Page 37 of The Marchioness of his Desire
He looked down at her and smiled, a mischievous looking coming across his face.
“Is Laura in the nursery?” Rebecca nodded.
“I asked the governess to see to her, and Mrs. Thrip is to lay out a cold collation for us, for I was unsure when you would return,” she replied, smiling up at him.
“And if Waltham comes knocking, she can listen in on something she’ll never have the pleasure of knowing herself, so long as she is tied to my mother’s beck and call,” Nicholas said, laughing as he hurried Rebecca from the room and up the stairs toward her chambers, their passions aroused, all the memory of their argument seeming a dim and distant memory.
* * *
They met no one upon the stairs, and Nicholas swept Rebecca into his arms, kissing her before closing the doors behind them and turning the key in triumph.
“Is this as close as we shall come to being alone?” she asked as he embraced her, and she rested her head upon his chest, the two of them leaning back against the doors as Nicholas let out a sigh.
“You are my wife. I am entitled to be alone with you as you are with me. There will be no disturbances, only one another.” He began to kiss her gently upon the lips.
His passions soon became inflamed, his tongue searching out hers, their hands joined, their bodies entwined. She wanted him to possess her, all thoughts of duty and consummation gone, replaced only with desire and longing. There was no question now of his loving her, for she knew that he did, and that knowledge made her want him more, to know that touch which she had dreamed of, and which others had spoken of, the final act between two lovers, an act which would make them one.
“Now?” she gasped as he pulled at her dress, which fell to the floor. The coolness of the air raised goose flesh across her skin, his hands fondling at her breasts, his lips searching them out.
“Tell me it is what you want,” he said as she let out a cry of delight, the touch of his hands sending a shudder of ecstasy running through her as he searched her out.
“To know you, yes,” she whispered as he pulled her toward the chaise lounge which stood by the window, ripping his tunic from his chest as she fell back with him on top of her, their bodies once more entwined, each searching out the other, lost in the moment they now shared.
Her hands ran down his chest, searching him out, and feeling him stiffen as she took his member in her hands. He smiled at her, their lips now meeting again, their tongues entwined, his lips biting at hers, his passions inflamed. She fondled him, a shudder running through him, the tips of her fingers playing across the head, curious as to what would happen. For a moment, he paused, running his fingers through her hair, breathless and smiling.
She felt shy all of a sudden, all too aware of her inexperience, her lack of knowledge in the carnal pleasures. It was as though she were a pupil, unschooled in what to do. Catherine had told her that it was a woman’s job to show a man pleasure, but then Catherine was still a virgin as was Samantha, neither of them having known the touch of a man. But it was Nicholas’ touch which now caught her off guard, a shudder running through her as he searched her out with his fingers. It was a strange sensation, a heat building within her, and she squirmed at his touch, his fingers searching her out, pushing further inside her, a tingling running through her.
Suddenly, she felt an intensity building in her, the full force of something unfamiliar arising. His touch became firmer, more intense, her body stiffening, as she gasped. He was holding her close now, his lips searching her out, and she squirmed at his touch, the feeling now building to an intensity she had never felt before. With a cry, she clutched at him, her whole body spasming, the feeling now subsiding, as he continued to kiss her neck.
“And again,” he whispered, and she nodded.
“Again,” was all she could gasp.
Though her own appetites were aroused, she knew too that it was the unfamiliar which was to come. How often she had thought of it, of that forbidden fruit denied her, yet for which she had longed to taste. She had heard whisperings of it, of pain followed by pleasure, the ecstasies of feeling which were to be hers, but no words could have prepared her for the feeling she now experienced.
Her dress lay crumpled upon the floor, her petticoats in disarray, and Nicholas’ own clothes were strewn about the room. He shown now in the fullness of his manhood, his whole-body arching over her as she lay back upon the chaise lounge, his lips upon her neck. He gazed down at her in a moment of breathlessness, their eyes meeting, and he smiled at her again as she nodded, trying not to show her nerves.
Gently, he lowered himself upon her, and she let out a cry as a sharp pain went through her, and he paused, kissing her gently upon neck, before lowering himself once more. Now, it felt easier, their bodies coming closer as another shudder ran through her, half pain, and half pleasure, so that she wanted to push him away and yet pull him closer too.
“I love you,” he whispered, sighing as she winced, their bodies now pressed close together, the fullness of the sensation now hers.
“I … I love you,” she gasped, the vivid memories of snatched childhood kisses and their encounter in the library now racing through her mind.
A new sensation was rising in her now, one more powerful than any she had felt before, a burning heat in her loins, a shudder close to erupting. She clutched at him, her fingers pressed into his back, his own movement becoming faster and more rhythmic as he arched his body over her, a look of ecstasy filling his eyes as he let out a cry of delight.
She felt his whole body release a tension, a stifled cry coming from his mouth as her own feeling climaxed, and she cried out in astonishment at the rush of feeling going through her. For a moment, it was as though all thought was gone, only the surging of pleasure and delight at what they had shared, her whole-body tingling with passion and desire for more.
He was breathless, panting from his exertion, and he rolled back, slumping down onto the rug by the fire, looking up at her with a smile. He began to laugh, and Rebecca looked at him in surprise, wondering if she had done something wrong as she shivered, now that the heat of the moment was gone, reaching for a blanket to cover her nakedness.
“Do you know, I thought of this moment often when I was abroad,” he said, shaking his head, as though lost in some far-off thought.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, and he laughed again.
“Wrong? No, of course you did nothing wrong, you did everything right and more. I did not hurt you, did I?” Rebecca shook her head.
It was true that there had been some pain, but nothing of the experience she had expected. She had been told that a woman was merely a vassal for a man’s pleasure, an object for his desire, and that a wife’s duty was to satisfy that desire. But this had been a very different thing indeed. She too had felt a pleasure, though she wondered if it were right or not to feel it. She had wanted him, desired him, and he had fulfilled that desire, so much so that she wished for it again.
“Then we shall do this often?” she asked, fixing him with a smile.
