by Lucy Monroe
He groaned and the hand that undid the tapes on her gown trembled where it brushed against her back. “Little one, you don’t know what you are doing to me.”
He was right. She didn’t. She had no experience in this area other than what she had shared with him, but she could imagine. If he shared the feelings of pleasure and lightheaded joy coursing through her body then she had a very good idea what her touch was doing to him and she was glad.
Remembering how she had felt when Lucas’s mouth covered her breast, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue over his hardened male nipple. He jerked against her and the sound of rending fabric reached her ears at the same moment she felt the skin of her back exposed to his caress. Gently closing her teeth over the same nipple she had just tormented, she tugged.
Lucas gave a feral shout and pushed her away.
His hands tore at her gown and petticoats, removing the beautiful clothing from her body with passionate abandon. One moment she was fully clothed in the layers required for modest dress among the ton and the next Lucas had stripped her until all that remained were her garters tied to her stockings. Her garments lay around her feet in a puddle of torn silk and muslin while every private part of her body was exposed to his hot stare. She felt his eyes, deepened to the blue of the night sky, fix on the soft blonde curls of her feminine mound before they rose to caress her breasts with a hungry glance.
Even as her nipples beaded under the look of untamed desire in his eyes, her earlier fears rushed back and she turned to run. Where she was going, she had no idea, but she could not stand that look of intense need on Lucas’s face. Her gaze fell on the bed and the relative safety the coverlet could provide.
She dove for it and burrowed under the sheets and covers even as she sensed him right behind her. He landed on the bed a scant second after she did and fingers as strong as steel bands tunneled under the covers to lock around her wrist and hold her in place. Soon his body followed and she found herself panting for breath beneath his hardened, almost naked male form.
“Lucas. Please.” Fear made her voice high and thin.
He smiled a buccaneer’s smile. “I’ll please you until you’re screaming my name, Irisa. Trust me.”
Those two words pounded in her head and kept her from hysterics. She did trust him. Completely.
“You’re going too fast. I’m afraid of your desire. It’s so overwhelming,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper and tears burning at the back of her eyes.
His size, which usually comforted her, now made her feel weak and helpless.
Lucas leaned down and bestowed the gentlest kiss imaginable on her lips before giving similar homage to each eyelid and her temples. “I will never hurt you, little one.”
“But you will. Mama said so.”
“Your mother is hardly the person to go to for advice in these matters. She is after all married to your father.”
He had a point, but, “Aunt Harriet and Thea said the same thing. The first time hurts, maybe even times afterward.”
“Bloody hell. There may be some pain, but I promise to minimize it all that I can. I will not allow you to suffer, little one. You must believe me. I want to pleasure you, not harm you.”
She felt the need vibrating in his body, the hardness of his male member pressing against the juncture of her thighs through the barrier of his breeches and...she believed him. Her body relaxed slightly, but she still couldn’t get enough air. He sensed her softening and her predicament because he rolled to the side, keeping their bodies in constant contact, but giving her the room she needed to draw a proper breath.
“Perhaps if you kissed me,” she suggested.
He gave a short bark of laughter. “Yes, perhaps that would help.” He released her wrist and lightly traced the line of her hip and waist, letting his hand come to rest to the side of her breast. “I have wanted you so long, sweetheart. It’s all I can do not to ravish you.”
She heard the self-chagrin in his voice and smiled. “It felt for a moment as if that is exactly what you were doing.”
His black brows came together in a gesture of self-disgust. “I’m sorry, my love. I will try to go more slowly.”
She reached up and smoothed the lines of his face. His admission and promise had quieted the last of her bridal fear.
“Don’t go too slowly,” she admonished.
He smiled and then dipped his head to take her lips with his. He tasted just as she had remembered. Spicy and male. He moved his lips over hers with gentle urgency and she opened her mouth in a silent invitation to deepen the kiss. He did so and she slipped into a world of pleasure only Lucas could provide. He remained completely still against her as he kissed her with deepening passion.
She soon grew impatient and squirmed against him. She wanted to feel his hand on her breast and tried to tell him so without words by turning her body until his palm covered her. He took the hint and moved his hand in a circular motion against the hardened nub. It wasn’t long before the relief she felt at his touch turned into need.
She broke her mouth away from his. “More. Please. I need more.”
“What do you want, little one? Tell me.”
Surely he knew what she wanted. He was the one with experience in this area, after all. She moved her head restlessly against the pillow, refusing to answer.
He chuckled and leaned up on his elbow so both palms now rested on her breasts, caressing her in leisurely circles. “Is that what you wanted?”
“Yes.” It felt so good, but it still wasn’t enough. “No.”
Taking one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he tugged and she arched off the bed. “Lucas.”
“Ah, so that is what you want.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Do that again. Please.”
He did. Over and over again. He alternated pinching and pulling each nipple, then he stopped and instead of pulling, he rolled both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers at the same time. Heat and driving desire pooled low in her belly and she felt wetness between her legs, in her most private place. Once again tears burned her eyes, but they were not from fear. This feeling was indescribable. She needed more of him, but did not know what to ask for. She remembered the way she felt in the carriage and inspiration struck.
