Chapter 17

Seventeen

H and in hand, he took her to her bedchamber, the same room they had coupled in last night, but now everything was different.

He wanted all the lamps lit.

"I want to see you. You're so beautiful."

She felt her face get hot.

"When I say you're beautiful, Henrietta, I mean it. All of you. Even the parts I haven't seen yet."

She ducked her head. "If you haven't seen those parts, how do you know they're beautiful?"

He put a hand under her chin and gently lifted so she had to look at him. "I know."

She hoped it was true. She had believed for so long he did not find her desirable.

"Will you let me undress you?" he asked.

She hated to deny him, but she shook her head. Something wasn't right. They had been husband and wife for two years. Eaten almost all of their meals together. Shared the raising of a child. And now they had engaged in some very intimate activities together.

But he hadn't kissed her except the one time. In her father's study. When she had been too startled to appreciate it.

It might have taken her a long while, but she had finally learned she must ask her husband for what she really wanted.

She dropped her gaze to his mouth, surrounded by the dark scruff of his evening whiskers. His narrow, sculpted lips were so unlike her own wide, plump ones.

"Will you kiss me?" she asked those lips.

For the first time in her life, she saw his lips broaden and curve up into a smile. Then they said, "I very much want to."

He came closer to her. One of his large hands went to the nape of her neck, cradling her head. His other arm wrapped around her waist and his hand settled on the middle of her back.

He pulled her against his hard, lean torso, and she felt herself dissolving, her form molding to his, as if their two vastly different bodies were meant to fit together. Perhaps they were.

Suddenly nervous of making a misstep, she slowly brought her arms up and around his neck. She had to tilt her head back so she could continue to look at his mouth. He slanted his own head slightly as his face descended. For a second, he teased her, his smiling lips hovering over hers and she smelled his heated breath.

No whisky. Just the scent of Oliver and her own desire.

Then his lips pressed against hers as his hand on her back pressed her into him even more securely.

At first, his lips were relaxed and gentle. But as time went on, they became fierce and possessive, roaming over her mouth, claiming her lips, owning them. She felt the warm wetness of his tongue stroke against her mouth and she opened to it, welcoming it in. She wanted him, all of him, she wanted anything he gave her. And his tongue was wickedly provocative, probing into her, tasting her, giving her a taste of herself, reminding her of what that tongue had just done between her own legs.

His grip on her nape tightened. She dared to lick his lips, explore his mouth a little, and he groaned into her kiss and she could feel his length hardening against her.

Their mouths were joined for a long time. But she wanted the kiss to last forever. When he broke away and fingered a curl that had tumbled down next to her face, some embarrassingly greedy sound escaped from her before she could swallow it back and her arms tightened around his neck and she went up on her toes. Her husband smiled—another smile!—at her and her raw desire and kissed her once again.

This time, he took her mouth with a driving force. She felt herself bending back with the passion of this kiss. He was consuming her, ravishing her, and her limbs, her belly, all of her had turned into liquid fire.

His lips went to her neck, searing her skin next to her jaw, and she whispered, "You can undress me now."

"I'm sorely tempted to take you like this and undress you afterwards." He pulled her upright and spun her around to begin unbuttoning her dress. "But I'm not going to do that. I am going to take my time. I am going to see all of you. I am going to worship all of you. And I'm going to tell you every lascivious thought that comes into my head."

"I want to hear your thoughts," she said and whimpered when he kissed the back of her neck. "All of them."

"Even the filthy ones that involve debauching my wife?" he whispered into her ear.

"Especially those."

His long, strong fingers soon had her dress unbuttoned and off, her stays unlaced and removed and she stood in her chemise, petticoat, stockings, slippers.

"Will you turn around for me?" he asked from behind her, his hands on her hips.

She turned and was startled by him bearing down on her again as his arms wrapped around her and he gave her a brutal, ravening kiss.

"I've waited too long to kiss you, and now I can't stop."

