“Oh, George,” she said softly, a wealth of emotion in the two words. Thanks. Love. Regret. Dismay. But a growing resoluteness, too. “Come inside.”
Surprisingly soundlessly for such a huge man, he got to his feet and followed her back into her bedchamber. “I’ll sit here,” he said, settling onto a chaise about halfway between the fireplace and the door. “Just until dawn.”
Her pulse thudded, tightening her nipples and moistening the tender flesh between her legs. Tonight. It would be tonight or never with George. She would have to be the bravest and boldest she’d ever been, but this was her only chance for a little happiness before a nightmare life with Kildaire began.
“No. You’ll undress, take off that wig and those spectacles and your new bloody belly padding, and get into my bed.”
George sucked in a breath. “What?”
“I don’t believe I started speaking Persian,” she replied, lifting her chin even as her voice quavered a little.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“Yes I do. No one need ever know…but I don’t want Kildaire to have me first. He’ll hurt me deliberately, over and over, make the wedding night as awful as possible in punishment. Please, George. I want to know what lovemaking feels like, to be taken with care and affection. If I’m to be trapped with that man for the rest of my life, I want something beautiful to hold onto. That will be worth any consequences.”
“Christ, Lou,” he said rawly. “I can’t do that. I can’t take your virginity.”
A sob caught in her throat. “Please. You must. I know you’ll make it as good as you can for me. Please. Don’t let him win this battle.”
“Hell. Damn it…” he said, closing his eyes, and rubbing a rough hand against his jaw.
With trembling hands, Louisa untied the silken ribbon of her nightgown, lifted it over her head, and tossed it away. Her chemise followed soon after.
Everything felt more intense. From the cool night air on her naked skin, tautening her nipples and ruffling the thatch of hair between her legs, to the orange glow from the spitting, crackling fireplace behind her, to the overloud sound of her panting, ragged breaths.
“Well?” she said shakily.
George opened his eyes, and she moaned at the raw, burning hunger there. He’d never looked at her like this before. As if he wanted to devour her. Possess her completely.
One big hand reached out and curved around her hip, his fingers resting on her backside, and his thumb making circles on her belly. Sweet heaven. Even that made her quiver.
Barely moving a muscle, he pressed on her backside, nudging her toward him until her breasts were mere inches from his mouth. For a long moment he seemed to still be warring with himself, and boldly, she arched her back so her right nipple grazed his lips.
He sighed, his exhaling breath a warm taunt on the swollen peak. “Impatient little chemist, aren’t we? Perhaps I like studying you. Perhaps I’m noting in my mind what these sweet nipples look like before they are licked and sucked and bitten. Perhaps I’m experimenting with how long I can resist the lure of spreading your thighs and undertaking a very thorough exploration of that wet cunny.”
Shuddering at the words, unable to bear another second without his clever, nimble fingers pleasuring her senseless as he’d done in the field, Louisa straddled his legs and cuddled into the warmth of his huge chest. “Touch me. Please. I need you so much.”
George groaned, but in seconds his lips were on hers, harsh and brutal, making her burn, and all she could do was open her mouth and welcome his plundering tongue.
Winding her arms around his neck, she kissed him back equally as fiercely. Loving the taste and feel of him as he crushed her against his chest, and her aching breasts rubbed against the fabric of his jacket. Eventually he drew back slightly, only to trail his lips along her neck, nipping and lapping at her skin until she writhed in his lap, trying to arch her back so he might do the same to her nipples.
“What is the matter, darling?” he teased, as he nuzzled her collarbone, just grazing the tops of her sensitive breasts with his stubble-roughened chin and making her whimper.
“Suck them,” she pleaded.
“I’m not sure what you are referring to. It is a trifle dark in here, and so many delightful things to play with.”
Louisa swatted his arm. “George.”
“Oh, very well,” he replied, as his tongue travelled further down to circle her right nipple, around and around and around before lashing the tip with an expert flick.
She moaned. “More.”
