Chapter 8

G wendolyn’s thoughts scrambled.

Tom was kissing her, this time not seeming to mind that she hadn’t the faintest idea how to kiss him back. He took charge, pulling her into his lap and plunging his tongue into her mouth when she gave a startled gasp.

Not that she minded, per se. His kisses made her feel strange. Giddy, almost. Her entire body was trembling, and she thought her heart might thunder out of her chest.

But she liked it. Or at least… she thought she did.

As if Tom’s kiss wasn’t overwhelming enough, he brought a huge hand up and cupped one of her breasts through her dress. Her whole body jerked in response, but Gwen was certain she liked that , especially when he ran his thumb over her nipple.

“Fucking hell, Gwen,” he groaned, bringing his other hand up to give her right breast the same treatment.

Being a gently bred lady, and not a daring one at that, Gwen was unaccustomed to hearing such language. To be sure, she had occasionally caught a shouted remark in the street or overheard her brother cursing with his friends when they didn’t realize she was around. She probably should have been offended, yet she found that she wasn’t, probably because Tom did not mean his comments in an insulting way. Quite the contrary, she thought, and moreover, he was a boxer. This was simply his customary manner of speech, and not all that different from a fashionable young miss sprinkling her conversation with French when she declared an ensemble a la mode or de rigueur .

Shaking herself, Gwen saw that Tom’s eyes were fixed upon her bosom, his gaze hungry. He squeezed her breasts, which made her gasp.

Abruptly, he released her, and Gwendolyn made a strangled sound. It was on the tip of her lips to cry, “Please, don’t stop!” because nothing had ever felt so good as his thumbs stroking her nipples, but she couldn’t quite summon up the nerve.

But then, she noticed that Tom’s hands had gone to the row of tiny buttons at the front of her dress. “I’ve got to see these,” he announced, his thick fingers flying with surprising deftness over the buttons.

He peeled the dress open, then pushed both it and her petticoats down. Lifting her with one arm as easily as if she were a rag doll, he shoved the mass of layers out of the way and tossed it on the floor.

Heat flared in his eyes as he took in the sight of her in naught but her corset and shift. “Well, well, well—look what you were hiding beneath that prudish gown! You’re a regular pocket Venus.”

Gwen’s hands flew up to cover her breasts, which, as usual, were threatening to burst out of the cups of her corset.

Tom laughed, brushing her hands away. “Why don’t you let me do that?”

Gwen gasped as he slipped a thumb inside her corset and traced the outline of her nipple, which had gone hard as a pebble. But then, his gaze drifted lower to her soft stomach and thick thighs, which were visible through her thin shift. “I’m sorry,” Gwen gasped. “I know I’m… pudgy.”

“ Pudgy ?” he snorted. “You’re ripe as a plum, is what you are. Who made you feel bad about yourself? Probably some woman who’s as bony as a fucking chicken.”

Gwen shuddered because now he was unlacing her corset. “A lithe figure is considered to be… more elegant.”

Tom snorted, giving her a look. “Lithe figure, my arse. Do you know what men like? Tits .” He made an appreciative sound as he peeled her corset off. “And you’ve got ‘em.”

Gwen couldn’t really argue with that. She certainly had tits , as Tom had put it. It was also clear that Tom liked them. But it was the strangest thing—unlike the lewd stares she’d drawn ever since her figure filled out, she found that she didn’t mind his appreciative gaze. Maybe it was the fact that she had expressly invited him to look at her. Or that his gaze managed to walk the fine line of being lustful without being lewd and was full of enjoyment of her figure rather than entitlement to it.

Strange as it sounded, considering this was her first time being in a state of undress before a man, she felt herself relax.

Tom’s eyes were bright as he said, “Gotta get my hands on these.” He untied the ribbon at the neckline of her chemise and pushed it down so that it sagged around her waist.

“Sweet Jesus,” he breathed as he filled his hands with her. His hands were huge, but her breasts overflowed them easily. His eyes fluttered, and the groan that emerged from his throat did not sound feigned. His hands kneaded her gently, seeming to enjoy the weight and texture of her.

Gwen found that she was enjoying his touch, too. The heat of his hands made a delicious contrast to the room’s cool night air. The friction felt wonderful, especially against her nipples, making her strangely glad for the callouses she could feel against her softest, most private skin.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Tom moaned. “I’ve got to taste you.”

“T-taste?” Gwen gasped. “What do you mean?—”

She was unable to finish that thought, because in a swift motion, Tom laid her back upon the white silk counterpane and brought his lips down over her nipple.

