Page 63 of Maid for the Marquess

She began to undulate her hips beneath me, too eager, spurring me on.

I released her nipple and glanced up at her, giving her a slow, deliberate thrust. “Patience, Maddie mine.”

She tugged at my hair, the pull a delightful mix of pain and pleasure. “More. I need more.”

“Greedy darling.” I continued to move with agonizing torpidity, sinking deep and then withdrawing, only to sink inside her again.

I was tantalizing us both.

Maddie’s skin was flushed, her eyes glazed with passion, her lips full and parted. Her hair was a wild tangle on the pillow. She had never been more beautiful than this moment, filled with desire for me, a new life growing within her.

“Now,” she demanded.

And I obeyed, because I couldn’t last much longer myself. She felt too good, and the urge to lose myself inside her was strong. I thrust harder, faster, guiding her legs around me as I found the pace we both wanted. When I dipped a hand between us and strummed over her pearl, she clamped down on my cock, crying out my name. I moved, groaning, desperately on the edge, plunging into her slick heat one more time until white-hot bliss exploded within me. I thrust deep and filled her with my seed as she held me tightly to her as she always did, our hearts beating fast.

I remained as I was until my breathing steadied and my wits returned, and then I rolled off her, gathering her up into my arms. She nestled into me with a sigh of contentment, and I pressed a kiss to her crown. “Ah, Maddie mine, what you do to me.”

“I like this part of marriage,” she mused, making me laugh.

“As do I.”

“Do all couples share this feeling?” she asked, curious.

I cleared my throat. “I think it depends. Not all couples have the connection we have built, my wife. Many marriages, especially those among the higher-ups, are matches that are made with lineage and connections in mind. Not love.”

“I would not like to do this with someone else.”

“And nor will you ever,” I growled.

She laughed, slapping my chest. “How can one enjoy it if there is no love?” she asked, looking at me.

I sat up with a sigh, leaning against the headboard, the wood feeling cold. I gazed down at her with a smile as I ran my knuckles over her cheek. “People, especially men, can perform with or without love.” I paused. “In fact, most men prefer it that way. It is simply a release.”

“And women?” she asked, pulling herself up into the same sitting position and drawing her legs to her chest.

Absently, I pulled up the covering so she didn’t get chilled. I chose my words carefully, reminding myself she was still so innocent in the ways of the world.

“Some women, yes. Others do it as their duty, with little pleasure.”

She was quiet for a moment. “How sad.”

“Yes, I imagine so.”

She turned her head, meeting my eyes. “And you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Before me,” she explained. “Did you give your, ah, lovers pleasure?”

I was shocked at her question, yet somehow proud of it as well.

“I tried.” I lifted her hand and kissed it. “Sexual congress was empty before you, Maddie. A meaningless pleasure my body craved. No one ever touched my heart the way you have. With you, it means more. But yes, I wanted my lover to experience the same pleasure—I have never been selfish in that regard.”

“Good.”

“That’s all?” I teased. “You are not jealous?”

“Oh, terribly so,” she retorted. “I want to find any woman you had, ah, relations with and scratch her eyes out. But you married me and you say you love me. So I have won.”