A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)(45)

“Toby, please.” She forced the words out. “You must … must stop.”

“What must I stop?” he asked, his voice joking. “This?” He licked. “This?” He stroked. “Or this?” He pursed his lips and did something ineffably wicked.

Another little cry escaped her. “You’re teasing me.”

“Yes, I am. Because I know how you love it.”

She did. She did love it. In this insane moment she nearly believed she loved him for it. Because she trusted him so completely. She knew that when he teased her, it meant she was strong enough to bear it.

Proving the point, he took pity on her unease, kissing his way back up her belly. His hand resumed stroking her, inside and out, as he fastened his lips around her nipple. Pleasure built, rolling through her body, making her quiver and writhe helplessly. Bel tensed again. She didn’t like feeling helpless. This all felt so wrong. She’d been fully prepared for Toby to take pleasure from her, but she didn’t know how to handle receiving it from him.

“Let go,” he murmured, kissing his way from one breast to the other. “Don’t fight it. You’ll make it better for me, if you just let go.”

Let go. You’ll make it better for me. His words freed her. She could do this—even this—for him. With a rough gasp, she bucked against his hand.

“Yes,” he sighed, stroking her faster. “That’s it.”

She clutched his shoulder with her right hand, and her left unfurled. The hairpins fell to the floor in a cascade of metallic pings. His hand and lips made wet sounds of suction as they worked her moist flesh. But the crashing roar of her pulse overpowered all; the pleasure overtook all.

And she let go.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Toby held her tight.

In all his life, he thought he would never hear a sound more arousing than Isabel’s hoarse cry of passion. As her climax subsided she slumped against him, spent and breathless. Her intimate muscles were still clenching around his sheathed finger, but Toby’s restraint had reached its limit.

“Forgive me,” he said, withdrawing his hand and lifting her onto the bed. “But I must have you. And it must be now.”

She gave him a groggy nod and a murmured, “Yes.”

Toby scrambled to unbutton his fall before his erection burst right through his trousers. God, he was still almost fully clothed. But then, so was she—and he had no intention of slowing down for even the few seconds it would take to rectify the situation. In fact, he loved her this way. The contrast of her glossy black hair and olive skin against that virginal white lace took him from aroused to fair frenzied with desire.

He worked his trousers down over his hips and positioned himself at her entrance, gathering his control just long enough for one last murmured apology: “I’m so sorry. The pain lasts only a moment, darling.”

He eased into her, a bit. Then a bit more.

She winced. He held still, offering her body time to adjust even though every cell in his own body urged him to drive home. “Better?” He grated out the word.

She gave a little nod, and he advanced again—this time sheathing himself in one long, gliding thrust that seemed interminable in all the best and worst ways. When at last he was fully seated, he stretched his body over hers, guarding her between his arms. “Isabel,” he whispered, closing his eyes and reveling in the blissful sensation of her warm, wet body gripping him, holding him.

Her body made a home for his, her legs spreading a bit wider to cradle his hips, her soft br**sts cushioning his chest. When he felt her relax, and every muscle in his own body tensed, only then did he start to thrust. Slowly, at first. As gently as he could. And then, bracing himself on his elbows, he drove a bit harder, a bit faster. Which was a mistake, because as he drove harder and faster, she began to make little sensual noises with each thrust. And those magnificent br**sts began to dance to his tempo. Which aroused him further, pushed him harder and faster

—until he knew he was striking a most inconsiderate pace, for a gentleman bedding his lovely, innocent virgin bride.

But damn if she didn’t give everything he asked, and then more. Her body yielded to his, moved with his in ways that made his mind go blank. She felt so good. He was on the verge of abandoning gentleness in favor of brevity and making a desperate surge toward climax, when he looked down to find those solemn, dark eyes staring up at him.

“What should I do?” she asked. “Tell me what to do.”

And that was when Toby changed his mind. For this, he would take his time.

“Tell me what to do,” she repeated. “I… I want to please you.”

Just the words shot a thrill down his spine. His jaw clenched. “You could touch me.”

Her eyes skipped over his body. “Where?”

“Wherever you like.”

She frowned, and stayed still.

“My chest,” he said hoarsely, making the decision for her. “Help me remove my shirt.”

She grasped the hem of his shirt and gathered it toward his shoulders, and together they worked his arms free before she pulled it over his head. Then, slowly, she reached for him with both hands, until her fingertips rested against his chest. “Like this?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

Her touch feathered toward his shoulders, tentative and achingly sweet. He allowed himself to move again, just the slightest of nudges into her intimate embrace. Then her thumbs brushed his ni**les, and he had to freeze again, to keep from spilling his seed that instant. That would have been a tragedy, because this was too good to rush.