Finally taking pity on her, his warm mouth engulfed her entire nipple, alternately drawing hard on the swollen peak and scraping it gently with his teeth before moving to the other side. Jolts of pleasure arrowed straight to her slick and throbbing core with every suck, but she couldn’t grind her mound against anything or even squeeze her thighs together for relief, as George’s legs were braced apart and her bottom dipped between them.
“Your nipples taste so good,” he murmured. “On another occasion I would see if I could make you come just by sucking them. But the scent of your wet cunny is making me so damned hard, and the way you are circling your hips and whimpering in my ear leads me to believe I should instead focus my attention down there. What say you?”
Louisa gulped in a long, uneven breath. This was the moment her life would change, but instead of someone else controlling the situation or making the decision, it was all her. And the thought was so freeing, she wanted to fling her arms in the air and shout for joy. Instead, she cuddled close to George’s chest again and spoke the necessary words into his ear.
“Take me to bed. Make me yours. Now.”
In one smooth movement, George stood, wrapped her legs around his waist, and walked her across the room to her bed. After yanking the quilts back, he laid her down on her crisp sheets. “Are you sure?” he asked softly. “I’ll ask a thousand times if needed.”
Louisa smiled and cupped his cheek. “I’m sure. Hurry now.”
He perched on the side of the bed, pulling off his boots and jacket, shedding his wig and belly padding, and unfastening his trousers. Oddly, he didn’t remove his shirt. Yet before she could ask why, his hand slid along her upper thigh. Branding her with heat. “Spread these wide for me, darling. Show me where you want my mouth.”
Quivering, sure she would burn up from the inside out, Louisa moaned. “Don’t make me wait. I have no idea what to do and it is…bloody infuriating. I hate not knowing.”
“You are doing beautifully so far,” he replied, and as if in reward, his thumb nudged her clitoris.
“Then hurry up and kiss me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. But instead of reaching for her, he bent down between her legs and kissed her swollen, aching center.
She barely muffled a scream, her hips jerking at the strange but shockingly pleasurable sensation. “I meant on my lips!”
George’s smile was innocent, his gaze pure wickedness. “I am kissing your lips. Nether ones. And now…now, I’m going to make you come. Hard.”
~ * ~
George was so aroused he could scarcely think.
Pausing, he allowed himself a moment to drink in the sight of perfection—Louisa, naked and bathed in candlelight. Silken, creamy skin, dusted with freckles. Small breasts with big, jutting, pale brown nipples glistening from his mouth. Flat belly and lush, rounded hips. And her sweet cunny, shielded by crisp, dark auburn hair, framing delicate dark pink folds and the swollen bud of her clitoris.
He needed to slow down, to regain his senses a little. Never had he felt such hunger, such need for a woman. In the past, control hadn’t been an issue. He could pleasure women without thought, distance himself, spend an evening mouthing meaningless platitudes and walk away without a backward glance. But with Louisa, everything was different. Like being on the verge of breaking every goddamned rule in the gentleman’s book by deliberately taking her virginity outside of marriage. Not to mention
he’d never actually bedded a virgin before, only experienced wives or widows. What if he hurt her? A man of his size always had to be careful; even very wet, he could still unintentionally cause her pain if he were clumsy in his eagerness to be inside her.
And fuck, how he wanted to be inside her.
Again George bent down, this time running his tongue along her labia. She bucked, and he smiled as even more delicious spicy-sweet juice trickled from her slick center. Christ, she was beautiful. And brave. And trusting. And he wanted to reward that faith and trust more than anything in the world. Gently but firmly restraining her thighs with his hands, he licked her clitoris until she cried out his name. But only when her breathing became hoarse sobs, her heels digging into the mattress in an attempt to grind herself against his face, did he wrap his lips around her clitoris and suck firmly. Seconds later she came, a violent, writhing orgasm that lasted and lasted as he continued to lap at her cunny to prolong the sensations.
“Oh God,” she said raggedly, staring down at him with dazed eyes. “That was…”
“Just the beginning,” he replied, sliding his tongue down through her soaked folds and pushing it inside her. In. Out. In. Out.
