For what seemed like hours he attended to her nipples and neck. Tormenting and teasing until it felt like they were directly connected to a spot between her legs which was pulsing and burning and becoming so damp she could actually see a faint mark forming on the silk of her nightgown.
Caroline squirmed in embarrassment. But instead of stopping, one hand slid around her waist to clamp her more firmly against him while the other inched its way past her hips and down her leg until it could lift the fabric and stroke her skin. Stephen’s fingers moved back and forth, tracing the lightest of patterns on her sensitive inner thigh. Agonizingly close to a spot screaming to be rubbed, but maddeningly never quite reaching it.
He grasped her nightgown in his hand and pulled it upwards until the musky-scented, glistening blonde curls between her legs were exposed. Oh God.
“Hold this,” he said gruffly.
“I can’t. It’s…”
“If you want me to touch you where you’re dying to be touched, you’ll hold it.”
Mortification scorched its way across her cheeks, but eventually she closed her eyes, grabbed the silk and bunched it at her waist. “There. Happy now?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Open your eyes and watch me. If you don’t, I’ll stop.”
Her body’s demands too powerful to ignore, she lifted her chin and obeyed, soon transfixed by the utterly wanton image in the looking glass. Amusement touched Stephen’s lips and she wanted to slap him, but then his knuckles brushed her tight nether curls and she moaned instead. Slowly, gently, he parted the crisp hair until it revealed the secret pink flesh beneath, now coated in creamy wetness.
“Perfect,” he murmured, but any words she might have replied were lost when he began caressing her. Up and down, side to side, the pads of his fingers danced across her burning, aching center. It was exquisitely pleasurable, and yet she found herself yearning for so much more.
Caroline’s hips flexed and rotated of their own volition, the fervent plea her mouth refused to make, but for once he didn’t hesitate or use it against her. Merely pushed a finger all the way inside her, while lightly rubbing a spot nearby with his thumb that made her pant. This felt even better, so damned incredible she moaned again, about ready to promise him anything, forever, when he began to withdraw it.
“No!” she protested sharply.
“Patience, wife,” Stephen replied lazily as he started a wicked game of advance and retreat. Now two fingers moved in and out of her soaked channel, unhurried to start then faster and faster while his thumb pressed harder on that magical spot, hurling the tension to breaking point.
She couldn’t bear it a moment longer. Writhing, sobbing, she ground against his hand, willing him to help her over the edge. And finally it happened. An ecstasy she’d never dreamed existed, where every muscle tightened and hot, powerful pulses of pleasure tore through her body, making her scream. Luckily Stephen had the foresight to clamp his free hand over her mouth and muffle the sound, stopping everyone within a two mile radius from running to investigate.
Oh God, oh God, oh GOD.
Boneless, Caroline sagged against him, but instead of letting her rest, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the countess’ wide four-poster bed. Seconds after settling her on the soft linen sheets he made short work of her nightgown, tearing the delicate fabric in half. Untying the sash he shrugged off his robe, and for the first time she saw his erection, huge, hard and jutting out from a nest of black hair.
Gulping, she tentatively reached out a hand to touch it, but he stopped her.
“No,” he said so roughly it somehow took all sting from the rejection. “I want to be inside your beautiful body when I come, and I’m damned close right now.”
Sitting up, Caroline took his face in her hands and brushed her mouth against his. Stephen made an earthy, growling sound and soon he was practically devouring her, crushing and nipping her lips, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Yet even that wasn’t enough, and with a muffled expletive he cupped her breasts, bending his head and alternately scraping the engorged nipples with his teeth and sucking each deeply into his mouth.
He was merciless as he took from her, yet pure feminine power surged at his reckless hunger, too. Yes, she’d been humbled with ecstasy and he didn’t love her, but right now his glittering gaze, tense shoulders and fierce kisses made it brutally obvious he wanted her, and that was something. She pulled away and balanced on her elbows, deliberately letting her legs fall open. For once unashamed of her voluptuous curves.