“Touch me. There. Between my legs.” She fairly roared the demand like some bawdy wench and she vaguely registered that her behavior was not at all ladylike, but she did not care in the least. She needed Lucas’s touch and she needed it now.
He understood and obeyed with a husky sound of approval. His big, blunt finger slipped into her most feminine place and glided over the swollen nubbin seeking release until he slid it inside of her. She cried out at the intimate invasion, her entire body going rigid with shock and increased desire. It felt so wonderful she wondered why she did not swoon from the pleasure of it.
“Lucas. Yes. Oh, please. Yes. That’s so wonderful. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
He didn’t stop. His finger continued to work its magic until she was writhing against him. Then he slipped a second finger in and she protested. It hurt. But then his thumb caressed the swollen flesh above where his fingers penetrated and she forgot the discomfort. She forgot everything but the feelings spiraling through her.
Her body grew taut from the very tips of her toes to the top of her head. Even her fingers curled in rigid grips on the bedsheet under her. She hung on that precipice for what felt like hours while she demanded satisfaction in a raw voice she only barely recognized as her own. Then she went over and screamed and screamed.
Lucas continued his ministrations while she bucked wildly trying to get closer to that tormenting hand while at the same time trying to escape it until her body finally went completely limp and his touch gentled to small sporadic caresses.
She laid there in dazed wonder. How could she have been afraid of this feeling? Or have thought they should wait until night to experience it? Tears coursed down her cheeks and her hand released its gri
p on the sheet to come up and caress Lucas’s shoulder.
She turned to meet his gaze and smiled through her tears. “Thank you.”
His eyes were filled with pleasure in her response, warmth and banked desire. “Thank you, little one. You give yourself so completely, your pleasure robs me of my breath.”
He leaned over and kissed her, his mouth betraying the need still lingering in his own body. “Are you finished with your fear?”
She nodded, her throat too choked to speak.
“Can I ravish you now?”
The mischievous light in his eyes could not disguise the seriousness of his question. Lucas wanted to know if she trusted him.
Again she bobbed her head up and down, but this time she managed to add words to the gesture. “I can’t imagine anything I would enjoy more.”
And after what she had just experienced at his hand, she meant it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lucas rolled out from under the coverlet and stood up. His body ached for fulfillment and yet he felt strangely satisfied in the pleasure he had given his wife. Perhaps even a bit smug. And who could blame him?
She lay like a satisfied feline sunning itself, her body boneless against the feather mattress of his bed. Her eyes were heavy lidded from spent passion, an expression he much preferred to her virginal fear.
He had not expected the latter, but he should have been prepared for the result of feminine myths. Unfortunately, too many ladies did experience very real pain on their wedding nights, but he was determined she remember hers with pleasure and delight.
He winced when he thought of the torn garments lying on the floor.
Her stunning wedding dress had not stood a chance against his need to see her far more beautiful body. That need had not diminished one wit since she dove headfirst under the bedclothes. Even in her currently relaxed state, she had the coverlet pulled up far enough to cover even the uppermost curve of her breasts.
Damn but he wanted more than a brief glimpse of her feminine attributes. He wanted to see the honey-kissed blonde curls that covered her feminine sex and the way her nipples ripened like berries when he looked at her with the cravings of his body in his eyes.
“I’m going to remove my breeches now.” He waited to see if she reacted to the news with a return of her fear, but she did not.
Her eyes opened wider, but with interest.
He took his time unbuttoning his breeches and pulling them along with his smalls from his body. He did not go slow merely for the sake of his new wife’s sensibilities. He was so hard that one wrong movement could cause untold damage. Her gaze skittered from the flesh he revealed to his chest and up to his face and then back to his rock hard erection. Her eyes remained focused on his lower body as he finished pulling off his breeches and kicked them away. He smiled to himself. She looked worried again, but he had expected it this time.
“Do not be concerned, little one. We will fit.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Are you certain, Lucas? It does not seem possible.”
The hesitancy in her normally confident tones brought another smile to his lips. “I am certain. Trust me.” Then remembering her concerns at Ashton Manor, he could not help teasing her a little. “Can we both agree that I’m not angry right now?”
She looked confused. “Yes.” The word came out breathless.
He indicated his bulging shaft. “This is what you make me feel. I’m not angry and I want you so much it is all I can do not to take you right now.”
But he would have her soon. Very soon.
Her eyes widened in comprehension. “You allayed my fears on that score in the carriage the other night.” She bit her lower lip and then licked it with the tip of her little pink tongue. His manhood bobbed in response to the sight and her eyes grew round as a lady’s open parasol. “It moved.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed.
She scowled at him. “Are you amusing yourself at my expense?” she asked suspiciously.
He did not attempt to lie. “Yes, but don’t be angry with me, sweeting. The charm of your innocence is very heady stuff.”
