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Do not cry, you ninny, she scolded herself, only for the thought to be drowned away under the onslaught of a much deeper and erotic kiss. She tasted herself on his mouth, and it only aroused her senses further. She’d hungered so many times for her earl to kiss her, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that his mouth would be so hot, his taste so wickedly carnalanddelicious.
A kiss wasn’t just an act…a prelude to sexual intimacy. It was everything. Kisses bespoke hunger and cravings that would otherwise be impossible to communicate. Their tongues danced together in an evocative duel, one that was slow and sensuous. Somehow, he rolled with her until he whisked the nightgown over her head. The carpet prickled over her skin, for beneath it, she was gloriously naked. Prue fought the blush as his gaze devoured her entire body, and a delightful shiver of wanting ran through her. She was also inordinately grateful for the dim light in her bedchamber. His touch against her cheek was like soft petals. The tenderness brought a sweet ache to her chest, and she smiled up at him.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “I am a damn fool. What a treasure I’ve had right in front of me.”
Her heart staggered. Never had he looked at her with such reverent care. “I…” Prue did not know what to say, so she tugged his head down and joined their mouths.
She liked the way he kissed her. Slowly, yet so intensely as if he wanted to consume her. As if her body was a canvas he painted on, his hands coasted over her skin, touching, and caressing, and lingering everywhere. Every touch was a blaze of fire. A promise of pleasure. An echo of longing.
I missed you for these three years, Oscar. How I wished we had not waited…
Without releasing her mouth from his ravenous kisses, he thumbed her nipples between his fingers until they were so sensitive, she could scarcely bear the pressure. Lifting his mouth from hers, his lips seared a path down to her neck, her shoulders, and to the mounds of her quivering breasts. Then he wetted one tormented tip with his tongue while his hand continued down between her legs. Those fingers stroked over her sex, the caress almost unbearable in its tenderness, the very opposite of his mouth as he bit and kissed along her breast. Oscar used nimble fingers to pinch and circle her clitoris until she was mortifyingly wet and once again convulsing in his arms as bliss speared her.
The pleasure was too much.
“Our first time will not be on the bloody carpet,” he murmured, rolling from her body, and standing. He swept her, weightless, into his arms and turned to the connecting door with effortless strength. It was to his bed that Oscar took Prue and spread her in the large center before covering her like a sensual blanket. He pushed one muscular thigh between hers to make perfect space for his weight.
“I want to see you,” she said, tugging at the buttons of his shirt.
Oscar pushed from the bed and hurriedly undressed. Prue came up onto her elbows, her legs still wantonly splayed to observe her husband. A savage hunger burned in the gaze that never moved from her while he stripped. Her husband was a fine specimen, much more appealing than the figures shown in the erotic literature. With each layer of clothing removed, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his broad shoulders, his sculpted chest and abdomen, and hard thighs. He was beautifully formed. And…good heavens! The book lied. Her husband’s manhood was much larger and thicker than was portrayed.
Unexpected tension knotted her belly as she recalled this was supposed to hurt.Such rubbish, she reminded herself. Everything this far had been sublime, and she had been preparing by pricking the tip of her fingers with needles for three years.
Oscar pressed his thick length against her aching folds and inched forward. She clasped his shoulder at the tight, stretching sensation felt at his invasion. “Oscar?”
He paused, his body slightly trembling. “Yes.”
“Kiss me,” she said, her words trembled as anxiety warred with the promise of pleasure.
He caught her mouth in a kiss, one that was tender and almost apologetic, as his hips flexed and he thrust deep. The scream of shock exploded from her mouth, and he swallowed it, pressing quick kisses to her mouth, saying soothing nonsense she did not want to hear. A burning pain sizzled from where they were joined and bloomed up to her belly in a piercing cramp. She ripped her mouth from his, panting. He shifted, and Prue cried out as the pain worsened.
“Do not move,” she said on a sob, hating that her voice was rough with tears.Worse…“Oh dear,” she whispered, as darkness edged her vision and she fainted underneath her husband.
Chapter Nine
Oscar wanted to slam his fist into a wall. He had fucked his wife into a dead faint. He was a damn rutting ass who needed a good wallop. What had he been thinking to kiss and touch her with such carnality, and it was her first time? He should have been more mindful of her sensibilities and delicate nature, but he had been beset with lust for his countess. He had allowed her to ride his face, and he had pleasured her cunny until she screamed, and then…
Damn it all to hell. She should have been peppered with slow sweet kisses, the lamp muted to preserve her dignity, and then he should have possibly used more oil to ease his way into her body. She had been so damn tight it was a miracle he had fitted. He knew he was a large man, but she had been so slick and wet, Oscar had been confident in the way he had prepared her body.
I was too damn crude and eager.
Regret churned in his gut. He hated that he had brought her such pain. Tears had leaked from her eyes.Fuck. The harsh, crude curse did not relieve the tension in his body. Oscar gently traced his fingers over her brows after cleaning the blood stains away and dressing her in the voluminous nightgown, he gathered her into his arms and took his countess into her chamber. She did not stir, and he thought it would be best she woke in a room that was comforting and familiar.
Tucking the sheets to her chin, he went to the hearth and stoked the fire. Once he was done, he padded toward the connecting door, only to pause. This was too reminiscence of their wedding night. She had fainted; he had deposited her to her room and then left for town the very next day.
Turning around, he walked over to her bed and around to the other side. He climbed on, folding his arm behind his head, and staring at the ceiling. A few minutes later, a soft mutter came from her. Turning his head, Oscar stared at her. Prue still slept, but now she turned to him as if seeking the heat of his body. He smiled when she rolled until she was curled into his side. A sigh of delight slipped from her, and then her deep breathing filled the chamber.
Oscar closed his eyes, and despite the tempting closeness of his cock and his aching balls that were still desperate for relief, he fell into a deep slumber.
“Oh, dear!”
It was that familiar refrain that had Oscar opening his eyes to see the bedchamber had the soft gray shade of early dawn. A hard rain plunked down on the roof and the windows of her chamber. The house was still, and he suspected the household servants were still abed. That meant it was not yet five in the morning. His wife had scooted to the very edge of the bed, the sheets tugged up to cover her mouth. Her green eyes were wide and pinned on him, her hair sticking out from several ends. He couldn’t help smiling at the madcap picture she presented. “Good morning, wife,” Oscar murmured.
“I fainted,” she whispered. “Again.”
“That you did.”
“I am mortified.”