Every thought in Gwen’s head promptly dissolved. It felt the way marzipan tasted, sinfully delicious and sweeter than anything had a right to be.

Tom removed his lips from her sensitive flesh long enough to say, “That’s it, Gwen. Let me hear you.”

Had she been making sounds? She supposed she must have been because she seemed to be making them right now—a shuddering groan when he flicked his tongue over her nipple. A strangled sob when he performed a swirl.

And when he closed his mouth around her and started to suck? She screamed her pleasure. She couldn’t have held it in if she tried.

“Tom,” she gasped, “that feels so good !”

He glanced up at her, grinning. “I had an inkling that you liked it.”

He lowered his head, going back to his ministrations, and Gwen collapsed back on the bed, insensible with pleasure.

Some minutes later, she was distracted from her state of bliss by the rustling of fabric against her hips. Glancing up groggily, she watched as Tom pushed her shift down around her thighs, then reached a long arm down, pulling it off.

Gwen stiffened. She’d been so distracted by the pleasure he was drowning her in that she’d forgotten to feel self-conscious about her half-dressed state. But she found it was much more embarrassing exposing her lower half. Men liked an ample bosom, after all, and Tom had certainly appreciated hers.

But she realized with horror that he was now seeing her thighs, which could best be described as thick. Even worse, the skin on their backs was dimpled and puckered. And as for her stomach, it was squishy .

She peered at his face, terrified. But strangely, Tom didn’t look displeased. He was running his big hands along her sides, and when he reached the flare of her hips, he gave a growl of what sounded like... approval?

“I’m sorry,” Gwendolyn gasped, her hands instinctively covering her groin.

Tom laughed, sounding incredulous. “You keep saying that. But you’ve nothing to be sorry about, love. Look at these curves! You’re beautifully formed, everything a man could want.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Now you’re laying it on a little too thick.”

“I’m serious. Most women are too severe on themselves. You stand two inches from the mirror and pick out your every flaw. But us blokes are just excited to see a naked woman. We notice your good parts. And if you’re soft and lush and you smell nice?—”

“Do I smell nice?” Gwendolyn blurted.

“You do,” he said firmly. “You smell just like the honeybuns my mum used to make. And if you’re eager to have us in your bed?” He shook his head. “Makes us feel like the king of the world.”

Gwen started to argue, but he put a finger to her lips. “No buts . Here, I’ll show you.”

He peeled off his shirt and tossed it over the side of the bed. Now Gwen’s cheeks were really burning, but she couldn’t seem to look away. His chest was so… broad. So hairy . And his stomach looked nothing like hers. It rippled with muscles, and below his navel, a dark trail of hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

He lay down next to her and scooped her into his arms, and anything resembling a coherent thought fled her brain. It felt so good , all his warm, firm skin pressed against hers.

Desperate sounds emerged from her throat, and she couldn’t seem to stop squirming against him.

Tom laughed. “See? This is what we like—a bird who’s responsive.” He snagged her wrists and brought them to his chest. “Go ahead. I know you want to touch.”

Indeed, she did, and now that her hands were on him, she seemed to have lost control over them. She proceeded to explore his arms, his chest, and his rock-hard stomach. Tom returned the favor, running his hands over every inch of her skin, from the tips of her fingers down to her bottom, which he gave an appreciative squeeze. Seizing her breasts again, he brought his lips to hers, and they proceeded to touch each other all over while their tongues tangled deliciously.

The pleasure took on a sharper edge. It still felt wonderful, but Gwendolyn had a sensation of needing something more. “Tom,” she gasped, “I…”

He started kissing his way down her neck. “Don’t worry, Gwen. I’ll take care of you.”

Her breath came in a hiss as he paused to kiss her breasts once again. “I… I need… I’m not even sure what I…”

He kissed the underside of a breast and continued his way down her stomach. “I’m sure. What you need, that is.”

“Thank goodness one of us…” She blanched as Tom pressed her thighs open. What was his face doing… all the way down there?

“Tom? What are you…?”

Her thoughts scattered as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh .

She tried again. “You weren’t thinking to… to…”

He looked up, giving her a devil’s grin. “Trust me.”

Before Gwendolyn had a chance to blink, he did the exact thing she was afraid he was going to do—put his mouth on the place between her thighs ! Oh, but this was awful! She had never been so mortified in her… in her… in her whole entire…

Although.

Although…

Now that he was doing it, she could not deny that it felt absurdly decadent. It was like the distilled version of the pleasure she’d felt during his earlier ministrations to her breasts. How had he unerringly found the spot that was throbbing like a heartbeat? She wasn’t sure, but what a marvelous coincidence that it was the precise place he was circling his tongue!

