Page 54 of The Beast of Beswick
Her breath sawed out of her lungs.
She was on the cusp of losing her virginity. Losing the very thing that had plagued her every waking moment ever since Beaumont’s accusations.No!She didn’t want to think about him. Not now, not here. She’d chosen to marry Beswick, and she’d chosen to be here in his bed. Chosen to be his wife. These wereherchoices…on her terms.
“You’re wet,” he growled.
“I just had a bath,” she said without thinking.
His low laughter warmed her as his fingers brushed her curls at the apex of her thighs, and she almost bowed off the bed. “Here. You’re wet for me.”
Astrid sucked in a breath but lost it the minute those big hands started caressing her bare legs…over her calves, behind her knees, her inner thighs. Thane settled his large body between them, his fingertips finding sensitive areas that made her nerve endings scream, and by the time he returned to the heart of her quivering core, she was an overwrought mess of want.
“God, Astrid, you feel like warmed satin.”
The mattress shifted with his weight—the only warning she had before warm lips kissed herthere. Right where it ached the most. She nearly shot off the bed as his tongue swirled against her hot flesh. Suddenly, Astrid wished she could see in the darkness, as she imagined those wide shoulders ensconced between her legs, but all she could do was feel.
And feel and feel andfeel.
Thane took his time, mapping each fold like a master cartographer, learning each spot that made her writhe and moan against his unhurried onslaught. Astrid had seen lewd drawings in the pages of erotic books, but nothing prepared her for what such a thing felt like. In the darkness, it felt sinfully decadent. Lush. Raw. Powerful.
“It’s too much, Thane. I can’t…”
“You can,” he said, cool air blowing on the exposed heart of her. And then he proceeded to torture her once more, this time adding fingers to the mix. Astrid’s back arched as his lips and tongue worked against her, lapping, sucking, and circling without mercy, while two of his long fingers sank inside her.
Beneath his ruthlessly skillful attentions, pressure built and then broke, bliss cresting over her in sweet, hot waves. But her sneaky husband didn’t stop until he’d coaxed another paroxysm from her in quick succession. Astrid’s body felt deliciously boneless, her mind gloriously blank. Her head fell back against the pillows as Thane made a sound of pure male satisfaction in his throat and levered himself over her upon his muscular forearms.
“You are splendid, Astrid.”
“Now, Thane, please,” she whispered before her courage deserted her. “Make me yours.”
Her cheeks burned. She might as well have ordered him to take her like the virgin sacrifice in some lurid Viking penny novel. But the space between her hips pulsated in agreement. She bloody wellwantedto be taken.
Good gracious, can I be any needier?
But she didn’t have time to ponder on it as her very large, very skillful husband chuckled at her demands and positioned himself between her legs. Her knees fell apart to cradle his hips, and she gasped at the wickedly erotic position. It was almost too much…the sensitivity, the weight of him, the texture of his firm male body. A brief twinge of anxiety rolled through her, and her muscles tensed in anticipation.
But she didn’t have time to dwell on it when she felt the warm prod of him at her entrance, and slowly, he pushed inside. Astrid gasped and clutched at his shoulders. The pinch of friction took her by surprise, as did the feeling of fullness, even though she’d known to expect the discomfort, but her body gradually relaxed to accommodate him. And then he began to move with slow, deep thrusts that made her toes curl and her palms fall to fist in the bedsheets.
True to their agreement, he didn’t kiss her on the mouth, but his marauding fingers plucked at her nipples, making her spine arch and driving her mindless with pleasure. Thane’s hand slid down between their joined bodies, pressing that slick, needy spot between her thighs where all sensation seemed to converge. Astrid moaned as his adept fingers worked her, his hips quickening in their movements even as his movements grew more uncontrolled.
Heat sparked and ignited once more, and then she was bursting into a million pieces as her release crested and shattered. With a final thrust and a guttural groan, the duke yanked himself from her body and collapsed against her, panting heavily. She could feel a sticky warmth between them on the skin of her belly. He did not speak, though she could feel him breathing, his heart hammering wildly against hers, communicating in a language all their own.
“Astrid,” he rasped after several minutes, his voice deep and sated. “Are you well? Did I hurt you?”
“No, it was wonderful,” she whispered. “Did I…? Was I…?”
Her husband gathered her into his arms, his lips feathering her damp brow. “You were perfect. Youareperfect.”
…
Thane refastened the buttons of his waistcoat and remained still while Fletcher replaced his earlier rumpled cravat with a fresh one. Honestly, the thing was worse than a damn noose. The valet slid his jacket over his shoulders and brushed at several imaginary pieces of lint on the raven-black fabric. Fletcher turned to grab a comb from the mantel and studied him as if he were a horse to be curried. “Might I suggest some pomade?”
“No.” Thane scowled. “I already look enough like a dandy as is. Astrid knows who I am and what to expect of me.”
Fletcher grinned, uncowed by his expression. “That she does, but it’s your wedding day, Your Grace. You’re supposed to make an effort for your duchess.”
Hisduchess.
Thane’s heart thudded against his rib cage. He had a wife. One who had made him spend in a handful of minutes like a randy lad, just from the warm, wet clasp of her body. Though she’d been a virgin, her responsiveness had demolished him. And the divine flavor of her.Fuck!He could still taste her on his tongue—the savor of rosewater and ocean breezes. It only made him want her more.
