Page 75 of An Unwilling Earl
He took the tie to her chemise between two fingers, lightly tugging until the bow slowly came undone, and it gaped open. Then he stepped around her and tugged on the laces of her corset, loosening it gently until she could pull in a deep breath without feeling as if her ribs were going to break. The corset fell to the ground, and she was only in her chemise as he stepped back around to face her.
With trembling hands she tugged on his cravat and drew it from around his neck, letting it flutter to the ground to meet her gown and corset. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, taking several attempts with each button to slide it through the buttonhole. Slowly she pulled his shirt from his trousers. Staring into his eyes she ran her hands up his torso. She could feel him pull in a deep breath and hold it. His eyes had gone dark, and he was breathing heavily between gritted teeth as her hands slid up to his shoulders and she pushed his shirt off. He flicked both of his hands, and the shirt fell away from him, and suddenly he was standing before her, his chest naked. A small fur of dark hair sprinkled his chest, arrowing down to disappear into his trousers. Surprisingly his shoulders were well rounded and muscular and his stomach ridged.
His trousers protruded where his manhood lay, and she quickly looked away from that. She was uneducated in the ways of sexual relations, but she wasn’t completely naive. She knew how all of the parts fit together.
“Let’s get in bed,” he said.
She climbed into the bed where she quickly pulled the blankets up to her chin. Jacob shucked off his trousers, and she caught a brief glimpse of his bobbing manhood as he climbed into bed beside her. It looked large and red, like it was angry.
Jacob lay on his side. “It’s been a long time for me,” he said. “I don’t know how long I can last.”
She frowned, not understanding what he meant, but thinking that he was trying to tell her that he had not had relations with a woman since Cora, and apparently that made things go quickly?
Beneath the covers he pulled up her chemise, and his fingers brushed against her naked thigh. She drew in a breath and let the sensation of his fingers overtake her. He was gentle, barely touching her, moving closer to her center where she was throbbing.
Ever so softly his fingers ran over the hair there, and she gasped. He was staring at her, judging her every expression. Very slowly he parted her in that most intimate spot and touched the inner part of her. It made her jump.
“My God,” he whispered. “You are so slick.”
She supposed that was good.
Ever so gently he pushed his finger in, rubbing her nub. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she was embarrassed to hear herself moan out load. Her eyes popped open to see him grinning.
“It’s fine. You can make as much noise as you like.”
Her cheeks felt hot, and she realized she was blushing, but the sensation between her legs was impossible to ignore, and she discovered that her legs were moving on their own to give him more room.
Gently he inserted a finger into her passage, and while rubbing her nubbin he slid his finger in and out. She moaned again. The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before. It was beautiful, marvelous, but also frustrating. She was reaching for something. She just knew that there was more to this, but it was elusive. Her hips began to move in rhythm to his finger. She was gasping now, her hips pumping. She reached down and wrapped her hands around his wrist to keep him there, afraid he would stop before she reached whatever it was she was reaching for.
And this coil of need tightened and tightened and tightened until she didn’t think she could stand it anymore. Her hips were coming off the bed, and her moan was one continuous sound.
And then it broke, and she was so surprised that she cried out, much louder than she had anticipated, but it was as if she had no control over anything anymore. It was like a wave of sensation that washed over her, tossing her from side to side. She ground her hips into his hand. The world turned white, then black, then white again, and that need swirled over her until it was all she could feel, think, and hear.
And then it slowly abated, her hips moved to slow pumps as tremors took over. There was a quivering deep inside of her, and she opened her eyes to find Jacob hovering above her.
With teeth gritted he swung one leg over her until he had mounted her, and with a strangled, “I’m sorry,” his manhood entered her.
She cried out at the swift, sharp pain. Jacob moaned and seated himself all the way inside of her. She felt so full, like she was stretched to capacity and would split in half if he moved.
She was panting, trying to keep the pain at bay, trying to grab onto the sensations she’d had right before the pain, but they were elusive.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he brushed her hair back from her face. And then he started moving, and his face contorted as if he were in pain as well. But he was moaning like she had been moaning, and she suspected that he wasn’t in pain, but rather experiencing the pleasure that she had just experienced.
The pain lessened to a dull sting, and she watched his face, mesmerized as it contorted. He moved faster, and she instinctively put her hands on his hips, feeling the pumping motion both inside and outside of her. He was pushing her into the mattress, and she widened her legs to accommodate him.
“I can’t… Oh, God, Charlotte.” He moved faster and gasped, groaned, then shouted and surged forward. Warm liquid shot into her, and she felt his manhood pulse over and over as he groaned with each thrust.
Sticky wetness flowed out of her, wetting her thighs, and Jacob rolled away, slipping out of her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jacob struggled to breathe as he stared at the canopy above them. He couldn’t look at Charlotte just yet.
Even though his head told him that Cora would want him to move on, he still felt a certain amount of guilt.
“Why did you say you were sorry?” Charlotte asked, bringing him back to the present. Back to his new wife.
His new wife.
