The Baronet's Bride (Midnight Quill #1.5)(10)

This time Cecily didn’t hesitate. She fumbled beneath her nightgown and touched her other breast.

Together, they played with her breasts until she was breathless and squirming and very, very warm.

Gareth was getting rather warm himself, in his chest, in his belly, and especially in his groin.

“Perfect,” he said. “Exactly like that.”

He removed his hand and slid it back down her body, between her legs. Cecily faltered.

“No, don’t stop, I’m just going to . . .” He parted those hot, plump, juicy lips and dipped a finger inside her.

Cecily gasped, and froze.

“Keep going,” he told her. “Don’t stop.”

Cecily groaned, deep in her throat. Her back was slightly arched, her head pressed against his right shoulder.

“Keep going,” Gareth repeated.

Cecily huffed out a breath—and did as he’d asked. Her right hand moved on her quim, her left hand moved on her breast . . . and Gareth allowed his finger to slide deeper inside her. God, she was hot. Hot, slick, tight, and utterly perfect.

It didn’t take long, after that. He felt the tension build in her, the eagerness, and he slid a second finger inside her. Cecily shifted breathlessly in his lap—and then every muscle in her body tensed, including the ones around his fingers, and he felt great pulses of pleasure surge through her body.

It was a good orgasm. Granted, he wasn’t experiencing it, but it seemed to go on for a long time. Afterwards, Cecily gave a shaky sigh and relaxed bonelessly against him.

Gareth withdrew his fingers and rested his hand over hers, between her legs, cupping the residual pleasure to her. He laid his cheek on her temple. “Did you like that?”

Cecily sighed again, a little less shakily. “Yes.”

They sat like that for several minutes, and then Gareth removed his hand and smoothed her nightgown down to cover her, and snugged his arm firmly around her waist. He held her tightly to him, enjoying the closeness, the warmth, the intimacy, and most of all, enjoying the knowledge that he’d just given his wife her first experience of sexual pleasure. He couldn’t exactly name the emotion he felt right now. Not smugness. Not pride. Satisfaction? Yes, satisfaction was part of it, but equally there was relief, and as well as that, a tiny seed of confidence. Confidence that he could do it again. That they could do it again. Confidence that their marriage was going to work.

Cecily stirred on his lap, sighed, laced her fingers with his, turned her head so that her lips touched his jaw. “That was . . .”

He waited for her to choose a word.

“Unexpected.”

Gareth laughed. “Unexpected?”

“Yes. I didn’t know that my, um, could feel like that.”

“Your um?”

He couldn’t see her blush, but he knew that she did. “I don’t know what to call it,” she whispered.

Gareth held her closer and pressed a kiss into her hair. “It has quite a few names. I prefer quim, myself.”

“Quim?” Cecily sounded dubious.

“Or you could call it your monosyllable,” Gareth said. “Or . . .” The problem was that most of the words for a woman’s private parts were crude or unflattering. He wracked his memory. “Muff. Tuzzy-muzzy. Miraculous pitcher.”

“Miraculous pitcher?”

“Because it holds water with its mouth downward.”

Cecily gave a tiny snort of amusement, and then was silent for several seconds. “You’re right. Quim is best.” And then, after several more seconds had passed: “I didn’t know my quim could feel like that. Thank you.”

Gareth kissed her hair again. “You’re welcome.”

He supposed he should release her and go back to his own bed now, but he didn’t want to. It felt wonderful to sit like this, Cecily nestled in his lap.

Dimly, he heard a clock striking the hour. Eleven o’clock.

Cecily moved, and for a moment he thought she was climbing off him, but no, she was merely shifting so that she was no longer astride him but was instead curled sideways in his lap. She relaxed against him again . . . and then stiffened slightly. “Gareth, you’re ready.”

He’d been ready for quite a while now, since long before she’d climaxed. There was a warm hum of arousal in his blood, and heat in his loins, but no sense of urgency, no need to seek his own release. Her thigh pressed against his cock, and his cock pressed back, and that was all he needed at this moment.

“Gareth?”

“Ignore it,” he said, but Cecily didn’t. She shifted in his lap until she was facing him, astride him. She slid her arms around his neck and leaned close and kissed him and whispered against his mouth, “Show me how to ride St. George.” Then she sat back slightly, her arms still around his neck, and smiled at him, flushed and starry-eyed and beautiful. His wife, wanting to have sex with him.





Chapter Six





Gareth began to feel anxious again. He’d much rather end their wedding night on a high note than risk it ending in failure. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Cecily said, leaning close to kiss him again. Then she whispered, “We might have a child.”

Gareth began to feel even more anxious.

“What do I do?” Cecily said.