He captured her mouth in a deep kiss, stealing the cry from her lips as he thrust forward, imbedding himself.
Margaret’s eyes widened at the sudden invasion. Her body, so much smaller, struggled to accommodate his. The sensation of being stretched and full was different, but she otherwise felt little pain at the destruction of her maidenhead. The loss of her virtue amounted to little more than a sting, no worse than a pinch on her arm from her aunt. And having Welles inside of her was…wonderful.
His breathing was ragged as he kissed the slope of her neck, his body taut and still.
He’s afraid to hurt me. Margaret’s heart thudded dully in her chest.
And Welles was repeating something, like a poem or a prayer, the words low and muffled.
“What are you saying?” her fingers cupped his chin.
In response, Welles smiled and laced her fingers with his, raising her arms above her head. He started to move, each stroke bringing him deeper inside her as if he was trying to merge his much larger form with hers.
Margaret found the feeling pleasurable, although not as lovely as what he’d done before.
He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, angling the lower half of his body.
“Oh.” A sharp prick of heat rolled up inside her again. Perhaps she’d been mistaken.
“There?”
“Yes, I—” The rest of her words dissolved into a moan. Each thrust brought her closer to the pleasure she’d experienced before, but this time it was different. The music of Welles sank into her bones echoing through the surface of her skin. Their bodies moved together in a beautiful duet, a perfect harmony of her and Welles. The muscles in the lower half of her body tightened as her release approached, urging him deeper.
He grunted in satisfaction and increased his pace. When his teeth sunk gently into her shoulder, the sting of his bite mixing with the intense pleasure, Margaret shattered, the music of Welles the only thing she could hear. She arched against him, marveling at the stars as her eyes closed. A cacophony of every shade of blue sparkled beneath her eyelids.
Welles thrust into her twice more, swearing softly before pulling out. A spray of hot liquid ran across her belly and between her legs. His breathing was uneven and heavy as he fell against her to press a kiss to her forehead. “Maggie.”
Margaret knew what he’d done. Harriette Wilson’s book had covered withdrawal as a way to prevent conceiving a child. Welles didn’t want children. Her arms tightened around him. She should have been glad of his consideration, but instead, his actions pained her. A tear ran down her cheek though she tried to blink it away. She had come to Elysium with no illusions regarding Welles, nor any expectations. Welles bore her some affection, as evidenced by his tender regard tonight, and for that, Margaret was grateful. But their physical relationship couldn’t progress past this one night, not when Margaret had to secure her future.
Welles kissed her and got up, padding naked to the other side of the room.
She closed her eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire and Welles moving about. In a moment the chaise dipped as he sat next to her. A wet cloth gently wiped at her stomach before pressing between her legs. Her eyes fluttered open to see him watching her, a tender expression on his handsome face as he carefully cleaned her.
Another tear escaped her eyes and she brushed it away lest Welles see it. Was this how all rakes behaved when deflowering virgins? Her heart beat hard within her chest.
“Don’t worry, my Maggie. You are safe for the time being from my lecherous advances. Did I hurt you?” His brow wrinkled in concern. “You’re so much smaller than me, and I—”
“No,” she assured him, placing a hand on his stomach. “You didn’t hurt me.”
He nodded, running the cloth along the inside of her thighs, more gentle than she could have imagined a notorious despoiler of women would be. “So beautiful.” He pressed his mouth to her stomach.
“I’m not,” she said quietly, soaking in his praise, no matter how exaggerated she found it.
“More intelligent than most men and yet you fail to realize your own appeal.” His tongue flicked out to the tip of her breast.
Margaret shivered, his touch already stirring her own passions again.
“You’re cold.” Placing the cloth aside he picked up her naked body and stretched her out on top of him. Strong arms wrapped around her back and lower