Hannah was panting. He was barely touching her, but the mere fact that she would soon be naked before him, that he would see every inch of her body, made her wet with need.
Will he like what he sees?
That question inched its way to the forefront of her mind as each article of clothing was shed. Goosebumps rose on her skin as she watched him. His gaze grew even darker as she became naked.
At long last, she stood naked before him. He said nothing, observing her while she waited nervously.
“What are you thinking?” she asked when she couldn’t take it any longer.
“I’m thinking that I must truly have the restraint of a monk to be able to resist this any longer.”
A blush enveloped her entire body. Rowland ran a soft hand down her waist, to her stomach. His finger brushed her down there and she couldn’t resist him any longer.
She lifted his chin and met him in a kiss. Rowland wrapped his arms around her, standing into the kiss. He didn’t touch her down there again, not yet. She had a feeling he was waiting for the right time.
Suddenly, he broke the kiss again and pulled her toward the bed. As gently as he could, Rowland lowered her down to lie on her back. He stood at the end of the bed and began to undress himself.
Hannah watched, entranced. It was like an erotic play, and she couldn’t look away from the sight. And then, when he was finally as naked as she was, his member pointing out at her, she nearly started salivating.
She couldn’t take her eyes off it, even as he began to climb over the bed to get to her. Not until he was completely over her did she look back at his face. “Do you like what you see?” he asked her.
“I think I’ve fallen in love with you all over again.”
And it was the truth. The thought of all that length filling her made her nearly desperate to have it inside her but she knew he already had plans for her.
He didn’t do the things had been doing all along. When he lowered his lips to her breast, biting and nibbling at the peaked nipple, his hand ran down her stomach until it touched the wetness that awaited him.
Oh, God, yes. It feels so good.
She gasped when his finger began to encircle the tender spot. He moved slowly, his finger slipping over her easily with all the slickness she provided. Hannah couldn’t see anything, though her eyes were trained on the ceiling. Ecstasy was the only feeling she knew.
Slowly he began to pick up the pace and just as Hannah was growing used to the sensation, he slipped a finger inside her without warning. She gasped at the sudden invasion and he looked up.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked worriedly.
No, that is quite possibly the best feeling I’ve ever had.
“No.” She shook her head quickly. “Keep going. Please, for the love of God, keep going.”
Rowland grinned and returned his attention to her other breast. He pumped his finger inside her gently, allowing her to get used to that, before he slipped another finger inside and Hannah thought she saw stars.
This was like nothing she could have imagined. The euphoria was so intense, her body responding so easily that she couldn’t imagine ever going without it. And Rowland seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He knew how to make her body react to him, how to make her gasp and grab the sheets around her.
“Oh, my goodness, Rowland!”
She was reaching that peak again. With two fingers pumping inside her and his tongue exploring her body, Hannah wasn’t surprised to find that she was about to explode all over him. She nearly told him to move but instead, as if he knew that was what was going to happen, he kept going even harder, guiding her toward her release.
It was explosive as the first time and she tried not to cry out his name. He held a hand on her stomach while her body bucked and jerked through the extreme feeling.
“Rowland, that was…”
I have no words. I can hardly even think straight.
“I’m not done,” he said and Hannah braced herself. Now, he came over her again, kissing her tenderly. Hannah was limp from her release and so she was happy he had bent to meet her.
Then she felt him against her. The tip of him, encroaching on the small space. Hannah stared into his eyes, her way of telling him that she was ready for him, and with that Rowland entered her.
It was nothing like his fingers and Hannah wasn’t prepared for that. He was gentle and slow, allowing her to adjust. She gripped the back of her neck, biting her lip to keep from crying out when the weird feeling grew good, then great, then euphoric, within seconds.
Rowland was obviously feeling it as well. He was moaning, lowering onto his elbows to go in deeper. She lifter her legs to accommodate him even further and together they fell into an enchanting rhythm. She was shocked just how quickly she could feel another one building within her and she told him that she was near.
His response to that was to lick her ear, guiding her even further.
She stood no chance after that.
She cried his name out this time, because no climax had ever felt as wonderful as this one. And as if he had waited for her, his body vibrated with his own release and they were caught in that moment together, an exhilarating moment that she would never forget.
He sagged against her once it was over and without hesitation, Hannah wrapped her arms around his body. After a moment, he rolled over to the side.
“Rowland,” she panted.
“Yes, Hannah?”
“Did I mention how much I love you?” she asked.
He chuckled a few times. “I think you did, yes.”
“Well, I love you even more after that. Should—oh, goodness, I’m still out of breath—should we go back down?”
