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IT WAS HIS WEDDING day. The fortnight since Abigail accepted his proposal had been filled with wedding preparations. Now, as he stood at the base of the altar in the village church, waiting for Abigail to arrive, he looked at the faces of his stepmother and sister. They smiled at him from the front row.
Next to him, Wang stood quiet and unobtrusive, wearing a perfectly tailored English suit, although nobody would mistake him for an Englishman. His features were too distinctive and marked him as a foreigner in this land.
These people were the only family he had. A knot of emotion formed in his throat.
They seemed to approve of this match. In fact, they were fairly beaming with happiness for him and Abigail. He hoped it was a good omen for their union.
The rumble of a coach outside caught his attention, and a moment later, his servants opened the door to admit Abigail. His breath caught at the beauty of her. She walked towards him at the tune of the organ, played by the vicar’s wife, but he barely heard the music. His own heart beat a staccato rhythm that filled his head.
She looked ethereal in a cream gown that, because of its simplicity, only seemed to emphasize the purity of her features. He was marrying the most beautiful woman he had ever met. His audacity to propose to her and go through with this crazy idea still amazed him.
She was being escorted by Lord Ardmore, her younger brother. He was a pleasant young man in his twenties, with dark hair and serious slate eyes just like Abigail’s.
Upon their engagement two weeks ago, Colin had taken it upon himself to inform her family of their nuptials. She didn’t think they would come, but her brother responded immediately to the invitation.
He had arrived yesterday, and seemed genuinely fond of her and happy to see her. He claimed he didn’t know where she had been. Apparently, their father had been intercepting their letters, and refusing to tell him any news about his sister.
He was glad her brother was back in her life. She had been alone for too long. While he would make sure she never felt unprotected ever again, she needed her own kin nearby, and her brother looked to be a good sort. Unlike the Marquess, her father, who hadn’t even bothered to respond.
Now she stood beside him, her hand in his. He barely dared to breathe, afraid to break whatever spell had convinced her to marry him. But her eyes looked at him with calm acceptance as she said her vows in a clear voice.
He must have said his vows as required, for the ceremony continued uninterrupted. He didn’t remember a thing. The ritual was a hazy kaleidoscope of disjointed images. The only memories imprinted on his brain were her loveliness and when the vicar pronounced them man and wife. His wife. She was his wife. His. He could have crowed with pride.
The lovely wedding breakfast passed in a blur, too. After that, her brother had departed with assurances of visiting again soon and after extracting a promise that she would visit him in London as well.
In his bedchamber, he discarded his coat and necktie. Soon he would visit her bed. The prospect inspired equal parts anticipation and dread.
He laughed at his own cowardice. What the hell was wrong with him? He was not an inexperienced green lad. He had made love to countless women. Carnal knowledge was an art he had cultivated and refined. He usually wielded his finely honed skill with absolute confidence.
All in an effort to please his partners. It was the least he could do for them to compensate for the disadvantages of his body. And they all seemed pleased. But none of his previous partners had been a gently bred lady.
They had been prostitutes. Well paid and skilled in the ways of providing and faking pleasure. Could they have lied to him about his prowess? What if he couldn’t please his wife, as he had promised her?
Abigail had said she didn’t want pleasure. But she had accepted him. He kept reminding himself of that fact. Whatever her reasons, however, he knew it was not out of love. And he knew she was keeping secrets and hiding fears of her own.
He ran his hands through his hair while he paced his bedchamber. Through the connecting door he could still hear the shuffling around of soft feet, the muted female voices. Her maid was still helping her to prepare for bed. For her wedding night.
He closed his eyes as he tried to imagine the scene next door. What was she thinking? How did she feel about what was about to happen between them? Did she anticipate it or fear it? Soon he would find out.
***
ABIGAIL TRIED TO LISTEN for any noise coming from her husband’s room, any sign that could indicate what he was doing, but she heard nothing. The room appeared empty, but she fancied she could feel his presence, like a hot and carnal energy emanating from him.
She wondered when he would enter her bedchamber as she kept darting glances at the connecting door. After washing and changing into a lacy negligee, she sat on the bed propped up by the pillows, awaiting her husband’s pleasure.
Nervous as a virgin.
