Chapter 17

17

When the doorclosed behind them and they were left alone in the bedchamber, Spencer walked to her, limping slightly, his gaze holding her captive in the dancing light of the candles.

“My debt is still to be collected, Joanna,” he said, purring. “I told you, I’ll have all your firsts. Your first kiss. Your first orgasm. And if you let me, tonight, I’ll be your first man.”

The room, situated on the upper floor of the inn, had two tall mullioned windows beyond which Joanna could see the fire playing in the courtyard torches. Heavy curtains of deep crimson damask, lined with a layer of muslin to keep out the summer’s heat, hung on either side. A pretty porcelain vase with freshly picked lavender sat on one of the oak windowsills, and Joanna inhaled the pleasant scent she loved.

A four-poster walnut bed with intricately carved posts had a crimson canopy embroidered with motifs of pheasants and wildflowers. The bed was covered with white linen, crisply ironed, and the coverlet held the sheen of well-woven brocade.

Opposite the bed was a fireplace with a shining black coal grate. Above it, a gilt-framed mirror was positioned to magnify the light from the candles or the fire.

To the right of the bedroom door was a cherrywood secretaire, its brass fixtures gleaming in the candlelight. A quill, an inkwell, and a stack of paper were neatly arranged on its surface.

A walnut wardrobe with brass handles stood in a corner. Near the windows was a small sitting area—two cushioned chairs of dark oak, upholstered in fine chintz. Between them was a small table with a porcelain teapot and matching cups. An intricate rug covered a clean, wooden floor, its patterns mirroring the wildflowers in the bed’s canopy.

Spencer halted a mere breath away, his intense gaze softening into something more gentle. Joanna cleared her throat, her corset and her chemise suddenly too tight.

He looked her over with a faint smile on his lips, his head inclined slightly towards her. He was devastatingly handsome, with his godlike features looking as though they were carved from stone, with his broad shoulders hidden under his dark coat of the latest fashion, a crisp white cravat covering his strong neck.

And his scent… She wished she could bottle it like a perfume and smell it every day for a minute or two just for her own pleasure.

If she was to lose her virginity to anyone, she would want it to be him.

And perhaps Miss Joanna Digby couldn’t have him for the rest of her life, but Mrs. Hadecliff could have her husband for tonight.

But was that the right decision? Losing her virginity before marriage could be devastating if anyone would ever find out. And if, by some miracle, she would get married one day, how would she ever explain to her husband that she was impure? She was too honest to pretend about something as big as that.

But she’d never get married, said that part of herself that sounded so much like her mama. No one would ever want her.

Except for Lord Spencer Seaton… So, would it be so bad for her to be selfish for one night? To allow her body to know the pleasure he had already given her—but more?

Then, when she was old and lonely, at least she’d have those memories she’d cherish. That would be a life truly lived.

Even if she risked very much.

As though observing from outside her own body, Joanna watched herself lay her hand on his chest. His lips were so close, she felt his breath tickle her skin.

“I can see mischief in your eyes,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her even closer. “What are you doing?”

For a mere moment, she felt like she was standing on the side of a ship, gripping the gunwale, looking at the waves crashing several feet below. She could still pull back and tell him no, return to London a virgin, and resume her lonely life in the background.

Or she could jump. Jump and take control over her own life and grow into the brave woman she’d always wanted to be.

Her stomach flipped, the floor careened and disappeared.

“I want you to collect your debt,” she said, feeling light-headed and airborne. “I want you to ruin me, Spencer.”

Something had changed tonight. Not only were they allies, pretending to be husband and wife, stuck in one room away from her real life…but she was different. She’d never be the same meek girl hiding behind a mask at the ball.

Perhaps he’d already changed her. She now wanted to drink life with full gulps, so hard its juices ran down her face and neck.

She wanted Lord Spencer Seaton to make her a woman. She wanted him all to herself.

He gave a pained groan and sealed his mouth with hers, walking her back to the bed and then falling onto it and on top of her. His mouth, his hands were everywhere—his tongue had a wicked, teasing life of its own. They were a tangled ball of legs and arms.

She was shaking from desire, her breasts swollen and aching. He pushed her thighs apart, and his hips, with something very hard and very insistent, rubbing against her sex, against her very swollen, very achy, and very hot center. She was moving her pelvis up and down, urging that yearning part of hers against him.

He was so large, so wonderfully heavy, sturdy, hard, and solid. Unlike last night, when he’d been slower, there was an urgency to his movements. He panted when he pulled back and stood, towering over her, and stripped his coat, then shirt over his head. And Joanna lay speechless, watching the miles and miles of solid muscle, the mountains of his chest and biceps and the collection of hard, rippling stomach ridges.