"I hope you never stop," she said between kisses as his hands came up and held the sides of her breasts, now unrestrained and only covered by her thin chemise.

The liquid fire began to concentrate itself between her legs and in her nipples as the holding turned into gentle squeezing, his large hands taking possession of her equally large breasts.

"So beautiful. These are so beautiful. You are so beautiful."

He bent his neck and still holding her breasts, he trailed his lips over the top of her bosom. His head sank lower and found a nipple and began to suck at it through her chemise.

His hot mouth, the light nip of his teeth, the pull of his lips brought a sensation to her breast that had the piercing quality of pain, quickly overwhelmed by a heated wash of pleasure. Her head went back, and she clutched at him.

"I can't?.?.?."

He released her breast from his mouth with a panicked look on his face. "What? What can't you do?"

"I can't stand."

She wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow he got her next to the bed, and she fell onto the mattress.

"Perfection. Pure perfection," he muttered, looking down at her. Then he was leaning over her, removing her petticoat. Slippers and stockings.

His hands went to his cravat. "The shift is coming off, too."

She nodded, mutely. She had no objections, but she was not going to risk missing a moment of his undressing. The lamps were lit for her, too. She wanted to see her husband. She wanted to watch.

Swiftly, efficiently, everything came off his body and the man of her dreams stood in front of her.

Long and lean. Almost bronzed on his face and neck and forearms where his skin was often in the sun and a pale gold everywhere else. Dark hair on his chest and forearms and legs. And yes, that same dark hair at the base of his jutting, hard cock. But that was the part of his body she had seen the most. She wanted to see and feel everything else, too. She knelt on the edge of the bed.

"Please, will you come to me?"

He stepped forward and stood in front of her as she ran her hands over him and explored her husband's body.

In so many ways, he had the form of a much younger man. Taut skin and lean muscle and sharp bone.

She started at his shoulders. Perfectly square, and even if they were narrow, they were the widest part of his slim body. And just underneath, his collarbone was a graceful line. She ran her hands down his upper arms. The skin was so smooth. She reached the forearms she adored. She lifted each one and pressed a kiss to the rapid pulse in his wrists.

Now back to his chest. Hard under the curling, wiry, dark hair. The flat abdomen, the narrow waist and hips. Her thumbs caressed his protruding hip bones.

"I love these," she said. "I don't have these."

He laughed and she looked up and his face was red. Oliver was blushing? Oliver was laughing?

"You do have them," he said.

"Well, I can't feel mine. They're padded."

"Padded exquisitely with your beautiful flesh." Then, finally revealing a bit of impatience. "Are you finished?"

"No."

His cock jerked, begging for her attention, so she gave it a kiss on the tip. He hissed.

"But you like that, right?" she asked, looking up.

His face was stoic. "Yes."

The soft sac below. She touched it, held it in her hand like he had held her breasts. He groaned.

"Is this sensitive as well?"

"Yes, but not as much."

And now she looked at his legs. Long. Really, extraordinarily long. And unlike her own legs, she could see his muscle under the skin. She ran her hands down his thighs, feeling the dark, sparse hair and the bone of his knees.

"Shall I lift my hooves for you?" he asked. "Like I'm Zephyr?"

"Later," she said, smiling. "Would you turn around?"

He turned. A golden back. Narrow again but straight and strong so it did not look as vulnerable as it might have, otherwise. And his arse was?.?.?.?well, it was the most adorable thing. The cheeks were small and pert.

Maybe she had better never tell her husband his arse was adorable. Because adorable was for Nathaniel.

Arousing had to be the word for Oliver. His body was the body that had taken her flailing, young need and sharpened it to a point where he was the exemplar of male beauty. The nonesuch. He had made it so any tall, thin, masculine silhouette caused her heart to beat rapidly. But when it was his, her thighs would clench together and her nipples would harden.

He embodied her desire. He had embodied her desire as long as she had had desire.

"Are you finished now?" he said softly, still facing away, shifting his weight from one foot to the other so the cheeks of his bottom flexed.

