Page 83 of Deceiving an Earl
“Yes, it’s real and it’s not foolish. We’ll run away. We’ll get married on our own. We don’t need invitations or a grand gown. All we need is each other, and then we can live our lives as we like. We don’t even have to live in London if you don’t want to.”
She was looking past him, into the darkness. “But that would devastate my parents. All my life I was their only hope to elevate themselves in Society.”
“You marrying an earl doesn’t elevate them. Your father will still be a baron and you will be a countess eventually. Viscountess is not so bad, either.”
Her bottom lip quivered, and he felt like she was slipping away from him, like she was feeling that all hope was lost. He could not allow her to lose hope for them.
“Ellen, listen to me.” She turned large, luminous eyes up to him. “We can do this. We can satisfy your parents, and we can be wed. In time your parents will understand why we had to do this.”
“Do you think so?”
“Iknowso. Once they see how happy we are together they won’t possibly be able to deny us.”
A slow smile formed, and she hugged him tight. “Oh, Oliver. You don’t know how scared I’ve been. I can never marry Fieldhurst. Not when I love you so much.”
Their lips crashed together. This kiss was different than the other sweet kisses they’d shared. This was filled with longing and a passion that had swept upon them quickly, with desperation.
Oliver pulled away and took her hand. “Come,” he said and ran to the gazebo he had seen when he’d first snuck out to the garden. It was deep in the shadows, far enough off the path that no one would see them. Three curved, stone benches were perched inside the gazebo, protected from the elements.
Oliver shrugged out of his coat and spread it over the bench in the deepest of shadows. He could barely see Ellen, but he could hear her breathing and feel the heat coming off her skin. He took her hands again, and they sank to the bench, legs and knees touching. It was exhilarating being this close to her, this isolated with her. There was no one else close, no one to whom they had to be careful around. For the first time ever they were completely alone.
He leaned forward and found her lips with his, but suddenly kissing was not enough. Oliver was not ignorant of sexual relations. There had been the maid in the closet at Eton, although he didn’t go all the way with her because he’d lost his nerve. But they’d gotten far enough.
Ellen leaned back, burying her fingers in his waistcoat and pulling him forward until he way lying on top of her.
“Ellen,” he said through a thick throat. He throbbed. He hurt so badly that it was uncomfortable.
“I want this, Oliver. I want you to be the one to do this.”
Her words gave him pause. “Don’t you want to wait until we get married?”
She shook her head. He could barely see the motion through the darkness. “What does it matter if it’s tonight or after we wed? I want it now. I wantyounow.”
He was powerless to deny her. Powerless against the raging need inside of him.
He kissed her until her breath became his, until he was breathing only her. He kissed her until they were both panting and she was whimpering. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. He froze, looking down at his hand cupping her roundness. He swallowed.
“Ellen.”
She placed her hand over his, and he closed his eyes. His cock was so painful. He’d never been this uncomfortable before.
“I-I’m not sure what to do,” she whispered, looking up at him with those big, dark eyes.
“Ellen… This might hurt. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Will it hurt terribly?”
“I don’t think so.” He didn’t know for sure, only that it could hurt for the first time for the woman.
She raised her chin. “I don’t care. I want this, Oliver. I want to do this.”
He thought to object, to demand that they do this the correct way, after they were wed. But his mind was befuddled and his cock was overriding any other thought that he had and his hand was burning as it held her breast.
She slid her hand off his and slowly lowered it down her body. He watched her hand stop between them, at their pelvises. She turned her hand over and cupped his stiff cock. On their own, his hips pushed his cock into her hand, and he hissed in a breath.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“No. God, no. Well, yes. But in a good way.” He was gritting his teeth, forcing himself to stop pumping into her hand lest this was all over before it even began.