“Then do it, husband.”
Something wholly primitive flashed in his eyes, but he nodded curtly. “I’ll try to be as slow and gentle as I can, but there’ll still be some pain. Unavoidable unfortunately.”
“I know. What…what do you want me to do?”
“Lie back,” he said grittily. “Spread your thighs a bit more. That’s it.”
Caroline nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
Stephen knelt between her thighs, leaning down to again stroke and play with her hot, wet center. She whimpered as the still-sensitive flesh sparked to life, spilling more creamy moisture onto his fingers. Then he took his length in his hand and began to penetrate her. Despite her wetness and his measured pace, discomfort kicked in immediately and she winced, blinking dewy eyes at him. But he pressed on, his clenched jaw and rigid shoulders revealing exactly how much control he was exercising as he smoothly inched his thick hardness further into her tight, untouched passage.
“I’m sorry,” he ground out, but before she could answer he pulled back and rammed forward.
Caroline involuntarily shrieked as shocking, horrible pain, like she’d been torn in two, ripped through her wide open body, and she dug her nails so hard into her knees they drew blood. Oh, this was awful. No wonder matrons chose to sleep in separate wings and endorsed mistresses. How on earth could any woman bear it? Doing this over and over to get with child? The earlier part had been wonderful, she couldn’t deny that, but this, dear God, never again.
Tears gushed down her cheeks even as she realized he had paused.
“It won’t ever be like that again, I swear,” Stephen said softly, squeezing her hand while panting with the effort of not moving. Then, very, very carefully he rolled his hips. “Does it still hurt?”
Her first instinct was to scream ‘yes!’ in the hope he would hastily withdraw and leave her alone. But innate honesty forced her to admit that while she felt stretched and full beyond belief, the initial biting pain had dulled.
“It’s not so bad now,” she choked out, one hand lifting to dash the tears from her no doubt hideously blotchy face. She’d never been an adorable crier, this was just compounding her humiliation.
“Good,” he said, clearly relieved as he began to move again, in and out, in and out.
Caroline wrinkled her nose in concentration as a new sensation battled the discomfort. Now she felt restless, like she wanted to move too. Experimentally she rocked her hips, stifling a smile as her internal muscles shimmied and Stephen’s breath hissed between his teeth. Hmmm. That felt all right.
She tried it again, this time adding a circling motion.
Oooooh.
Over and over she circled and rocked, her body finding its own rhythm as Stephen’s thrusts became harder and deeper. Oh my, yessssss. This angle forced his groin firmly against her mound, reigniting the delicious, tingling feeling. But she needed something more.
“Faster,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I need…faster.”
“Your servant, ma’am,” he replied, actually smiling as he sank fully inside her then swiftly withdrew, setting up a gorgeous, slick friction that had her body singing.
“Close, so close,” she gasped, and as if he understood, he reached down and stroked between her legs while pistoning in and out of her soaked sheath. Without warning her world splintered, and she cried out as ecstasy again buffeted her body,
even stronger than before. Seconds later Stephen almost froze, then a low, harsh sound escaped him, his body jerking and spasming as his seed gushed inside her.
He slumped forward and she pulled him tightly against her, liking his heavy weight. Forget what she’d thought earlier, nothing would ever top making love with her husband in terms of sheer magic. Doing that every night would be a necessity. Surely something so blissfully perfect, where they were so wonderfully in tune with one another, could only result in him eventually loving her in return. No doubt other matters would be far better between them too, and in the morning they could lie here enveloped in these cozy blankets and discuss everything that needed to be discussed.
Sighing in bliss, Caroline turned her cheek into the soft down pillow, yawned and promptly fell asleep.
~ * ~
Caroline had succumbed to slumber in record time, but relief swiftly replaced any pique. It would be a lot easier to return to his chamber now. He certainly had a lot to think about, and apparently thinking couldn’t be done whenever he was in close proximity to her perfect, lush body.
