The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(81)

“Please.”

Henderson closed his eyes, that one word making him even harder. He found her slick opening, then pressed one finger inside, slowly, cautiously, ready to withdraw should she pull away. But Alice moaned and spread her legs, and he nearly let out a shout of joy that she was so responsive to his every caress.

“I shall put myself here,” he said, creating slow a rhythm with his finger.

“Oh.” Her breathy response sent another wave of lust through him.

“Do you remember the last time, how it felt?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to make you feel that again, before…before.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice small, making him think for just a second that he should stop. She sounded frightened.

“We don’t have to—” He started to withdraw his finger and she clamped a hand over his to stop him.

“What? Why would you say such a thing?”

“You seemed frightened so I…”

She was giggling. “I was not frightened, Henny, I was so distracted I could hardly speak. Please, do not stop or I shall have to murder you.”

With a low moan, he kissed her deeply, sweeping his tongue inside her sweet mouth, and commenced torturing her with his finger between her legs. Kissing his way down her body, pausing for long moments at her breasts, he found with this tongue the small erect bud between her legs, teasing and sucking until she was bucking beneath him.

“God, Henderson.” She clenched her legs around him and laid one hand atop his head, and he reveled in the sounds she made, her soft words urging him on, until she let out a small scream, finding her release.



*



Wave after wave of delicious sensation coursed through her body, leaving her limbs boneless, her heart pounding madly in her chest. She was dimly aware of Henderson kissing her stomach, one breast, her chin before she heard the sound of him removing his shoes and trousers. Then she felt his manhood between her legs where his finger had just been. The effort to lift her hands to touch his shoulders, his back, was nearly impossible.

“I love you, Alice,” he said, then thrust inside with one quick movement.

“Oh.” It hurt a bit, a sharp burning, but it was such a glorious feeling to realize the man she loved was joined together with her, that this act was somehow sealing them together. He was still, his muscles taut, and his arms, braced on each side of her, shaking slightly.

“I hurt you,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

“Only a little.” She couldn’t stop the grin. “Look at us. We’ve done it now, Henny. There is no turning back.”

Henderson laughed and dipped his head to kiss her as he moved slightly back before pushing inside her again. “You feel so good,” he said, his voice strained. “Impossibly good. Better than my imagination.”

“You imagined this?”

“Every night.” He laughed. “Every minute.” He began moving, in and out, letting out manly sounds that told Alice he was feeling much the same type of pleasure that she had just felt. And then, a wonderful thing started to happen. That feeling, the warmth and tingling that told her a release was building, began again. Every time he thrust, the feeling grew, until her body began to react, until she was once again seeking that glorious feeling she knew was within her reach.

Her breathing changed, and when it did, Henderson’s rhythm changed, became faster, harder, driving even more of those sensations through her body, as if he were completely attuned to her. When he reached down between them and touched her aching nub, Alice let out a sound she hadn’t realized she was capable of making, a high keening that Henderson stifled with a kiss as her body convulsed around him. His thrusts quickened and then he drove deep, his entire body taut and hard, and he let out a deep groan of pure pleasure. It was the most beautiful thing Alice had ever experienced in her life. They were lovers and she was fiercely glad of it.





Chapter 18


Late the next morning, for she had overslept, Alice stood outside her father’s door, gathering the courage for what she needed to say. No doubt her mother had already discussed Henderson with him, and she wondered what her father had said. Probably not very nice things, given how angry he’d been the night of the ball.

It had been five days since the ball, and from the laughter she occasionally heard from her father’s room, he was doing much better. He might not be hale and hearty yet, but certainly he could have a candid conversation with his daughter without falling ill again. She hoped.

In the wake of her glorious night with Henderson, Alice felt nothing could ruin her buoyant spirit. Even her maid had mentioned that she seemed to have a glow about her this morning, and Alice could not stop the blush from forming on her cheeks. She could still feel him there, between her legs, a soreness that she’d never felt before, that reminded her again and again of what she’d shared with Henderson.

Alice could hear the murmuring of voices and thought she recognized her brother’s chuckle, so she entered the room without knocking, still fearing that she would be sent away. Instead, her brother welcomed her with a smile and her father held out his hand for her to take. The relief nearly brought her to tears.

“Good morning, Oliver. Papa, you look nearly well enough to run to the village and back.”