“Tom!” she moaned.

He didn’t stop but looked up, waggling his eyebrows and moving his tongue even faster.

Something strange happened then. The pleasure began to swell inside of her until it was almost too much. Her thighs began to quiver, and Gwen felt the strange sensation of not being in control of her body.

“Tom,” she gasped. “I—I think something’s happening.”

He made an encouraging sound but didn’t stop.

She obviously had not explained adequately. The tremulous sensation was growing, expanding, threatening to overflow. “Tom? Are… are you sure I’m supposed to… supposed to…”

He flattened out his tongue, laving her, and suddenly, she was on the precipice, threatening to tumble over.

“Tom!” she cried. “Tom, I’m going to… Oh, my God! ”

A tidal wave of pleasure crashed over her, sweeping her up and tossing her about, then depositing her, breathless and disoriented, on the shore. Her thighs shook uncontrollably, and her back arched up off the bed. She had never imagined that something could feel so good.

She was vaguely aware of Tom coming up to lie beside her and pulling her into his arms. She opened her eyes groggily and found him grinning at her.

“Have you ever come before?” he asked.

“No.” She blinked in an attempt to restore some semblance of equanimity. “No, I had no idea of it.”

Tom grinned at her, looking delighted, and she felt the room sway again. Although he wasn’t what you would call a beau, Gwen found his rugged masculinity tremendously appealing.

Tom rubbed her back. “Shall we finish deflowering you, then?”

She nodded. She knew that what they’d done, as enjoyable as it had been, was not sufficient to pass whatever tests her brother would force her to undertake.

“Relax,” Tom whispered, then his lips found hers.

He kissed her languidly, his hands roaming over her body, until some of the tension drained from Gwen’s body. He lingered over her breasts, and her breath hitched. When she began squirming on the bed, he allowed one hand to drift down past her stomach. She hesitated only a beat before spreading her legs for him. He caressed that magical spot, circling his big, rough fingers with surprising gentleness until her breath came in pants.

Only then did he stand and remove his trousers. Gwen’s eyes widened at the sight of his member, which bore little resemblance to the limpid length she had glimpsed when Maurice went to relieve himself. Oh, no—Tom’s organ was fully swollen and listing toward the ceiling. He was not a small man, so she shouldn’t be surprised that his intimate parts were of a similar scale. But she could not help but wonder how he was possibly going to fit.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

She nodded tightly. “I appreciate that.”

He nodded toward the night table. “Would you like for me to use a sheath?”

She frowned. “What is a sheath?”

He fished something white and translucent out of a glass of water on the table. “It’s another word for the condom you mentioned before. To reduce the odds of conception.”

Gwen froze, pondering. She had assumed she would die a spinster, that she would never get the chance to have children of her own. It had seemed like such an impossibility, she honestly hadn’t given the question of whether she wanted them much thought.

But she had always liked children. She had hoped Joseph might have some someday, had looked forward to being a doting aunt, if he would let her.

If there was a child, everyone would assume it was Maurice’s. His family might even try to take the baby away from Gwendolyn.

But she doubted they would. Her impression of Maurice’s family was that they had too many children and not enough money to go ’round for everyone. They would be disappointed to find she was with child because that would mean that the baby, rather than one of Maurice’s siblings, would be his next of kin and, therefore, inherit the portion of his estate that did not go to Gwen.

But they would not want the expense of raising another child, and she suspected she could buy them off with a moderate lump sum.

Cheeks burning, Gwen said, “I don’t mind. If there’s a baby, that is.”

Tom studied her. “You’re sure?” At her nod, he dropped the white tube back in the glass, then regarded her steadily. “You’ll let me know if you find yourself in the family way?”

Gwen nodded tightly. “I will.”

“All right, then.” He turned back toward the nightstand, taking up a little bottle. He poured some clear oil into his palm and began slicking it up and down the length of his member.

Gwendolyn marked the change in his eyes as he did this, realizing that his own touch felt good for him in the same way the things he’d done earlier had felt good to her.

“Could I try that?” The words were out of her mouth before she’d realized her intention to speak.

Tom chuckled. “By all means.” Taking her wrist in his clean hand, he rubbed her palm against his, transferring some of the oil to her. He then guided her hand to his length.

Gwendolyn began to explore him with eager fingers. He was so firm and smoother than she had expected. As her curious fingers traced the shape of his tip, he pulsed in her hand, jerking up toward his stomach before settling back into its original position. Gwen laughed, startled.

