She tried to do as he asked. Honestly. The wetness flowed and her body turned to fire until at last the crest broke. Mindlessly, Dorothea arched her back as waves of sensation washed over her and a bolt of liquid hot pleasure shot through her entire being.
Eyes closed, she collapsed against the damp bedsheets, breathing hard, her body open and relaxed. Lost in a haze, she felt Carter smooth her hair back from her damp brow. She lifted her face toward his and he kissed her lips softly, gently.
“God Almighty, you are beautiful,” he rasped.
“That was incredible.” Dorothea smiled. A quiet, secretive, womanly smile. She did not know, had not realized it would be such a physical and emotional act, an intimate exploration of the secrets of the flesh between man and woman. A closeness that bordered on the spiritual.
But her languid pleasure was interrupted by a bold caress. She opened her eyes and found Carter looming above her, pressing her shoulders against the soft mattress, pushing her legs open with his knees.
She reached up and splayed her hands against the hard muscles of his chest. He truly was a beautiful man. A rush of emotions invaded her heart as she prepared herself for this ultimate intimacy, an edge of nerves mingling with a knot of anticipation deep inside.
Dorothea felt his hardness pressing against her, probing for entrance. It startled her and she tensed, remembering how large he was, but he pushed her legs wider apart and pressed on.
“Relax,” he murmured. His hands hooked her knees and he held her in place. “You are wet and open and ready for me. I will have you now.”
She tried to do as he bid, but the tightness and discomfort as he pushed his penis inside her had her wriggling beneath him, searching desperately for a means of escape.
“Bloody hell, Dorothea. Stay still!”
His strangled voice startled her. His breathing was hard as he seemed to struggle to maintain control. Struggle and lose.
Her grip on his shoulders tightened at the same moment he lifted his hips and thrust forward. The sharpness of the pain took her breath away. She groaned, but he misunderstood the sound, for he thrust forward again, harder. Arching upward, Dorothea dug her fingers into his shoulders, trying to pull herself away, but that too was wrong, for it encouraged him even more.
Realizing the struggles were making it worse, Dorothea forced her body to relax. He pressed forward again, his huge, swollen penis stretching her flesh, filling her completely. The pain lessened as she gradually allowed herself to succumb to Carter’s possession. But the joy, the excitement did not return. She felt disconnected from what was happening and she yearned to recapture the earlier, urgent emotion.
She wanted to somehow verbalize this dilemma to him, but everything was moving so fast, so intensely, it was impossible. Her brain seemed to have shut down, along with her voice and the confusion between her mind and body and heart jumbled together inside, paralyzing her.
When Dorothea thought she could stand it no longer, when the words inside her seemed to finally rise up and were ready to release themselves, she heard Carter’s low, deep growl. He surged forward a final time, his body clenching and shuddering. She felt the warm rush of his seed spurt into her aching passage, then with a final groan he collapsed on top of her.
It seemed a long time before either of them could draw a calming breath. Strange, but the weight of him on top of her now, the weight that had felt so oppressive before was now a solid, warm comfort. Idly, Dorothea ran her fingers over his sweat-soaked back, listening to the sharp bellows of his breath tickle her ear.
She shifted her hips slightly and realized with a start that their flesh was still joined in the most intimate way.
Carter must have felt it too, for he laughed suddenly. “Jesus, I’m still hard.” He reached over and tenderly stroked her hair. “Give me a few minutes to recover and we’ll have another go at it, sweetheart.”
His words froze her blood. Oh, dear Lord! He wants to do it again? Her heart clamored with panic, her sore body tensed at the notion of another invasion. She struggled to find the words to tell him that she needed more time to recover. He pressed a tender kiss to her brow and cheek. She tensed, but he only continued with these sweet kisses.
And then finally, thankfully, she heard the deep, steady rhythm of his breathing and realized he had fallen asleep.