“I think we probably should.”
They said nothing for a moment before Hannah replied with, “Not now, right?”
“Definitely not now.”
Then they laughed again, content to simply lay there in each other’s arms.
She wanted to tell him that she loved him again. But she also wanted to let him know without having to use words. She wanted to go out and scream it to everyone she could find.
For now, she held in the urge and simply rested her head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart. As time went by, it began to slow but his hand remained on her side, making slow circles with his fingers.
I don’t think I’ll ever get over the love I have for you.
As if he heard her thoughts, Rowland hugged her a little tighter.
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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Preview: Unleashed Desires of a Noble Lady
Chapter 1
“Do you think she forgot?” Donald asked, unable to hide the small bit of concern, bordering on fret, that crept into his voice.
“Perish the thought, Donald,” Matthew practically laughed the words at him. “Overslept is more like it.”
The two gentlemen sat at a special dining table Matthew had set up for their breakfast in his garden. While Matthew’s garden was far from the most exquisite, its veranda made it an excellent place to share a meal.
The gentlemen seemed to be almost completely opposite. Donald’s mother used to say that the two boys must have been brought together to complement each other.
Donald Stafney, The Marquess of Stapleton, was tall and muscular, his red coat often straining against his broad shoulders if he moved the wrong way. His dark hair fell in tight curls just above his eyes. For being only of three-and-twenty, his handsome face wore many worry lines. He was a notorious fretter among his friends, which was part of the re
ason he got on so well with his companion, his best friend Matthew was often the only one to lift him from a dour mood.
The gentleman next to him might have been missed if you approached the table from the wrong angle and he happened to be hidden behind Donald’s stature. Matthew Bowles, the Earl of Thetmont, was a slight gentleman, strong but lithe, and a full head shorter and two stone lighter than Donald, despite being the same age. His fairer features made the contrast between him and his friend even greater. With short bright-blond hair and blue eyes he was often quick to draw the attention in a group, and his good humor and hearty laugh would usually hold it from there.
“She will be here,” Matthew reassured his lifelong friend, “there is no way she would miss my going-away breakfast.”
“You are right. We’ve all just been so busy lately,” Donald continued to let his melancholy demeanor shine through, “I don’t want the friendship to suffer due to our business.” He was surprised how much he had missed Emma’s continued presence, but chalked it up to not knowing you missed something until it was gone.
“Our incredibly successful business, Donald. You should give us the credit we deserve,” Matthew laughed and Donald couldn’t help but return at least a smile, which eventually forced itself into a grin.
Matthew was right, they had done extremely well for themselves in a relatively short time. Truth be fully told, the idea of the two young gentlemen being successful business partners surprised no one. And it didn’t hurt that the fur business favored a particular mix of social and business acumen, which suited them just fine. If you were attending an important social function in London, then you were going to see clothing made by furs traded by Donald and Matthew.
Donald and Matthew had been friends since they were both eight-years old. They had met at a holiday party, the Earl of Hannich’s annual Christmas ball, or so their parents had told them. They had little recollection of that social event. All they could remember was an instant and intense sense of fraternity with one another. One that their families had recognized and fostered. The first letter Donald had ever sent had been to Matthew, which still lived in a drawer somewhere on the lavish Thetmont Estate.
Their parents had seen it fit to have the boys educated together and the friendship was forged into something far stronger. Childhood friends to schoolboy companions to business partners. The only person who had come to know the boys as well as they knew each other just so happened to be the same lovely young lady they were waiting on.
“The Lady Emma Weston and The Lady Henrietta Puron,” the butler announced and both gentlemen smiled, a knowing smile from Matthew and a relieved one from Donald. They stood to greet the ladies who would be joining them.
When Emma passed under the flowered gable that lead to the outside dining area, Donald felt his breath catch in his throat. She was accompanied by her dear friend, Lady Henrietta, and their two lady’s maids in close step behind them. But his eyes were, as always, drawn to Emma.
It had been several weeks since they had last seen each other, although they frequently corresponded. They had missed their usual socializing due to all the work that had come with getting the business up and running. That being said, no matter how long between visits, Donald was always a little speechless from her beauty.
The beams bouncing off the white blossoms softened the light and made the flourishes and bunches of Emma’s cream-colored dress look as though they were blooming too. The soft white of her dress was offset by her own pale and delicate complexion, and both were complimented by long silky tresses of dark hair. Donald was always hesitant to admit to himself how strikingly beautiful Emma had become, but he couldn’t deny the quickening of his pulse.