“Wrap your hand around me.” Tom’s voice had a breathless quality, and when she glanced up at him, his eyes were unfocused. “Stroke me up and down, like this.” He proceeded to show her how he liked to be touched.

She picked up on the rhythm. She could tell she was doing it right, because his head lolled back. “ Christ ,” he groaned. “That feels so fucking good.”

Gwen giggled, pleased by his profane response. Tom glanced down at her, and she watched as heat flooded his eyes. “If you could see the picture you make right now…”

He trailed off, but Gwen wanted to know how that sentence ended. “Then what?”

He shook his head as he filled a hand with one of her breasts. “You cannot imagine the things I would show you if you were my girl.”

Maybe it was all an act, part of what she got for her two hundred and fifty pounds. But it didn’t feel that way. He seemed sincere, as if this were pleasure, not business. As if he really longed to have Gwendolyn in his bed.

An unfamiliar sensation swept over her. It was a feeling of lightness, as if a weight was being lifted from her shoulders. It started in the center of her chest and spread fast as wildfire, through her shoulders and arms to the tips of her fingers, down her legs all the way to her toes, and up through her neck until it coursed over her scalp.

She felt… beautiful . Beautiful, and desirable.

Suddenly, it was difficult to speak. Because she had never felt this way before, not once in her life.

Tom’s hand on her wrist interrupted her joyful haze. “We’d better stop that, bun. Otherwise, this’ll be over before we’ve started.”

Gwendolyn had no idea what he meant, but she allowed him to draw her hand back. He positioned her on her back in the middle of the bed. Having some idea of what was to come, she opened her thighs.

Tom groaned. “Fuck me. Just look at you, Gwen. You’re perfect.”

An instinctive protest rose to her lips. She bit it back. Tom hadn’t done anything to suggest his words were less than sincere. Much to the contrary, his physical response to her seemed difficult to feign.

For once, Gwendolyn was not going to put herself down. Just this once, she was going to allow herself to feel beautiful.

Tom moved to kneel between her legs, then slowly lowered himself down on top of her. He felt heavy, but pleasurably so, and Gwen adored the feeling of all his naked skin pressed against hers.

His face was tense with concentration as he reached down and positioned himself. Gwen could feel his member at her entrance, but to her surprise, he didn’t thrust his hips.

Instead, he kissed her again and returned his thumb to that little nodule between her legs. He caressed her until the pleasurable sensations started to build again, and only then did he press forward.

Gwen stiffened. He had only gone in an inch or two. It didn’t hurt, precisely, but it was so, so tight , and she felt quite certain he could not go any farther without something tearing.

Tom seemed unconcerned. “Relax,” he whispered, then started kissing her again. He kept moving his thumb over that wonderful little spot, and Gwen felt some of her tension ease.

Just when she was starting to enjoy herself again, he slid forward another inch. She gasped at the sensation of being stretched, but she was starting to know what to expect, and really, this wasn’t as terrible as she’d been led to believe.

“All right?” Tom asked.

She nodded. “All right.”

He kept at it, rubbing her little nubbin and easing himself inside her inch by painstaking inch. At one point, she felt a sharp pinch that caused her to give a startled cry.

Tom stopped immediately. “Does it hurt?”

Gwen wiggled her hips experimentally. “It does, but not as badly as I was expecting. I imagine that was my maidenhead.”

Above her, Tom made a strangled sound. Gwendolyn glanced up to see an expression that walked the fine line between ecstasy and agony etched upon his face.

“Tom?” Gwen asked, wiggling her hips again. “Does that feel good for you?”

For all that he responded with a string of curses, Gwen didn’t think he was complaining.

She giggled, circling her hips some more. Although she was still a little sore, it seemed that the worst had passed.

She leaned forward and kissed Tom’s cheek. “It’s not bad. Why don’t you show me the rest of it?”

He glanced at her, eyes wary. “You’re sure?”

She smiled up at him. “I’m sure.”

He withdrew almost all the way, then pressed forward, watching her the whole while. “That’s not too painful?”

“No,” Gwen answered honestly.

He was already increasing his pace. “How about this?”

“It’s really not bad.”

“Thank fuck ,” he growled, seizing her hips. He started to thrust in earnest.

A bright giggle emerged from Gwen’s lips. Here she was, making love with this absurdly attractive man, and she was driving him out of his mind!

She’d never imagined such a thing was possible. But she found she liked it quite a lot.

“I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way,” Tom said tightly, his hips pumping rhythmically. “But you have the best cunt. You’re so fucking soft and so fucking wet, and you fit me just right.”

Gwen was indeed shocked, but mostly because she had never given much thought to her quim and its positive attributes, or the lack thereof. “Do I truly?”

