Page 44 of The Matchmaker Meets her Duke
Emmett had hardly started. And he didn't stop.
He spread her folds wide open, working in and out of her, curling and stroking, taking her helpless sobs into his mouth.
Heat streaked through Pandora, her body vibrating with raw, unbridled pleasure as every inch of her came alive with savage energy. Her eyes fluttered wide open. She clung breathlessly to Emmett, wild with pleasure but confused, unsure what was happening. Her body was strung tight, taut with pleasure as white-hot sensations stormed through her. She felt as if she might burst out of her body.
She begged him to stop. She begged him to never stop.
"Yes, there," Emmett urged her, his breath steaming hot and delicious in her face. She was afraid to give in to it but his words were like a guiding star, leading her to a near-painful edge. He sent her tumbling down as she thrashed against him, spasms tearing mercilessly, ripping her apart. The pleasure faded and built again as Emmett worked her harder, faster. Tension coiled in her, liquid fire singing her veins in a scorching, heart-wrenching wave.
Her body tore with pleasure, and she collapsed against him, screaming his name.
Emmett retreated from the apex of her legs. He pulled her against him until she had covered every inch of space, his hands playing in her hair.
They lay curled together, slumped against his chest with her head tucked under his chin. Pandora's half-lidded eyes slid closed as he breathed her name.
She felt dizzy from the aftermath of Emmett's kisses and touches, and sluggish with sleep too. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, just until she had gathered her breath and returned herself to her body. But curled up in a tub filled with warm water, cocooned in the arms of a man who tenderly stroked her hair as she came to, Pandora inevitably fell asleep.
ChapterNineteen
"How do you feel this morning?" Pandora asked although she could imagine exactly what it was Rose was feeling. It was six years ago and all in the past now but she was no stranger to broken love, or to the entirety of thetonwatching it go to ruins before their eyes as yours as well.
But Pandora's mind twisted and tossed in confusion. She held her sympathy for Rose's predicament, of course, she did. But now a new feeling nudged at her gut. It was a strange sensation, but one that she could name and could no longer pretend was not there.
Suspicion. Only, she couldn't fathom why Rose would–
No. She would not think along those lines. Certainly Rose had a meaningful explanation for inviting Peter, Lord Fitzroy, to the ball on her behalf, and she would give her the benefit of the doubt. She had to. But not now, in her state of despair. It would have to wait.
Several things would have to wait. Her matchmaking party, for instance – or shall she sayEdward'sparty, which she was to give today. But now Pandora would not be able to pull it off; she would not find a suitable enough excuse for deserting the Manor and especially with her sister-in-law in such a fragile state. She would have to write to Edward, asking him to push the day forward. Again. She wondered how much longer her brother could tolerate her procrastinations.
And what had she done, in return for that body-racking wave of pleasure he'd caused to storm through her? She had gone and slumbered in his arms. Pandora flushed, still embarrassed at the memory of it. She faintly recalled the feel of his hands playing in her hair, stroking her as she dozed off. And she vaguely remembered being pulled from the tub, the feel of his strong hands toweling her body, her belly and her bottom, and even… even between her legs. Goodness. Had the evening really beenthatexhausting?
They slept in each other's arms.
She woke in the morning to his side of the bed cold and empty, but he had left her a note. Pandora smiled to herself as she picked it up. She could get used to this.
Off to tidy some business. A picnic for lunch?
Do: think about me often.
Do not: think too much about the feel of my mouth on your own (or leave Rose's side for that matter, lest she passes from total absolute abandonment).
Emmett
Pandora caught herself smiling, her mind rumbling back into the present. She scolded herself, feeling abashed. She would not have Rose thinking she found a source of amusement in her emotional distress.
Rose gathered her shawl tight around her. The clink of her teacup as she returned it to the table echoed in the resolute silence of the drawing room. For once, Pandora wished the Dowager was here, if for nothing else but to fill up the quiet with her bickering words.
But Rose's grandmother had made off for some social calls. And Emmett was away. And Pandora was, well, not stuck, buthere,of all places in the world to be: a cold drawing room, tending to a young girl lost for love.
Well. Shecouldtell her that Lord Riverton was a scurvy rascal undeserving of her time or love, but she worried that ill words spoken of the object of her affection might do even more to upset her than make her feel better. Pandora sighed into her teacup. How did one comfort young love – or a lack thereof?
She could at least try. "Rose, I really am sorry about–" she couldn't bring herself to mention it. It might be silly, but she worried the mere mention of the Viscount of Riverton's name would send Rose plunging into a brand new storm of despair. She cleared her throat. "If there's anything at all that I can do to make you feel better–"
"There isn't." Rose's tone cut like a blade.
Pandora put her empty cup away. She couldn't force Rose to speak to her. And maybe the best thing to do was leave the girl to herself. Allow her to grieve for what she had never had in the first place. Besides, it was almost lunchtime. She had a picnic with her husband to prepare for.
Pandora stopped by the door and turned again to Rose, willing to give it one more try. Rose would meet her warm invitation with another clipped, taut response. But she would not be put off. "I have a picnic with Emmett this afternoon," she offered. "Would you like to join?"
