“One moment; first we need to get rid of—there.” He pulled off her drawers and tossed them aside, then, to her shock, he buried his face in the fur between her legs and inhaled.
“I’m sorry, George. I can’t wait any longer.” His mouth came back to devour hers; she felt a warm, blunt object pushing at her entrance and then a sharp pain. She gasped, suddenly drawn back to awareness. Her body felt stretched, full, as if she might burst.
He checked for a moment and eased out of her, though not all the way. He slipped his hand between her thighs and stroked her with his fingers, and after a moment the shivers started again.
“Better?”
She managed a nod, and wriggled a little. It felt better, so she wriggled again. He groaned. “Lord, George, don’t—I can’t—” With an apologetic grimace he surged into her, and thrust again and again.
And suddenly her body found the rhythm and she moved with him. It felt right, this thing she had been craving for so long. He reached a climax and with a loud groan shuddered into her and collapsed.
They lay there, the duke lying on top of her, breathing heavily, for what seemed like a long time. George lay quietly, savoring the whole extraordinary experience, and quite enjoying the feeling of his weight pressing her into the mattress. Eventually he eased himself out of her and raised himself up on one elbow.
“I’m sorry, George. I should have— I lost control.”
“You lost control?” She wasn’t sure what that meant. Everything had happened more or less as she’d imagined it would. She just hadn’t imagined the rawness of it, the power, the almost animalistic instinct that had taken over her body, moving and reacting without conscious volition. Though it made sense to her. Humans were animals too, she’d always maintained.
He nodded. “I should have waited, should have made it better for you. I have no excuse. You drive me wild with desire. I’ve been aching for you ever since that first kiss.”
Wild with desire? For her? Then she wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling tense and a little out of control? Had he also had wild, erotic dreams?
Pleased, she reached up and stroked his cheek. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not.” He kissed her again, caressed her half-exposed breast, then groaned. “I didn’t even let you get fully undressed, and as for me...” He was almost fully dressed. Apart from removing his cravat, he’d unfastened the fall of his breeches and pushed them down over his backside, but that was all.
“Well, we can certainly do something about that.” George sat up and reached for the buttons on his waistcoat.
“I can do it,” he said and started to undo them himself.
She slapped his hands away. “You got to unwrap your parcel, this is mine.” She swiftly denuded him of coat and waistcoat, pulled his shirt over his head, removed his shoes and stockings and pulled his breeches and drawers off. In minutes he was naked.
She stared at him, breathless. She’d seen men withoutshirts before, and viewed paintings and marble statues of naked men, but never a flesh-and-blood naked man. He was fascinating, beautiful. Strong and sculptured.
And his manhood. She’d expected something much smaller after seeing the paintings and statues.
At first he didn’t seem to mind her inspection of him, but after a few minutes he stood up. “You’re still half dressed,” he pointed out, and bent to remove her shoes and stockings. “As for this—” He walked into his dressing room and came out with a small knife. “I’m going to remove those wretched stays.” He did so. The stays fell away and he pulled off her chemise.
His eyes devoured her. “You are the most beautiful...” He pulled her against him, and kissed her deeply, then flipped back the bedclothes and lifted her in. He got in beside her and pulled up the bedclothes.
He surely wasn’t going to sleep, was he?
George flipped back the bedclothes. “I’m not finished looking at you,” she informed him. She stroked his chest, fingering the tiny flat male nipples and wondering if they were as sensitive as her nipples had proved to be. She experimented and when he shivered and arched slightly under her hand, she smiled. Sauce for the goose...
She slipped her hand lower, caressing his flat, hard stomach in slow, tantalizing circles.
“Ah, so you begin to honor your wedding vows.”
“What?” She frowned at him, puzzled. “My wedding vows?”
“Tsk-tsk, forgotten them already? You promised to rub, cherish andoléme.” He lay back, like a big lazy cat. “Where do you propose to rub next?”
Chapter Nineteen
If I could but knowhisheart, everything would become easy.
—JANE AUSTEN,SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
George woke at dawn. She hadn’t had much sleep—they’d spent half the night exploring each other’s bodies—but she was in the habit of waking early.
