Authors: Elle Q. Sabine
Abigail cried out against his chest as his fingers came into contact with the painful, swollen tissue, but he simply lifted her up into his arms and carried her to bed.
The covers had already been pulled away, and he deposited Abby in its centre before stepping back and stripping off his clothes. His jacket, waistcoat and shirt—and tonight, trousers, socks and soft-soled shoes—all went flying.
He looked up to her and Abigail held out her arms with another sob. “Now,” she pleaded, her vision blurred by tear-filled eyes. “Touch me, Charles, please touch me.”
Meriden came directly above her, pushing her knees apart with his to kneel over her, his forearms coming down beside her breasts, pushing her shoulders down into the bed. Without a word, he met her lips and tongue fiercely in a possessive, driving kiss that stole Abigail’s breath. She pressed upward, straining to reach him, and he slid down a few inches, squeezing her plump, round breasts together.
“I’m going to mark you, Abby,” he rasped. “Tomorrow you’re going to feel it, just like your rear will ache for me.” He teased her nipples with his mouth and teeth, one at a time, then suddenly he latched onto one with fearful intensity.
Abigail screamed, but he was relentless in his attentions, soothing gently with his lips only after he’d bitten and tugged with painful eagerness. She wanted, she ached for him, but all she could seem to do was push her pelvis up against his abdomen in silent pleading.
Only when she was wild with lust and straining agony did he raise his head, his body rigid. “Pull your heels up to the backs of your thighs, Abby. Now.” She heard the command, dimly understood, but shook uncontrollably. “Now, Abby. As soon as I’m inside you, you can fly free,” he articulated, gritting his teeth.
She wanted it, craved it,
needed
him. Abigail drew up her heels, forcing her knees apart, and, above her, Meriden lowered his body and slid his chest deliberately up over her sensitised, distended nipples and the ravaged skin around them, so that his shaft lodged in the entrance at her open, juicy folds.
Abigail’s tear-filled eyes flew open. “Do it,” she insisted.
He pushed in an inch and waited while she shifted underneath him, then he went in deeper.
Meriden’s mouth came down on hers. He was big and the burning sensation that filled her was unlike anything she’d ever imagined. Unconsciously, her heels left the bed and her legs wrapped around his hips, urging him closer.
“One hard push and I’ll be deep inside you, riding you,” he rumbled against her skin. “You are so damn tight and hot. The sweetest kind of fiery heaven ever known. Just one hard push.”
Abigail couldn’t stand it. Her arms, left to their own devices, grasped Meriden’s hips and she shoved herself upward.
“Abby!” he gasped in strangled horror as spasms of pain hit her consciousness. “
Fuck
,” he breathed out, leaning on his elbows and feathering kisses across her strained face. “Abby-heart, you shouldn’t have done that. I could have made it easier for you.”
“It’s done. I
need
you to finish it, finish
me
. I’m dying, Charles.” She gritted the words out, the pain already fading.
To her delight, he rocked back and forth in a gentle movement and waves of pleasure radiated from her middle. Then he withdrew and slid back inside her at a desperately slow crawl that made her frantic for him to advance. She pressed her hips upward, encouraging him.
“Now, Abby,” Meriden rasped, his breathing tight. “Now. Come for me.”
“Now,” she started to agree, but he rocked out of her until they had almost separated, and then surged powerfully inside her.
Abigail made some sort of strangled noise that went along with the shattering of her senses. Above her, around her, Meriden continued to stroke in and out of her and she struggled to feel it—to think about it—through the bliss that was still tingling her nerve endings and sending convulsions through her body.
With his cock deep inside her, Meriden uttered a low moan, and she dimly felt the warm seed of his climax shooting inside her.
He rolled to the side, taking her with him, and Abigail sank against him. She was where she needed to be, where she wanted to be.
She stayed there, one leg looped over his, for long moments while she floated in and out of conscious thought. The ecstasy had spread beyond the moment she had come—it was settling on her nerves and she felt alive and vibrant.
He seemed at peace. She felt him relaxing, his mouth brushing over her forehead for long minutes, before he finally slid out from between her legs. “Stay,” he murmured softly. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He retrieved one of the silk wraps from the chaise and draped it over her, then headed towards his sitting room.
