Page 21 of The Pirate's Stolen Bride
She forgot her own name.
Rémy licked a stripe up her center. Her knees went weak. She pressed her back against the wall to remain upright, but she felt herself slipping helplessly down. He pulled one leg toward his shoulder, and belatedly, she yanked her skirts up to expose the shocking sight of him kneeling between her thighs.
Worshiping you like a goddess,a naughty little voice whispered in the back of her mind.
Maybe Harriet wanted to be a goddess. At least to someone, once in her life. In the back of her mind, she knew this couldn’t last. Nothing good ever did.
But when Rémy rose to his feet and loomed over her with one hand buried between her thighs and the other braced above her head, she lost any shred of willpower to resist. She wanted him.
She could have him.
“Tell me you like this, chérie.”
“Call me by my name,” she insisted breathlessly.
“Harriet. Tell me you want this.” He circled her entrance lightly, a silken, teasing touch that did nothing to assuage the needy throb deep in her core. She clenched around emptiness. He dropped his forehead to hers. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give you anything you desire.”
The wily pirate was closing off her escape routes. She knew this, yet she couldn’t bring herself to care. He was a good man, at his core. A better man than the one she was promised to.
“Please,” she begged, though it was beneath her. She didn’t know how to express what she wanted. Her most fervid imaginings had been hazy daydreams.
“Like this?” He teased her entrance. She nodded, rubbing her forehead against his. His breath steamed her cheek.
“Inside,” she whispered, and felt his body tense. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him for balance while he pushed two fingers into her. There was no pain, only an odd stretching sensation. After a beat of initial resistance, pleasure began to coil deep in her core.
Yes.This was what she needed. She rocked her hips in time with his rhythmic thrusts. The hard ridge of his cock dug into her hip.
“Come for me, chérie. I can feel how close you are. Don’t hold back. Give me everything.”
She let instinct take over and dove over the cliff into a wave of pleasure. It was akin to drowning, but instead of terror and aching lungs, her body tightened to the cusp of breaking. Her back bent, her thighs locked, and her mouth fell open, helpless against the tide.
When the waves began to subside, she pushed his hand away and leaned against the cold stone wall, trembling with aftershocks. Rémy smoothed her hair back and kissed her cheek. Then her lips.
“If that’s what it’s like with only your fingers, what is the full experience like?” she mumbled.
“You must wait to find out.”
Startled, she snapped her gaze to his. “Why?”
She didn’t want to wait. She wanted to keep going.
“You are a proper lady who deserves a bed at a bare minimum.”
She looked down at her exposed breasts. The back of her dress gaped open. The ribbon gathering the neckline of her chemise hung untied and tangled in her stays, which were pushed down far enough for her nipples to pucker in the cool air.
A proper lady, her foot.
“I don’t require one for this.”
“I do.” He quirked one brow.
“Do you?” She squeezed the fascinating ridge tenting his trousers. “Here I thought you lived freely, taking what you wanted, when you wanted it. A bed seems disappointingly ordinary, old man.”
He huffed a laugh and brushed a kiss against her temple. “Minx. I am twenty-seven.”
Harriet interpreted this as permission to continue unfastening his shirt and trousers. Inside, she found him to be quite a handful. Rémy squeezed his eyes closed and wrapped his hand around hers, showing her how to stroke him.
His cock was surprisingly smooth and startlingly hot to the touch. The blazing fire had warmed the tumbledown shack.
