Page 31 of A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

Bea hurriedly tried to smooth her gown, and push the pins back into her hair. Nash laughed softly, shaking his head.

“I do seem to have made a complete mess of your hair, Bea – can you forgive me?”

“Only if you do it again, as soon as we are alone in our rooms!”

He bent to gently brush his lips over hers again.

“Willingly!”

The carriage door opened, and they stepped down. The door of the house opened, and the butler showed them in, a smile on his face.

“Welcome, Lord Travers, Lady Travers. Your rooms have been prepared, and I took the liberty of arranging a drinks tray and glasses in the room. Or would you prefer that I send tea up?”

“No thank you. I believe that we will have everything we need, until morning. But I will ring if we need anything more.”

The butler bowed, and they went up the stairs. Bea’s head spun – she was Lady Travers – it seemed impossible, and yet it was true. At the top of the stairs, Nash led her to the right, and to the end of the corridor, where he opened a door into one of the most beautiful rooms she had ever seen.

She did not, however, have long to consider it, for within moments of the door closing, she was in Nash’s arms again. His fingers went to the tiny buttons on the back of her dress, even as his lips trailed kisses over her face, down her neck and to her breasts. He pushed the dress off her shoulders, as her fingers worked on the buttons of his waistcoat. But when his tongue slid over the tip of her bared nipple, she lost all coordination, and clung to him for support as her knees buckled from the exquisite sensation.

He continued suckling on her, even as he pushed her dress down, and set about untying her petticoats and unlacing her stays. Soon, nothing remained on her but her silk chemise, and that pushed halfway down her body. He paused in his kisses just long enough to shrug out of his coat and waistcoat, tossing them aside.

Greatly daring, she brought her hands to the buttons of his falls, as he drew his shirt off over his head. The expanse of his muscled chest revealed was beautiful, and, unthinking, exploring, she leant forward and ran her tongue across his skin, tasting, feeling. He groaned, and her fingers shook as she continued with his buttons. His hands joined hers, and soon, his manhood sprang free, as he pushed his breeches down.

When he reached the half boots that he wore, he groaned, and dropped onto the chair near the bed to pull them, and the breeches, off. Bea watched, her heart pounding, wanting to touch him again, almost afraid. Then she chided herself – he was her husband – nothing stopped her now. She slipped the chemise the rest of the way off, and let it fall to the floor. He looked up at her, his face full of love – and desire.

“Bea – you are beautiful, so very beautiful.”

She went to him, and he drew her down onto his lap, the velvet heat of his hardened manhood against her hip, and kissed her again, kissed her lips, her face, her breasts, until she was squirming, panting, needing something, some relief from the intensity of the pleasure. Then his fingers slipped down her side, a tingling caress, and he gently pushed her legs apart a little, to allow his hand access. His fingertips stroked, tangling in the curls of her most intimate place, then settled into a rhythm of movement, which touched a part of her she had not truly known was there.

Pleasure stole her breath, and she arched her back, thrusting her breasts into him, as she gasped and moved. Between kisses he spoke, his voice rough with desire, the breath of his words another caress on her skin.

“Bea, oh Bea, if you continue to move like that, I will spend before we even reach the bed. Yet I do not want to stop, do not want you to stop.”

Now, she could feel him moving too, his hips shifting on the chair, his legs moving a little under her. Then, exquisite and startling at once, his finger slipped inside her, slowly, then back, and in again. With no intent on her part, her hips rocked in time with it, seeking ever deeper penetration, while his thumb continued to stroke that place where the most intense sensation resided between her legs, her own moisture easing its passage.

“I… I need… aaaahhh!”

She did not know what she needed, just that if she did not receive it, she would expire from the intensity of pleasure. And then something truly remarkable happened. Bea could only describe it as an explosion. An explosion which made her mind shatter into particles of pleasure, and her body spasm in his arms as she cried out.

He kissed her lips then, and lifted her, carrying her to the bed, where he laid her down on the turned back sheets. She reached for him, and he moved until his body was above her, his gaze heated with the most intense desire she had ever seen. Slowly, his muscles taut and almost shaking, he lowered himself, until the tip of his hardened manhood touched her entrance. She squirmed at the sensation, instinct making her lift her hips towards him. He smiled, but still hesitated.

“Please, Nash, I want…”

She reached up, stroking her fingers over his skin, tracing the beautiful lines of him.

“Bea…It will likely hurt a little, this first time – you do know that, don’t you?”

She nodded, a little embarrassed, and yet grateful that he cared enough to ask her this.

“I know. Honour told me. And that after that first short pain, there is only pleasure.”

He quivered against her, as if staying still was impossibly hard, then he bent to kiss her again.

“Then, my darling, let us get the pain over with, and proceed to the pleasure.”

He shifted, and eased forward, and Bea felt his member opening her, the sensation strange, and yet good, like his fingers inside her had been good. Then, he reached a point where she felt as if she was impossibly stretched. She whimpered – a sound of frustrated desire, and need, as much as of discomfort, and he bent his lips to hers, even as he thrust harder into her. Her hips lifted to meet him, even as a shock of sharp pain ran through her. She stilled utterly, and so did he, for a moment.

Then, slowly, he began to move again, gently, in and out of her, deeper with each thrust. Now the whimper that came from her lips was a sound of pure pleasure, and she found herself moving with him, her body arching. Carefully, without ever stopping his thrusts, he shifted his weight onto one hand, and slipped the other between them, to find that tiny spot between her legs, just above where he thrust into her. He began to stroke it, as he had on the chair, and Bea lost all ability to think, all ability to control herself. Her body spasmed with exquisite pleasure, tightening around him, and his cry of release took her into an explosion of stars.