His waist was narrow and his shoulders were broad, and he was so much bigger than an average ton gentleman, more a warrior than an aristocrat.

The base of his stomach led down into his pantaloons with a gorgeous V-shaped outline.

Joanna’s mouth went dry when, just like yesterday, she saw a very large and a very insistent bulge poking against his trousers.

“Would you like me to help you, love?” he asked, a grin stretching his lips into an incredibly tempting smile.

“I would,” she said breathlessly.

He chuckled, turned her over, and before he started with the lacing of her dress, he ran his large hands over her legs, massaging her muscles through the fabric as he went. His touch was soothing, and relaxing, and making her burn and quiver at the same time.

“Such a gorgeous behind,” he murmured as his hands cupped her bottom, massaging it. There was a seductive purr of male satisfaction in his tone, which made Joanna chuckle. “Appetizing, luscious…breathtaking.”

His touch kept making small lightning strikes run through her, her flesh burning and aching. Soon, he unlaced her dress, her corset, and removed her chemise and her petticoats. She was left in only her thin linen stockings with the garters under her knees. He flipped her over, and she lay bare before him. Slowly, he looked her over, taking her in like he was marveling at every detail of the delicious meal he was about to devour.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, slowly shaking his head. “My Persephone. What a mouthwatering feast you are.”

She sat up, both encouraged and supported by his compliments, feeling like she was finally taking control over her life. Over her destiny. Like she was deciding what would happen to her body, with whom, and on what terms. He was still in his pantaloons, and she was naked for the second time in front of him. She tugged at the edge of his trousers to unhook them, but suddenly, his eyes widened and he stepped back.

She swallowed and blinked. “What did I do? I just want to be close to you… You saw me naked. You touched me everywhere. Is that not what’s supposed to happen for you, too? Can’t I do the same to you?”

He closed his eyes as though battling some inner agony. He breathed heavily, droplets of sweat rolling down his big chest.

“I want to please you,” she whispered, moving closer to the edge of the bed. “Like you pleased me.”

His eyes opened, and he looked at her with an expression of sweet pain.

“Will you let me?” she whispered.

“I want to, love. You can’t imagine how much. I had wanted to do it last night.”

“But?” she probed, moving even closer.

Her thighs were slightly spread, and she didn’t feel any self-consciousness. On the contrary, she felt desired and powerful.

“My body is not a beautiful sight.”

Realization struck her as she looked at the thigh he sometimes limped on.

“Oh…your wound…” she whispered.

He took a long, deep breath and nodded. “My wound. No one has seen it but the ship’s surgeon, who treated me, and the mates who may have helped him or passed by.”

Her heart ached for him. “Do you think I’d find you disagreeable because of it?” she asked.

Reluctantly, he gave a small nod, suddenly looking like a shy, scared boy rather than a powerful man, the Hades of the underworld who chased her, challenged her, threw her over his shoulder, tied her up, saved her, and brought her unimaginable pleasure.

Slowly, she stood up and walked to him, then laid her hands on his chest, watching his full mouth. “There’s absolutely nothing about you I find disagreeable, Spencer,” she murmured and planted a kiss on his chest, which made him suck in a quick breath. “In fact, I find you much more agreeable than I want to admit.”

He gave her a small, relieved smile at that.

She planted a kiss on his other pectoral muscle. “If you let me, I’d like to see all of you. Like you saw me.”

“You are absolute perfection, Joanna,” he murmured. “I do not want to frighten you.”

“You can never.”

He blinked furiously, breathing quickly.

“Let me see you, you beautiful man,” she said. “Let me cherish you. Admire you. Let me soothe you.”

He let out a sharp exhale and nodded. “If you wish me to put my pantaloons back on to cover the wound, just say the word. I will not be offended. If you want me to stop at any point, I will understand.”

“That will never happen,” she said, running her hands down his torso.

“But just know that if you wish, you can always say so.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “Now…may I?”

He nodded, his angular jaw clenching fiercely.

Feeling both like a goddess he had set on a pedestal and like she was touching something sacred, vulnerable, and precious, her chest hurt.

Slowly, she pulled down his pantaloons, which caught on the large bulge between his legs. Then something long and thick sprung out at her, standing at attention. Heat flushed her cheeks as she stared at his big member in awe. It was strong and so large she was momentarily speechless. She slowly licked her lips, wondering if she could kiss it like he’d kissed her sex.

However, before she could do that, there was the matter of freeing him from his trousers, and she continued her work. When they were around his knees, she froze at the sight of the wound on his thigh. His legs were thick and powerful, with the muscles of a warrior, not a duke. He’d told her he liked to box, and she’d seen the punching bag in his bedchamber. That must be why he was so strong.

The wound was a ragged, raw, pinkish-red flesh without the hair that his healthy skin had. It was twisted and, clearly at one point, had been sewn together. She could see muscle moving under thin scar tissue.

