The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(53)

“All right, love?” His neck corded with tension, his brow glazed with sweat, he watched her face keenly. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

His self-control and consideration filled her with tenderness—and a desire to please him as much as he pleased her. The truth was, despite his size, there was no pain. Or perhaps, on the heels of pleasure, she couldn’t feel it. Whatever the case, he stretched her exquisitely to her limits. Filled her in a way that she was meant to be filled.

She touched his cheek, said wonderingly, “It feels… right.”

“Yes.” A wealth of emotion was conveyed in that single word, in his smoldering gaze.

He began moving, her breath stuttering as she skated the edge between pleasure and discomfort. His cock was huge, hard, each incursion opening her up to new sensations. When he withdrew, she felt relief followed by a strange ache; when he plunged, the ridges of his erection rubbed against nerve endings, setting off sparks of sensitivity and bliss.

It was too much; she wanted more.

“You’re so tight,” he rasped.

Sudden worry punctured her. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“God, no. I’ve never felt anything so fine.” The glitter in his eyes told her he was telling the truth. “I want to fuck your tight pussy forever. I want to feel you squeezing my cock like you never want to let me go.”

His wicked words, the slow roll of his hips made her gasp. Moisture gushed from her core, and before she could fret, he growled, “That’s it, sweetheart. Drench my cock. Help me get deeper inside you.”

He surged into her, deeper than he ever had before, her dew lubricating his penetration. Discomfort eased, pressure burgeoning into need, friction into consuming heat. When he hit some magical spot deep inside, embers of pleasure showered her insides. His hands cupped her bottom, tilting her up, and his next thrust pushed his name from her lips.

Her legs instinctively found purchase in the lean hollows of his hips, and she clung to him as his pace grew wilder, rougher. He shed his urbane mask—he was raw, animal in the pleasure he was giving to her and taking in return. The primal momentum swept her up, pushing her closer and closer to the fiery peak.

“Come for me,” he growled.

At his command, her entire being seized. With his body rooted in hers, her release was more intense than any she’d experienced before. She cried out as she convulsed around him, her muscles milking pleasure from every thick inch.

As she tried to catch her breath, he suddenly withdrew. He rose onto his knees, cords leaping in his neck, his cock in his fist. He jerked on the engorged stalk with shocking force, his chest heaving, his gaze holding hers.

“Feel me, love,” he groaned.

Moisture exploded from his cock, and she gasped when a hot splatter landed on her thigh. With a sensual growl, he directed more of it at her, warm rain falling on her ribs and breasts. One droplet clung to her nipple, and she cautiously caught it with her fingertip. Rubbing his slippery seed against the tight peak gave her a shivery thrill.

He collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, tucking her against him.

For a few moments, she was content listening to their hearts racing in unison.

Then she whispered into his chest, “So this is lovemaking. I never knew.”

“Neither did I, sunshine.” His deep voice was laced with triumph… and wonder. “With God as my witness, neither did I.”





Chapter Twenty-Two


“Andrew, we ought to talk.”

In his experience, these words didn’t bode well coming from a female. But with Primrose tucked against his chest, the carriage swaying in a lulling rhythm, he couldn’t rouse the energy to get his guard up. The aftermath humming through his veins added to his satisfaction with life in general.

Making love to Primrose had been a revelation—and this was saying something given the extent of his carnal knowledge. In all the years of bedding women, not once had he felt anything close to what he’d shared with Primrose. With her, the act of desire had been transformed into something beyond the physical. Something beyond an exchange. Something… rare.

The image of her marked with his seed made his cock stir. God, he wanted to have her again, never mind that she’d made him come harder than he ever had just a half-hour ago. With Primrose, he was as randy as a greenling.

His arm tightened around her. “What do you wish to talk about?”

“There are things we should have discussed… before we made love.” She tipped her head back to look at him. “I don’t wish to mislead you.”

Some of his contentment faded. He knew, of course, what she wanted to say. For a little while, he’d swept reality under the carpet and lost himself in the pleasure of the moment.

Then his sense of irony came to the rescue. The tables had been turned, hadn’t they? He couldn’t count the number of times he’d said those exact same words to women who’d wanted more from him than just a casual tup.

“Tell me what you want,” he said simply.

“I can’t offer you more than what we just did.” Her eyes searched his. “Having a position in Society is important to me. And I won’t give it up. For anyone.”

He hated that he couldn’t give her the life she wanted. It was perhaps the closest he’d ever come to regretting the choices he’d made in life. But he was a realist.