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Good lord, he wanted to fuck her to pieces. He wanted to fuck her inside out, and then all over again. “Then you must decide what to do, if you wish to stop me.”
He was bursting to be inside her. He ached beyond any ache he’d ever felt. It took an excruciating amount of control to hold himself over her, and press his cock inside her inch by meager inch while watching to be certain he didn’t hurt her more than “a little bit.” But the oil seemed to ease her sufficiently. She spread her legs and opened her arms and held onto him.
“Oh,” she said. “That feels very warm and fine.”
He could say nothing for long moments. The feeling of being inside her after the wait, and the teasing, and the bondage—he could barely catch his breath as sensation rocked up to his chest and down to his thighs. Heavy need weighed in his balls. He tried to be slow, to bring her along with him, but her wildness sapped his control.
“You’re full of me, aren’t you?” he growled. “You like me inside you, filling you up.”
“Yes. Oh, how lovely it feels.”
She clung to him tighter, so her breasts were crushed against his chest. His hands were slippery from the oil. He massaged her back and her bottom, and squeezed her tensing cheeks. Then he dipped his fingers between them and massaged her bottom hole, slipping the tip of his finger inside.
“Goodness. Did you mean to do that?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I thought maybe the oil—”
“I meant to put my finger in your bottom.” As if to emphasize his words, he pressed it deeper. The oil eased the way inside her tight passage. “You’re mine, little kitten. I like to be inside you everywhere.”
“Do all married couples—”
“Yes, hush. Everything I do to you is perfectly all right.”
She gave a little gasp as he moved his finger in and out of her arse. Her hips arched in a sinuous way that drove him mad. “I can’t believe these honeymoon activities,” she said in a hushed voice. “They are so…”
She never finished her sentence, but he knew what she meant. They were so intense and risky, and so abandoned, and so magnificent. He came before she did, exploding into an oblivion he couldn’t hold back anymore, but she came too as he bucked through the aftershocks. He felt her clench around his cock and the finger buried in her bottom, and he thought how lucky a man he was, to have ended up shackled to this woman who had no understanding of propriety, or honeymoons, or what was normal between men and women.
Lord knew he himself had never really cared.
*** *** ***
Josephine ate dinner in bed with her husband on the third day—or was it the fourth? She had rather lost track of the days in their unclothed and libidinous existence.
Lord Warren had been correct on the subject of honeymoons. They were nice and relaxing, and even better, they did not involve anyone but the two of them. No eyes to judge, no gossip to worry about. Even the servants made themselves scarce, only appearing when she and Lord Warren needed to eat or bathe.
Her husband made love to her in a surprising variety of ways, and then they slept, and then they woke and talked together, and had wonderful meals like this. Fresh bread, meat and fish, cheese, wine, and fruit that he fed her in little bits. There were cakes and tea twice a day, and more cakes at night if he rang the bell for it. Sometimes they stayed too busy doing other things.
Josephine felt perpetually shocked at the things she hadn’t known about her body, that her new husband taught her with his hands and his mouth, and his own body, which was perpetually shocking as well. She had been walking around for nineteen years, the entire time capable of enormous pleasure. If only she’d realized it.
“Not everyone appreciates these things,” he said, pouring her more wine. “You see, some people, especially English people, are frightened of sex. You were frightened by things your mother had told you.”
“But those things weren’t true.”
“Your mother probably said such things so you would keep yourself decent until you were married. Older ladies will spread stories to frighten young girls for the same reason. Unfortunately, the stories are told with such regularity that women come to believe them.”
“I believed,” she said, feeling rather disgruntled about it. “I shall tell every young woman I know the truth about things, and all the ways men and women might touch each other and make one another feel glorious.”
She thought he’d be the first to agree with this plan, but instead he gave a little frown. “My dear, that would not be advisable. Only because the things we do to one another are private. They’re too intimate to share with others. Some might even find them improper, the people I told you about, who feel threatened by sex. It’s best to let each husband teach his wife what he would like her to know.”
Something in his tone made her suspicious. Had he taught her improper things? “You told me that everyone does the things we’ve done. Is that not true?”
He pushed the tray away and pulled her close, fastening fingertips about one nipple and pinching it to an exquisite peak of pleasure and pain. He had explained about that too, about intensity and sensation. “Do you enjoy the things I’ve taught you?”
She squirmed at the pressure of his pinching fingers. “Yes, of course I do. But if they’re improper…”
“That depends on whom you ask.” He released her nipple and bent to tease it with gentle strokes of his tongue. Her hips tensed, the lower part of her body coming to life as she arched against him. “But if you think they’re improper,” he said, “I won’t do them to you anymore.”
“I think…oh…” She let out a gasping breath as his fingers found the secret part of her that ached so shamelessly for his caress. “I think you had better continue to do them. If you like.”
“Do you like?” he murmured, tracing a path over and around her center. “Shall I touch you, then, wherever I please, whether it’s proper or not?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” He had a way of taking over her with pleasure and sensation until she couldn’t string two thoughts together. “You must do as you wish. I—I do enjoy it.”
“That’s what I like to hear. You must let me have my way with your body, hmm? Because I know how to make you feel wonderful.”
Yes, he certainly did. In some part of her brain, she realized he’d never answered her question about the decency of their activities. But since he was so skilled at those activities, she soon forgot to care.
Chapter Eight: Rubble
Josephine turned as Lord Warren leaned over the bed. Fingers twined in her hair, and gentle teeth nipped at her lips. “It’s you,” she said drowsily, reaching to touch his cheek.
“Did you think it might be someone else?” He arched his brow in that way that always made her laugh. Then she noticed something quite strange about him. He was dressed. Not just dressed to loiter about the house or wander in the woods as he had that day, but dressed quite formally, in a deep blue ensemble with an intricately tied cravat.
She sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest, for she was still quite naked. “Is the honeymoon over?” she asked.
“Almost. But not quite. We’re going somewhere today. It’s a surprise, and I’ve another surprise for you too. Get out of bed, darling.”
She gazed at the whole of him. “You look very handsome.”
Now his brows drew together in a line. “You’re not going to tempt me back to dissolution. We’ll never rejoin society at this rate.”
All the warm, fuzzy feelings of contentment bled away. “I don’t want to rejoin society.”
“Yes, I know, but we, in particular, do not have that choice. There will be gossip after our sudden wedding at Baxter’s. We’ve got to get back to London and plan some grand, notable entertainment, and invite hordes of people to our home to see that we adore one another.” He bent down to kiss her again. “You do adore me, don’t you?”
“What kind of grand, notable entertainment?” she asked, feeling a frisson of fear.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. A ball, I suppose, with music and food. We’re on Park Street, you know, in a big house with a ballroom twice the size of Warren Manor’s. I think it’ll be the easiest way to make everything right. I’m a little put out that you haven’t answered my question. I’ve spent this entire honeymoon trying to win your heart.”
“What was your question?”
“Do…you…adore…me?” he asked, pausing between each word to kiss her.
“I do adore you.” Heat colored her cheeks. “Of course I do, but I don’t want to have a ball.”