Abigail rolled gingerly, watching him. He seemed comfortable, despite his nudity, and she smiled and sank back into the bed to remember.
When he returned, he had warm, wet rags in hand. Pushing aside the wrap, he spread her legs and began washing away the sticky remains. She sat up slightly on her elbows, watching from beneath hooded lids as he washed her, then made a less than valiant effort to wipe away the blood and other fluids that had spread across the sheets. “Robert will change them tomorrow,” he murmured, as she grimaced.
Nodding, Abigail scooted up and sat against the headboard with a wince. He chased her with a dry towel, patting her skin, then sitting back to examine her. He traced the bruises forming around her nipples and smiled. “I have just realised how to keep you in gowns of respectable neckline.” He chuckled. “At least in public.”
“Not fair,” Abigail returned, but her objection lacked strength or conviction. She was content to watch his hand descend down her stomach, then brush the short curls of her mons.
“Someday soon—not tomorrow—I’m going to put you in my bath and shave off all these curls. They are adorable, but I want to see you bare and pink and I want to leave the marks of my teeth here, too, and lower on your lovely vulva. I want you to see them and know and think about who made them.”
“I could listen to you talk forever.” Abigail sighed as a little shiver coursed through her. “It’s not exactly
romantic
, but it makes me want the same things.”
“Erotic,” he provided. “Carnal.” Lowering his head, he kissed her nipples one at a time. “Does your bottom hurt?”
“Yes, you know it does,” Abigail muttered. “And I think it’s bruised too.”
“Good.” He chuckled. “And now it’s time to put you to sleep, my dear. You have a very busy day tomorrow.” He cleared his throat, and added in a deep, wicked voice, “And I have certain plans for your evening that will require your participation.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Abigail smiled with soft lips and reached out to cradle his jaw.
In no time, Meriden had doused the lights and banked the fire, then covered her with the bed’s blankets and counterpane. Sliding into the bed, he brought her back against his chest and nuzzled at her temple, once again cradling her head on his arm and tucking her rear up against his groin.
Despite the warmth around her, Abigail shivered again as he slid one of his legs between her knees, trapping her bottom half, and smoothed his free hand up her hip, then her stomach, to cradle the underside of her breast.
“Goodnight Charles,” she whispered in the dark, as he stilled.
“Goodnight, my dear,” he whispered back, and she closed her eyes, warmed and satisfied.
Chapter Nineteen
Charles woke in the hour before dawn, as he always did. He suspected he would always come awake at the hour, at least for a few moments of startled awareness. Some part of his mind remembered an early-morning ambush in Spain and woke him daily with the memory of it. Eventually, a bullet had grazed his jawbone even as he’d fought to see through the fog and don his shirt and breeches.
Today there was no reason to snort in disgust at the hour, roll over and attempt to go back to sleep. And less reason to throw back the blankets and go for a hard, early morning ride.
Abby was still tucked up against him. The smell of her hair and skin flowed over him and he was already blissfully erect. When she mumbled softly in her sleep and shifted, her arse pressed back against him in a blatant invitation.
Unintentional. Charles knew it was unintentional. He reminded himself she would be sore, and stiff. He was a big man, and she’d taken both the paddling, then his fucking. Even though she’d been wildly needy and so very wet from her arousal, Abby had been tight and unused to the activity.
He gritted his teeth, but couldn’t help but nudge his hips and cock against her from behind.
Charles groaned. She was so hot, and her soft inner opening clung to the swollen head of his erection. He knew she would be moist from the night before and their long sleep, and he did have definite plans to love her awake in the early mornings—
No, he mustn’t. Sore, she’d be sore.
He wanted her to be able to walk down the damn aisle.
Gradually, Charles withdrew his hips, already cursing, but beside him Abby made a soft, inarticulate noise of disappointment.
He couldn’t resist that. He shifted his arm so that her head rolled back against his chest, then moved his hand down to cup her breast. He drifted his other hand down and cupped her vulva, positioning her more securely. Slowly, steadily, not knowing how she’d wake, he slid fully inside her and swallowed a growl of satisfaction at the low, sleep-filled moan she uttered.
