Page 22 of The Pirate's Stolen Bride
She glided her hand down his shaft, tightening her grip when he reacted with a moan and closed eyes. He breathed into the crook of her neck.
Emboldened, she swirled her thumb over the head. He released her hand and slapped the wall beside her head. Fascinating.
“C’est tellement bon,” he muttered, lapsing into his native tongue.That feels so good.Harriet knew enough French to understand, but if she hadn’t, she still would have known from the way his whole body tensed at her touch.
An answering need rose within her, a surge of excitement at acquiring this new skill. There was so much to learn about sex and love—things she would never have experienced had she gone to her wedding night an untouched virgin. She had no doubt that Lucarran would have wanted her to remain ignorant of her own body’s needs. He would be offended by the notion that she had them at all.
But she wasn’t going to marry him. She was going to marry a man she’d only met a few days ago, despite having spent most of that time unconscious.
Harriet banished the shadow of doubt that tried to creep in to the farthest reaches of her mind.
“Stop doing that,” Rémy ordered. She froze.
“Did I hurt you?”
His sensual lips twisted in a grimace. “No. I meant, keep doing what you were doing, but stopthinking. It’s written all over your face. Too much thinking leads to regrets. Next thing you know, you’ll be?—”
She cut him off by sliding down the wall and dropping to her knees. He’d kissed her this way, and even the most sheltered lady in London couldn’t avoid learning about the more common sexual activities.
Still, his cock was intimidating this close to her face.
“There will be no regrets,” she insisted. She was done living her life by the rules. She would forge a new path. Chart her own course.
Rémy put his back to the wall and looked down at her with challenge in his blue eyes.
“Are you going to follow through, Miss Turner, or simply tease me?”
Boldly, she pulled him into her mouth and sucked.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BANG, BANG ON THE DOOR
Rémy tasted of the sea on a sunny day. Harriet moaned. She couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him. He collapsed against the wall with one forearm clutching his shirt hem to his stomach and the other gently tangled in her hair.
Harriet focused on learning what made his stomach contract in ripples of muscle. He liked it when she dragged her tongue along the underside of his cock. He groaned when she sucked on the ruddy head. She repeated these motions until he dipped one finger beneath her chin and gently eased her off.
“Keep doing that, chérie, and you might not appreciate the consequences.” He pulled her up by the elbows and turned her to face away from him. “Let’s get this off you.”
He unfastened the few remaining buttons on her dress and somehow managed to untie the haphazard knot of her lacings. She hadn’t taken the time to tie her stays properly during their unexpected departure from the inn. Rémy took down his mostly dry greatcoat and laid it before the fire with her mostly dry petticoats on top of it, forming a makeshift bed.
“See? We can make do.”
He chuckled. “You are remarkably self-sufficient for a well-bred lady.”
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “I’m not the one who carried flint and steel.”
“Darling, you have all the fire you need right…” He trailed his index finger down her sternum and tapped right where her heart thrummed beneath bone. “Here.”
She leaned in to catch his lips with hers, tasting the echo of herself on him. Rémy scooped her into his lap. She tugged at his shirt, wanting to know what his skin felt like on hers. He let her take it and toss it aside.
Only the thin linen of her chemise and his unfastened trousers remained as a barrier between their naked bodies. He rolled her to her back and lay between her thighs, positioning himself at her entrance.
“You are certain?”
She nodded. “Rémy, I can’t go back to my old life even if I wanted to, which I don’t. They will never accept me being ruined thusly. The noblest thing you can do for me now is to marry me.”
“I am not a noble man. I don’t want you out of a sense of obligation, chérie. I want all your passion—” He sank into her. Harriet tensed at the intrusion. “Your laughter.” He withdrew, prompting a pathetic whine to tear from the back of her throat. “Your strength.”
