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He shoved himself hard and fast into her opening, and she thought he would never fit as he tore through her virginity and made her his own.
The pain was sharp, and she winced, but it was over very soon as he moved inside her, filling her up, pressing against the walls of her warm sheath.
He had her rump in his hands and raised her up. She moved with him, taking her cue from his ministrations, and he said her name and encouraged her. “Yes, Felicia … oh, yes, like that, oh, damn, but you are perfect. Perfect little beauty, you …”
He moved in her hard and fast, and that build-up she had felt when his fingers had pulled at her nipples and his mouth had found her opening and worked her there was stronger than ever, and she arched as something new took over her body.
She climaxed in a thunderous explosion. She shuddered with the aftermath over and over again. Her body convulsed all around him with tremors blasting her with sensations as the walls of her opening clenched still at his hardness inside her.
He made a wild sound as he shot his seed inside her and then whispered praise into her ear. He held her tightly and kissed her neck and ears and lips and said quietly after they had both regained some air, “Are you hurt, little madcap? Did I hurt you …?”
“Hurt? No, that was wonderful. Can we do it again?” she brazenly asked. She had, she knew, already gone over that ‘no-no line’. So why not go over it again?
He laughed, and it was a wonderful, joyous sound as he gave her rump a little spank and said, “Mine … this is mine, little innocent.”
“Oh, yes, and perhaps … I may say the same one day soon,” she teased.
He stopped then and frowned but then nipped at her lip and said, “Fair en
ough.”
And then all such talk was gone as he took her hand to his wet and throbbing manhood and showed her yet another thing or two.
~ Fifteen ~
ALL LIFE HAD forever changed for Felicia Easton.
She soaked in the tub that had been prepared for her early the next morning and marveled at her audacious behavior the night before. She had left Ashton as he slept, although that had not been easy. He had held her tightly to himself, and while she had not wanted to leave the warmth of his embrace, she knew she had no choice but to do so.
Sleep was elusive as she relived their lovemaking.
Gazing out the small window at the new morning she wondered what challenges she would now face. Did he love her? He had been wildly possessive and hungrily attentive to every need—to both their needs—and she had found heaven. Sweet life—why were women denied such pleasures with censure if they were discovered?
She had taken her life into her own hands just as she had always done. She had with the flash of a single, irreversible decision made in the heat of a desire, in the space of a moment, changed her life’s course. She knew now that her days and nights, her mind, her body, her needs, had become riveted to a man who meant the world to her—and perhaps that was not wise.
No regrets. One should never have regrets, even if a decision proved ill. Regretting anything was a waste of time. One simply had to move forward.
Their union had been magical. He had been gentle and tender, and yet he had swept her into another universe with an erotic handling of her body, with uncontrollable touching, and with primal need and passion. She would never know such passion from any other living person—of that she was sure, because she had given so much more than her body. Her heart, her spirit, her mind’s focus were all centered in him.
He was her one. She had known it when she had crept into his room and seduced him. It wasn’t the other way around—no, how could it be, when she was the one that had gone to him and nearly demanded his attentions.
Would he now think her a loose woman, not fit for anything but a bed? Would he? She must not allow him to think so, and, somehow, she did not think him the sort that would believe such a thing. She had been a maid, after all.
He on the other hand was so many things—just the sort of things she had never thought would attract her. He was a rogue of a man, very experienced, and she was sure with a list of ladies he had made love to over the years. Was she just one more?
Wanting to mean more to him was not enough. Hoping to be so much more to him, still, not enough. She had taken this course to infuse herself in his mind, and then … well, now he was infused in hers.
He had laughingly told her she had the air of a duchess.
She had smiled and told him, “Nonsense, Ashton.”
“Ashton? Why do you persist in avoiding the use of my given name?” He frowned down at her.
She smiled, “Glen, then, but my airs are my own and have nothing to do with royalty.”
“No, you don’t understand, my dear heart. You have all the best traits … beauty, character, conviction. You may not have been born a duchess, and yet, you are one all the same.”
Did he believe that, or was it the affection of the moment?
