Page 91 of Heiress Gone Wild

He pressed his mouth to the triangle of curls between her thighs. She shivered, her hips bucking, but he tightened his arm to hold her still and heighten the tension further as he began to caress her with his tongue, stroking the crease of her sex over and over, lightly, relentlessly, until, with a final, shuddering gasp, she came, collapsing in his hold.

He held her this way a moment longer, kissing and nuzzling her sex as the shudders of orgasm rocked her body. Then, at last, he rose, lifting her into his arms. He carried her around to the side of the bed and laid her down. His gaze locked with hers, he began to undo his trousers. “I think you should marry me and make an honest man of me.”

Wordless, she stared at him, not knowing what to say, not wanting to spoil the moment. He was demanding something she wasn’t ready to give. Her body, yes—she’d come tonight willing to give him that, including her heart. But he wanted more than that. He wanted the rest of her life. He’d said he was building a future they could share, but what if he was wrong?

He began unbuttoning his trousers, and Marjorie thought of what the baroness had said about choices, about how one could play safe or enjoy every moment, and as Jonathan slid his trousers down his hips, she tossed worries about the future aside. This moment was what mattered.

His linen followed his trousers, and when he stood naked beside her, the sight of him so flagrantly aroused made her suck in a sharp, startled breath. Even the baroness’s detailed explanations had not prepared her enough, she realized, but at least, she finally understood just what the French letter was supposed to do.

Jonathan waited, letting her have a good, long look, then he retrieved the velvet pouch from where he’d tossed it earlier and removed the long, lambskin sheath. She stared in amazement as he slid it along the length of his shaft, and then, she heard a choked, panicky sound from her own throat. She reached up to touch the jewels around her throat, as if the necklace were a lucky talisman—and perhaps it was, for her apprehensions slipped away, and she felt only the surging power that came from knowing how much he wanted her and how much she wanted him.

He seemed to sense the change in her, for he leaned over to tenderly kiss her mouth. Then, he eased his body down onto hers, pressing her back into the sheets before her courage could fail again. She opened her arms, sure she knew now what to expect, but then, he stopped, resting his weight on one arm, suspended above her as his hand eased that hard, sheathed part of his body between her thighs.

“Marjorie, listen to me.” His voice sounded hoarse, his breathing labored. “I can’t hold back any longer. I love you, and I wanted to hold out until you agree to marry me, but I can’t. I’ll have to trust you on that.” He smiled, but she could tell it was forced. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” She touched his face, kissed him. “Don’t hold out,” she whispered, moving her hips. “Don’t wait, Jonathan. Do it, now.”

“Can’t, yet.” When she moved again, sliding her thighs against his shaft, he gritted his teeth. “Don’t, for the love of God. Don’t move. Listen.”

He took a deep breath, as if striving for control. “I’ve got to warn you about this. You’ve never been with a man before, so it’s likely to hurt.”

As he spoke, his hips began rocking against hers, and as the hard part of him rubbed where he had kissed her and stroked her before, that delicious pleasure washed over her again, growing stronger, hotter. She arched into him again with a soft moan.

“Christ,” he muttered, and shifted his body to rest his weight on his forearms, burying his face against her neck, and flexed his hips against her. That hard part of him pressed deeper onto her and then into her.

Caught up in a sensuous haze, she was sure she knew what was coming, but when he thrust hard, shoving deeply into her, the sudden, burning pain seemed to sear her like a fire inside, and she cried out.

He smothered the sound with his mouth, catching her shock and pain in his kiss. Holding himself rigid above her, he kissed her everywhere he could—her hair, her throat, her cheek, her mouth. “It’ll be all right. I promise. I love you, Marjorie. I love you.”

As he spoke to her and kissed her, the pain began to recede. “I’m all right, Jonathan,” she whispered, wriggling her hips, trying to accustom herself to the strange fullness of him inside of her.

At that unspoken urging, he began to move, slowly at first, then more quickly, his thrusts against her becoming stronger and deeper. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, and it was almost as if he’d forgotten about her, but he was stroking her hair and saying her name, and she realized the truth. He was caught up in the pleasure of her body and this moment.

As for herself, that first searing pain had faded. Now, her own desire was building, desire he’d evoked before with his hands and his mouth. She pushed upward to meet his next thrust, and he groaned, his arms sliding beneath her as if to pull her closer when he already seemed as close to her as he could possibly be, and she thrust up again, striving to move with him, urging him to a faster pace, and faster still, until they were both frantic, breathing hard, moving as one.

The pain was now gone, obliterated by rising desire, and with each thrust, her need rose, hotter and deeper. And then, without any warning, it reached its peak, roaring up within her in a violent, beautiful explosion that sent waves of that sweet pleasure through her entire body. “I love you,” she panted against his ear, her legs tight around him, her body clenching his as the pleasure kept coming. “I love you.”

With those words, he seemed to follow her over the peak. Shudders rocked him, and he cried out, a smothered cry into the pillow. He thrust against her several more times, and then collapsed, burying his face against her neck.

She raked her fingers through his hair, she stroked the hard, strong muscles of his back and shoulders, reveling in the moment, and when he kissed her hair and murmured her name, happiness rose within her like a fierce, surging tide.

Yes, she thought, this was why she’d come tonight. Because she wanted to enjoy this, and every other moment of her life, and she vowed that no matter what the future brought, the memory and beauty of this moment would stay with her forever.

Chapter 23

After the extraordinary events of the night, the last thing Marjorie wanted was to go to bed. As she slipped back through the house to her own room, she didn’t feel the least bit sleepy. The agonizing uncertainty that had been tearing her apart was gone, and she felt exhilarated and joyously happy. Feeling like that, who could sleep?

The first hint of dawn was peeking around the curtains as she slipped back inside her room, reminding her that in less than five hours, she would see him again. He would take her through the house he’d bought, the one he wanted to be their home. They’d tour the rooms, walk the grounds, plan the future, begin building their life together. With such delights in store, sleep seemed impossible.

Marjorie removed her robe and tossed it aside, then pulled back the counterpane, slid into bed with a dreamy sigh, and was asleep in three seconds. The next thing she knew, Miss Semphill was shaking her shoulder. “Miss Marjorie?”

“Hmm?” She rolled over and promptly fell back to sleep.

Her maid shook her awake again. “I’m sorry, Miss Marjorie, but Lady Galbraith is waiting downstairs. She says you two have an outing this morning.”

Marjorie’s heart gave a joyous leap, making her fully awake in an instant. “That’s right,” she agreed, laughing as she opened her eyes and tossed back the bed linens. “We do. At ten o’clock. What time is it now?”

“Nearly nine. Lady Galbraith waited as long as she could to wake you,” Semphill added as she walked to the armoire. “But she said that if you don’t hurry, you might be late.”

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