Page 43 of A Necessary Wife

She searched his face, afraid his passion might dim due to his anger over the unsightly scars he’d found on her body. He seemed unusually interested in her imperfections. His fingers dug into her rear and pulled her snug against him though, sitting her right over his groin and his obvious state of arousal.

She shuddered, imagining him over her again, inside her, hard and impatient and so very thrilling. Chatham, however, seemed in no hurry to put her on her back.

After a moment of hesitation, she reached out to touch his hair again, enjoying the silky strands as they slipped through her fingers. Chatham closed his eyes, groaned, and his hips rose against her sex.

He still wore a cravat around his neck, and she made use of it to pull him closer.

His eyes flashed open. “Yes,” he whispered, rushing to lower his trousers.

He rose under her again, butting the head of his erection against her sex.

Amelia gasped and looked down, liking the sensation and hopeful for more.

She also liked the feeling of control, too, and wriggled against him until his hips grew still. Chatham cupped her breasts and kneaded them. He thumbed her nipples as she ground down harder and more urgently against his body.

Then he suddenly lifted her by the hips, and she felt the pressure of his length seeking entry as she lowered again.

He pushed her down a little at a time. When she was settled, Chatham inside her, he lifted her up and down gently for a few moments, then stopped. “Now you. Ride me.”

Amelia definitely wanted more of that feeling, and she liked taking control of their pleasure so much that she closed her eyes, lifted her face to the ceiling, and bounced upon his lap with enthusiasm, using his cravat as a rein.

She easily found new angles to increase her own pleasure. Judging by his heavy labored breathing, Chatham was enjoying what she did, as well.

Chatham’s hands continued to stroke her body, tease her breasts, and guide her movements.

“My God, there is no lovelier sight than this,” he whispered. “Well matched, indeed.”

She looked down at Chatham, saw desire burning bright in his eyes, sweat on his brow, and she smiled. Marriage to the earl was going to be better than she dreamed if she could have this with him.

She rose when he put his hands between them. His touch on her sex was tentative at first, but even that small caress speared her pleasure higher. She shuddered, caught firmly by desire.

He grabbed one hip, guiding her steadily, then pushed her down onto him hard.

A moan escaped her as they jolted together so forcefully. She threw her head back and squirmed, repeating the movement herself, eventually finding a rhythm that pulled him in and out of her body in a way she craved move of.

When she looked down at Chatham, his face was flushed red. He shifted beneath her, keeping them joined as he took charge.

The muscles of his shoulders bunched as he moved them together, seeking more.

His movements became more urgent; he guided her, forced her to move faster on his erection. His fingers dug into the flesh of her derriere, and she enjoyed the intimacy and the mild discomfort of that, too. She didn’t want to end this madness, but she knew it couldn’t last. This erotic dance with the earl she’d married had but one place to go.

Suddenly, his fingers were on her sex again, flicking and rubbing. And she gasped and pushed against that pressure—then her body shuddered and Amelia cried out in surprise.

She clung to Chatham, pulsing and thrashing as the unexpected pleasure burst over her in waves.

He slammed into her and shouted out.

He jerked several times but eventually became still. His grip around her loosened slowly, by degrees, but Amelia couldn’t quite catch her breath still, and her mind was racing.

Chatham pressed his lips to her cheek, breathing hard, too. “That is how it should have been done the first time,” he whispered. “I promise it always will from now on.”

Amelia buried her face in his shoulder to hide her sudden anguish, wishing it wouldn’t always be that way…because the name her husband had uttered had not been hers.

It had been an endearment meant for the woman she’d replaced—my love. He couldn’t possibly mean Amelia.

She had to respond, though. “That was better for me. I did not know what pleasure meant for a woman. If you had told me that I might feel like this with you, I would have said yes immediately.”

He laughed and hugged her closer. “You might have thought I was lying about my prowess. I would have thought I was exaggerating, too,” he agreed, lips brushing her cheek, her ear. “I never imagined this with you.”