No one possessed a figure like hers, such long, strong legs, ripe, strawberry-tipped breasts, narrow waist and flaring hips. He’d nearly climaxed several times in front of the mirror just watching her surprise, her lust, her unashamed pleasure as he’d first toyed with her neck and nipples then plundered her dripping, fragrant center until she came. But despite the nigh-on unbearable temptation to fall to his knees and suck her swollen clitoris, to lap up all that sweet musky cream, the urgent demands of his stone-hard cock took precedence and he’d just about thrown her onto the bed in his haste to be inside her.
He’d never actually bedded a virgin before. All his previous lovers, young widows and high-end courtesans mainly, were vastly experienced. Knowing exactly what to do and when. Yet he couldn’t remember ever being as hard or so on the verge of completely disgracing himself simply from fingering and stroking a woman. When he’d actually taken Caroline’s virginity, he’d hated hurting her, but he’d never felt more possessive in his life. Knowing that no other man had been or would be where he was. Knowing she now belonged to him. And the way her wet, glove-tight sheath had gripped and milked him until he’d spurted what felt like gallons of seed…
Stephen grimaced as his cock twitched, reminding him exactly how much it really liked its present location and how good it would be to have her several more times. Idiot appendage. He needed to get the hell out of here before Caroline’s sated sleepiness wore off and she woke up sore and remembering he’d made her cry and lose control.
Reluctantly easing himself out of her heat, he stepped back onto the carpeted floor. Gathering his discarded robe he moved soundlessly to the connecting door between their chambers, shut it behind him then slumped onto his huge bed. Indeed, getting Caroline with child would be no hardship whatsoever. It was everything outside the bedchamber he somehow had to try and navigate.
When bright rays of mid-morning sunshine burst into his room he was still staring at the ceiling. He summoned Daniels to dress and shave him, the canny valet swift and silent after observing his black scowl and smartly deciding it wasn’t the time for chirpy banter. Eventually Stephen made his way downstairs, the delicious scent of breakfast luring him into the secondary dining room. A small banquet lay waiting — crisp bacon, coddled eggs, kippers, thin slices of rare beef, and toasted bread—and his stomach rumbled.
“My word, darling, I heard that from the hallway. Anyone would think you hadn’t been fed in at least a week!”
Stephen glowered at his mother as she breezed into the room and helped herself to a plate of coddled eggs and toast. Another morning chirper.
“Feels like it’s been a week. I missed supper last night.”
Jane’s cheeks went pink. “Yes, well, I believe by now everyone in London will know exactly how you spent your evening. The two of you weren’t exactly discreet in retiring from the ballroom.”
“If others would prefer to spend their wedding night talking to people they have little time for, dancing or playing whist that is their prerogative.”
“Excuse me, my lord,” interjected a footman from the door. “The post is here, and Cook wants to know if the countess will be joining you and the dowager. Is there anything her ladyship particularly likes for breakfast?”
Stephen frowned as the young man placed his letters on the edge of the table. Hell, he didn’t even know that very basic detail. Wait on, Caroline had a decidedly sweet tooth. Pastries and a bowl of chocolate? Toasted bread with strawberry jam and a cup of hot tea? Then again, perhaps she preferred plain fare in the morning.
“Lady Westleigh is resting at present and is not to be disturbed,” he replied in a clipped voice, annoyed at his own lack of knowledge. “When she rises she may come down here or request a tray, but in either case Cook will prepare whatever she wants. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lord,” the footman said, scooting from the room.
Watching the servant’s departure, he nearly missed his mother slip a letter from the pile of mail into the folds of her lavender morning dress.
Cutting a large piece of bacon, he stabbed it with his silver fork and devoured it. “Secrets, Mama?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you turn lunatic at the milliner’s again and now hold in your hand the kind of bill I’m not going to like?”
