Page 51 of The Unwilling Bride
His chin nuzzled her bodice lower, exposing the rounded tops of her breasts to his lips and tongue. Then,suddenly, he raised his head to give her an intensely ardent kiss.
As she eagerly responded, his hands continued their slow exploration of her body. Every inch of her skin felt alive to his touch, every caress a new call to desire.
Still kissing her, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She had one moment’s thought that she should stop him, but in the next, he was beside her.
She wrapped her arms about him, pulling him closer. She vaguely guessed where this might end—and did not care. He was not the Merrick she had known, and were they not betrothed, as good as married except for the blessing and consummation?
One hand left her breast to travel lower, cupping her between her parted limbs. Kneading her there. Making her cleft throb and moisten.
Ready for him.
A finger pressed against her through the fabric. His mouth took hers again with hot intensity. She lifted her hips, seeking more. Wanting more. Needing more.
His tongue swirled and danced with hers, gliding over her teeth, plunging into her warm mouth. A prelude to that other thrust.
His hand, his fingers, that glorious pressure provoked more yearning within her.
And then…the tension snapped. Crying out, she dug her fingernails into his shoulder, bucked and groaned as wave after wave of unimagined release tore through her, blinding her to everything except that incredible sensation.
Afterward, she leaned against him, panting, spent. “What…what was that?” she murmured.
“Your pleasure,” he whispered, his voice a husky rasp, his breathing heavy as if he’d run a long distance.
“Only mine?”
“For now. I can wait.”
She imagined her wedding night, realized he would love her, that his body would join with hers…
He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, for her braids were undone and fallen into disarray. “This was but a taste of what’s to come, Constance.”
A taste? She wanted a meal. “As I seem to recall you saying once, we’re already betrothed.”
Desire flared in his eyes, but he shook his head. “I will have no one say I took you too soon, that you had no choice except to marry me because I’d taken your maidenhead.”
She had made her decision. There was no need now to pretend she didn’t want his kisses, his caresses, his body loving hers. No reason to deny what they both so obviously craved. She pressed her body closer. “No one need know.”
“I will know, and so will you,” he grimly replied. “I will have no shadow of doubt, no cause at all for you to suspect me of other motives.”
She couldn’t fault him for wanting to be honorable, and yet surely there was some way…
She remembered something she’d overheard, a giggled conversation between Demelza and another maid,about what Demelza had done one May Day eve. At the time, she’d been shocked—and then ashamed for listening. But now…now she was glad she’d eavesdropped.
Emboldened, she stroked his hardened shaft through his clothing. “I don’t think it’s right that I should be pleasured but you must go lacking, even if we aren’t yet wed. I’ve heard there are other ways for men to seek release,” she offered.
“It’s a sin for a man to waste his seed,” he muttered thickly, his eyes pleading as he reached for her hand. “Constance, you should stop that.”
“I would feel it a greater sin that I should leave you without ease when I’ve been satisfied,” she replied, ignoring his halfhearted protest. “We can confess and seek absolution later.”
His only answer to that suggestion was a low groan as she untied his breeches. Making no more attempts to stop her, his eyes closed, he leaned back and braced himself as she straddled him and slipped her hand inside his breeches.
She’d never touched a man’s naked shaft before. It was softer than she’d expected, and he, this powerful knight who’d defeated so many men, shivered and gasped when she encircled him with her fingers.
Leaning close, she kissed his mouth, and in spite of whatever reservations he harbored, he returned her kiss fiercely as she continued to stroke him.
Her lips left his to trail down his chin. She kissed his collarbone and the little hollow in the middle, whereshe could feel his rapid breathing like the beating of a bird’s wings.
His shirt was a hindrance, and she stopped her ministrations for a moment. “Sit up,” she ordered.
