at that moment to explain, so instead he urged her
toward the bed and lay her back against the pillows.
Christian fought to take control of the
emotions that were stirring within him. He positioned himself beside her and
kissed her again, this time covering her mouth with his and drawing her fully
against the length of his body. As he did, he took a journey back in time to
Eton, to hour upon hour of dictum and lecture. He deepened the kiss, stroking
his tongue slowly against hers. She tasted of tea and the brandy he’d laced it
with and her hair fell softly against his cheek. He already knew that Grace had
never known such a kiss but still she didn’t shy away as he had expected her to
do. Instead his virginal little wife kissed him back. He felt Grace open her
mouth against his, pressing her body even closer to him. He felt a jolt take
him deep inside.
Affected more than he cared to admit,
Christian pulled away and looked at her. “We will take this slowly,”
he said more to himself than to her. He’d come to her this evening set on doing
his duty as a husband, but only so far as he would need to leave the proof he
knew the servants would be looking for on the sheets, her virgin’s blood. He
had told himself he could separate his body from his mind. It appeared,
however, that this wouldn’t
prove easy, for already his blood was pounding through his veins—this after
he’d only kissed her once.
He began reciting philosophic precepts in
his head, anything to occupy his attention as he loosened the buttons that held
the front of her nightdress, his fingers slipping them one by one through the
tiny closures down to her belly. He pushed the fabric aside and drew in a
ragged breath at the untouched whiteness of her skin, the tautness of her
rose-hued nipples. She was perfect in every way. She would be tight around him,
he knew, when he entered her and the thought of it taunted him. He pushed the
fabric upward over her legs to bunch at her waist, taking in the sight of the
golden down at the joining of her thighs. Inwardly he contemplated Socratic
dialogues in an effort to cool his increasing desire.
Christian told himself it would go easier
if she were at least somewhat aroused, so he kissed her again and as he did, he
brought his head lower along the swell of her breast before closing his mouth
over her nipple. Grace arched her back, sucking in a sharp breath as she was
taken by the first sensations of desire. She brought her hands upward, lacing
her fingers through his hair as he drew on her, fisting her hands as he took
her further and further into the untried world of her own sensuality.
When he pulled away, lifting his head to
look at her, she opened her eyes, staring in silent bewilderment at him. The
wavering glow of the firelight played across the burnished tawny gold of her
hair, her rapid pulsebeat showing at the hollow of her neck. Christian felt his
thoughts begin to blur. His hands queried her body with caresses, his mouth
with kisses, introducing him to the delight of her collarbone, the thrill of
the whispering of a touch against her shoulder.
With every gesture, every stroke of his
fingers, Grace sought to return in kind, caressing her fingers over his back,
against his neck. With each motion, each touch from her, Christian’s need for
her grew. He ran his hand over her, smoothing down over her belly along her
thigh. Slowly, tentatively he parted her legs, touching her skin, seducing her
to readiness for him.
When he touched her more intimately,
reaching her in places she’d never known existed, Grace gasped aloud. His own pulse was
pounding now like cannon fire in his ears. His eagerness to know her, to
satisfy his need, brought him to moving over her, positioning himself between
her legs, joining his mouth with hers once again. With first one hand, then the
other, he lifted her legs, bending them at the knee. His fingers found her,
found her wet and slick, and he was desperate to feel her
toward the bed and lay her back against the pillows.
Christian fought to take control of the
emotions that were stirring within him. He positioned himself beside her and
kissed her again, this time covering her mouth with his and drawing her fully
against the length of his body. As he did, he took a journey back in time to
Eton, to hour upon hour of dictum and lecture. He deepened the kiss, stroking
his tongue slowly against hers. She tasted of tea and the brandy he’d laced it
with and her hair fell softly against his cheek. He already knew that Grace had
never known such a kiss but still she didn’t shy away as he had expected her to
do. Instead his virginal little wife kissed him back. He felt Grace open her
mouth against his, pressing her body even closer to him. He felt a jolt take
him deep inside.
Affected more than he cared to admit,
Christian pulled away and looked at her. “We will take this slowly,”
he said more to himself than to her. He’d come to her this evening set on doing
his duty as a husband, but only so far as he would need to leave the proof he
knew the servants would be looking for on the sheets, her virgin’s blood. He
had told himself he could separate his body from his mind. It appeared,
however, that this wouldn’t
prove easy, for already his blood was pounding through his veins—this after
he’d only kissed her once.
He began reciting philosophic precepts in
his head, anything to occupy his attention as he loosened the buttons that held
the front of her nightdress, his fingers slipping them one by one through the
tiny closures down to her belly. He pushed the fabric aside and drew in a
ragged breath at the untouched whiteness of her skin, the tautness of her
rose-hued nipples. She was perfect in every way. She would be tight around him,
he knew, when he entered her and the thought of it taunted him. He pushed the
fabric upward over her legs to bunch at her waist, taking in the sight of the
golden down at the joining of her thighs. Inwardly he contemplated Socratic
dialogues in an effort to cool his increasing desire.
Christian told himself it would go easier
if she were at least somewhat aroused, so he kissed her again and as he did, he
brought his head lower along the swell of her breast before closing his mouth
over her nipple. Grace arched her back, sucking in a sharp breath as she was
taken by the first sensations of desire. She brought her hands upward, lacing
her fingers through his hair as he drew on her, fisting her hands as he took
her further and further into the untried world of her own sensuality.
When he pulled away, lifting his head to
look at her, she opened her eyes, staring in silent bewilderment at him. The
wavering glow of the firelight played across the burnished tawny gold of her
hair, her rapid pulsebeat showing at the hollow of her neck. Christian felt his
thoughts begin to blur. His hands queried her body with caresses, his mouth
with kisses, introducing him to the delight of her collarbone, the thrill of
the whispering of a touch against her shoulder.
With every gesture, every stroke of his
fingers, Grace sought to return in kind, caressing her fingers over his back,
against his neck. With each motion, each touch from her, Christian’s need for
her grew. He ran his hand over her, smoothing down over her belly along her
thigh. Slowly, tentatively he parted her legs, touching her skin, seducing her
to readiness for him.
When he touched her more intimately,
reaching her in places she’d never known existed, Grace gasped aloud. His own pulse was
pounding now like cannon fire in his ears. His eagerness to know her, to
satisfy his need, brought him to moving over her, positioning himself between
her legs, joining his mouth with hers once again. With first one hand, then the
other, he lifted her legs, bending them at the knee. His fingers found her,
found her wet and slick, and he was desperate to feel her
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