Page 77 of Make Mine a Marquess

His growl of approval nearly melted her bones.

He stilled above her, his hard body pressed against hers. His gaze met hers, and she saw the need he held back. “Phoebe, love. I want your first time to be pleasurable. If I could take the pain upon myself, I would.”

She wanted this man with every fiber of her being. “It’s not my first time.”

He stiffened, his biceps like iron above her. His eyes bore into hers. “When? With Willard?”

“No. Once when I was sixteen. With a family stable boy.”

He let out a held-in breath. “That was a long time ago. Once does not make you experienced. There may not be pain, but you still need to be cherished.”

To be cherished. He made her sound like precious china. She wanted him, all of him. Nothing held back. “Then show me. Teach me. We have one night, remember? No regrets.”

Those dark eyes watched her. “Yes, no regrets.”

His hand seared a path down her stomach to brush the downy hair between her thighs. His skilled fingers found her moist center, and the sensitive nub that ached for his touch. At the first stroke, she moaned aloud with erotic pleasure. She arched her hips, digging her heels into the coverlet, craving his wicked touch, more and more.

“That’s it, love. Let yourself feel nothing but pleasure.”

Nothing but pleasure. How could she feel anything else?

He knew just where to touch, just how to tease, just how to draw out every tiny tremor, until she was quivering on the point of rapture. Then, with one more stroke, she peaked and cried out.

He spread her thighs and the head of his manhood teased her once more. Her body softened, and he slipped inside an inch. She felt no pain, only a desperate need for what he could give her.

She clutched his arms, her nails marking his biceps with small crescents. She thrust her hips to meet his length, and he hissed. “Easy.”

She moaned, too far gone to care. He lowered his head and captured her lips as he fully thrust into her body. Her eyes widened at the long, hard length of him.

He stilled. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean—”

“It feels wonderful.” Her body accepted his and melted against him. She felt like one with him—one miraculous lover. She slid her eyes open, taking in his fiercely passionate and possessive gaze. He began to move, thrusting in and out of her body. She arched her hips to meet him, her own desire swiftly building. As her pleasure climbed, so did a tug in her heart.

“Oh, Robert!”

His eyes flared. “Yes, love. Let yourself go.”

She breathed in deep soul-drenching drafts. Passion pounded the blood through her heart, chest, and head. Their bodies were in exquisite harmony with each other. She greedily wanted more, craved more, until the peak of ecstasy came in long, surrendering shivers.

He thrust twice more, then stilled, the corded muscles of his neck visible, then he pulled out of her body and his hot seed seared a path across her abdomen and on the sheets.

Panting, he rolled to the side and held her tight against him. She placed a hand on his chest, his pounding heartbeat matching hers.

She looked up at him and touched his cheek, the slight stubble of his cheek tickling her skin.

He took her hand and placed a hot kiss in the center of the palm. “I’m a changed man.”

As for regrets, she didn’t have any, but the thought that swiftly followed was dangerous. How could she have thought one night with the Marquess of Landon could be enough?

…

Landon held Phoebe in his arms. Her back pressed to his chest, her breath brushed the inside of his bicep as she dozed. He reached for a long blond curl and wrapped it around his finger. Candlelight flickered on her ivory breasts. Amazed, he watched her. Her eyes were closed, her long lashes lying against her cheek.

She’d come to him. For as long as he’d live, he’d never forget how she’d locked his door and then courageously faced him, her eyes full of curiosity and longing. And hesitancy. She’d had a shiver of doubt, but his brave lady had overcome all concerns to take what she’d wanted.

And she’d wanted him.

His own need had raged the moment she’d removed her nightgown. He hadn’t lied. She was magnificent to him. Her body was curvaceous and lush, like a flesh and blood Venus. And when she’d cried out his Christian name, his blood had pounded in his brain, his chest, and his groin.