Reveling in her guttural moans and gasps, delving a little deeper each time, George worked his tongue into her tight center. Hot juices drenched his mouth and chin, and he licked up as much as he could before slowly inserting one thumb. Her nails clawed at the sheets, and she turned her face into a pillow to muffle her cry as she climaxed for the second time.
Fuck. Louisa was so tight around his thumb, he could only imagine what it would feel like as she gripped and milked his stone-hard, aching cock.
“George…” she whispered at last, one hand lifting to stroke his hair. “I think…I think I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?” he said, even as cock surged painfully.
“Yes. I want you.”
He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing pulse. “All right. I’ll go as slowly as I can, but Lou, it’s going to hurt and I can’t help that. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
Louisa nodded shakily. “I know…how should I lie? As I am, or different?”
“How you are is just fine,” he said, repositioning himself so he knelt between her legs, one hand braced beside her head, the other freeing his cock from his trousers.
On another occasion the sound of her sharply indrawn breath might have been a compliment, but he inwardly cursed the knowledge that he would soon be causing her pain not only in taking her virginity, but with his length and girth in general. Thankfully moisture dripped from the swollen head of his cock, and he massaged it over his flesh to allow for easier entry.
“Hold my hand?” she whispered, and he nodded, lacing the fingers of his free hand with hers as he nudged her entrance with his cock, further lubricating himself in her juices.
Then slowly, so slowly, he began to push inside her.
Louisa winced, and he hesitated, unsure whether to pull out and halt this Bedlamite plan, or keep going. But she squeezed his hand, visibly bracing herself. He inched further in, groaning at the way her slick velvet walls clamped around his cock, until he reached the thin barrier of her virginity. Fuck. This was it.
As if reading his mind, Louisa nodded. “I’ll cover my mouth, just in case I scream. Don’t want to wake anyone.”
George nearly smiled at the brisk practicality of his fiery little chemist’s words, but her eyes were huge with anxious anticipation. Any further delay would only make it worse. In one fast, brutal movement, he plunged all the way in. Even muffled, her scream destroyed him, and he halted, panting, to allow her to get used to him.
“Sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry, darling. It will be all right now, I promise.”
She blinked teary eyes at him. “I’m f-fine. I mean, I knew it was going to hurt, but…”
“Let me just try something,” George said, hating the thought that something so incredibly pleasurable for him had caused her pain. He began to move back and forth, a slow, gentle friction of advance and retreat in her tight, wet heat. “Is that better?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Louisa replied, frowning as she shifted and circled her hips. “I’m so full, it aches. And yet I want more…ohhhh yes. There.”
Relieved beyond measure, George again teased her clitoris with his thumb. She moaned, her inner walls pulsing around him, and he gradually thrust faster and harder and deeper as ecstasy approached like a runaway cart. “Wrap your legs around my waist, sweet.”
Her hips tilted and he sank even further inside her. Louisa’s nails scratched his back as she arched under him, and she buried her face in his shoulder and screamed his name, her hoarse cry this time pure pleasure. Her orgasm triggered his own, and he barely managed to withdraw in time to ensure his seed spurted hotly onto her belly, the wrenching spasms lasting so long he thought he might pass out from the intensity.
Utterly shattered, George pressed a kiss to her forehead, then rolled onto his back and tried to regain his breath. And his senses. Louisa immediately cuddled close, and he curved his arm around her shoulders, lifting a lock of her hair to twist around his finger. Fuck, she was beautiful. “Well…”
“Well,” Louisa echoed, blinking owlishly at him. Then she grinned, delving under his shirt to caress his chest. “Mr. Howard, you may expect a glowing reference from me.”
He laughed in sheer relief. “Why thank you. Glad to be of service, ma’am.”
“I never imagined climaxes could feel like that.”
“Different to the one in the field, hmmm? And when you read your penny novels and touch yourself?”
Louisa’s cheeks went bright red. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t lie and tell me a woman of science has never explored her own body. You’ll be hit by a lightning bolt.”
“Bah,” she replied, but there was no heat in the word. Seconds later, she yawned.
