She raised an eyebrow at that.
“I’m not saying it won’t frustrate me, because it will. But I imagine it’s just as frustrating for a woman not to have a whole and fulfilling life with her husband because she’s afraid of the past.”
“Yes.” She squared her shoulders. “I think you’re right. And I do want children, after all.”
She would do this to have children. Somehow that made him sad. He wanted her to do it for herself. For him.
But no matter; he would work with what he had. “My point is, we have plenty of time to do this however we want. For tonight, all I ask is if you’ll let me demonstrate how it works. Nothing more. We don’t have to actually do what I show you. Or we can, and the minute you balk, we’ll stop. The minute you’re frightened, we’ll stop.”
Her gaze turned hard. “I once heard that a man can’t stop. That it’s almost impossible to stop.”
He snorted. “That’s a lie men tell women to get under their skirts. Have I not stopped more than once? Was I not fully aroused this afternoon?”
She sucked in a ragged breath. “Yes. But you said you couldn’t keep going through that.”
“I was wrong.” He buried his fingers in her loosely pinned hair. “I can go through that as many times as it takes to make you comfortable. I only ask that you talk to me. To tell me what you’re feeling, what you want, what you—”
“Kiss me, Edwin. Just stop talking and kiss me.”
He didn’t need another invitation. He took her mouth, feeling all at sea. While he was glad he now knew why she’d shied from him, it was hard to realize she both wanted and feared him. He hated having her fear him.
So when her lips parted to let him in, it touched him deeply. His determined wife was always willing to “try”—and now that he realized how difficult even that was for her, he couldn’t be insulted by it.
They kissed, his heart thundering in his chest, her breath stuttering against his. She tugged at his coat, so he shrugged it off and let her unbutton his waistcoat while he spread openmouthed kisses down her cheek and jaw and throat. He pulled off her coat and waistcoat—odd to be doing that—and then tugged her shirt out of her breeches so he could slip his hands beneath the linen to fondle her breasts.
“Yes,” she murmured. “I like that. It feels wonderful when you do it.” She pulled his shirt out, and ran her hands beneath the fabric and all over his bare chest. “You’re so hard, so strong. It thrills me. And scares me.”
“Your softness does the same thing to me. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you.”
“You won’t. In my head, I know that.” She stretched up to brush a kiss to his lips. “It’s only my body that doesn’t know it.”
“Perhaps you should show your body that there’s nothing to fear.” Taking her by the hand, he drew her over to the window seat that overlooked the garden. He shucked off his trousers and his drawers and sat down, letting his shirt cover his erection. “When I’m afraid of something, it always helps me to get a good look at it. So perhaps if you get a good look at my . . . er . . .”
“Cock?”
He blinked. “You know that word?”
“I learned it from Yvette’s slang dictionaries. That’s what men call their . . . their things, isn’t it? Cocks?”
“Vulgarly, yes.”
“Then I shall call it that, too.” She edged close to pull his shirt up, and her throat worked convulsively as she saw him fully erect. But at least she wasn’t turning away. “And now that I get a good look at it, I’m not surprised. It’s rather impudent. And big. It’s no wonder that dealing with that . . . that monstrous thing hurts. I don’t know how other women stand it going in.”
“You suffered more pain than you should have.” His throat tightened. “It hurt because Whiting took you even though he knew you weren’t ready.”
“Ready?”
Reaching up to undo her breeches, he exulted when she didn’t shy away as he pushed them down. She even stepped out of them.
As he’d suspected, she wore no drawers underneath, but her long shirt covered her privates from his sight. Perhaps being covered would ease her fears a bit.
Like a gamekeeper approaching a wild deer, he inched his hand beneath her shirt to the juncture of her thighs, where he stroked her with slow, careful caresses. “This wetness? It’s to make it easier for you to let a man in.” He dipped his finger inside, relishing her soft sigh. “I daresay Whiting frightened you so much that whatever might have been there in reaction to his kisses dried right up.”
