from her as he held her gorgeous body.
If he didn’t use every ounce of restraint he possessed, he would spill outside of her and she wouldn’t get the baby she wanted. But Henrietta was accommodating, willing to go along with his undue haste.
He felt he should warn her. “There can be pain.”
“Yes, I know. My mother told me a great deal about it all. Everything.”
Her mother. Of course, Georgiana would educate her daughters. Oliver should never have supposed Henrietta had already experienced copulation. Yet another regret in a long line of his regrettable actions towards her.
And the duchess was probably the one to mislead Henrietta about pleasure during the act. Oliver knew from hints Crispin had dropped over the last two decades that he and Georgiana had the vanishingly rare experience of sharing a fervent and mutual desire in their marriage bed.
“But the pain has to do with breaking something, doesn’t it?” Henrietta asked. “I ride so much, surely I’m already broken?”
He had not thought of that. Maybe this would be less uncomfortable for her than it had been for Violet who had screamed curses at him the first time or Emily who had cried silently.
He moved towards her under the sheet and got on his knees.
He could actually hear her swallow before she whispered, “What should I do?”
“Can you spread your legs?”
Obediently, she slid her legs apart, and he moved his knees into the gap she had created on the mattress. He leaned down and put a hand flat on either side of her. The wet tip of his cock brushed against the soft skin of her belly, and he hissed.
“Sorry,” he said just as she said, “Are you all right?”and lifted her head and knocked her forehead against his.
If only he were the type who could laugh at their mutual clumsiness and assure her everything was fine.
But he wasn’t. And damn it, he did not think he could afford to delay any longer. Still hovering over her, he took one hand and held his cock and tried to find her entrance.
“Oh,” she said and sucked in a breath. “That’s lovely.” She wriggled just a little. “You touching me there.”
It was more than lovely. It was tremendous, tantalizing, titillating to brush his fingers and the head of his cock over her heated lips and their soft wisps of hair. And deeper in, she was wet in her delicate folds and not just from his own persistent dribble.
“May I?” he said through clenched teeth.
“Yes. Please.”
He put the head of his cock just barely inside her. God, he was close.
“Is that all right?” he gasped out.
Her hands came up and rested on his shoulders. “Anything you do is all right, Oliver.”
That wasn’t true. That had never been true. Nevertheless, he slowly pressed into her. Her sex was ungodly hot and tight, gripping him.
She made a little sound.
“Am I hurting you?”
“Yes, I mean, it’s a full feeling. But, please, don’t stop.” Her hands moved from his shoulders to his upper arms. “Please.”
He slid in farther, clenching his buttocks in the hopes that would keep him from release.
“Yes,” she said.
Another inch from him.Oh, my God. And then another, and another, and another and suddenly he was totally seated in her, totally surrounded by her.