He nodded, his breath coming fast. “You do. I’m not just saying that. You feel bloody incredible. You have the… the thoroughbred of cunts.”

Gwendolyn gave a startled laugh. She found she didn’t mind Tom’s profane “compliment.” She had gone into the evening hoping she would be able to endure an unpleasant ordeal.

Instead, she had not only enjoyed herself, but she had even learned that she was good at this. Who would have imagined?

She stroked her fingertips across Tom’s broad back. He had given her such exquisite pleasure earlier, she wanted to make this just as good for him.

He gave a gratifying shudder, then shook himself. “I’m supposed to be making this good for you.”

“You have. You are.” Reaching his neck, she slipped her fingers into his hair, scraping his scalp with her nails. “I am completely satisfied.”

He gave her a smug grin. “I haven’t even begun to satisfy you, bun.”

With that, he changed the motion of his hips. Whereas he had been thrusting straight in and out, he added a little hitch, so he was circling his hips.

Gwen stiffened. The change was immediate. With each circling thrust, his pelvic bone ground against that little nub between her legs.

Above her, Tom grinned. “Like that, do you?”

“I…” The only response she could manage was to whimper as her thighs fell farther open.

“Ha!” Keeping up the motion, he propped himself up on one arm and brought his other hand up to tease one of her nipples.

Gwen drew in a raspy sort of breath. She could scarcely countenance it, but she was starting to feel the way she’d felt earlier when he’d made her come , as he’d put it. Was it possible for such an earth-shattering event to happen twice in one night?

Tom apparently thought so, because after a few minutes, he chuckled. “I’m going to need to move things along for you, because I’m not going to last much longer.” Switching arms, he threaded his hand between their bodies, bringing his thumb to that delightful little nub. “How’s that?” he asked, starting to swirl.

Gwen’s back arched off the bed. “That’s v-very g-g-good,” she stammered.

It was. Almost too good, not that she wanted him to stop. It was the strangest thing—although she wasn’t getting much in the way of sensation from his thrusts, she found she liked the sensation of being full. It made what he was doing with his hand feel even more potent.

Her pleasure crescendoed quickly. “Tom,” she gasped. “Tom, I think I’m… I’m going to…”

He quickened his pace, both of his thrusts and with his hand, and Gwendolyn felt herself start to come apart. Her control over her own body slipped. Her thighs were trembling like gelatin, her hands were scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders, and a keening cry rose from her throat of its own volition as the pleasure boiled up and over again.

Tom removed his hand from between her thighs just as the sensations became too much. Seizing her hips, he pounded into her, his arms turning to steel beneath her fingertips. Gwen loved it, loved the fact that she had brought him to this point, that she was capable of making him ache in the same way he had done to her. Then, it was his turn to shout as his face contorted into an expression that looked like pain, but some instinct told her was instead pleasure.

He collapsed on her, but only for a moment before he rolled onto his back, reversing their positions. He wrapped his arms around her. She could hear the thundering of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

Tears suddenly pricked at the corners of her eyes. That had been beautiful , far more beautiful than an act of “love” bought and sold had any right to be. It wasn’t merely that Tom had given her pleasure. She might reasonably have expected that, given the price she had paid him.

But, for the first time in her life, he had made her feel desirable. It might have been an act, but she felt like making love to her had not been a chore, not something he had to do.

But, perhaps, something he had enjoyed.

She shook herself. It probably was an act, and it wouldn’t do to moon over him like a lovesick schoolgirl. He had performed his part—more than adequately.

It was time to let him go.

Gwen sat up. “Thank you.” She could hear the tremulous sincerity in her voice. “That was wonderful .”

Tom grinned up at her, looking slightly sleepy and very well-satisfied. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“I should probably let you go.” Gwen started to sit up, but his iron arms closed around her.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Tom asked, voice rich with amusement.

Gwen flushed. “I’m sure you have other things to do. Other places to be.”

He snorted. “At three o’clock in the morning?”

Gwen didn’t have a good response. “Oh, er…”

He reached up, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “Listen, Gwen. If you really want to leave, just say the word.” He trailed his hand down her side, stroking his thumb across the soft skin of her breast, eliciting a shudder. “But…”

“But?” she asked, her voice breathy as his clever fingers found her nipple.

“But the way I see it,” he said, rolling her over on her back and scooting down so his lips were inches from her now-throbbing nipple, “you paid two hundred and fifty pounds, bun. You should get your money’s worth.”

He brought his lips down and kissed her there, and Gwen did not manage to form a reply.