Dorothea stared up at the ceiling, uncertain what she was feeling. Her body ached and tingled in various unmentionable places. Between her legs, she was sticky and wet with her husband’s seed and the last remnants of her virginal blood. Beside her, Carter snored deeply and she hoped he would stay in that deep slumber for the remainder of the night.
It had all started so promisingly. She had been nervous, but Carter had calmed her nerves, distracted her fear with gentle caresses that had stirred her passion. He had been giving and generous, bringing her body skillfully to a crescendo of desire and then hurling her over the edge.
The sensations had been wondrous and all consuming. Yet as she drifted inside the joy and enormity of the moment, the pain had struck. Deep, sharp, and real. First physical, but next emotional. He had thrust himself inside her as though she was his possession, regardless of how she felt.
She had wanted to call out to him, to tell him to stop, to wait, but her voice had failed her. Instead, she lay pinioned beneath him as he plunged and withdrew. Thankfully, it did not take long for his control to break, for his body to jerk convulsively as his warm essence spurted into her tender body.
He had held her a long time after it was over, seeming to revel in the stillness. There were sweet, light kisses pressed on her neck, her cheeks, her lips. His tenderness and care had brought forth a rush of emotions she couldn’t define. She snuggled into his hard warmth, craving the connection that had eluded her when their bodies had been joined.
His announcement that they would repeat the act had put her in a total panic. Thankfully, he had fallen asleep before he could make good on his promise, still holding her tightly in his arms. She too had tried to rest, but it was impossible. Cautiously she waited until she felt his possessive hold slacken. Seizing her chance, she uncurled herself from his grasp and scurried to the relative safety of her side of the bed.
She lay there for hours, practically memorizing each delicate fold in the opulent silk bed hangings above her. She tried to remain still and silent, yet could not prevent the sighs that continued to escape. Fortunately she mastered any tears that threatened, for she honestly knew not why she wanted to weep.
From disappointment? Pain? Or something even more profound? She believed they were forming a solid relationship yet when he possessed her body she had felt a distance from him that was as wide and vast as the ocean, a distance from herself that she could not identify or understand. It had been a strange, frightening feeling that effectively pushed all chance of pleasure aside.
A sudden movement in the bed froze her thoughts. Dorothea stiffened, holding herself perfectly still, fearing even to breathe. Finally Carter ceased his rustling, rolled closer to the center of the massive bed, and fell back to sleep with astonishing speed, his scent and warmth surrounding her.
Dorothea listened to his deep, steady breathing and tried to do the same, but sleep was impossible while her heart pounded with such confusion and self-doubt. Had she made a dreadful mistake? Had she chosen the wrong man to be her husband or was she simply not suited to be a wife? Perhaps if there was a deep abiding love between them she would have felt more of a connection. As it stood, they were practically strangers.
Strangers who were now married, bound to each other for life. Strangers who shared embarrassing physical intimacies, yet knew so little of each other. Blinking quickly to hold back any tears, Dorothea scolded herself for being so maudlin, so melodramatic.
She deliberately closed her eyes, but her body was so tense, her mind so full, the blessed escape of sleep would not come. After another hour, or maybe two, she gave up the pretense and crept from the bed. She suspected one of
the several interior doors in this bedchamber led to her own rooms, but feared her clumsy rustling about the chamber would wake Carter.
And she had a fair suspicion of what would happen then. She believed if she told him no, he would respect her decision and not force her. But he would demand an explanation, and that she was not yet prepared to give. It was all still too new, too raw, too confusing.
In the dim candlelight, Dorothea found the washstand. She carefully poured some clean water into the porcelain basin. She wrung out a cloth and ran it over her body, then pressed it between her legs, washing away the remaining traces of semen and blood. The water was cool, but it helped ease the burning, the soreness.
Desperate for something to cover herself, she picked through the mountain of clothes strewn about the floor. She found her chemise, but several of the front ribbons were missing. Tossing it aside, she grabbed the marquess’s wrinkled shirt and pulled it over her head. The long sleeves came down to her fingertips and the bottom fell to the tops of her knees. It was perfect.