On an impulse, she leaned down and kissed his wound. A violent shiver ran over him. He jerked but didn’t move away.

“Does it hurt?” she asked gently, looking up at him.

“Not right now,” he said. “Do you want me to dress and leave?”

She chuckled and slowly shook her head. Her heart couldn’t have been filled more with this man. “No, Spencer. That is the last thing I want right now.”

A loud exhale of relief escaped his chest, and she kissed his wounded flesh again and again, until she could feel his thighs soften under her palms. She pulled his trousers down until he could step out of them and stand naked before her, sculpted, large, powerful, and so hers…for that night…just hers.

Then she kissed her way higher and higher over his thigh, and her reward was his hitched breath and him sucking in air quickly. When her face was right before his member, she hesitated, licking her lips. Just like his mouth had brought her to climax last night, several times, she wanted to do the same for him.

“Would it please you if I kissed you here like you did me?” she asked, meeting his dark and intense gaze.

A slow, rumbling growl escaped his mouth as he caressed her hair. “It would please me so greatly I may not last long, Joanna. It’s been a while…”

“Well, then…” she murmured.

“But…are you certain you want to do this?” he asked.

“Very certain,” she said and planted a kiss on the tip of his member.

He sucked in a breath again, throwing his head back as he dug his fingers into her hair. She kissed him again and again, then she licked him, and a shiver went through him. He liked that. He’d used his tongue on her last night. Perhaps she could do the same. She did, circling his hard, hot, and velvety flesh around and around, which earned her bearlike moans that made her own sex clench and heat. She thought it would fit into her mouth so well, and she took him deeper, as deep as she could, and he groaned out her name with something like adoration and ecstasy. She began moving her mouth up and down his length, and he suddenly pulled out, breathing hard.

“Is that not how—” she began, but he panted, looking at her as if she were a meal.

“It is…you’re doing so well… I want you so much I’m going to spill…and I don’t want to. Not yet.” He lifted her to her feet. “First, I want to make you mine.”

He kissed her, his strong hands going over her skin gently, cupping her breasts, playing with her nipples, then moving down to her sex, where he spread her folds and murmured in satisfaction as he circled around there.

“You’re so wet already,” he said against her lips. “You’re ready for me…”

She moaned, arching her back, her breasts tingling with pleasure, her sex in pure bliss.

“Give me more, Spencer,” she murmured. “I want you as entangled with me as humanly possible.”

He chuckled, then pushed her gently until she lay back on the bed. He lowered himself over her and used one of his big, calloused hands to spread her thighs. She moved her hips, wanting to rub herself against his member, knowing that if she could give him pleasure with her mouth, she could give it with her sex.

“It might hurt…” he murmured. “But only for the first time…and just tell me to stop and I will, God help me.”

He leaned on his elbows over her, his cock against her sex. He took it into his hand and circled its head around and against her entrance. She moaned, arching against him, wanting more of this pleasure. Then he was nudging in, tighter and tighter. The pressure grew, but she wanted him deeper, deeper. He put his finger on the center of her pleasure somewhere in her folds and rubbed her, right where she wanted him.

She cried out as the intensity of feeling him everywhere amplified, and she wanted more. He kept pressing against her entrance, but couldn’t get in. She pushed harder against him, and then something broke and pinched right there, and he was in. But the pain was part of this pleasure, and she eased herself against it, melting into it.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Come here.”

She pulled him on top of her, pressing her hands into his hard back. He began moving, and something wonderful began building inside her. The same wonderful as when he’d played against her with his mouth, only so much more intense. So intense, it felt like it was going to swallow her whole. He moved slowly and gently at first, but it wasn’t enough, and she circled with her hips to meet his.

“Faster…” she whispered. “Harder.”

He growled. “Oh, Joanna, you’ll be the death of me…”

Obeying her, he pounded into her harder and faster, so magnificent and so large and so solid, she held him and couldn’t help but know she was going to fall apart under him…

And then she did. He grunted out as the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh became so fast and urgent, it felt animalistic. Her body quivered, every nerve tingling with pleasure as it coursed through her like a stormy sea. She was clenching and unclenching, weightless, fluid, and falling apart in glittering, sparkling stardust just like fireworks.

Spencer pulled out of her and grunted, his own sounds as pained as her moans. He spilled his seed into the sheets next to her, even though she wished they had remained one in that moment.

Shortly thereafter, he turned to her and pulled her into his embrace. She was still floating on waves of pleasure as she sighed, leaning against his chest, her body heavy and warm.

She was happy. She wanted this. Her heart swelled with joy. She’d never felt this bliss before in her entire life.

He was her first…

But now she knew with a devastating certainty that she wanted him to be her only.