Page 106 of Thief of the Ton
She looked up to see his face contorted in agony, eyes tightly closed, jaw bulging as he gritted his teeth.
“We…cannot…” he said, his voice strangled.
Tears of frustration and despair stung her eyes, and she looked away.
“You must understand,” he said. “I want nothing more than to give you pleasure—but I fear I’ll lose control. If we continue, I shan’t be able to stop.”
“Don’t you want me?”
“Oh, Lavinia!” he cried. “There’s nothing I want more than to bury myself inside you—but I cannot ruin you.”
“Did you not pledge yourself to me?”
“Aye, my love, but I value your honor over my desires.”
“And what ofmydesires?”
“I cannot ruin you.”
“How can it be ruination to seal our love?” She placed her hands over his. “Did I not say that I want you to bring me to pleasure, not harm? Can you not give me this—so that I might have something to hold on to while we wait? I’m leaving London next week. Who knows when we might meet again?”
“I fear I’ll hurt you,” he said. “A woman experiences pain her first time.”
She dipped her head and kissed his knuckles. “I trust you,” she said. “Would you deny me this one request?”
“Oh, sweet Lord—you unman me!” He drew her to him and kissed her, slipping his tongue inside to stake his claim. She responded in kind.
He let out a groan, and she lay back on the rug, pulling him against her. Desire flared once more, and she shifted her thighs wider. He deepened the kiss, and low growls resonated in his chest, growing in intensity as he devoured her mouth. Then strong, insistent fingers tugged at the skirts until her legs were exposed, and she felt a rush of cool air against the hot skin of her thighs.
She blushed with shame at the sensation of moisture pooling between her thighs. Then he slipped his hand along her skin, moving his fingers slickly across the folds of her flesh, where the ache had grown so intense that she feared she might die of it.
“Sweet heaven, woman! You’re ready for me—so ready. I never could have believed such a delectable creature existed…and you’re mine—all mine.”
He fumbled at his breeches, then she felt him, hard and hot, against her thigh. The scent of man thickened in the air—spicy and musky, with sharp top notes, followed by sweet, earthy undertones. She tilted her head back and drew in a long, slow breath, drinking her fill.
Then she reached down and touched him—tentatively at first, caressing the soft skin of his shaft.
“Oh, sweetness…”
She curled her hand around him. His member moved eagerly in her hand, and he let out a low groan.
“Do I pain you, Peregrine?”
He dipped his head, burying it against her shoulder. “Oh, no, my love. I’ve never felt such pleasure.”
Emboldened by his praise, she gave a gentle squeeze.
“I-I can wait no longer—sweet Lord!” he cried. He grasped her wrist and moved her hand away. Then he took her other wrist and shifted on top of her, pinning her to the floor. She parted her thighs to welcome him, and felt the tip of him shift against her flesh. Heat met heat, and she let out a low mewl of need. Then he gave a gentle thrust, slipping his manhood along her center, and the wave began to swell once more. But this time, it was thicker, higher—threatening to engulf her whole world.
Then he slowed, and she bucked, thrusting her hips upward to chase the wave.
“Are you ready for me, Lavinia?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes!”