“Sleep,” he said softly. “It’s been a long day.”
“Are you…going to stay?”
“Yes. Just until dawn. Then I’ll go back to my chamber. It wouldn’t be good for either of us if I was caught in here.”
“I know,” she said so forlornly, his chest felt like it was trapped in a vice.
She rested her head on his chest and soon succumbed to exhaustion, but George could only stare at the ceiling as he stroked her shoulder. Never had he hated his circumstances as much as he did right now. To know that a bastard like Kildaire would shortly have Louisa forever just because he had a fucking title made him want to punch a wall. And even if by some miracle he did find out who his father’s family were, it wouldn’t change anything. The son of a third son wasn’t even an Honorable, let alone a Sir or Lord.
It was official. The best night of his life was also the worst.
George remained in Louisa’s bed as long as he dared, but soon the cold, gray light of impending dawn couldn’t be ignored any longer. Very reluctantly he got up, silently tucking the quilt around her and smoothing her hair, before dressing himself in his jacket, boots, wig and padding, and leaving the room. He could hear noises from servants downstairs but none around him, and managed to make it back to his own room without being seen.
Shutting his door behind him, he slumped against it and closed his eyes.
“So, tell me. Was she a good fuck?”
George’s eyes flew open and he stared incredulously at the man standing just ten feet away in front of his fireplace. “Kildaire. You appear to be extremely lost.”
The marquess glared at him, his battered face and the orange firelight making the expression even more sinister. “I asked you a question, you goddamned bastard. You were in my fiancée’s bedchamber, and I heard her pleasure and her pain. Which means you have stolen something very, very valuable from me. And I cannot allow such a deed, nor our outdoor altercation, to go unpunished.”
In a flash of movement, Kildaire lunged forward. All at once, vicious pain exploded in George’s sh
oulder, in his chest, in his side, and he collapsed onto the floor in a tangle of too-heavy limbs.
Blood. So much blood. Fuck. He’d been stabbed?
George tried to speak, to call for help, but for some strange reason he couldn’t get his lips to work. Even when Kildaire delivered a vicious kick to his stomach, then stepped over him and left the room, he couldn’t move.
And once again, the familiar suffocating, terrifying darkness enveloped him, and he knew no more.
Chapter Eleven
Christmas Eve, Mannering Castle
“You look in remarkably good spirits, Percy. Finally succumbed to Christmas cheer, eh?”
Percival beamed. Even Howard’s persistent butchering of his name didn’t trouble him today. Not after the newspaper article he’d read this morning. “I have much to be thankful for. Most especially your safe return, of course.”
“Of course,” said Howard with a small inclination of his head.
Damn the man. If he didn’t know better, he might think there was an underlying thread of sarcasm in his cousin’s tone. But Howard was a lumbering idiot who thought in black and white, not nuances, so that was impossible. Besides, the duke could use whatever tone he wanted. Soon enough he’d be lying in a pauper’s grave in the middle of some lackluster churchyard.
Just like his forgotten son.
Once again, triumph surged through his veins as the headline danced in his mind.
MURDEROUS MARQUESS ARRESTED
Irish Lord taken to the Tower of London after the alleged stabbing of a servant, Mr. Howard, at an estate near Cheltenham in Gloucestershire. An anonymous witness said the previous day the two men came to vicious blows over a woman…
While the outcome was sheer perfection, never had he imagined Kildaire would do something so foolish. Personally stabbing another man, in an acquaintance’s house teeming with servants? You hired thugs for those sorts of things, men so desperate for work or money they could be bribed to do any task for a few guineas. Or if you were going to settle matters yourself, you at least did it in a location with no possible witnesses. A deserted road or alley. Near an untamed forest or deep lake where all evidence could be neatly disposed of. But it appeared, as was the story of so many men, a woman had caused Kildaire to lose his head. The Grenvilles would have to send the Donovan heiress a tasteful wreath in recognition of her unwitting assistance. One dead legitimate heir and the culprit taken care of without any link to the family was no small service.
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