He seemed to comply, increasing the pace of his fingers working in and out of her, but once again, he brought her to the edge and then pulled back, leaving her gasping and frustrated. Tears of need pricked at her eyes, and she looked up at himwith something that felt like a cross between devastation and desperation.
“I am begging you,” she whispered. “Please. I will do anything. Just please–”
Richard captured her mouth in a searing kiss, and this time, when his fingers found that perfect spot, he did not stop. The tension inside Isobel built impossibly higher, tighter, until finally – finally – it shattered.
Pleasure exploded through her body in waves so intense she could not breathe, could not think, could only feel. She cried out Richard's name, her body shaking as he worked her through the aftershocks, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.
When she finally came back to herself, she was trembling, her head resting against Richard's shoulder as she fought to catch her breath. Richard held her close, pressing soft kisses to her hair, her temple, her cheek.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You are so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”
Isobel lifted her head to look at him and saw the raw hunger in his eyes, the barely controlled desire. He had given her pleasure but taken none for himself – like always. It was then she realized with a flash of understanding that he was still holding back, still trying to protect her.
“I want all of you,” she said firmly, reaching for the fastenings of his breeches. “I want everything, Richard. Please.”
Richard caught her hands, his expression torn. “Isobel, are you certain? Once we do this, there is no going back. I will be your first, and you–”
“Will be your only,” Isobel interrupted, and saw him flinch at the reminder of how temporary this was. “For tonight, at least. And that is enough for me. Is it enough for you?”
For a long moment, Richard simply stared at her, and Isobel thought he might refuse, might be noble and honorable and send her away. But then something in his expression shifted, and she saw the moment he surrendered to what they both wanted.
“It will never be enough,” he said roughly, the confession hitting her heart deeply. “But I will take what I can have.”
This time, when Isobel reached for his breeches, he did not stop her. She freed him from the confining fabric, and her eyes widened at the sight of him – stiff and ready and intimidating in his arousal.
“Will it. Um… it is quite… girthier than I - will it fit?” she asked nervously, and the laugh he gave her in response was strained.
“It will,” he assured her. “But it may hurt at first. I will be as gentle as I can be and take it slow. I do not want to hurt you.”
He positioned himself at her entrance, and Isobel held her breath as she felt him begin to push forward. As their parts merged, his member slipped into her like a piece of a puzzle – the fit was tight but perfectly right, the pressure she felt was intense.
As was the pain. Isobel tried to inhale, but the ache startled a gasp out of her, and her hands came up to clutch at his shoulders.
“Breathe,” Richard coaxed, sounding just as winded as she was. “Just breathe, darling. I have you.”
He pushed forward gradually, giving her time to adjust, and Isobel focused on the sweet whispers and the endearments he was using, the tenderness in his voice despite the strain of holding back. When he encountered the final wall of her innocence, he paused, his eyes meeting hers.
“This will hurt,” he warned. “I am sorry.”
Isobel nodded, the fear not allowing her to speak, and he thrust forward, tearing through the barrier in one swift motion.
She realized that what she had thought was pain earlier was merely an ache. This – this was pain. It hit her sharply, knocking the air out of her lungs, and Isobel cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks. Richard held completely still, murmuring apologies and praise against her hair, kissing away her tears as he gave her time to adjust.
Slowly, the pain began to fade, replaced by a feeling of fullness, of completion. Isobel shifted experimentally and gasped at the sensation – not pain this time, but pleasure.
“I – I-I think I am all right,” she whispered. “You can move.”
Richard began to move with exquisite care, his thrusts slow and controlled. Each movement sent sparks of pleasure through Isobel's body, and she found herself meeting his rhythm, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him deeper.
“God, Isobel,” Richard groaned, his control beginning to wane again. “You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect.”
The praise made Isobel bold, and she dragged her nails down his back, delighting in the way he shuddered. His pace increased, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, and Isobel felt that tension building again, coiling tighter and tighter in her core.
It was overwhelming and she wanted it to consume her, wanted this moment to last forever, wanted to live the rest of her life savoring the sight of him, so manly and attractive, his skin shimmering due to the sheen of sweat on his skin. She wanted to remain as full as she felt, wanted to live her life consistently being referred to as ‘his darling’, ‘his pretty one’, ‘his good girl’.
His.
“Do it,” Richard urged, as she had uncovered a revelation about herself that she had fought off for so long, the desperation in hisvoice pushing her all the way over. “Find your release, Isobel – darling, I need to feel you–”
