eyes.
“We were interrupted. Me and Frannie.”
“You and I won’t be. I locked the door.” He thought of pushing the wardrobe in front of it for added assurance. For if they went further down this path, nothing would be able to tear him away from her. He was hard, so hard, already dying to feel her.
“Then show me all the pleasure I don’t know of , Damien,” she said and his cock throbbed at her words
“Are you sure?” He clasped her cheeks in his hands. Looked her in the eye. She had to be sure. He was going to marry her eventually. But once this started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Already restraining himself hurt.
“I’ve never been more certain. I want to know. And I want to learn from you. With you.” Her blue eyes locked with his. She pressed a fleeting kiss upon his lips.
“ Whatever the queen wishes…”
Damien scooped her into his arms and carried her the short distance from the drawing room to the bedroom.
“I’m going to marry you. Just so we’re clear.” But this time, his intention to marry her had little to do with a longstanding contract or his intentions to honor his obligations. It had everything to do with the luscious woman in his arms.
******
Damien set Susannah down in his bedroom. She glanced around, saw it was man’s bedchamber and quickly discerned that it was of little interest compared to the man himself.
I’m going to marry you.
She couldn’t think past this moment. Her heart was beating too hard. She felt dizzy from a lack of deep breaths. She felt, underneath all the muslin, the peaks of her breasts hard and straining for his touch. She could not fathom how he could think that far ahead.
Susannah could only feel. And she felt that she wanted to explore him and to have him know her. She also felt incredibly overheated and unbearably constrained by her attire. They were going to make love.
“Shall we undress?” s he asked and he gave a strangled laugh. Yes, she had kissed a girl, but that was the extent of her amorous experiences. She had, however, gleaned that a lack of attire was advisable for lovemaking.
“Match you item for item?” Damien offered.
“Deal,” she replied.
His jacket hit the floor, swiftly followed by hers.
Damien loosened his cravat, dropping the length of fabric. It fluttered down to the floor.
“All that time spent tying it just so, only to remove it so swiftly,” she remarked as she copied his movements.
Damien responded by taking off his waistcoat. Susannah smiled coyly as she slowly fingered each button before popping them free. But it was her turn to be tortured as once he removed his shirt.
His abdomen was a taut plane of rippling muscles. His arms bulged at the biceps, a pure display of sculpted strength. His sensual mouth was upturned into a proud, triumphant smile because she liked what she saw and he knew it.
She wondered if he knew how the sight of him was wreaking havoc with the pace of her heart and her ability to breathe. The ale had gone to her head. So had the adventures of the day and n ow this lack of a decent breath. Dizzy. She was dizzy.
“Your shirt?”
“Off,” she said, her voice muffled as she lifted the linen over her head, revealing all the muslin binding around her chest. It had taken ages to wind and would likely take a few agonizing, dizzying moments to unwind.
Boots were next— four thuds muted on the carpeted floor—followed by breeches. Followed by Damien’s unmentionables.
At the sight of him, utterly naked, Susannah did gasp. The muscles continued down his legs, strong. He put her in mind of one of the naked Roman statues she occasionally stared at for longer than was seemly (and really, ’twas the only reason to visit the British Museum). But unlike those statues…a fig leaf did not suffice. He was aroused and there was no denying it—his cock jutted out, long and thick.
He closed the distance between them. She felt nervous—she shivered—with every step he took in
“We were interrupted. Me and Frannie.”
“You and I won’t be. I locked the door.” He thought of pushing the wardrobe in front of it for added assurance. For if they went further down this path, nothing would be able to tear him away from her. He was hard, so hard, already dying to feel her.
“Then show me all the pleasure I don’t know of , Damien,” she said and his cock throbbed at her words
“Are you sure?” He clasped her cheeks in his hands. Looked her in the eye. She had to be sure. He was going to marry her eventually. But once this started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Already restraining himself hurt.
“I’ve never been more certain. I want to know. And I want to learn from you. With you.” Her blue eyes locked with his. She pressed a fleeting kiss upon his lips.
“ Whatever the queen wishes…”
Damien scooped her into his arms and carried her the short distance from the drawing room to the bedroom.
“I’m going to marry you. Just so we’re clear.” But this time, his intention to marry her had little to do with a longstanding contract or his intentions to honor his obligations. It had everything to do with the luscious woman in his arms.
******
Damien set Susannah down in his bedroom. She glanced around, saw it was man’s bedchamber and quickly discerned that it was of little interest compared to the man himself.
I’m going to marry you.
She couldn’t think past this moment. Her heart was beating too hard. She felt dizzy from a lack of deep breaths. She felt, underneath all the muslin, the peaks of her breasts hard and straining for his touch. She could not fathom how he could think that far ahead.
Susannah could only feel. And she felt that she wanted to explore him and to have him know her. She also felt incredibly overheated and unbearably constrained by her attire. They were going to make love.
“Shall we undress?” s he asked and he gave a strangled laugh. Yes, she had kissed a girl, but that was the extent of her amorous experiences. She had, however, gleaned that a lack of attire was advisable for lovemaking.
“Match you item for item?” Damien offered.
“Deal,” she replied.
His jacket hit the floor, swiftly followed by hers.
Damien loosened his cravat, dropping the length of fabric. It fluttered down to the floor.
“All that time spent tying it just so, only to remove it so swiftly,” she remarked as she copied his movements.
Damien responded by taking off his waistcoat. Susannah smiled coyly as she slowly fingered each button before popping them free. But it was her turn to be tortured as once he removed his shirt.
His abdomen was a taut plane of rippling muscles. His arms bulged at the biceps, a pure display of sculpted strength. His sensual mouth was upturned into a proud, triumphant smile because she liked what she saw and he knew it.
She wondered if he knew how the sight of him was wreaking havoc with the pace of her heart and her ability to breathe. The ale had gone to her head. So had the adventures of the day and n ow this lack of a decent breath. Dizzy. She was dizzy.
“Your shirt?”
“Off,” she said, her voice muffled as she lifted the linen over her head, revealing all the muslin binding around her chest. It had taken ages to wind and would likely take a few agonizing, dizzying moments to unwind.
Boots were next— four thuds muted on the carpeted floor—followed by breeches. Followed by Damien’s unmentionables.
At the sight of him, utterly naked, Susannah did gasp. The muscles continued down his legs, strong. He put her in mind of one of the naked Roman statues she occasionally stared at for longer than was seemly (and really, ’twas the only reason to visit the British Museum). But unlike those statues…a fig leaf did not suffice. He was aroused and there was no denying it—his cock jutted out, long and thick.
He closed the distance between them. She felt nervous—she shivered—with every step he took in
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