I kiss her again, this time tenderly. “Do you still want it?”
She swallows, lifts her ankles high and sets them on my shoulders, exposing every part of herself to me. “Yes, I do still want it—more than ever,” she answers fervently. “Make me yours and I will make you mine.”
My heart pounds with lust, devotion, and hope. I place my cockhead at her newly sleek entrance and push forward. Her body resists, but the next moment I am inside, gripped relentlessly by her flesh, unbearably hot and unbearably tight. A string of imprecations leaves my lips.
Shock and wonder chase across her face even as she trembles. “More. Deeper. Give me everything”.
I am nothing if not made to give her everything. I ease in inch by inch, in constant danger of succumbing to the pleasure, so good, so intense, the wildest physical sensations married to the hottest kindling of the heart.
When I have embedded myself all the way, I tell my beloved, “I’m in deep.”
“I can feel you everywhere inside me.” Her words tumble out in fits and starts. “Exactly how I want to feel.”
I withdraw halfway and ram back in forcefully. “And how does this feel?”
She pants. “As if I’m made of electricity.”
I feel as if I am made of lightning, all power and invincibility. I put my hand on her cunt and make love to her clitoris as I make love to her in that forbidden place, wringing pleasure from her everywhere I touch.
“For the rest of our honeymoon I demand that you fuck me every day, without fail,” she manages between whimpers, moans, and low screams. “I want you to fuck me in carriages, in broom cupboards and coat closets. On days when I am particularly horny you will fuck my mouth. And on days when I am really good and deserving, you will fuck me exactly where you are fucking me now. Do you understand?”
I recognize echoes of words that I’d spoken less than a fortnight and more than an eternity ago. I groan, push two fingers into her cunt, then three, my thumb never leaving her favorite spot as my cock slams again and again into her most sinful place. “And aren’t you glad I discovered this secret weakness of yours?”
She fastens her eyes to mine. “But darling, don’t you see? That is not my secret weakness. You are—and have been for a while.”
I am overcome. I set her ankles down on the bed and hold her tight, so that truly nothing separates us. We kiss endlessly as our bodies continue to meet in furious passion.
And when she does break the kiss, it is to tell me, again and again, “You are mine now. You are mine now. You are mine now.”
“And you are mine.” I growl when I can no longer withstand the pleasure, the words completely true for the first time in my life.
We come together, clinging to each other, our cries of pleasure rising to the rafters.
AFTER CAREFUL CONSIDERATION, I HAVE decided to accept your offer of help on the magazine,” she says much later, her face flushed from the hot steam of the bath.
We are in the tub together. I have been massaging her foot; now I still. “Oh? Do you need an investor?”
“No, an illustrator. And I would not mind if you produce a story once in a while.”
I resume the massage, flattered beyond words. But I tease her, “Because I’m good, or because you plan to pay me nothing at all?”
“Well, if you consider my being on my knees in gratitude nothing at all…”
I grin like an idiot. “It’s not much, but I must start somewhere. Promise you will work me like a dog?”
“I’ll work you hard, then pay you fairly—and often.”
We dissolve into a fit of giggles. I don’t think my heart will ever come down from the sky. How can it, when we are finally making each other laugh?
When she recovers from her mirth, she looks at me curiously, almost shyly. “So what do we do now?”
It is a question I have waited half of my life to answer; I do so without hesitation. “Have tea. Take a walk together. Watch the sunset.”
“Outrageous.“ She caresses my knee, tented just above the water. “Completely outrageous. Normal activities that do not involve bedposts and lubricants?”
I pull her foot toward me and kiss her instep. “Do you think you might be able to enjoy such mundane things?”
She gazes at me a moment and smiles. “Yes, I will enjoy them very well. Very well, indeed.”
About a Gentleman of Indiscretion
A GENTLEMAN OF INDISCRETION is the nom de plume of David Hillsborough, Lord Hastings, himself a fictional character created by Sherry Thomas. But fictional characters sometimes do things that surprise even their creators, such as when Lord Hastings walks up to Miss Fitzhugh in the middle of Ravishing the Heiress, book 2 of the Fitzhugh Trilogy, and declares that he’d like her to publish his erotic manuscript. Tempting the Bride is the book dedicated to their story, but it would not hurt to start from the first book of the trilogy, Beguiling the Beauty, to see the full arc of their relationship.
About Sherry Thomas