Surprisingly, the soft, warm linen felt comforting as it draped around her skin. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Dorothea hugged herself and breathed deeply. The garment smelled of Carter, which might have made it objectionable when in fact it did just the opposite.
The familiar scent brought a sense of comfort, a reaction she could not fully understand. Like everything else about tonight, she decided with a shrug.
Padding barefoot to the large wing chair in the corner, Dorothea curled herself into a comfortable position and forced her body, and her mind, to relax. She suspected she would stay there until dawn broke, yet amazingly she soon fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Carter heard the knock on his bedchamber door, but he did not want to acknowledge it. His head was hazy with the memory of an erotic dream of Dorothea and he wanted to savor the image as long as possible.
She was a Siren, his brand-new wife. A beautiful, passionate temptress with a body made for sex and a spirited temperament that fired a man’s blood, assaulted his senses.
Deflowering a virgin was heady business, Carter decided. And unchartered territory for him. His previous lovers had always been experienced women. The novelty of tutoring a woman as passionate as Dorothea in the art of lovemaking had kept him painfully aroused for the majority of yesterday afternoon.
That was why he had left the carriage and ridden his horse when they stopped at the first posting inn yesterday, remembering well his vow not to take his wife’s virginity in a coach. Likewise, he had taken himself away so soon after they arrived at Ravenswood Manor. He had not wanted to turn into an uncouth beast, ravaging his innocent bride in the middle of the day, consummating their union for the first time in a hasty, rushed manner.
It had been the correct decision. He had relished the opportunity to explore her lovely form, to tease and excite her, to watch her climax as he readied her body for his possession.
His arousal had been painful in its intensity when he bedded her last night, yet her untried body had satisfied him as no other woman had ever done. She had been so wet and warm, so impossibly tight. He had practically spilled himself the moment he became fully sheathed inside her. Miraculously, he had somehow managed to control himself long enough to seek a full and satisfying climax.
Remembering it now made him rock hard. Reflexively, his arm reached across the wide expanse of his bed. Perhaps it was time to awaken. Time to awaken and experience again this heady bliss.
But when he opened his eyes, the bed was empty. Only the faint scent of her lavender perfume lingered, mingling with the earthy, appealing smell of sex. Annoyed, Carter sat upright.
The knocking persisted. “Come in!” he barked, his mood worsening. Where was his wife?
His valet, Dunsford, stood in the doorway. “Shall I have hot water brought for you to shave, or would you prefer a bath this morning, my lord?”
“Where is Lady Atwood?” Carter demanded, ignoring the questions.
The valet was so startled he took a step backward. “I, um…am uncertain.”
“Has she had her breakfast?”
“I regret to inform you that I am unaware of her ladyship’s schedule, but will be happy to ask Mrs. Simpson,” the valet offered in a voice laced with stiffness.
“Never mind,” Carter replied, tossing back the covers. “Have Mrs. Simpson instruct Lady Atwood to meet me in the drawing room in an hour.”
What Carter really wanted was to have his missing wife summoned to his bedchamber, but he would not embarrass her in front of the staff with such a blatant request.
After bathing and eating a hearty breakfast, Carter’s mood was much improved. He arrived at the drawing room before his wife and settled in comfortably to await her arrival.
She came precisely at the appointed time. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw he was already inside. He smiled and stood on his feet. Dorothea shut the elaborate gilded doors behind her, yet took only two steps into the room. Her hands twisted together nervously at her waist.
Carter thought the gesture naively endearing.
“Good morning,” she said softly. “Mrs. Simpson said that you wanted to see me.”
“Good morning.” He came forward and dipped his head, intending to kiss her lips. She turned as he drew near and he ended up kissing her cheek. “I missed you in my bed this morning.”
“I thought it would be strange if I awakened there with you,” she said quietly.