No, not true. As a maiden, she had not been this nervous. She had thought herself in love and had been full of youthful passion and excited at the prospect of learning about carnal pleasure. She had received her first husband with enthusiasm and a clumsy eagerness to please.
And he had systematically derided her passion and beaten the eagerness out of her. Until she was just the hollow husk of the woman she had once been. Unsure how to act with a man. Afraid to abandon herself to passion. Unable to give or receive pleasure without shame.
But Colin had made her feel. With so little effort. Just the memory of how he had looked that day by the stream, his powerful body naked and glistening with water... She closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath. Feeling warm all over. And his kisses. They had awakened a ravening hunger she had thought long dead. But she feared that beast.
A soft knock sounded on the connecting door, jerking her from her reminiscent thoughts.
“Come in.” She called, and Colin walked in silently. He wore loose pants, and a richly patterned banyan of black silk embroidered in gold and red. He looked... exotic and only half tamed. Her stomach quivered with a mixture of trepidation and arousal.
“Hello, sweetheart.” He murmured as he entered.
As he moved into the room, he extinguished all but one candle in the candelabra on the dresser. He continued moving around extinguishing the lamps until that small single candle and the fire on the hearth were the only sources of light in the room, which wasn’t much at all, but the semi-darkness was more comfortable. Intimate.
Was he doing it for her modesty, or his? He came and sat by her on the bed. She noticed that, for the first time since they had met, he seemed unsure. Was he nervous too? The thought inspired an odd tenderness in her chest and she smiled at him, trying to reassure him.
He took her hand in his. Long fingers caressing the inside of her wrist, sending shivers of sensation up her arm.
“You are so breathtakingly beautiful, Abigail.” He said, skimming his fingers over her cheek, circling her ear with a butterfly caress. She wanted to purr under his touch.
His eyes were hungry, devouring her scantily clad body with a burning gaze. “I want to make love to you. I want you completely naked under my hands and mouth, the better to touch you and kiss every part of you. Will you allow that?”
Was he asking her for permission? “We are married. You can do as you please, my lord.”
“No. I want to do as you please. All I want is to pleasure you. To watch you come apart in my arms.”
Another shiver ran through her. Arousal and fear intermingled. “I-I don’t think I want to come apart.”
“No? We shall see.” He said with a wicked little smile as his hands continued caressing her. One trailed down her arm, while the other molded her leg over the coverlet, as if learning her shape.
His breathing had become deeper. If only she could see his eyes clearly. But the light was so dim.
“I just want you to know something,” He continued in that low, mesmerizing voice. “You are in control. All the time. If at any point I do something that is not to your liking, you must tell me and I’ll stop at once.”
She nodded because speech was beyond her at this point. The thoughtfulness of that simple statement melted her heart. It would be so easy to fall madly in love with this man. He was seducing her with words alone.
“Also... there’s one more thing.” He said this last almost sheepishly. “I don't want to be embraced. Nor will I disrobe completely in front of you.”
A part of her befuddled brain seemed to click into functioning at that. “W-what? Why?”
“I - just don’t. My body, my back especially, is not a pretty sight. I’m sparing you, really.”
He tried to make a joke of it with the last sentence, but it did not fool her. This was a deeply sensitive point for him. He had promised to follow her wishes and preferences when it came to lovemaking. She could do no less. Even if she didn’t agree with his assessment. She had seen his naked body, and she thought it was magnificent.
Even now, her hands ached to touch him. No! She wouldn’t be a shameless hussy. He was trying to respect her sensibilities as a lady, and she was thinking like a common whore. Men didn’t like that in their wives. Hadn’t she learned her lesson?
“All right. Is there any place where I can touch you?” Her voice came out breathy.
“Yes. Oh yes. If you want, you can touch me here.” He placed her open hand on his chest. Even through the silk of his robe, she could feel the hard muscles underneath. She gulped. He guided her hand lower, gliding it over his stomach. She could feel the solid ridges of his muscles before he brought it to rest against his member. Which was hard and hot and huge. “Or here.” He tightened his hand over hers, molding it against his raging cock. His heat scalded her palm, and she whimpered.
He let go. “If you want to, of course.”
“I-I think I want to.” Easy now. Show enthusiasm, but not too much eagerness. Don’t forget yourself. It is not befitting of a lady. She scolded herself. But he seemed pleased. Not at all put off. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Good.” He gave her a little smile. “Enough talk for today, I think. Time to act.”
