Page 85 of The Cornish Mermaid

“Phew,” Morvoren gasped. “You can do that again.”

He did. This time even longer passed before their second break for fresh air.

She let her fingers run through his hair, just as she’d longed to do on the night they’d met in the corridor on their way to Denby’s ball. He was hers and she was his, at last. The thought brought tears of happiness.

He must have seen. “Don’t cry. I don’t want to make you cry. You’ve no need to be afraid.”

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid. I’m happy. Kiss me again before you dissolve to nothing and I realize this is just a beautiful dream.”

A puzzled frown furrowed his brow, but he did as she bid. His lips came down on hers, hotter and more demanding than ever, his body pressed hard against hers and his arousal evident through the thin layers of fabric that separated them.

Time for some less ladylike behavior. She slid her hand down and brushed him with her fingertips through the fabric of his breeches.

He stopped kissing her and gave a sharp gasp. “My God, Morvoren. You tease.”

She grinned. “I know. Teasing is such fun. But we’re both wearing far too many clothes for proper teasing.”

He pushed himself into a sitting position, his face flushed. “Your fault. Normally a married couple are prepared for bed by their servants. It was you who made me dispense with that service.”

She put a hand up to his cravat. “Because I wanted to undress you, and for you to undress me. That’s why. Far more fun.”

And so it was.

She pushed his coat off his shoulders and slid her hands inside his shirt, feeling the taut muscles under her fingertips and the trembling of his body that so perfectly matched hers. He gave a deep groan that settled the longing in her body into a glorious ache between her legs.

“Get this dratted gown off,” he muttered, his hands fumbling with the buttons down her back. “I can never understand why girls wear so many layers of clothing with so many fastenings to undo.”

The gown slipped off Morvoren’s shoulders to pool gently around her, leaving her in just her thin muslin petticoat.

That came off next, along with her lemon slippers.

“Stays,” Kit said, the tension in his voice palpable. “I also don’t know why you girls wear stays, other than to keep us men at a distance. I can’t undo all this. I’m cutting those ties. You’ll have to get new ones tomorrow.”

Her stays sprang away from her body and his hands sought out her breasts through the thin fabric of her slip. Her back arched at his touch and her own hands went to his breeches. “And you need to get these off. I can’t wait.” A hot sensation had flooded her body and she was aching for him as much as he evidently was for her.

He wrenched off his shirt, a small bandage still evident over his damaged right arm. The dark hairs on his chest, that until now she’d glimpsed only at his neck, curled across his muscled torso.

Reaching out to unbutton the drop on his breeches, her fingers brushed his arousal again, eliciting yet another groan.

He kicked his breeches away, naked now and more of a man than she’d ever expected or dreamed of as he snatched the slip from her body and threw her back onto the bed.

Finding her breasts, he groaned again, his lips coming down on an erect nipple and making her back arch as he sucked it in. His arousal pushed at her stomach, and she parted her legs, eager to take him in, more ready than she’d ever been.

His lips found hers, his tongue delving into her mouth as he entered her and shivers of exquisite pleasure rocked her body. He filled her to capacity, his long, strong strokes shimmering through her as she locked her still stockinged legs about his back and held him to her.

Her fingers dug into his naked back, the muscles quivering under her touch. Thrust after thrust drove a matching quivering through her own body, deeper, deeper into her molten core. That core overflowed, sending rivulets of fire from her toes to the top of her head, throbbing through her veins as his cries matched hers and he filled her to the brim in an explosion of heat.

Kit’s weight sagged against her.

She realized she’d had her eyes screwed tight shut when she opened them to the sight of the four poster’s canopy above her head.

“Whew,” she managed, her voice just a breath of ecstasy still, the aftershock still skittering through her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, all apologetic. “That was far too quick.”

Morvoren shook her head as he shifted his weight. “Not for me. And anyway, it’s not even dark yet. We’ve got all night ahead of us to practice.”

He grinned. “Not just tonight. We’ve got the rest of our lives.”

The End