Ten Things I Hate About the Duke - Loretta Chase Page 0,125
and hips, oh, and the soft wetness of her most womanly place.
He caressed her until she was moaning, then laughing and saying, “Oh, come now, Lucius. Make me yours completely. I can take it.”
He poised himself at the place, then bent to kiss her at the same time he entered her, as carefully as he could. But no, his cock had its own ideas, and no patience, and he felt her quick, sharp gasp against his mouth. But he was inside her, and it was tight and warm, and thinking was nigh impossible.
He could barely manage a few words. “Sorry. Did it hurt?”
She laughed, but he thought he heard a sob in it. “Oh, Lucius. I thought . . . Oh, is there more?”
He laughed, too, perhaps like a madman. But his body was moving already, desire and instinct gaining the upper hand. He moved carefully at first, but as she began to find the rhythm of it, he grew bolder.
After this there was only the movement of two lovers. Only they two, joined, and traveling together, riders on a wondrous tempest. Her muscles tensed, holding him and releasing, and holding again, and with every shift of movement he rode higher and higher, until he felt her shudder around him and heard her cry out, not words but cries of pleasure. Then it was his name she said, like a breath, a whisper, a secret. Lucius.
His heart seemed to break and come together again, and he thundered on to a moment of pure happiness, and the world went black. Then it exploded into sparkling shards, like diamonds. Like a shower of stars. He drifted among them, and slowly came back to earth.
They lay for a long time, hearts pounding, skin glistening with sweat. Cassandra held him, her arms tight about his strong back. She had never dreamt of such closeness. Not simply the joining of their bodies, but of something deeper still.
She lay holding him, while their breathing slowed, and the world slowly drifted back. She had her eyes closed, holding on to the moment and savoring the feel of him, the powerful muscles and the surprising smoothness of his skin and the scent of him. She pressed her face into the hollow of his shoulder and the scent filled her head and made it spin. But it was already spinning. With happiness and pleasure and some strange kind of peace.
He moved, and carefully withdrew from her.
She was sorry. It felt so wonderful to have him inside her, even for the time it hurt. But not very much. She was strong and agile. She rode. And he had done everything to make it easy for her, taking his time when she was quite sure that was difficult for him. After this it would be much easier, her mother had assured her when she came to talk to her about conjugal relations.
“It gets better,” she’d said. “If he’s a considerate man, as he seems to be. I do believe he will care for you very well.”
“Mama said it gets better,” she murmured. “I wonder how it can get better than this.”
He grinned and kissed her. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He moved off her then, and she felt cold, though the night was mild. But he drew her close, tucking her against him, then pulled the rug over her, as though he knew.
And she was about to say, How did you know, when she opened her eyes fully, and looked up, where he wasn’t anymore.
“Lucius,” she whispered, though there was no reason on earth to whisper. “Look up.”
He turned a little and tipped his head back and looked up. And laughed.
The clouds had blown away, and the sky was filled with stars.
“It’s about damned time.”
“Yes,” she said, looking from the stars to him. “Yes, it is.”
Hours later, they returned to the house, where Cassandra bathed and changed into a proper nightdress.
She had a new lady’s maid to look after her. Mademoiselle Fougère’s English skills were unimpressive, but her skills in dressing and hairdressing were of the highest order. Equally important, she was unflappable. She had lived through Paris’s most recent revolutions as well as the cholera epidemic. Sommers had found her not long after she left her previous employer, an English lady of retiring disposition. Fougère had given notice because, she told Sommers, the work was not stimulating, and the house was very dull.
“I believe you will find that is not the case in Her Grace’s household,” he’d told her.