And without more preamble, he leaned over and took her lips in an all-consuming kiss.
It wasn’t like the kisses they had shared before. This kiss did not ask, cajole and persuade. This kiss invaded, conquered and claimed.
It started hot and openmouthed and only picked up steam from there. His mouth possessed hers with blatant urgency, his lips parted wide, enveloping and sucking at her lips until she parted them. He took immediate advantage, his tongue surging inside, tangling with her own and dragging it out to suck at it with explicit carnality.
She was so consumed by the kiss that she had not even noticed he had undone the laces of her negligee and dragged the lacy sleeves down until she felt his hands cupping her breasts. She gasped at the unexpected sensation and he made a crooning sound low in his throat.
His lips left hers, his nose dragging in a hot caress over her cheek. She arched into his hands, desperate for more stimulation, his hands over her breasts kept cupping, molding, as if learning their shape and texture, but remaining maddeningly elusive of the sensitive peaks.
“So perfect. So delicious.” He murmured in her ear as he bore her back onto the pillows and his thumbs flicked unexpectedly, briefly, over her nipples, before abandoning them again. She moaned, her hands coming to rest on top of his, trying to guide him back.
The impossible man just chuckled. “Patience, my dear. I intend to caress every inch of you.” He spoke against her neck as his mouth trailed openmouthed kisses down her throat, nipping at her neck, before soothing it with his tongue.
A pinch at her nipples, swift and hard, sent lightning pleasure to her core, and she jumped. “Colin.”
“Yes, say my name. I love my name on your lips.” And his tongue licked her lips as if to taste his name on them.
Soon he made her forget speech, when his head dipped and he sucked one breast, drawing it deep into his mouth. Sucking hard and insistent. He supported himself while his mouth tormented one nipple to exquisite pleasure, just short of pain, before releasing it and transferring his attention to the other.
Her body was betraying her. She realized with a jolt of panic. She couldn’t hold back. Her hands clenched on his hair, holding on to it, thrusting her breasts into his face, squirming against him in a frantic attempt to find relief. She was using him, moving his head, alternating between her nipples, and he was letting himself be led.
He was pulling hard at her nipples, sucking, biting, licking, rolling his tongue around the hard points until she thought she was going to reach her peak just from his attention to her breasts. The thought gave her pause. This was insanity. Much more intense than anything she had ever felt before. And he was just starting.
He hadn’t even touched her there yet.
But that is where he was headed now. She realized with alarm that he was crawling down her body, his mouth painting a trail of pleasure across her belly as he dragged her flimsy nightwear down, down. When her navel was exposed, he dipped his tongue there, but didn’t linger. He had a different target in mind.
She knew what he planned, even if she had never experienced this particular pleasure. It should have scandalized her. She wanted to have the strength to tell him to stop. To just take her now. But, wicked woman that she was, she couldn’t summon the will.
He dragged the negligee lower, exposing her mound. And he buried his nose in her curls, nuzzling her in the most mortifyingly delectable way. She was in a frenzy now. Wanting to open her legs, spread herself wide so that he had access to her center, where she was swollen and wet and aching. She wanted him there rather desperately.
But her nightgown imprisoned her legs, still bunched around her upper thighs, so she could do nothing but whimper as she waited for his pleasure. Her hands opened and closed on his head, scratching his scalp and pulling his hair. He seemed not to care. Actually, he seemed to like it, groaning and leaning into her hands like a huge wild cat that allowed himself to be tame enough to be petted.
“Colin.” His name was a whisper on her lips. Lifting her head, she looked down at him. She wanted him to hurry. She would self combust at this rate, or go mad and start misbehaving. There was only so much restraint one could exercise.
“Yes, my darling?” He crooned into her curls, his hot, humid breath soaking into her and making her even more wet. His wicked tongue insinuated itself between her closed nether lips to lick at the swollen flesh inside. I tiny yelp escaped her before she could contain it and she tried to open her thighs in earnest, but the damn nightgown wouldn’t let her.
“Colin, please.” In the dim light, she felt more than saw his satisfied smile. With a last forceful tug, he lowered her negligee all the way down her legs and discarded it. Finally! Freedom. With a grateful sigh, she let her legs fall open. His hands caught her behind her knees to bring her legs up and out, spreading her wide. Completely open and exposed to his gaze.