As proof of his statement, his erection moved again.
“Oh.”
He stepped closer to the bed, until his legs brushed the coverlet and his manhood stood out over the mattress. “You said I could ravish you.”
She squinted at his sex. “I know, but I think we need to discuss this matter, Lucas.”
He was well past the point of talking. If he had not found her reaction to his nakedness so amusing he would already be on top of her, his hardness nestled between her spread legs.
“Not right now, little one. Perhaps later.”
“But later will be too la—“ Her words trailed off into a screech as he tugged the bedcovers away from her naked breasts.
She scrambled for a grip on the blankets and stopped them from moving any lower with just the tops of the pretty pink circles around her nipples exposed.
He bit back a frustrated groan. “I want to see you.”
Her knuckles were white where they gripped the coverlet. He did not think he would survive another attack of bridal nerves.
“You’ve seen me,” he reminded her.
She cleared her throat even as her gaze once again strayed to his manhood. “Yes.”
“And you enjoy it.”
She nodded, forcing her gaze to meet his. Her cheeks had a delightful crimson stain.
“Would you deny me the same pleasure?”
“No. Oh, Lucas, I want to give you the same pleasure you so generously give me, but I don’t know how.” Her earnest statement came bloody close to undermining the remnants of his self-control.
“Let me remove the bedclothes and I’ll show you.”
He could see her mentally preparing herself and then she released her deathgrip on the coverlet one finger at a time.
He waited until she had completely released it and then asked in guttural tones, “Are you sure?”
He did not know what he would do if she said no.
“Yes.” It was a bare whisper of a sound, but he did not doubt she knew her own mind.
Heat coursed through his body as he gently, but inexorably tugged the bedclothes away from her naked body. The air left his lungs at the sight of female perfection lying in his bed. Bloody hell, she was beautiful. Her pale skin had a faintly pink hue, probably a blush from her embarrassment at being bare before him. Her nipples stood erect on perfect, rounded breasts. The indentation of her waist invited his hands to reach out and surround her, but by far the most fascinating object to him at that particular moment were the wet and glistening curls protecting her femininity.
He wanted her.
He needed to feel his sex buried inside of her, surrounded by her liquid heat like his fingers had been. He could not wait to feel those slick folds of flesh tighten around him as she screamed her pleasure for his ears alone.
He reached out and trailed one finger from her collar bone on a path down over one breast, circling her nipple, then down her stomach, pausing over the indention of her belly button, then down into the little nest of curls. She moaned and he knew that though he had satisfied her, she was not sated. His incredibly responsive wife was ready for more pleasure.
He gently circled her clitoris. “I need you.”
She gasped. “Yes.”
Her garters had come untied and he took a moment to remove the last bits of clothing from her body. Then he climbed onto the bed and pushed her legs apart. He wanted to look at her, to study her feminine center, but he knew she was not yet ready for that intimacy. Perhaps later tonight. He contented himself with a glance at dew kissed lips he desperately wanted to kiss and then settled himself between her thighs, allowing the broad head of his penis to push against her opening.
Her startled gaze flew to his. “Are you quite sure—“
“Yes.” Impatience warred with regret that he would hurt her and a desire to minimize that pain. “I have done my be
st to prepare you, but it will hurt now, my love.”
Her eyes remained locked on his. “I trust you.”
If she knew how close he was to losing his hard won control, she might not say the words with such conviction. He would be worthy of that trust, however. He moved to a kneeling position between her legs. He reached between them and caressed her with his thumb while he used his other hand to play with her nipples. She reached out and gripped his thighs, her small hands surprising in their strength. Within moments she was writhing on the bed and he felt as if he would shoot his seed into the air. He had to have her. Now.
He slid two fingers in her like before and mocked the mating act while separating his fingers to stretch her tight passage. She groaned, whether from pleasure or pain he could not tell, but she did not ask him to stop. Then she started undulating against his hand. He pulled his fingers out and she made a protesting sound.
“Shh, sweeting, I’m not going anywhere.”
He replaced them with his shaft and pushed inside until he felt her body’s resistance. She whimpered and tried to sink further into the bed. He withdrew and then repeated the forging in and withdrawal sequence over and over again while continuing his ministrations with his thumb. She stopped trying to move away from him and even lifted her hips toward his thrusting penis. He was careful to stop shy of her barrier with each inward thrust until he felt the first ripple of her climax.
“Lucas.”
At the sound of his name on her lips, shouted in such wild abandon, he surged into her past her maidenhead until his manhood was buried to the hilt in her silken softness. She cried out again, but moved against him as if seeking the fullness of her pleasure and he gladly gave it to her, pushing into her body with hard, fast strokes. He found his own completion and with a loud groan, pumped his seed inside of her in an act of possession unequaled by any other intimacy.
He collapsed on top of her and it was several seconds before he could raise his head far enough to check Irisa’s well-being. When he did, he found her golden brown eyes awash in tears. He’d hurt her. Despite her response to him, he’d caused her pain.