Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous (Scandalous Seasons #3)(86)

“No,” she squeaked. Abigail grasped the Jacquard patterned coverlet and fisted it in her hands. The truth of it was in spite of her scandalous past, she remained largely inexperienced in the matters of lovemaking.

Geoffrey stared at her with a warm, gentle patience.

She sighed. “Very well, yes, I am nervous.” Her gaze fixed on the fabric of his white cambric shirt and she lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “You must consider me er, proficient because, because…” Her voice cracked and she stood quickly, and slipped past him. “Because.” She wet her lips. “I’m not, however. Experienced that is.” Abigail furrowed her brow. “Well, in the strictest meaning of the word I suppose one could argue I am in fact. Experienced, that is.” She studied the tuft of brown hair that peeked from the opening in his shirt and then forced herself to look at him. “But I find I don’t like it, Geoffrey. I’m afraid you are to be disappointed.”

***

Geoffrey bit back a grin at the dejected slump of his wife’s shoulders.

Abigail may have lain with another, but she remained innocent in nearly every sense of the word. She belonged to him, and nothing that had happened before this moment mattered. None of it. This marked the beginning of their forever.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”

Geoffrey coughed into his hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Abigail’s glower deepened, indicating his paltry efforts were futile.

“Well, not at you, sweet, Abby. I could never laugh at you. Come to me.”

“I’m already right next to…Oh!” Her eyes rounded, giving her the look of an owl as he pulled her close.

Geoffrey released the magnificent combs that held her midnight black tresses in place, and tossed them to the floor. Her hair tumbled like a silken smooth waterfall about them. “Oh,” he whispered against her cheek.

Geoffrey turned her around, and began to unfasten the buttons that lined the back of her pale yellow gown, one at a time. He placed his lips along each piece of magnificently smooth, flesh, until only her thin shift shielded the graceful curve of her back from his eyes. The gown fell in a fluttery heap at their feet.

Then, in short order, he proceeded to divest her of her shift and stays, placing his mouth to each sacred part of her body. “I must. Admit.” He spoke between kisses.

Her legs wavered beneath her, and Geoffrey caught her in his arms, and carried her the remaining way to the bed. He lowered her down upon the turned down sheets.

“Admit?” she moaned, arching her neck.

“As to the meaning. Of. That. Oh.” He cupped the generous swell of her pale white breasts. The pink peaks that crested her stunning flesh pebbled under his scrutiny. Geoffrey’s gaze moved over her. In her stunningly lithe, curved naked glory, Abigail rivaled the goddess Athena in beauty. He closed his mouth around the tip of her right breast. He drew the bud deep, and gently sucked the tender flesh.

Abigail’s hips arched. “Oh! You…mustn’t,” she gasped, even as her hands came up to clasp his head close to her. “It isn’t at all. Proper, that is.” Her words ended on a keening cry.

Geoffrey pulled away, and she reached for him. He tugged his shirt overhead and tossed it to the floor, where it landed atop her discarded gown and stays. He bent down to remove his breeches just as Abigail jerked her legs up. His eyes widened as she caught him in the groin. Geoffrey hissed.

He collapsed atop the bed, his breath coming fast.

“Oh, dear!” Abigail cried. She scrambled to her knees alongside him and began to run her hands down his person. “I told you, I’m rather awful at all this. I’m sorry.” She reached out and her fingers brushed his manhood. “Geoffrey! Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he said between clenched teeth. If she touched him again in that seductively innocent way, he’d lose control.

“Are you certain? Because you groaned rather loudly…oh.”

Geoffrey removed his breeches and threw them over the side of the bed.

Abigail peeked down at his manhood, and her cheeks flamed the red of a ripe summer berry. She fanned herself again. “Oh, dear.”

He grinned, and reached between them. His fingers found the hot, moist nub of her center.

Her moan blended with his shallow breathing in an erotic symphony. Beads of moisture dotted his brow, and trickled down into his eyes. He ignored the sting and continued to work her. His fingers explored. Teased. Tempted. Until Abigail writhed with a wild abandon under his ministrations.

“Geoffrey,” she cried. “Please!”

Geoffrey nudged her thighs apart and settled himself between her legs. He paused with his hard, aching shaft at the threshold of her womanhood, and then on a swift plunge entered her.

Abigail cried out. “Oh, my. Oh, dear.” She panted heavily. “That didn’t.” He began to move inside her in slow, rhythmic strokes, easing her to the feel of him sheathed within her center.

Abigail reached up and brushed the sweat back from his brow. “Hurt.”

His body stiffened, and he went immobile as he hovered on the cusp of shattering in her arms. “I’ve hurt you.” He made to pull out but Abigail frantically shook her hand and wrapped her legs about him, firmly anchoring him close.

“No! It didn’t hurt. It felt…feels, rather delicious,” she gasped as he began to move inside her again. And again.