“I was very . . . upset.”
What an understatement. It took all his will to keep his expression calm and even, instead of black with the rage he felt every time he thought of Whiting ravaging her. “But the bastard didn’t care and entered you anyway. It’s rather like when I try to fit two pieces of an automaton together. If they’re not properly oiled, the friction of the movements can damage the metal. You weren’t ‘oiled.’ That’s why it hurt so much.”
She blinked. “Oh. That makes sense. But women are always talking about the pain—”
“The first time can hurt for some, I’m told, but that’s mostly because a virgin goes into the experience nervous and afraid. That doesn’t help.” Continuing to caress her, he glanced up into her wary face. “Nature created men and women to fit together, sweetheart. But we have to want to fit together. Whiting didn’t wait for you to want him. I will.”
“I know. I trust you.”
The words were a balm to his aching heart. “Then may I lift your shirt?”
“I’ll do you one better,” she said, her voice a little shaky. Then she pulled it off over her head and dropped it to the floor.
He dragged in a hot breath. She was naked except for her stockings and garters. And he’d never seen anything lovelier in his life—skin smooth as alabaster, plump breasts with rosy little nipples, and a curly thatch a hand’s width below her saucily crooked navel.
“Whiting was a fool,” he said as he drank his fill. “To trample over all this glorious beauty without even taking his time to explore.”
A faint smile curved up her lips. “Which means you’ll be the first to explore. If you like.”
His pulse tripled. “I like,” he rasped. “I like very much.”
“Then go to it,” she whispered. “Because I like very much having your hands and mouth on me.”
Twenty-One
When he reached for Clarissa, the look in his eyes heated her blood. How strange that it seemed natural to be naked before him, to be wrapped in his arms as his mouth kissed and laved and licked her breasts, her belly, her . . . tender parts. Which felt hot and aching for him. And wet. Very, very wet.
You weren’t “oiled.” That’s why it hurt so much.
Oh, how she prayed he was right. But Edwin never lied. He was very matter-of-fact, even about her being unchaste.
I understood you. I simply don’t give a damn.
He didn’t, did he? He only cared about how she’d been hurt, and he showed it now by being so tender, it made tears well in her throat all over again. “Oh, Edwin . . . I wish I’d told you long ago . . .”
Pausing to gaze up her, he said, “You weren’t ready to tell me. I understand that.” He bent to lick her down there, sending her up on her toes with excitement. Eyes gleaming at her, he murmured, “Shall I do what I did in the carriage?”
“Later,” she breathed. “I haven’t yet had a chance to explore you.”
He gave her a blank look.
“I want to see you naked, too. I want to caress all the parts of you.” She reached forward to drag his shirt off over his head, then pulled away to look at him, but it was hard to see him properly when he was seated. “Lean back a bit.”
With a lift of one imperious brow, he did, letting his legs fall open with a certain insolence that should have alarmed her.
It did not. Because he was down there, and she was up here.
And my oh my, how fascinating this wa
s. She could look at him as much as she pleased without being afraid he might leap on her. Surprisingly excited, she swept her gaze over the muscular shoulders, chest, and lean waist she’d already seen but hadn’t touched, for fear of sparking his lust.
Then once again she took in the sight of the thick cock thrusting up from his nest of black curls. She still didn’t see how it could fit inside her, but she had to admit it had a strange beauty all its own.
And the way it bobbed under her gaze made her want to laugh. But she knew Edwin wouldn’t find that amusing.
Her gaze continued down over the well-wrought thighs she hadn’t yet seen to the handsome calves that always looked so fine in evening attire, and then roamed back up. “Can I . . . touch you?”
“God, yes,” he growled. Then, as if worried he was being too fierce, he added, “Please.”
With a little thrill of anticipation, she stepped forward. All the male beauty she’d coveted was now hers to fondle without fear. He’d said they could stop whenever she wanted, and she believed him.