This is what she had wanted. But suddenly embarrassment swamped her. She was so exposed. He was so close to her most intimate flesh that she could feel his breath fanning over her. So close that he must be able to see every little detail, even in the semidarkness. This couldn’t be decent. Couldn’t be right. Shame warred with anticipation of what he would do next, and she froze, attempting to close her legs.
But his hands were holding her fast. Not letting her move, not allowing any modesty.
“No.” He growled the word. “Don’t close your legs. I’ll stop if you want me to, but let me look at you. I want to learn you, taste you. I want to lick you and pleasure you until you scream my name.”
As if to emphasize his words, his tongue licked languorously through her folds. His wicked, marvelous, gifted tongue. All thought of shame or denial fled her mind as instinct took over. Her legs fell open, and she moaned her consent. He could do whatever he wanted, as long as this wicked pleasure didn’t stop.
She had to clap her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from uttering a guttural cry. But he wasn't done. Oh, no. He seemed to just be getting started. He grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under her buttocks, propping her up, positioning her for his devourment.
“Perfect. Stay like that. Keep your legs spread for me, darling.”
As if she could do anything else. With him settled between her legs, his shoulders wedged between her thighs, it effectively prevented her from closing them. Not that she wanted to anymore. He propped himself on his elbows, his big hands at the juncture between her legs and torso, while his thumbs played over and inflamed her intimate flesh.
The first touch of his lips was electrifying. His mouth descended on her sensitized flesh and held nothing back. It was so incredibly intimate, this act. His face was buried there, where nobody had ever touched or seen her before.
And he was doing things, wicked things. It felt forbidden, dark, and delicious. His tongue circled her entrance, dipping inside, curling, licking, tasting, darting out to spread her moisture over the rest of her flesh. His lips closed around her bud and sucked lightly at first.
Her whole body jumped. “Shhh. It’s all right. You taste delicious. I’ll give you what you need.”
She was almost sobbing, insensible with the intense pleasure he was arousing in her. She had never felt anything like this. Desire so deep, so urgent, that it was almost painful.
“Touch your breasts for me. Roll your nipples between your fingers.” He spoke against her flesh.
“N-no.” She protested. Touch herself in front of him? She couldn’t do that. It was one thing to lie under his ministrations. But to actually take part in giving herself pleasure? With him watching? Impossible.
“Yes.” A hard suckle, a soothing lick to her bud. Too much. Not enough. Her flesh was pounding. Could he hear her heartbeat in her loins?
“Do it.” And he inserted a finger into her opening. Her flesh contracted around the invasion. Greedy, welcoming. She had been so empty for so long. Her head rolled back and ground into the pillow.
She needed more, but he wasn’t giving it to her. He was waiting for her to obey his order, all the while letting her feel him there. His mouth on her, his finger inside her, but not moving. It was driving her insane.
“Abigail.” He growled in warning against her flesh. And she broke. She wanted this too much to resist. Timidly, she brought her hands to her breasts and simply held them. Hoping he would be satisfied with that.
He wasn’t.
“Roll your nipples between your fingers. The way I did before. Yes, that’s it.” He rewarded her with a lick over her clitoris when she complied. “Doesn’t it feel good?”
She nodded in the dark. He stopped. “Tell me.” And he suckled her bud.
A tiny yelp escaped her. “Y-yes.”
She felt him smile. “We’ll have to work on your eloquence.” A lick. “I want you to tell me what you are feeling.” A suckle. “What you like.” A swirl. “I like it when you speak to me during sex.” At last, he settled his mouth fully against her and began to pleasure her in earnest.
Her fingers were squeezing her nipples now, all embarrassment forgotten in the wave of desire he was making her ride. He inserted another finger in her and flexed them, caressing her insides. All the while, his talented mouth kept tasting her as if she were the most succulent fruit he had ever had.
It was too much. The wave rose and rose, crested, and rolled all over her. She was falling; the pleasure inundating her. Muffling all sound as if she were truly under water. She heard whimpers, a mewling, and she hoped she wasn’t being overly loud. It was impossible to judge the volume of her cries.
He stayed with her, his mouth and hands helping her ride the wave until she crashed, boneless and wrung out. That’s when she felt him. Hot and heavy and oh so big, at her entrance.