It did something to his chest to hear that unconsciously appreciative noise of pleasure.
Charles rolled his hips gently, setting a mild rhythm. The previous night’s wild culmination and a full night of sleep meant he could beat back the primitive demons that urged him to roll her over and fuck her senseless until she was filled heavily with his child. No, he wanted to go slowly and savour her, wake her into orgasm and enjoy one of the few quiet moments he’d have until the end of the day.
Her eyes never did fly open. He could see one as he rubbed his palm against her curls, and she blinked it open in a glazed stupor. The dawning realisation of where she was, where
he
was, and just what he was doing seemed to catch her. He pressed down on the padded hood around her clitoris and she went over, small convulsions rippling through her from her thighs to her mouth and cheeks.
Charles felt her vagina clench around him, and he groaned.
No hard thrusts, not now
, he reminded himself, comforting his raging erection with the knowledge that his restraint was necessary only because of what had come before and what would come later.
The very thought sent him over the edge and he spilled into her.
“Thank you,” he murmured against her hair. It was tangled around them, but the intoxicating scent was worth it.
Abby moaned. “No, no, thank
you
. That’s a great improvement over a maid slamming a door, or having the blankets thrown back on a cold morning.”
“You’re going to be sore. And not just from the spanking.”
She groaned. “My lord, Annie will see everything. I have to bathe before she comes up—”
“Hush. Annie will see, you can’t prevent it and there’s no use trying. She’ll get used to it soon enough, as it happens.” He moved his hand from where it was cupping her breast and gently traced her nipple and the surrounding tissue with his index finger. He couldn’t see her with the blankets around them, but her gasp assured him that she would bear the evidence of his lovemaking for some days. “I don’t intend to let you go long—maybe never—without tangible evidence of me somewhere on you.”
“It’s a good thing Jenna is going with Aunt Betsy, then,” Abby muttered.
“Annie is as innocent as you. Tell her the truth—that what she sees is left from our lovemaking, from being pleasured beyond oblivion. As long as you are pleased and happy in our bed, there is nothing for her to worry over. And there’s nothing in our intimacy of which you should be ashamed.” Charles breathed in her scent again and felt himself already hardening inside her.
Abby felt it too. “You are insatiable,” she mumbled, but hesitantly shifted so that he could penetrate deeper as he stretched to fill her.
“Always insatiable,” he assured her. “But you will be sore inside, too. In time you’ll recover more quickly and be able to take me as much as I desire, but not this morning. When I said you would need to bathe, I meant it. Soak from at least the waist down and keep the water hot, for at least half an hour.” He paused. “It occurs to me that I would prefer to imagine you with the water high enough that your breasts are bobbing in the soap bubbles. Maybe we’ll try that tomorrow morning.”
“Now that would shock Annie,” Abby grumbled. “And me.”
“Annie won’t be anywhere around. I have no intention of sharing the privilege with her. I’m perfectly capable of giving you a hot bath,” he whispered against her ear. “In fact, I rather like the notion of soaping you down, brushing out your hair, and feeding you breakfast while you are spread out on the chaise in splendid nakedness.” Charles hardened more at his own words, but Abby’s indrawn breath was music to his ears.
Through his sitting room door, Charles heard the low tones of the mantel clock and he frowned. Abby also looked disgruntled by the interruption. But he had one more thing to put into her head before they departed the bed. Firming his arms around her, he added, “And you’ll be happy to let me care for you, because tonight I intend to claim you in the one place I haven’t yet. Before you go to sleep tonight, my cock is going to spill my seed inside your luscious little rump, and the last little bit of you will belong to me.”
All around him, Abby shuddered. He felt it even through the vibrations in the tight walls encasing his cock.
Charles groaned and pulled back, reminding himself of the need for restraint. She needed time before her sister and Betsy came in demanding to see her, before the day rushed in on them.
Reluctantly he helped her from the bed, selfishly pleased that, when she stood, she stumbled for a moment, then opened up her arms to him. “It’s going to be a good day,” he murmured. “You will be a beautiful bride. I won’t be able to keep my eyes off of you or my hands to myself, and afterward I want to be the very first to call you my lady.”