17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter seventeen

H ugh held Charlotte’s sated body close to him, trying to decide what to do about his excruciatingly stiff cock. He had known that despite being innocent, she would be passionate, and he’d been correct. But claiming her maidenhood seemed wrong when he could never truly be with her. She was the daughter of a blasted marquess. Add to that, for every ounce of her sweet innocence, he was ten pounds of ill-tempered letch.

And yet… She brought out his gentle side. There was something to be said for that, was there not?

Unfortunately, her aristocratic relatives were absolute fools. On the other hand, he had been raised by hard-working, loving parents. His sister, Elizabeth, was a bit free-spirited with men, but she was generous and warm-hearted. In contrast, Charlotte’s brother was a pompous arse .

And that was just her brother society knew about. Unbeknownst to everyone, Charlotte had at least a half-dozen siblings, and Theodore was a drunken, privileged man-whore. However, who was Hugh to pass judgment? His profession was the only thing that made him respectable, and now even that was on the line. But that was because he did not tolerate browbeating bullies. At least, that is what he told himself.

And her stepmother was beyond evil, possibly even abusive, and definitely dangerous.

All of these musings led Hugh to realize that he may not have a rank or title, but he needed to stay close to Charlotte because something about her current situation fueled his apprehension. As for tupping her? As much as he wanted to, he should simply leave them both with the memories of her orgasm as he feasted on her sweet quim.

Purring like a content cat, Charlotte snuggled against him.

He beamed at her, which was bloody ridiculous because he did not beam.

“That was lovely, Hugh,” she said as she slid her hand beneath his shirt.

How in the blazes was he to abstain when her touch scorched his skin, the scent of her orgasm hung in the air, and the taste of her desire still clung to his tongue?

“Charlotte, you deserve better than me,” he whispered.

Her fingertips caressed his chest as she shook her head. “Do not say such foolish things. I want to be with you, Hugh Fletcher.”

His throbbing cock, stabbed into the soft curve of her hip.

“I cannot offer you a commitment. You need to marry someone of your class.” Bloody preposterous. Why had he mentioned commitment and marriage to a chit ?

His angst only lasted for a moment because this was not just any chit—this was his Firefly. She was sheer magic. If permitted, he might like to spend forever with her. But since that was impossible, the thought bore no further attention.

Charlotte looked up at him, her eyes clouded over with lust. “I am inexperienced and am unsure how to ask for what I desire.”

How in the devil was he to react to such an honest revelation? He caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “But I want to know. Tell me. What do you want?”

She smiled—a blasted, twinkling smile, warming him to his soul.

The moon? The stars? His heart? Whatever she wanted, it was hers.

She sat tall, fully exposing her luscious breasts. “Could I see you naked?” Her cheeks flushed crimson, and her lashes fluttered. “You have seen me.”

Well damn, that was not what he had expected her to say. “Of course.” Impatient bull that he was, he rid himself of his shirt, trousers, and stockings in mere seconds.

Would it be an arse move for him to stand up and turn around so that she could witness the entirety of his nakedness? He was quite proud of his physique, having honed and sculpted his muscles in the boxing saloon. And, just maybe, this passionate princess might appreciate his hard work.

Grinning, he stood. His cock stuck straight out, obscenely pointing at Charlotte. Hopefully, the monstrous thing did not scare her back into her frock.

Although she brought her hand to her mouth, it did not hide her gasp. Her gaze traveled from his cock to his eyes, then back down to his cock, and she swallowed .

Cocky shite that he was, he leisurely turned in a circle providing her a view of his back and arse. Her breathy pants indicated approval, and her worshiping gaze made him feel like a bloody king.

She stood and approached. Her disheveled hair hung past her shoulders, and the lantern light dappled over her pale, unblemished skin.

The second she touched his pectorals, every muscle in his body tensed to the point of delicious pain. He hissed.

She gently ran her hand over the bruises on his shoulder. “You are so strong, and you are healing well.”

“Because you are a fine physician.” As well as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Yes, indeed. He favored blonde hair, big blue eyes, and soft feminine curves.

Forming fists, he fought to keep his arms hanging by his side because otherwise, he would greedily paw at her breasts, and for now, he would allow her to explore unmolested.

Her fingertips soft and her gaze approving, she trailed her hands across his shoulders and down his torso. She hesitated, pressing her palms against his bruised abdominals. Then she traveled lower, tracing the line of hair from his bellybutton to his cock.

The damn appendage spasmed as if he was an untried youth.

Undaunted, she ran her index finger from tip to his base.

He groaned.

“’Tis quite fascinating,” she said, her voice laced with raw need.

Thrusting his hips forward, he opened himself up to whatever she might like to explore.

