Page 11 of The Lady
Bloody hell,she felt good. He savored the sensation of being buried inside of her.
Finally.
Logically, he knew her cunt wasn’t any better than any other, but knowing itwashers and not a replacement he was pretending was hers made all the difference. It filled the sense of incompleteness that had been gnawing at him every night when he’d buried himself in another woman. He had been starting to worry he was touched in the head. He did not know why this one woman affected him so, but he could not deny the stark truth when it was shoved in front of his face. Or, more correctly, when he shoved his cock into it.
Unlike the tarts he usually tupped, she clearly had no idea what she was supposed to do, which amused him. He could feel her hesitancy and squirming discomfort. Yet she bit her lip, even without the instruction to lie back and think of England. Henry had dabbled with a noble lady a time or two and knew how little they were told about the pleasures of the flesh. His little lady knew even less. She was prepared to endure for him and for no other reason.
She was perfection. And she deserved a reward.
Turning his head into the sweetly-scented crook of her neck, he laid his lips gently on her fluttering pulse, rocking his hips, so he ground against her sensitive clit. She whimpered, tightening around him. Sucking on her soft skin, he feathered kisses down the column of her throat to her collarbone and over her shoulders, working his cock back and forth inside of her with small thrusts that allowed her more time to adjust. It was sweet torture, but entirely worth it when he felt her beginning to stir beneath him, to respond with pleasure.
Still holding tightly to the reins of his passion, he lengthened his thrusts, groaning with pleasure as he filled her with long, sure strokes of his cock.
“Oh...” She gasped and wriggled, her hands sliding over the front of his shirt. When he looked, her eyes were shut again, her head tossing back and forth. Small wrinkles crossed her brow as if she were puzzled by what was happening to her. “Oh... Oh, my...”
“Good girl,” he crooned, leaning to the side, so he could rest his weight on one elbow and slide his other hand down between their bodies. He regretted that his shirt blocked his view of the proceedings, but he rather liked the dichotomy of her being almost completely naked while he was almost completely clothed. Besides, he was not going to stop to undress now. “Good girl with a sweet pussy, taking her first cock.”
She gasped when his fingers found her clit, her hips jerking upward, her cunt swallowing his cock and squeezing as if she meant to strangle the appendage. It felt fucking fantastic.
“Oh, my!”
As amusing as her virginal utterings were, Henry preferred a lustier vocabulary in bed.
“Tell me this is my pussy.”
“What?” Her hazel eyes flew open, meeting his, full of confusion and desire.
“Your pussy,” he rubbed his fingers up and down her slit, on either side of where his cock was splitting her open, halting his thrusts and waiting for her to do as he said. “Tell me that your sweet little pussy is mine.”
* * *
Lady Delilah Darling
Her womanhood,that’s what he was talking about.Pussywas a name for her private area. She had heard such vulgar countenances, but it had been long ago, an overhead conversation between two of the stableboys.
She should be horrified. Not just by the crassness of his demand, but by his claim of ownership over her body. Instead, a wave of heat flowed through her, making her hotter, wetter—even though she did not understand why. With his weight pressing down and his body inside of hers, she felt owned. Claimed. But it did not feel like tyranny. It felt like safety. Like she was wanted. Which was everything she needed.
Still, the words were surprisingly hard to say, and she could feel her cheeks turning bright with embarrassment as she stammered over them.
“My... my... p-p-pussy is, um, yours.”
A hard pinch between her legs made her cry out as pain shot through her. Delicious pain. Exquisite pain. It sizzled along her body, spiking through her growing pleasure and enhancing it. The little bud of flesh throbbed between his fingers, pushing her closer to another climax of sensation.
“Like you mean it, pet.” His gaze burned, holding her enthralled. “This ismypussy.”
“It is your pussy,” she whispered. The pussy in question spasmed.
“Youare mine.” The avarice in his eyes might have made her take a step back at any other time, but now, she was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. She did not care if she was burned. The light was as glorious as the growing sensation between her legs, spiraling higher with every circling stroke of his fingers.
“I am yours.”
Something fluttered in her chest. She was his. Delilah had never felt as though she belonged anywhere or to anyone, but here she was with this crude, rough man, who wanted her, saved her, and she was his.
His fingers pressed, and she cried out, arching her back as sensation tumulted through her again. Her body clenched around his manhood, the fullness of her pussy, making the ecstasy more intense than the first time. It was heavenly bliss, so strong, tears sparked back in her eyes.
Then his fingers slid away, leaving her pussy humming and tingling, and he thrust hard and fast. Now, she knew how the mares had felt when they were mounted. She shrieked at the sudden, repeated invasion, the long, thick rod pistoning in and out of her, clothing and skin rasping over sensitive tissues, and driving her higher and higher until she thought she might faint. Her weary legs wrapped around him as her senses soared... She never wanted to come down again.
* * *
