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Then his hand was between them, grasping his stiff penis, and he nestled it against the center of her opening. “This, Felicity? Ye want my cock deep in ye? Ye want me to show ye how it feels to be—”

To be loved.

He didn’t say it. She didn’t say it. But her hold tightened on him. “Please, Griffin,” she repeated in another whisper. “I need you.”

And he slid into her.

Thank goodness he’d eased the way with his earlier ministrations, because this was—this was—

This was bloody well uncomfortable.

Felicity had stiffened at his entrance, the memory of Exingham’s long-ago invasion causing her to freeze. But Griffin was even bigger, even wider.

She’d given birth, yes, but that was sixteen years before. This was…

Well, it didn’t hurt. It was just…stretched. She was stretched.

Unlike Exingham, Griffin seemed to understand. When she’d frozen, he ceased movement as well. He was poised over her, breathing heavily, one hand trapped between them, staring down at her.

But as her fingernails dug into his hips, she had the impression he wasn’t angry. Just…waiting.

He was waiting for her to adjust.

That, more than anything else—more, even, than the pleasure she’d just experienced—allowed Felicity to relax. She exhaled, and as she did, felt her muscles unclench. Not just in her shoulders, but her inner muscles, the ones tight from his entrance.

And as she did, she could suddenly feel him so much more.

“Better, sweetheart?” Griffin murmured.

Sweetheart. He’d called her that before. And the expression in his eyes…concern? He wanted her to be better.

So she said merely, “Yes,” and she meant it. She was better, because he wasn’t Exingham. Behind his gruff exterior, he cared.

About her.

Griffin leaned down, the muscles in his arm flexing as he supported himself, and kissed her. It was the first time all evening he’d kissed her, kissed her properly.

Breasts and labia do not count?

Those had been wonderful kisses as well, but this one was soft and gentle, his tongue dipping playfully, reminding her what he’d done for her. What he’d taught her. She could taste herself on his lips, and the realization shouldn’t have been arousing, but it was.

He teased her with his mouth, and as he did, her desire grew again. It had never really left, the gentle afterglow just paused by his cock’s entrance. And now, as Griffin kissed her, and she kissed him in return, the gentle pulse in her veins turned to a steady hum.

Then a throb.

Then a desperation.

Her hips pressed upward, the tiniest amount, a fraction of an inch. But the sensation caused Felicity to gasp against his lips, and she swore she felt them curl in response.

“Again, sweetheart.”

Well, who was she to deny such a command, especially on a fact-finding mission? She nudged her hips forward again, then back, pulling her weeping core over his engorged shaft.

Weeping core? Engorged shaft?

She was beginning to sound like A Harlot’s Guide.

Well, what had he called it? Oh yes, his cock.