Page 67 of Seducing a Stranger
This was how he would have her next, she realized. Here. Now.
He was going to take her again. To consummate their marriage.
In the scant moment she was allowed to absorb her dim surroundings, she identified the skeletons of shelves and boxes as some sort of ill-used storage room lit only by a grimy window.
Something about the illicitness of their setting sent excitement and anticipation surging through her. The only sound in the room was the rasp of her dress as he gathered it up in desperate fistfuls, and the tiny explosions of their rapid breaths.
She was frustrated by the layers of his clothing, as well. Whatever clay composed him, the very essence of him called to her. Arrested her every sense. She wanted to see him. To score his skin. To smell and touch and taste.
His rough hands snagged on her stockings as he pressed forward, urging her legs further apart to accommodate him. His fingers were both strong and gentle as they charted her inner thigh. Breathing seemed to become more of a struggle for him as he found the edges of her stockings and her garters.
When he tugged at the ribbon on her drawers, the curse he emitted drew fire from her blood and a flood from her loins. The desperate, crude word from lips such as his was indescribably erotic as it vibrated against her skin.
His fingers grazed her heat, producing a gasp between them. Prudence clawed at his shoulders and the short layers at his nape as he found the soft, turgid flesh already swollen and damp with desire.
“Yes,” the word escaped on a jagged breath and her body moved sinuously, her hips curling forward, seeking the forbidden pleasure of his intimate caress.
He angled back just enough to look down at her. His face half exposed to the grey light, and half in darkness. The dangerous glint in his eye caused her to catch her breath before the slick movement of his fingers forced her to release it on a whimpering plea.
He watched her like a man witnessing a miracle or mapping the very cosmos, his features a mask of reverent awe and blasphemous lust.
“So wet,” he breathed, his thumb circling the aperture of aching flesh above her opening.
She couldn’t answer.
He didn’t need her to.
As he evoked thrills of molten pleasure in her womb with the relentless pressure of his thumb, his finger slid through the ruffles of flesh protecting the entrance to her body, probing gently before sliding inside.
The electric delight of the intrusion drew from her throat a desperate sound she’d not known herself humanly capable of making.
“So tight,” he ground out as though in agony.
She wanted to say something. To entice and encourage him. To praise and plead with him. But every time she opened her mouth, only a mewl or a moan would escape as she suffered instant and excruciating rapture at the mercy of his clever fingers.
He covered her mouth with his, swallowing the sounds as her pleasure intensified into a surge of throbbing beats as wild as primitive drums. Her hands clawed at him, her thighs clenched as spasms of bliss assaulted her, driving against her like the unrelenting waves of a violent storm. She was helpless to do anything but ride his hand, emitting strangled sobs, as her release drenched his fingers.
She was too pleasured to be scandalized by their wickedness. Too captive of her passions to be worried about discovery. She existed only in this moment. In this place where he dismantled the woman she was and rebuilt someone new. A creature of desire and darkness, suffused with only one need.
Him. This.Them.
He didn’t bring her down gently this time, didn’t take the time to soothe or distract her with drugging, lavish kisses, or to croon sweet words against her flushed skin. His hand left her only for a moment as his hips levered away.
And then it was there. Thick and hot and pulsing.
The crown of his cock brushed her sex and she bloomed like a garden of summer roses. She’d yet to regain her breath before he thrust forward, filling her with a sensation so infinitely wonderful, it unstitched her at her very core.
The sound he made could not have been less human. It was both dark and divine. Tormented and victorious.
Through the haze of frenzy and desire, Prudence recognized this for what it was. Her husband was claiming her. Possessing her with demanding aggression and fierce, primal need.
Finally.
He paused only at the hilt, grinding his hips to hers as if testing her depths. Even stretched to the limits of her physical capacity, Prudence welcomed every inch of him. Wishing she could take him deeper, that they could truly meld into one.
The moment lasted but the space of a breath before instinct seized them both. She quivered with delight as he withdrew and filled her again and again with relentless, almost vicious, thrusts. His eyes were glazed pools of silver and shadow. His jaw clenched. His body a bunched, lithe machine of muscle, wrath, and unspent passion.
He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
