Page 52 of The Marquess Wins a Wife
Soft tissues embraced him, tightened in reaction to the startling reality of his invasion. A new heat seared her skin with vivid pink, and her lips opened on a soundless gasp. But she had been readied to take him, her private flesh was wet and receptive, and he sank a blessed few inches before a wince marred her features and her fingertips dug into his shoulder.
By some minor miracle, he forced out, “You have to relax. I don’t want to hurt you.”
A bit of that hazy glow faded from her eyes, and they sparked anew with the beginnings of temper. “Youtry to relax when someone is pushing something so large inside of you!” she snapped.
An odd, strangled sound rumbled in his chest. “No, thank you,” he said. “I don’t think I would enjoy that at all.”
“Well, I’m certainly not either!”
“You will. I promise you, you will.” And he hoped desperately that he would not make himself into a liar as he caught her lips beneath his and kissed away the sharp edge of her tongue until she gave a little whimper into his mouth. Tight, resisting muscles loosened, and she squeaked in surprise as he sank deeper still.
It had been years since he’d been inside a woman without a French sheath, which had the regrettable tendency to dull sensation, and now—now he had to break the kiss and force himself to take several slow, steadying breaths, lest he embarrass himself abruptly.
Nothing had ever felt so good.Nothing.
Whatever chance he had had to recover himself, toredeemhimself, was swiftly slipping his hold. “For the love of God,” he said. “Tell me you’re all right.”
“Yes. I think so.” Her white teeth gnawed at her lower lip, and she shifted beneath him, as if trying to find a more comfortable position—a motion he withstood only by clenching his teeth. Not sodeep as he wanted to be, but as deep as she could manage, at least at the moment. “Are you certain you’re doing this correctly?”
“I beg you,don’t make me laugh,” Luke groaned. “I don’t think my heart can take it at the moment.”
Her brows drew together, concern carving a divot between them. “Now that you mention it, you don’t look at all well,” she said. “You’re sweating quite a lot. Have you got a fever?”
The laugh he’d wanted to contain spilled out anyway, his stomach tightening with it. Every wheezing breath that escaped him only contributed to the torture he had so valiantly been attempting to endure. And by the minute widening of her eyes, he could see that she had felt it to—those tiny little motions that his helpless laughter had instigated. “Lizzie,” he said patiently, fisting his hand in her hair. “I mean this in the kindest and most respectful of ways.Shut up.”
He kissed the peevish twist from her lips, surrendering to the need to move at last. The gasp that she gave into his mouth sent a frisson of pleasure straight to where they were joined, and it was only a few moments before she caught the motion and arched into the thrust of his hips, whatever discomfort she might have suffered vanquished.
She held him with the clasp of her thighs, the loop of her arms around his shoulders. Her fingertips raked him through the linen of his shirt, the rasp of her nails branding his skin. A whimper—breathy; needy—burned his ears. He knew he was holding her hip too tightly, the pressure of his fingers bruising and insistent, lifting her into each wild plunge.
It wasn’tenough. There were too many layers of clothing between them, too many buttons and laces and frothy white linen underthings. The seat was too cramped to allow for a full range of movement. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin on his, to touch and kiss what still remained tightly laced behind too thick a layer of starchy stays. He hadn’t even thought to remove his boots and his trousers—andstillhe was going to come harder than he had in the whole of his life.
Soft sounds spilled from her lips, and his tenuous grasp on control splintered as she sank her fingers into his hair. A sharp thrust, and her head tipped back, exposing the slender column of her throat, her whole body tightening, readying.Yes—a shiver of relief struck him as he felt at last the tiny, pulsing contractions begin deep inside her. A sharp cry trembled through the air as her velvety inner muscles clenched around him, and it was over for him. Release struck, as brutal as it was blissful, and he shuddered through the most magnificent climax in memory as he spent himself inside her.
Transcendent.He floated on a sea of rapture, transformed. As if every one of the atoms which comprised him had drifted off into the ether, only to reassemble once more into someone completely different. As if he was not the same man who had entered the carriage only a half an hour before.
Which was completely ludicrous. And yet, he could not find the strength, between the queer shudders that wracked him still and the frantic, short breaths that seized in his lungs, to stir himself from his comfortable position with his head pillowed upon the mound of her breasts. Beneath his ear, he could hear her heart racing through its beats in the mad echo of his own.
“I forgot about the coachman,” she whispered, sounding at once confused and mortified by her own behavior. “Do you think he heard?”
A laugh struggled out of Luke’s tortured lungs. Probably anyone within a half-mile radius of the carriage had heard, in fact, though that knowledge would not reassure her. And it seemed so natural to kiss the fractious furrow from her brow. “Even if he did, he’d never be so uncouth as to mention it.” With no small amount of effort, he managed to peel himself from her, forcing muscles that had gone lax with pleasure to support him once more.
Luke grappled for the handkerchief that he was certain was buried in one of his pockets to clean them up as Lizzie lay, limbs in a delightful sprawl, skirts tossed up haphazardly, hair wild and tangled from the careless rake of his fingers. Incredibly, his cock stirred again.
Unease crept up his spine as he tucked himself back into his trousers, fastening the fall with fingers that trembled. It was the novelty of her, he assured himself, and nothing more. He did not intend to be led about by his cock…no matter how tempting the thought.
He was not going to be led about by hisheart, either—but then, it had been years since he’d been in possession of one.
Chapter Twenty One
Stop fussing,” Luke chided mildly. “You look as well as can be expected.”
Lizzie felt her lips compress into a grim line, wondering what she was meant to make of such a statement. That she looked fine, for being what she was—a common country girl, with no social graces to speak of? A new wife who had been thoroughly debauched in a carriage on the long journey to London? A woman who had lived half her life in abject penury, and whose clothes were at least eight years out of fashion?
That much had been impossible to miss, after all, given that they had arrived on the outskirts of London perhaps half an hour before, and she hadn’t been able to resist peeking through the drawn curtains to survey the city which would now become her home. As they had progressed from the poorer districts into the upper crust ones, she had seen fine ladies walking about the parks and shops, their gowns dripping with silks and laces and ribbons. It was impossible not to feel quite dowdy by comparison, in her plain yellow dress that had been the best of her wardrobe for years.
And which was now prominently missing a button, which she had found on the floor of the carriage and tucked into her pocket.
London passed in a dizzying blur of streets, so wide and vast that she felt certain she would never get her bearings. There was the distinct, acrid scent of coal smoke in the air, and everything seemed to be dirty. The clamor of so many people, so many horses, and so many carriages produced a constant drone of noise that threatened to overwhelm her senses.
