Page 77 of This Marquess of Mine

She reached up and stroked her fingers along his hard jaw, needing to touch the evidence of his desire, his loss of control, as if she could keep it in her hand forever.

“This might hurt, petal,” Griffin said, sweat beading his brow. “I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t so, but—”

“I know,” she said. “It will be fine. I’m ready.”

A smile flashed in his eyes, as if he found it amusing that she was consoling him, but then he sobered, and she held very still as he slowly eased inside. She watched his face, holding her breath as he filled her, and her toes curled as her body stretched to accommodate him.

She gripped his shoulders as she grew accustomed to the feel of him, the sensation unfamiliar but not unpleasant.

He pulled back, then gave another short thrust forward as his eyes met hers. “Is this—am I hurting you?”

“No,” she said. “Keep going.”

It was starting to feel rather nice, actually, the friction of each thrust sending a little pang of pleasure through her loins, and if he would only quicken the pace, she might finally—

She stiffened as he thrust deep, the twinge swift and sharp, and Griffin held himself very still as he gazed down at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes remorseful, though the rest of his face seemed carved in stone. “Do you want to stop?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.” There was no turning back now, not when they’d come so far. And the discomfort was beginning to fade now.

He nodded, then slowly edged back then forward again. In and out. In and out. Slow, measured strokes, each one a little deeper than the last, the slide of his shaft an abrasion that was both too much and not enough.

A frustrated noise sounded in her throat, and she arched her hips, rocking into him. Their moans mingled and Olivia wrapped her legs around his hips and thrust again, harder this time, taking in more of him. Still, it wasn’t enough.

“You want more?” Griffin rasped, gripping her thigh. “Is that it, petal? Your cunny wants more of me?”

She clenched around him, the naughty word heightening her pleasure, and she gripped his neck, arching up to meet him. He adjusted his angle, leaning into her just so, forcing his long, thick length to drag across her swollen nub.

Her body seized and clenched as she burst into a thousand pieces, keening her pleasure into his ear.

Griffin grunted, quickening his pace, and then, with a low growl, he withdrew from her body and spilled his seed on her thigh.

A long silence followed and then Olivia sat up and sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm her galloping heart. “Oh, my.”

Griffin chuckled and sat up, reaching for his discarded shirt. “Indeed,” he said, wiping her thigh clean. “I had no idea how persuasive you could be. You would make an excellent barrister.”

Olivia laughed, her cheeks warming with pleasure. “Don’t be silly. I’m not clever enough to be a barrister.”

“Nonsense. You’re more than clever enough.”

Bemused, Olivia searched his face for a sign he was poking fun, but there was not a glimmer of amusement to be found. “You’re serious,” she said, hearing the surprise in her own voice.

“Of course,” he said.

She looked away, her heart aglow, the compliment and the matter-of-fact way in which he gave it pleasing her more than any praise ever had before. “You’re the first man who has ever called me clever.”

Griffin leaned back against the chaise and shook his head, chuckling softly. “I find that hard to believe. You must have received hundreds of compliments from men.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “On my glorious eyes and beautiful smile.”

“How awful for you,” Griffin drawled.

She smiled wryly. “Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mind those compliments. I rather like that men find me attractive. But it would be nice to be praised for my talents or my sense of humor every once in a while.”

He nodded. “I hate to speak ill of my fellow men, but we can be astoundingly dense at times.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Yes. You certainly can be.”