Page 54 of Ironvine

He glanced up at her. “Are you disgusted?”

“No, no…” she cried out, her body shuddering. “Oh….oh…” Her release was coming.

Immediately, he disengaged his hard shaft and, cupping her buttocks, found her entry. Her eyes widened at the sight of his stiff length entering her. “Georgie…” dragged from him. He eased himself inside her inch by wet inch, sinking himself in her tightness. “This is our wedding ceremony. This right here…” Her fingernails dug into his flesh as he rocked in deeper. He met resistance, and her brow furrowed.

Something inside him ached at the sight of her tense, in pain. He held himself in check as she grew accustomed to him inside her. She took in a breath and rocked her pelvis against his, and he let out a long groan. That determination of hers would be his undoing. Her chin stiffened. She braced herself.

Charles pulled himself out slightly and on a breath, thrust inside her once more, filling her. He groaned at the sleek tightness, at her moans, her hands clutching him, the scent of her skin. He kept still as she throbbed around him.

This.

This was a moment they would never live again.

His lips searched for hers. Found them. He swallowed her defenseless cry.

“We are alive. Alive,”she’d said earlier. Yes. They were alive and claiming their lives together. Claiming their pleasure together.

Damn Hugh, damn her family, damn them all.

He cradled her face. “Look at me, Georgie.” Her eyes blinked open. “You are now mine. My wife. My Countess.”

Her fingers tightened around his neck. “And you are mine,” she breathed.

His pulse charged at her own declaration of possession. “Yes, I am yours.” He thrust inside her quicker, her words thrilling him. “I am yours.”

These were their vows, this lovemaking their pledge—their oath as one as they were one. He reveled in the feel of her sweat against his skin, the musk rising between their bodies, her perfume, a faded floral, mingling with the raw scent of their possession.

Crushed innocence.

A new life.

Her grip on him tightened as he filled her over and over. Her tiny moans and cries exploded inside him, and a groan escaped his throat as the pleasure built, overwhelmed. A groan of a different order. His eyes blinked open. He wanted to see her, as they were one, one body. One beast.

It wasn’t only about his own pleasure, or some game, or a distraction to blind him for a few sweet moments. There were no lies, no bending of truths. Everything around them had contorted and changed, but there was an anchor for them both, body and soul.

Her chest heaved, and her eyes glistened as she took him in. Yes, his brave, remarkable Lady Ryvves. Pleasure tore through him. That compulsion to pull out and pull away as was his wont with a woman flew past him. He only surged deeper into Georgina, needing more of her for his satisfaction. Completion of a different kind.

A moan unleashed from her lips. “Charles…Charles…”

Banging thundered on the front door, loud voices yelling. The servants knocked, calling out to him.

He stopped, her body stiffening in his grip. “Dammit. Our guests have arrived.”

Thomas shouting.

She sat up. “Are we finished?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“But ’twill serve.” He winced as he tucked himself in and fastened his breeches. His cock throbbed for not having finished after such a ride. Blood was smeared down her thigh and he ran his fingers through it.

Would she regret what they’d done? Would she cry and be upset with herself, with him, and thus turn on him to her brother? He knew not what to expect.

“Yes, ’twill serve. It is done,” she murmured softly against his cheek, planting a kiss there as her fingertips skimmed the curve of his jaw. Her hand slid around his blood-stained fingers, and she grinned. “I am ruined.”

ChapterTwenty-Three

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