Page 67 of Pursuing Mr. Mattingly

“Good.” As if she had all the leisure time in the world and they weren’t in a semi-public area, she slid down his body, wrenching his shirt tails from his trousers as she went. As soon as skin was somewhat bared, she pressed her lips to that hot skin and laughed when his muscles clenched and went taut.

It took next to no time to manipulate the buttons of his frontfalls, and when his engorged length sprang free, she sighed. “You are truly a gorgeous man.”

He snorted. “You would say that about anyone with rampant equipage and you in that certain mood.” Teasing threaded through the words as he caught a hand into her hair and guided her toward that straining member.

“No. Truly.” Sophia took the hard, hot shaft in her palm. It twitched from her touch. “It is due to your selfless sacrifices and the fact you’ve traded parts of your soul for mine.” She glanced at him, met his darkened gaze. “You are mine, and I cannot have enough of you.” Then she lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

“Damn. I am glad you have found adequate satisfaction with me.” A moan sailed onto the tail of the oath. He bucked his hips, clutched the quilt in one hand while she continued to move on his manhood. A strangled cry escaped him. The fingers in her hair tightened and he thrust into her mouth. “You must leave off else I’ll come down your throat.”

As if that is such a horrid idea.

With a humming sort of chuckle, she eased off him and instead, kissed a path up his body until she reached his lips. The scrape of his clothing against her sensitive nipples only heightened the need she had of him. “What else do you wish for me to do since you’re shying away from that sort of pleasure?” But tonight, oh tonight, she would tease and torture him to her heart’s desire.

“Enjoy while I give you tit for tat.” His muscles went taut, and seconds later, he wrapped his arms around her, flipping them both over so that she was on her back. When he delved a hand through her skirting and between her thighs, she shook with anticipation. “Let’s see how much you can endure before you fly.”

“Do your best.” Or your worst, depending. The moment he spread her open and found that tiny nubbin, Sophia shuddered. She adored when her husbands fully embraced everything the marriage bed could entail. Some had done it more than others, but truly, she had been satisfied with each one. Oliver, however, had shown himself as the greatest risk-taker of them all, and never would she have enough of that.

He claimed her lips and at the same time worked over that swelling button with various levels of friction until she squirmed from that attention. No longer did she care that her heartbeat raced or that her breathing was labored; it wasn’t a danger. In fact, she craved those reactions, for it meant she could finally enjoy everything that was happening to her without fear. She shoved her hands beneath his shirt, and the rasp of that sprinkling of hair on his chest against her palms only increased the sensations pinging wildly through her. Naked or half-dressed, it didn’t matter. Every time she was intimate with him was her favorite.

For long moments, they communed with kisses and touches. Then the unrelenting pressure that stacked inside her broke. Heated waves of pleasure caught Sophia up in their vortex, and she gave herself over to them. A keening cry of surprise and enjoyment ripped from her throat, and for the first time since marrying him, she didn’t care if it was heard. Now was the time to fully embrace having intercourse with her husband, and she did so with aplomb.

“You are transcendently beautiful when you claim release,” he whispered. Oliver shifted position; the wide head of his shaft glanced along her damp flesh and set off another series of flutters. She curled a hand on his chest, her fingers catching a few hairs that made him gasp, and before the contractions deep in her core ceased, he thrust into her body with such authority that she cried out again.

His moan blended with hers, and as he held the bulk of his weight on his forearms, he peered into her eyes. “Ready to embark into our new life together?”

“Oh, yes.” She slipped her free hand to his nape, furrowed her fingers into his hair, and pulled him closer. “Show me why I was clever enough to marry you in the first place.”

“Gladly.” Slowly, oh so slowly, he moved with tender strokes that rocked her body and brought tears to her eyes.

Sophia clung to him, met each thrust, and all too soon they found the familiar rhythm. The scent of roses filled the air, for their exertions had crushed many of the blooms she’d cut to plead her case. Their gazes remained locked, and it was the most extraordinary thing to watch the emotions play through his stormy depths and know that affection, that pride, that love was all for her. “Give me all of you. There is no need to hold back now.”

The dear man did as instructed. As she canted her hips and wrapped her legs about his waist, he pushed into her with more frantic purpose, going ever deeper, claiming her body harder and quicker until they both panted with need and clung to each other. He dug his fingers into her hip and continued on his quest to apparently join their souls. The second he shoved his other hand between their straining bodies and worried that already sensitive nubbin, Sophia’s hold on sanity slipped.

“I… I’m… Ah, Oliver!” The vortex once more sucked her under, hurling into a swirling white world of colored pinpricks where there was nothing except intense pleasure and warmth and him.

Over and over and over he continued to work her body, and it responded with fall after fall until she shook from it and exhaustion blanketed her. Eventually, he found his own release, and with a hoarse shout of her name, he collapsed into her. His member pulsed and jerked, still embedded deep in her core, but he wrapped his arms around her, pressed his lips to the side of her neck, and simply held her as her heartbeat thudded wildly and sweat plastered the back of her gown to her skin.

For long moments they remained locked in the embrace with limbs and clothing twisted, and when Sophia came back to herself, she opened her eyes to find Oliver watching her. “That was… amazing.” This man who’d come so suddenly into her life all because of a broken coach axle had managed to break through the defenses she’d thrown up, and even though she was still a bit vulnerable, she knew they would weather all obstacles.

Together.

“You are amazing, sweeting.” He brushed his lips against hers. “I cannot wait for you to come to London as my wife, to show you my office in America, and if you’ll agree to it, visit France for a honeymoon.”

“That all sounds wonderful.” But truly, she didn’t care where she went, for wherever Oliver was felt like home.

*

July 25, 1819

Arthur’s nuptial ceremonywas due to begin in ten minutes. Sophia stood outside the drawing room doors, smoothing the fabric of her silk gown of robin’s egg blue over her stomach while waiting for Oliver to join her, which he did in short order. He was magnificent in dark evening clothes, and he escorted Hannah on his arm, for the girl doted on him.

“You never cease to surprise me with another beautiful gown,” he said by way of greeting as he leaned into her and kissed her with slow leisure as if they were alone.

From beside her, Hannah made a gagging noise. Soon after, the girl shoved at her shoulder until they broke the embrace. “Really, Mama. Have some decorum. There is plenty of time for all of that.” The admonishment in her voice made Sophia laugh. Oliver’s chuckle added joy to the moment. “The sooner Uncle Arthur weds, the sooner we can eat. I’m starving.”

“You can fill your belly in short order.” With a wink at Sophia, Oliver offered his arm to Hannah. “Come. Let us go in and find a seat.”

“At the wedding breakfast, you can tell me about France, since we’re going there soon…”

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