“Don’t be silly, darling. After your last chest-beating tantrum I’d hardly do that.”
“Then why are you hiding a letter in your lap?”
Her brown eyes shifted. “I’m not.”
“I saw you put it there,” he said impatiently, truly not in the mood for games. “Good God, it’s not a love letter is it?”
“Stephen Douglas! How dare you even suggest such a—”
“Fine. Then you won’t mind showing me.”
His mother’s expression turned mulish. “No.”
“I’m not going to ask you again, Mama.”
“I’m glad to hear it. This conversation is growing exceedingly dull and my breakfast is getting cold.”
Stephen finished a mouthful of eggs and slowly placed his fork down on the table. “Mother. The letter. Now.”
“All right, all right,” she snapped, practically throwing it at him.
Turning it over, he saw Kimbolton’s unique symbol and frowned. Wait. He’d never gotten around to reading the previous letter. What on earth had happened to it?
His lips tightening, Stephen slid a sharp knife under the purple wax seal, unfolded the crisp parchment and began to read.
Brother Westleigh,
We hope this letter finds you well. Although you have not responded to any of our previous missives, it is still our fervent hope you will attend a Society meeting at eleven o’clock today, 635 Piccadilly, and continue on your revered late brother’s great and valuable philanthropic work.
Respectfully,
Brother Kimbolton
Rage surged through Stephen’s veins, so scorching and powerful it almost blinded him. She’d done things in the past that had tested his patience to the limit, but this went far, far beyond that. Slowly, he raised his head and pinned her with a dagger glare. “Exactly how many letters have you intercepted, Mother?”
Jane lifted her chin, but it quivered. “It’s for your own good. Andrew never liked Gregory being involved in that strange group, and I don’t want you getting m-mixed up in it either.”
“How. Many. Letters?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, now you’re starting to sound like Sir Malevolent. Seven. The first one arrived about six months after your father and Gregory passed. I burned it. I b-burned the others, too. There is something not right about those people!”
Stephen picked up the silver salt shaker, gripping it with such strength his knuckles whitened. It was either the salt or her throat. “That is for me to decide, don’t you think?”
“No!” she burst out. “Andrew said—”
“Father?” S
tephen snarled, his temper exploding. “Father is dead! And despite your constant parroting of his gospel, Father was not always right!”
“I know, but—”
“Mother. It is long past time you recognized that I am not a child. I am the earl. I am in charge. You must not do these sorts of things anymore. Do you understand?”
“I understand you see everything in black and white. But life is gray, Stephen. People are gray. They lie and swindle, all the while smiling and calling you friend…”
The salt shaker shattered in his palm.
“…all right, all right,” she finished hastily. “Perhaps…perhaps I should go to Westleigh Park for a bit. Country air is so good for the constitution. I’ll leave next—”
“Tomorrow.”
Jane scowled, a disdainful empress, but she inclined her head. “As you wish.”
“I do. Best go and pack your trunks, Mother. I’ll send a rider telling them to expect you, but I’m off to Piccadilly.”
“Stephen…”
“Long journey. Don’t forget your embroidery.”
“I’ll sew all your sleeves together!” she snapped, and in a swish of skirts, stalked from the room.
Stephen clenched his fists, but forced himself to take several deep breaths and relax. She really had gone too far this time. Burning his letters, making decisions on his behalf, stealing a part of Gregory away from him, not because of any factual evidence, but because of some goddamned bloody feeling.
Picking up his fork, he attacked the cooling plate of food in front of him, shoveling it into his mouth in a way he hadn’t done since the nursery and washing it down with two cups of steaming tea. Damned infernal woman. On top of everything else he would no doubt end up with indigestion now, but trying to achieve anything on an empty stomach was an exercise in futility.
And besides, according to his pocket watch, he had just forty minutes to make it to the Piccadilly meeting.
~ * ~
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