Page 109 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
She pressed a hand to his lips. “So I’m not a virgin.”
He kissed her fingers, then gently drew them away. “I don’t know. I…I don’t think so.”
“Is that the only lie?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry—”
She kissed him again, a sweet joy bubbling inside her. She wasn’t a virgin anymore. She ought to be angry, but instead, she embraced it. She was deflowered. She might as well enjoy it.
She lifted off him, annoyed with the clothing that kept them apart. With quick motions, she pulled off the boy’s shirt. She hadn’t had time to bind her breasts, so within moments she was naked from the waist up.
“Bluebell—” he choked out.
“If I’ve already lost my virginity to you, then let us do it properly.”
He was looking at her breasts, and when he didn’t move, she took his hand and pressed it to her chest. He shiftedimmediately. His long fingers molded to her size, his thumb brushed across her nipple, and sensation sizzled down her spine.
“What if there is a babe?” he said, his voice thick. She didn’t need to answer. “You know what to do, don’t you? You know the potion.”
She nodded. The witch-woman had taught her. “You probably do too.”
He shifted slightly, drawing her closer, feeling their skin touch and heat. “I know who to ask. But it’s not always safe.”
She smiled. “I don’t care.” He squeezed her nipple, and she arched into the sensation.
“I…” He swallowed. “I have a French letter.” And when she didn’t understand what that meant, he explained. “A condom. A thing that goes over my penis to prevent pregnancy.”
“And the spread of disease.”
“Yes.”
She smiled at him. “You came prepared.”
“I…hell, Bluebell, I am weak around you. An honorable man would set you aside.”
“Then it is a good thing that you are a bastard.”
He laughed, but the sound didn’t hold much humor. Then he drew her higher on his body, pulling her so that her breasts dangled before his lips. He captured the closest nipple, swirling his tongue around it and suckling while she moaned at the feel.
He stayed that way for a while. He feasted on her breasts while she grew restless and hungry. Her legs scissored against his. Her pelvis rolled against him. And when she put her hand on his organ, he groaned and thrust into her hold.
Then he pulled away from her breasts, and his eyes looked tortured. “What will you tell your husband? When the time comes, what will you say?”
Maybelle froze, her heart squeezing against a sudden freeze. He was not going to marry her. She wanted to ask why he didn’twant her. Why didn’t he love her when her heart overflowed for him? But she hadn’t the breath.
“I want you,” she finally whispered, then with growing strength, “I will have you.” So she gripped him. She squeezed him through his clothing, rolling her fingers as he had taught her.
Once. Twice. And then suddenly the world upended. He surged forward, gripping her hips as he rolled her over. She was lying on her back, and he was above her. With quick fingers, he undid her breeches and pulled them down. Within seconds she was naked beneath him, and he was stroking her skin from breast to hip. And then between her legs.
His thumb slid between her folds, sending bolts of hunger up her spine. She gasped as he pushed on her most sensitive place. Her legs spread, and her body began to pulse. Tiny beats from her heart as everything in her opened to him.
He sat there stroking her, his eyes trained on her face as she pushed down against his thumb. “I will remember this until the day I die.”
She gripped his thigh, angry at the clothing he still wore. “All of you, Bram. Hold nothing back.”
He lifted up her knee, pushing it aside such that there was room for him. She dug her fingers into the waist of his pants, tugging uselessly at it.
“Off,” she ordered.