She wrapped a hand around his cock and squeezed. “’Tis hard, but your skin is as soft as velvet.”

Undeniably hard as a frigging stone and leaking pre-cum.

He wrapped his hand around hers and guided her hand up and down his shaft, showing her exactly what he liked. Soon she fisted him with two hands and enthusiastically stroked on her own, her thumb rubbing the head of his penis, the friction creating the perfect pressure. She reached one hand beneath him and lightly squeezed his balls.

God forbid he pass out from euphoria because although inexperienced, she was a natural, almost as if she had studied a text of a notorious novel of sexual instruction.

Ridiculous. Charlotte would never have looked at something as wanton as The Secret Life of Gentlemen. Perhaps her passion guided her. Someday soon, she might even take his cock between her lips. The mere thought of her warm mouth sucking him to completion almost made him come right then and there.

Her once tentative touch had become masterful and confident. A tickle took hold in his gut, and he moaned against her ear. “That’s it, sweetheart. Exactly like that.”

“Will you make love to me?” she asked.

Fuck yes! However, he would come all over her delicate hand if they did not slow down. He unwound her fist and stepped back, attempting to catch his breath.

Her brow furrowed as she studied him. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“Hardly. You are doing it expertly,” he said with utmost sincerity.

Her mouth crashed against his, leaving him utterly defenseless. His tongue parted her lips as he backed her toward the bed. She answered by wrapping her tongue around his and sucking hard. She tugged on his hair with such force that his head snapped back. So much for his being gentle. He tossed her into the center of the mattress and straddled her.

She squealed with delight.

He placed the head of his ready cock at her entrance. “Are you sure about this?”

She lifted her pelvis toward his hips. “Yes. Completely and totally,” she gasped out between her pants.

“I will try to be gentle, but this may hurt,” he warned.

“I do not care.”

There was no going back. If only he had his male sheath because he was unsure he could pull out in time. He eased in slowly.

She winced.

He hesitated as his mind and body battled. He did not want to hurt her, but if he did not soon sink into her channel, he would die from the ache.

“Please, Hugh,” she begged as she wrapped her ankles around his back. “I am ready.”

“Look at me, Charlotte.” Catching her gaze, he stared into her eyes and slowly speared her weeping pussy.

She cried out.

“I am sorry, Firefly,” he cooed into her ear. “You are so bloody tight.” And warm and wet.

Her walls pulsed around him, tugging him deeper.

She was so tight that he feared splitting her in two. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“It does not hurt,” she panted, her voice husky. “Well, it hurts a tiny bit, but it also feels wonderful.”

Hugh chuckled. Holding her gaze, they became one as he pumped in and out of her tight quim, penetrating deeper with each thrust. Her fingernails grazed his back as her breathless panting and whispered name urged him on .

Was it possible he had never been this deep inside a woman because he had never felt this close to anyone?

His balls tightened, and his heartbeat tripled in speed. He was at the edge, but he could not come yet. Gasping for air, he slid out, holding himself above her.

“No,” she whimpered as her ankles pushed on his back, slamming his hips against hers.

“I’m going to come,” he said. “And I want us to come together.”

“Back inside me. Now,” she demanded.

Charlotte was too intoxicated with pleasure to think, therefore he had to be the voice of reason. He could not just mindlessly plunge into her and fill her full of his seed. But he’d never had any control, and since his brain was currently mush, he thrust back into that warm, inviting cunny.

She pulled his flesh into her mouth and sucked on his shoulder.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he slammed into her over and over again. The pressure in his body built until it felt as if he no longer fit inside his skin.

The headboard crashed against the wall in a rhythmic beat to the symphony of her erotic murmurs of pleasure. Her silky skin rubbed against him, and the stiff peaks of her nipples scraped his chest. An enchanting glow surrounded her as if she were an angel from heaven—or a glowworm on a hot summer night. Sweat trickled from his forehead, plinking onto her de?colletage.

Her walls quivered.

“That’s it, Charlotte, come for me.”

“Hugh,” she cried out as her eyes rolled back in her head.

His cock pulsated uncontrollably. It was as if he was at the top of a mountain and could fly. “Fuck, Charlotte,” he called out as he leaped. He shot into another sphere as his seed spattered on her belly.

A warm, tingling sensation traveled through his blood as he tumbled to lay beside her. He was too undone to leave the bed and find a towel, so he used the corner of the counterpane to clean her. Tugging the sticky corner to his side, he covered them.

There was so much he wanted to tell her, but his tongue refused to work. So, he simply kissed her forehead and then wrapped her in his arms.

Charlotte snuggled against him and whispered his name.

He could no longer fight the fuzzy sensation overtaking him, so he closed his eyes and weightlessly drifted off to sleep.