After a bit, he moved down to suck her breasts, which was even more exciting. She gripped his upper arms to keep him there, to keep feeling so unexpectedly delicious. She wanted him closer, needed to experience more of the sensations he was rousing, not only in her breasts but in places he wasn’t even touching, like her belly and between her legs.
This bedding business clearly had advantages. No wonder there were women who did it for pay—they got pleasure and money out of it.
Next thing she knew, Sheridan had his hand between her legs, fondling her very privates. Her privates! She barely touched them herself, and to have him stroking and teasing them . . .
Good Lord in heaven, how wonderful! He stared knowingly at her, though his breath was coming in staccato gasps that excited her almost as much as his fondling. Because it meant he craved the touch of her, hungered for her attentions, perhaps even needed her for more than just this.
She could only hope so. She needed him, too. Desperately. She didn’t want to, but apparently she couldn’t stop. So she’d best be careful. Otherwise, she’d be precisely where she’d sworn never to be—at the mercy of a person who didn’t love her.
Although he certainly seemed to enjoy inflaming her desires. “You like that, do you?” he asked, a hint of triumph in his tone.
“Yes.” She squirmed a bit as he continued rubbing her in the most amazing way.
His own breath grew labored. He slid one finger inside of her, and she nearly came up off the bed in her eagerness to have him caress her there.
“You’re so wet for me, my sweet wife. Hot and damp and wonderful.” He bent close to whisper, “I love watching you fall apart in my hands.”
“Is that what I’m doing? Is that how it’s done?”
He frowned. “How what’s done?”
Now he had two fingers inside her, and it was quite glorious. “You know. The deflowering.” Because if that was it, it hadn’t hurt at all, which was a relief. Perhaps she’d been wrong about what he intended to do with his aroused “cock.”
He managed a chuckle. “Oh, no, minx. We’ve only just begun. There’s more. A great deal more.” A muscle worked in his jaw, as if he were restraining himself from . . . something. “Let me show you.”
Oh, dear. That sounded worrisome.
When she tensed, he said, “Trust me. I swear I will make this as easy for you as I can, all right?”
She nodded, though she didn’t like the “as I can” part.
“If you want to pause or stop at any moment, say the word.” He hovered over her, somehow both a delightful and an alarming presence. “I don’t relish beginning this marriage with you afraid of me.” He forced a smile. “And I’m not so terrifying as all that, am I?”
She stared into his eyes. “I never thought you so before.” She tipped up her chin. “But appearances can be deceiving.”
For some reason, that made him laugh, although it sounded forced. “Give me a chance, Vanessa,” he murmured. “You’ll find that appearances are indeed deceiving. But not in the way you think. Just hold on to me.”
She did, looping her arms about his neck.
He moved his hand from between her legs so he could grab his thing and guide it into the same place he’d been putting his fingers. And as he inched his thick flesh into her, she found it wasn’t as fearsome as she’d expected.
Judging from his strained expression, he found it more fearsome than she did.
Then he started moving. In and out in slow, silken thrusts meant to seduce. His eyes were closed, so she closed hers. That made everything better. Instead of growing anxious over what was to come, she relaxed and let the motion he’d begun take her along, like a leaf floating down a river.
Being joined to him this way felt odd—and entirely unexpected—but it was also a pleasure all its own. It made them one. Husband and wife. The fulfillment of everything she’d hoped to have from him.
Well, not quite everything, but she wouldn’t think about that now.
“Better?” His voice was rough and thick, as if he fought to keep going.
Or perhaps to keep going slow? She wasn’t sure. “Yes.” She was growing warm down below and sort of tingly. It was rather pleasant. She even found the filled-up sensation enjoyable . . . when she wasn’t finding it uncomfortable. “Mostly better, anyway.”
“Put your legs around my waist and hook your ankles together,” he said.
Normally she would have balked at his commanding tone, but he was in charge of this since she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She changed her position in the way he’d ordered, and instantly the tingling became something wildly pleasurable.
“Oh!” she said, her eyes shooting open. “Oh, my. That is . . . quite . . . a bit better. . . .”
He chuckled. “I thought it . . . might be.”
He was hers now. For good. Her husband. And they could do this together whenever they pleased. She smiled up at him, her hands stroking his curly hair.
Uttering a moan, he bent to kiss her forehead. “Ah, Vanessa. You will be my downfall. And just now I don’t . . . care. As long as I can have this . . . with you.”
My downfall. The words should have hurt. Instead, they made her exult. He wasn’t immune to her. And that was quite a bit better than she’d anticipated.
Now he began to drive into her more quickly, his eyes like flames igniting her above as his “cock” ignited her below. He rubbed one particular spot down there with his finger, too, somehow improving the already amazing feelings sweeping through her.
“Oh, Sheridan,” she moaned. “My darling husband. You are . . . magnificent.”
“So . . . are . . . you. . . .” he murmured.
Now she was the leaf being carried along by the river’s current, faster and faster as he thrust into her more quickly. Vanessa’s hands slipped down to grip his remarkably broad and muscular shoulders as she held on for dear life. Something was about to happen—she could feel it down below—and the more she strained into him, the closer it seemed to approach. Her blood rushed in her ears, the way the river rushed forward toward a precipice, and she just let it . . . come.
“My wife . . .” he managed. “My duchess . . . my goddess . . .”
The words pushed her over the edge, sending her falling, falling toward the churning, tumbling waters below. And when she plunged beneath the surface, her body shook, and she fell back nearly insensible as he drove hard into her and gave a hoarse cry.
It was glorious.
Sheridan lay there on his side beside his new wife and tried to arrange his senses into some semblance of order. Bloody hell, had he really called her his “goddess” there at the end? He had not expected to lose his mind quite that thoroughly.
He had not expected her.
Now that she was curled up against his side, eyes closed, with the covers pulled up under her arms and a contented smile gracing her face, all he could think was how beautiful she looked, with her raven curls tumbled about her shoulders and her alabaster skin aglow.
Or perhaps he was imagining that last part, one effect of the fever in his brain that came whenever he was near her. She still wore his pearls, and that, too, stirred his cock. To be honest, everything about her did.