Amazing how freeing it was, to know she could balk if she wished. Perversely, it prompted her to be bolder, to smooth her hands over everything—his arms, his chest, his thighs—to relish the different textures of hair and smooth skin and rough calluses. To feel his muscles flex and tighten beneath her touch.
What delicious wickedness! And nothing at all like suffering the sordid gropings of the Vile Seducer.
She brushed the head of his cock, and he swore under his breath. Jerking her hand back, she said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he ground out. “It just . . . makes me want you all the more. Perhaps we should return to letting me explore you.”
Suddenly nervous, but also intrigued, she gazed down at the hard male form before her. “Or you could show me what you were talking about. Show me how a woman makes love to a man.”
He went still. “I could.” He searched her face. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.” She thought she was, anyway.
“Very well.” Drawing his legs together, he leaned forward to catch her by the hips and tug her toward him. “We’ll start with you sitting astride me, on my thighs.”
How curious. “Like this?” she asked as she straddled him as far away from his cock as she could get.
“If I promise not to ravish you, will you come a little nearer? You’re hurting my knees.”
“Oh! Sorry.” She scooted closer. Now his cock reared up between them, just brushing her damp curls. “I still don’t see how it would work like this.”
“It wouldn’t,” he said, his voice oddly strained. “But if you were to choose to make love to me, you’d plant your knees on the seat on either side of me. Rising up on them, you’d fit yourself onto my cock, however slowly or quickly you liked, rather like pulling a glove onto your hand. If it hurt too badly, you could rise up and get right off. If you found it pleasant, you could inch down more. You would choose how far up inside your glove my hand should go.”
“Oh.” So there would be no thrusting and shoving into her, no fighting a man’s weight atop her. She eyed him with suspicion. “You really would accept it if I stopped in the middle and pulled myself off of you?”
“I swear on my mother’s grave,” he said solemnly. “You will have me utterly at your mercy.”
“All right, then.” She swallowed hard. “I want to try it.”
His cock, which had been flagging through the discussion, shot straight up. “You do?”
“I—I can’t promise to endure it for long, but I want to try.”
“That’s all I ask.”
With a determined nod, she knelt above him on the seat, straddling his hips. Though she’d understood his directions, it proved trickier than she’d expected.
“I can help,” he said. “Or you can take my cock with your hand and guide it in.”
That hadn’t occurred to her. And she did that. In the meantime, he started rubbing her nipples with his hands, making her feel quite . . . heated, and before she’d even realized it, she was sliding down upon him. To her shock, though his cock felt intrusive inside her, there was no pain. No pain at all. Just some tightness.
Her gaze flew to him. “It . . . it doesn’t hurt!”
“Good.” He didn’t say, “I told you so,” or, “Ta-da!” or anything. Indeed, he looked as if he were having difficulty just breathing. His eyes were closed, his jaw taut enough to cut glass. “God help me, minx. You feel incredible.”
The rough timbre of his voice sent a feminine thrill through her that made her relax and slide down a bit more. “Do I?”
“Like silk. Hot, enveloping silk.” He gave an undulating move that sent him farther up inside her, then gritted his teeth. “Sorry. I wasn’t supposed to do that, I know. It’s just . . . you feel so damned wonderful.”
“So do you. I think.” Thank God Yvette had been right. How much it hurt definitely depended on the man’s approach.
“You think?” he echoed, a thread of amusement in his voice.
She wriggled on him, and the groan that came from deep in his throat made her feel more alive, more of a woman than she’d allowed herself to feel for years. “I’ll have to experiment some more to be sure.” She settled herself on him, trying to find a more comfortable position.
“Stop that.” His eyes flew open. “God, please stop.”
She blinked at him. “That’s what I usually say. But you can’t possibly want me to stop this.”
“Not ‘this.’ That. Moving around. It’s just enough motion to . . . make me insane.”