“I would hardly have minded,” he replied, his eyes searching her face. “We could have once again recaptured the pleasure of last night.”
“Ah, last night.” She lifted her hand to her mouth and began to chew on her fingernail. “It was very…um, emotional, was it not?”
Emotional? He thought it a damn sight more than emotional. It was bloody fantastic.
“Will you wish to repeat it again this evening?” she inquired.
This evening? He wished to repeat it right now, this very minute. He was hardly sated. Their initial coupling had only whetted his appetite for more. Yet there would be no pleasure for him unless Dorothea also undertook this journey to ecstasy. Was it the daylight that made her so shy, so reticent?
“I doubt I can wait until this evening, sweetheart.”
For several seconds, she said nothing. Then she gazed into his eyes, her features neutral. “Very well. What time shall I expect you in my bedchamber?”
Her stilted, formal reply was the first inkling that his bride had not enjoyed the delights of their nuptial bed to the same extent as he. Her small, nervous step away from him as he approached her was the second sign.
“Are you still very sore?”
“Carter, please. Must we discuss this?”
Irrationally, her quiet plea brought on his anger. “Yes. I will not have you cringing and cowering every time I approach you.”
Her eyes flashed. “I hardly did that, sir,” Dorothea said defensively. “Nor would I ever act in such a manner. I know and accept my duties as your wife. All my duties. And I should like to point out that I would not have said one word about last night unless you asked me.”
Well, she had him there. He had been the one to bring up the topic. But only because he anticipated a completely different response.
“I know the initial bedding can be difficult for a woman, but I thought I prepared your body well. I don’t understand what went wrong.”
“Ah, so you speak from experience? You have deflowered a good many virgins over the years?”
Carter winced. That comment rankled. She made him sound like a sexual deviant. Was that truly what she believed?
“You were my first, and last, virgin,” he stated emphatically.
“A rare honor for me, then.”
“Dorothea, what is wrong? Did I hurt you that badly?” He reached for her hand and held it between his palms, startled to feel its chill. He anxiously studied her face, but it was a mask of impassive stone. “We promised last night there would be no
secrets between us.”
She squeezed his hand, then slowly pulled it away. “It wasn’t all horrid. It started out quite wonderfully actually, right until, well, you know.”
“Until what? Until I penetrated you?”
Dorothea groaned. “I really cannot have this discussion with you.”
“’Tis my fault. I should have taken you slow and easy, but you were so passionate, so giving. I lost my head.” He accompanied his apology with a boyish grin, designed to melt even the coldest heart. But Dorothea did not smile. She averted her eyes.
“I know it is different for a man. I understand that you were only being true to your nature. Rest assured, I will fulfill my wifely duties with all the passion I can muster.”
He made a gruff, impatient sound. “No matter how abhorrent they are to you?”
“I did not say that,” she insisted, crossing her arms against her breasts.
The gesture called his attention to her ample bosom. He recalled the luscious shade of her dusty rose nipples contrasting with the milky smoothness of creamy round breasts. The sight and taste of them had driven him to near madness, and the memory was more than enough to bring him swiftly to arousal again.
With effort he lifted his gaze from her luscious body. And then he saw it. The vulnerability on her beautiful face, the uncertainty and wariness shadowed in her eyes. It made him feel like an utter cad.
She had trusted him to treat her gently and he had failed her. Unintentional, but that did not make it any better. His passion and desire had made him selfish. It was hardly the way to treat a wife, and certainly not what she deserved.
She appeared to recover her composure, then attempted a smile. It failed. “It wasn’t that awful,” she whispered. “That is to say, well, at least the most painful part ended quickly.”
She released a long, slow breath, then straightened her shoulders, like a soldier determined to go into battle despite his fear.
Carter felt his gut clench. He had never been so wounded by a remark in his entire life. He knew how to pleasure a woman. How to make her pant with anticipation, move her entire body with restless desire, shout at the top of her lungs when she reached her climax.
How To Seduce A Sinner Page 18