"Not yet." She took her chemise up and over her head. "Now."

He pivoted. For a few seconds, his eyes were coolly appraising and then they turned a bit wild. One of his hands went to his cock and he stroked himself, seemingly unaware he was doing it in front of her.

"Oh, my God, you're so beautiful, and I want you so badly."

"Well then," she said, sliding away from the edge of the bed. "It's a good thing you're married to me."

He put one knee on the mattress. "You make me desperate for you."

"I like to see you desperate." She lay back and opened her arms. "But there's no need."

He came to her, pressing his whole body against hers, kissing her. As he clenched her hair in one hand and, with the other, touched her breasts, the soft folds of her belly, her thighs, he murmured nonsense between his kisses. Words like goddess and decadent and you forever .

He settled his hand between her legs.

"I know so little about pleasing you," he rasped. "Tell me."

"Put your finger in me?.?.?.?like it's your?.?.?.?cock," she said and hid her red face in his shoulder.

He slid his finger into her folds. "You're so wet here, Henrietta." His finger found her entrance, and his mouth descended on her nearest breast, and he began to suckle at her nipple again.

She clenched down immediately as his finger entered her. She was so hungry to be filled by him.

"Oh, yes," she moaned. "I'm ready."

"Not yet, Mrs. Hartwell." He added another finger. "How does that feel?" He moved the fingers in and out and suckled again at her breast.

"It feels?.?.?.?it feels like it should be your cock. Please, Oliver."

"Shall I take you from behind as I promised you?"

"I don't care?.?.?.?yes."

Before she knew what was happening, he was pulling her away from the center of the mattress, propping her up on her knees so her back end faced the edge of the bed. And then he was off the bed and standing behind her, both of his hands on her hips, and she could feel his hard phallus in the crack between her cheeks and then sliding against the wetness of her inner lips.

"You're gorgeous from every angle, every position. All this beauty."

She loved hearing he thought her beautiful. She did. But she was frantic for him now. Wild to have him. She arched her spine and pushed back against him, needing him to enter her.

"So pretty. Too pretty."

"Oliver," she pleaded.

"My pretty wife. So very pretty even when you're begging for my cock."

She felt one hand come off her hip and some fumbling and the head of him stretched her entrance open.

She clenched. His hand came up and settled on the flat of her back, between her shoulder blades. "I want you, but I don't want to hurt you. You must relax and let me in. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart . The word sliced through the haze of her desire, made her own heart pound even faster than it was pounding already, filled her eyes with tears. Her forbidding, stern husband had just called her sweetheart .

Of course, all those roiling emotions made her want to tighten her muscles even more, hold his cock securely, never let him go, but his hand passed over her back in soothing strokes and she forced herself to relax her neck and dangle her head and soon her inner walls were also relaxing.

"So good, so beautiful, Henrietta."

She could feel him advancing, plunging in deeper now that she was not cinching her sex around his.

Oh, heavens . Her head snapped up. His cock had touched some place deep inside her. Some place never touched before. Not last night. Not during her own explorations.

Some new paradise.

"Do that again," she said. "Please."

She felt him withdraw and plunge in again. Tingling ecstasy.

"Is that good?" he panted.

"It's?.?.?.?I'm?.?.?." She could not answer.

He did it again. And again. And then he leaned over her and she could feel the brush of his chest hair against her back and his hand clutched a breast and she knew his big hands had been meant for her big breasts.

The other hand came around her hip and went between her legs and when he touched her swollen bit and rubbed it, she exploded.

Spasms of pleasure in her belly and her core, a gush of fluid down her leg. Her head fell forward onto the bed as she screamed soundlessly, and she bit down on a fold in the sheet, and her fingers clutched at nothing.

She was barely aware Oliver was still thrusting into her, but from far away, she heard him say, "So beautiful, my beautiful wife, coming all over my cock."

And then he held himself deep inside her and groaned and jerked once, twice, thrice, and she felt his warmth and knew he had found his own release.