“Is it?” She wiggled some more. “How about that?”
“Don’t torture me, my sweet. I can’t bear it.”
“I’m not trying to torture you. I just really don’t know what to do.”
“Right. Of course.” He was breathing hard, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Try . . . moving up and down.”
Up and down? Remembering how the Vile Seducer had driven into her, she realized that this would be that in reverse, with her controlling the motion. How intriguing.
“Please,” he rasped. “Before I go out of my mind.”
“All right,” she said, and came up, then slid down.
His fingers dropped to grip her hips. “Yes, sweetheart, yes. Again.”
“For a man at my mercy, you are very demanding,” she said with a sniff, but did what he asked.
This time, he gave a low moan of pure pleasure. It was quite rewarding. And the up-and-down motion felt good to her, too. Rather enjoyable. So she did it again. And again.
It got easier each time. And when he began to finger her down where they were joined, she felt that quick leap of sensation she’d felt when he’d had his mouth on her in the carriage. “Oh, Edwin . . . oh my . . .”
He kissed her then, deeply, fiercely. He’d begun thrusting up inside her, too, but she rather liked that. It gave her an idea of the proper rhythm. And when he bumped her a certain way . . . it was glorious. Absolutely glorious.
Heavens. This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. No pain . . . no fear. Just Edwin beneath her, undulating into her, making her want to devour him, to engulf him, to show him she truly was his bride. His woman. His wife.
“You’re mine . . . now . . . Edwin Barlow,” she said as she clutched at his shoulders, riding him faster, harder. “My husband. For always.”
“My wife,” he choked out, his face alight. “Forever.”
It had the sound of a vow. And now that rushing feeling was building down low in her belly, and her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she felt as if she were hurtling across the grounds on horseback, neck-or-nothing . . . heading for the biggest jump of them all. The one that would take her into the heavens . . . glittering there . . . just beyond her reach . . .
“Yes . . . more . . .” she cried as their motions reached a fever pitch. “Yes, my darling, yes!”
He drove up and spilled himself inside her. “Clarissa . . . My Clari
ssa!”
Mine.
With that exultant thought, she shot over the moon and into the stars.
It took some time for Edwin to come to his senses, especially with his lovely wife draped luxuriously over him.
That was amazing. She was amazing. And he couldn’t believe he’d finally made her his. Thank God it hadn’t taken a year; he never would have lasted that long. He’d have had to go live with monks for a while.
He nuzzled her hair, which had tumbled down rather spectacularly in the midst of their frenzy. It smelled of lilacs and lavender. So very sweet.
“It’s getting dark outside,” Clarissa murmured.
She was in a position to see out the window behind him. Fortunately, none of the servants went into the garden at this time of the day. They were too busy preparing for dinner.
Still . . . “It won’t be long before we can be seen easily from the garden. Unless one of us gets up to blow out the candle.”
She drew back to flash him a sultry smile. “Is that a hint that I should move? Am I too heavy for you?”
“Hardly.” He lifted her off of him. “Though you’re heavier than I would have expected for such a small woman.” When she laughed, he realized that he probably shouldn’t have been quite that honest. “I mean . . .”
“Don’t mince words with me,” she said as he rose. “You’re probably the only man I know who would have been as understanding of my . . . difficulties as you were. Besides, I’ll take your bluntness any day over a lot of insincere compliments.”
“Glad to hear it. Because clearly I am very bad at them.”
She chuckled. Curling up into a ball on the window seat, she watched as he went over to the desk fully naked. “You’re a very handsome man, Lord Blakeborough. And I am being utterly sincere.”
He snuffed the candle. “Keep saying things like that, Lady Blakeborough, and I’ll be wanting to ravish you again.”
She fell quiet. As he realized what he’d said, he shot her a concerned glance, but she wore a dreamy look. “It’s a pity it wasn’t you seducing me in that orangery years ago.”
The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 Page 24