Page 53 of Unmasking the Earl

She ran her hand over his swelling manhood. The tip of it now projected above the waist of his breeches. It felt…squashed in there. Which must be uncomfortable. She reached for his buttons.

His powerful hand came over hers. “Are you sure?”

She knew it was pure folly. Worse, these few moments of boundless pleasure would almost certainly change her life completely…and not necessarily for the better.

And yet…

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she whispered.

“I’ve never wanted any woman more than I want you,” he murmured. Still kneeling, he leaned forward and kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting in and out, setting up a rhythm which she copied with her hand on the formidable bulge in his breeches.

He sucked in a breath as if she’d hurt him, but kissed her with even more fervor, so she knew it was not pain but pleasure.

A little more effort with the buttons and his breeches went down over his hips. Oh, but his buttocks were so delightful to squeeze, so much taut, masculine flesh in her hands. His hips pushed against her stomach, and she felt his long, hard shaft, skin to skin against her. She’d never before seen a man like this—except in some sketches of statues recovered from Pompeii—but she knew instinctively she was experiencing one of life’s fundamental miracles, the change in a male animal that allowed him to couple with a female. In humans, it was said to be a change brought about by love, by skill, by desire. She prayed fervently that Ned felt all three.

She reached for him and felt the ripple of sensation that flowed through his body, changing him from coherence to incoherence, making him moan and rock and buck and gasp her name against her cheek.

It felt so amazing!

But he was large. Really large.

He removed her hand and pressed his member down through the curling hair between her legs. She didn’t quite understand what happened next…but it was too late to voice her fears.

He placed his arm behind her waist so he could lower her to the ground, holding her in his strong embrace as though not wanting to break the contact between them any more than she did.

The green stems of wheat bent and crackled, tickling and scratching her skin as her naked body pressed into them. He suspended himself above her, supported on his arms, and she reached out to touch him again.

So hot, so hard, so silky, with the softest skin.

She ran her hand up and down his shaft, increasing the pressure, and he groaned and rocked above her. Leaning down on one elbow, he used his free hand to burrow in amongst her feminine folds. The hand moved easily—through a slick of moisture that had gathered there.

“Don’t frown,” he whispered, as though sensing her questions. “This is exactly how it’s meant to be.”

With a shock, she realized his finger had entered her—perhaps more than one finger? She couldn’t tell. Then it was removed, and she felt the broad tip of his manhood following the path of his finger.

She tensed as it dawned on her what he was about to do.

His free hand caressed her face, and he tenderly kissed her eyelids, then her forehead. “Don’t worry, little one. You must relax. There will be a pinch of pain to begin with, but it will quickly pass. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

And he was very careful, very patient with her, though she could tell from the look on his face that it cost him dear to go slowly. As he pushed in deeper and deeper, her body seemed to expand to accommodate his width, and, after a short stab of pain, she knew at last what it was to be truly a woman.

Truly his woman.

Her heart raced and her legs parted as she felt every glorious inch of him press slowly into her. They entered a different world—a world of taking and giving, of sensation and yearning, a world in which she was drunk with pleasure and no longer had any control over the demands of her body.

He began to move inside her.

She inhaled in surprise. But each movement, each teasing withdrawal and triumphant return pushed her higher and higher, until she felt completed, at one with another being, in total understanding and communion.

Her breathing became labored.

So did his.

His strokes moved faster. She squeezed with muscles she hadn’t known she possessed. When she tensed, she could feel the friction, the slide of his member back and forth inside her, with every nerve she had.

He moaned.

So did she.