Page 113 of Corrupting his Duchess
“I’m happy it is you,” she whispered.
His breath left him like a prayer.
Then he pressed a kiss to her lips. Her neck. Her breast.
“Hold onto me,” he said gently. “This will be the only time it ever hurts.”
She did as he said.
And then–
She gasped, body tensing as he eased forward, meeting that barrier.
Her eyes widened.
His body went rigid, every muscle locked tight with the effort not to move.
She whimpered. Just once.
He stilled instantly. “I’m here. Look at me. Just breathe.”
She nodded, blinking hard.
He leaned down, kissed the corner of her eye, then the other, where two small tears had slipped free. “I’ve got you. I promise.”
Then, slowly–so slowly he shook with the restraint, he pushed in the rest of the way, holding her hips steady, kissing her through the ache.
She gasped again at the size of him, but this time her hands clutched at him.
But the pain faded as her body adjusted, the sting melting into something warmer.
He buried his face in her neck. “You feel–God, Anna. You’re perfect. You’re…”
He couldn’t even finish the thought.
She moved beneath him. Tentative.
Then again. A little bolder.
He groaned. “Careful. If you keep doing that…”
She smiled faintly through her blush. “I want to.”
Henry lifted his head to look at her, face flushed, eyes glassy, mouth parted.
He started to move. Carefully. Slowly.
She gasped again, but not from pain.
Her fingers tightened in his hair.
The rhythm built, soft, deep, then faster as her hips lifted to meet his, the ache forgotten, replaced by fire and breath and the sound of their bodies moving together, finally, fully.
They moved together, mouths searching, gasps slipping between them.
When she came undone, it was not quiet. Her body arched, head falling back, every breath catching in her throat and then she cried out his name, “Henry– ”, voice breaking with the force of it.
“I love you,” she gasped.