He pushed in. The head of his member breached her. She was so slick, so soft that it was an easy slide. Didn’t mean that it wasn’t tight. He was big. She felt the parting and stretching of her internal flesh to accommodate him. And he wasn’t even all the way in yet. The wet slide of his member, hard and heavy, kept going and going until she felt impossibly filled. Until she was sure she couldn’t take another inch.
“Yes, you feel so good.” He was crooning. “So beautiful, my darling. Take me, take all of me–” He broke off on a groan, his hard flesh embedding itself to the hilt inside her.
He stopped. As if to savor the moment, or to give her time to get used to him inside her. She felt stretched almost to the breaking point. Never had she been touched so deeply, possessed so thoroughly.
Yet instead of feeling invaded, his flesh in hers felt essential. A piece she didn’t know she was missing. But now that she had it, she needed it. She didn’t think she could survive without it. He felt divine.
He moved a fraction, and her flesh clamped around him. Begging him to stay. He hissed.
“So greedy. Your pussy loves my cock, doesn’t it?”
His coarse words were shocking, and an unexpected turn on.
“Tell me.” He begged and commanded at the same time.
She couldn’t resist the plea. Shyly, she tested the crude words. “I do. I love your cock.”
His smile of pleasure was the reward for her daring. “Damn, you are making me go harder, and I didn’t think that was possible. Don’t worry darling. I’m not going away.”
He withdrew a fraction of an inch, only to push back in. As if he couldn’t bear to part from her flesh, either. Little by little, his strokes grew longer, more languorous. Pulling himself almost completely out, before sliding back in with a slow easy slide. Letting her feel every inch of his possession. Before long, his rhythm increased, his thrusts more impatient. And she felt herself climbing again, being dragged by his enthusiasm.
No! She couldn’t climax again. It was his turn. What would he think of her? That she was so wanton, that one earth-shattering orgasm wasn’t enough? He had called her greedy... She tensed, trying to block the sensations. Decent women were not supposed to enjoy this act so much. Colin was generous, but she didn’t want to abuse his tolerance.
He was watching her. Kneeling on the bed, his arms hooked under her legs, holding her spread and defenseless for his pounding. As if sensing her distracting thoughts, he let go of her legs and leaned forward. Looming over her a moment before he kissed her. Deeply, tenderly. He tasted different, and she realized it was her flavor on his lips. How mortifying. How incredibly arousing.
He broke the kiss and took hold of her hands, stretching and trapping them above her head. The position brought his pelvis forward. With each pump, he rotated his hips, a tiny swivel grinding against her point of pleasure.
Oh, this was too much. She had no hope of holding out now. He was looking at her intensely, determined to bring her with him. His nostrils flared, lips drawn back over his teeth, while the unrelenting pounding and rolling persisted down there.
“That’s it. Let go. Fly with me.” He commanded.
There was no warning this time, no slow buildup to the crest. The pleasure broke free from somewhere inside her, like an earthquake, shaking her all over and leaving her convulsing and trembling with the aftershocks. She scrunched her eyes and bit her tongue to keep herself from screaming, and she managed. Just barely.
But there was nothing she could do about the spasms of her flesh around his member. He must have felt them. A moment later, his own body shook while his thrusts became deep and shallow. His cock pulsed, and liquid warmth flooded her as he released deep inside her.
He was sweating and gasping. For a moment, she thought he would collapse over her. And despite his size, she would have welcomed it. But he remembered himself just in time and came down on his side.
Such abandon left her shaken, fragile. She wanted to curl up against him, but he put a hand on her belly, caressing her with casual tenderness while he caught his breath. And preventing her from getting closer to him. She remembered he didn’t like embraces. Maybe he didn’t like to cuddle either.
A few moments later he drew the covers over her naked body, which was now cooling after the passion. He was still fully dressed; she noticed with some surprise. He hadn’t even taken his pants off, but merely lowered them. Somehow, the sight of his clothed body made her feel even more vulnerable in her nakedness.
Leaning down over her, he kissed her forehead. “That was lovely, my darling. You pleased me so much. Thank you.”
On that baffling note, he got up from the bed, snuffed the now guttering candle, and left the room. The door closed silently behind him. Leaving her wanting more. And drowning in shame, and self recriminations over her wanton behavior.