Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(34)
And he eased his python into the slippery channel between her legs. Except the stiff, thick—very thick—velvet-covered iron was no wiggly soft snake. Emilia gasped as he pushed into her.
“Infants for the betterment of the world,” he whispered encouragingly in her ear as her body resisted the invasion. He covered her nipple with his mouth and licked it.
Whatever he did worked. Emilia opened for him, blossomed, allowed his rod into her pistil and deeper. He tore her open, and she cried out, but his shoulders were right there to grasp, and her sheath was wet and ready, and he slid deep, filling her past all her flower parts and beyond.
Her books had not explained this.
Dare felt the congestion in his lungs threatening his breathing, but the pent-up need for physical release was too great to stop and gasp now. He pulled out of the tightness of his wife’s body for a moment, giving Emilia time to adjust. She was his first virgin, and he wasn’t entirely certain what to expect, but at least he had started by giving her pleasure. He hoped that would mean she would be receptive to more nights like this one, even though he seemed to be hurting her now.
She was so damned tight. She whimpered a protest as he eased into her again, but her slim hips rose urgently, asking for more. Blessed be the mismatched stars that had brought this woman into his life. . .
He accepted her invitation and drove deeper, higher, desperate for relief. She quivered, and he feared he’d hurt her more. Before he could pull back, her inner muscles clamped around him, and she cried out with another quake of pleasure.
Her enjoyment was all it took. Pain and ecstasy slammed through him. Dare buried his own groans in her hair as he pumped deep inside her, flooding her with all the seed he’d not spilled in months.
The sweet scent of heaven wrapped around him, and he nearly passed out from lack of breath. Drained, he still wanted, needed more, but he could scarcely gasp for air.
Rolling over, he carried Emilia with him, holding her beautifully rounded bottom and staying buried within her. He didn’t want her to escape while he slept.
She pressed a palm to his chest and heat seeped deep inside him. If he’d killed himself this time, he’d die happy, hoping he’d at least created an heir with his last breath.
Emilia woke to an unfamiliar woman’s voice chiding the crowing rooster and to a solid male arm and leg wrapped around her. Her face was buried in a muscled shoulder that smelled of raw male flesh, and she inhaled the sweaty saltiness with delight. Who knew it would feel so good to be close to another person?
With trepidation, she examined how she felt. The pleasant soreness between her legs wasn’t as unsettling as having a big male body sprawled up and down her, touching her everywhere. She waited for the prickles that warned of pain to follow but didn’t sense any. Beneath her excitement and the warmth and weight of him she sensed the dull ache with which he must live, but whatever they’d done last night had neutralized actual pain. She wanted to send him energy—but she wasn’t compelled to do so. Yet.
She must have squirmed. Dare shifted more of his weight to his side so she could escape if necessary. His python was erect and hard already. It would be simpler if he was more the size of a bird beak. She wasn’t entirely certain her pistil was prepared for another assault.
A knock on the door reminded them that they were never truly alone.
“Hot water, m’lord,” a male voice called through the panel.
An irritated growl filled her ear. She covered Dare’s mouth before he said anything irascible. Feeling very daring, she called, “One moment, please.”
She slid out from beneath his hold and hurried to the dressing room in search of a robe.
“That’s why one has maids,” he called after her.
“And separate chambers,” she called back, tying her robe. “Shall I look into that?” My, she was feeling feisty this morning.
His reply was a thump on the floorboards. She peered around the door to watch her magnificently naked husband stalk to a dressing screen before shouting, “You may enter.”
“My lady?” Bessie called from the corridor. “Shall I take your water to the other chamber?”
One of these days, she supposed they would sort out all this newness. Emilia peered into the smaller bedchamber she had only glanced at yesterday. As she remembered, it was filled with aged wardrobes, a small bed, and an ancient dressing table. Not exactly welcoming, but it had a separate door to the hall, unlike this in-between dressing chamber.
“Please do, Bessie.” The tweenies had always carried up her wash water at home. Bessie was usually at work at her desk. What had brought about this miracle of thoughtfulness?
Her secretary maid scurried in, setting an old ceramic pitcher on the wash table, then looking around for the trunk with toiletries. “James carried up an entire pail of water,” she whispered in awe as she rummaged through the trunk’s contents for soap. “Shall I see if this place has a tub?”
Ah, enlightenment—Bessie had wanted to impress the valet. Perhaps she’d name this place Birds and Bees Cottage. “Not this morning. There is too much to do. The tub used to be stored in the kitchen. There’s a little room down there grandfather used for bathing. We’ll have to come up with something more modern.”
Dare loomed in the doorway, looking tall and rumpled in a maroon robe. “Like servants?” he asked in a low growl. “We’re supposed to bathe in the kitchen?”