Both gentlemen were delighted by the smiling eyes of their dear friend. She had been there at that holiday party as well and, according to the accounts of their parents, the young girl had followed the two boys around all night. Admittedly, none of the children had any recollection of this, but they had certainly all grown to be close friends in the years to come.
Emma Weston was the daughter of the Earl of Westfolk, and a lady with an active social schedule. It made friendship an effort, to be sure, but it was considered well worth the reward by all of them. Emma’s education had been separate, but they had made every effort to spend their breaks with one another. Their friendship may have ridden the line of socially inappropriate at times, boys and girls being kept properly separate in many regards, but under the watchful eyes of their families, the friends were happy to enjoy their time together.
Donald bowed lightly first to Emma and then to Lady Henrietta, as they gracefully walked over to the table. Lady Henrietta carried herself with less grace than Emma, which she would often attribute to her height. She was one of the tallest ladies that he had ever known and woe to anyone who would point it out in the course of criticism. She was an angular beauty, contrasting her friend almost as much as Donald contrasted Matthew. Her long, loosely-tied hair was a light oak, too brown to be blonde but far too light to be considered a brunette.
Matthew moved to pull out her chair while Donald offered a chair to Lady Henrietta with a smile and made a sweeping gesture for her to sit. Their lady’s maids, Josephine and Selena respectively, were seated at a servants table nearby. It was only proper that their chaperons be close at hand to make sure all behavior was kept proper.
“I hope this morning finds you well, Lady Emma,” Donald began.
She laughed at this, “If I told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Emma, Lord Stapleton. Surely we have known each other long enough to justify that.”
“My Lady, that would be extremely inappropriate. Our dear Stapleton would hate to do something so flagrant,” Matthew playfully scoffed.
“And what is your excuse, Lord Thetmont?” Emma bent and stooped gently down into her seat, allowing herself to be moved to the table. Lady Henrietta likewise, assisted by Donald. Both gentlemen returned to their seats before Matthew answered. A bowl of fruit sat at the table, but out of the corner of his eye Donald saw the servant’s signal the cooking staff that they were ready for their breakfast.
“With the young lord leading by example,” Matthew said gesturing to Donald, “I refuse to be the one seen as uncouth.”
“Of course, how foolish of me to insinuate that you would put yourself in such an obtuse and unflattering position,” Emma retorted, stifling a giggle. “Though you might be too late, being seen as the more proper gentleman compared to Lord Stapleton is a struggle few will overcome.”
“How true. Allow me, then, to put myself in an obtuse and unflattering position by asking what kept you from arriving on time?” Matthew asked, causing Donald to sputter in secondhand embarrassment at such a forward question. Lady Henrietta let a smile creep up on her face.
Emma waved a white gloved hand at Donald, hoping to placate his indignation on her behalf. “Lady Henrietta wouldn’t leave the house until she was fully satisfied with her outfit. She is very picky when she goes out into public.”
Lady Henrietta cleared her throat lightly. “I am sure it has nothing to do with how similar getting you out of bed is like rousing a cat on a hearth.”
“And how many times had you changed by the time I had finally risen?” Emma retorted and the four of them had a good laugh.
The four of them enjoyed a delightful breakfast; the meal was as well prepared as it was rich. And the good meal was only improved by the best of company. They reminisced about old times as they ate, talking just as much about fun youthful pranks as they did their teenage escapades. The three friends were too well socialized to let their additional guest feel like an outsider, filling her in on much of the context.
There was a heavy feeling hanging over the meal, however, and they did the most they could to delay talking about matters of the present. So they all chose to dwell in the past instead, a place that brought them great comfort.
“And these two! They were covered in flour and getting scolded whil
e I was crawling out of the cupboard behind the cook!” Emma was struggling to keep her laughter to a civil volume. Donald could tell she was desperately trying not to snort. He had heard her do it once before and she swore him to secrecy. That had been many years ago, but he hadn’t told a soul. Not even Matthew.
“Made all the more demoralizing by the fact that raiding the pantry was your idea to begin with,” Donald pouted playfully, a move so surprisingly out of character that Matthew allowed himself to crack up a little more wantonly while the ladies laughed.
When they had all caught their breath Matthew let out a sigh, “I suppose we shan’t put off the topic any longer. It is what has brought us together this morning.”
“But our friendship is the topic, My Lord,” Emma offered.
“You are continuing to procrastinate, My Lady, but you are correct though. We are to talk about my departure,” he said with a smile.
“The first time we have all been so far apart,” Donald crossed his arms across his chest and leaned toward the table, “Your company will surely be missed. Are you certain I could not convince you to let me come along?”
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