Page 37 of A Proposal to Wed (The Beautiful Barringtons #9)

The fingers retreated an inch. “Such a lovely quim, Mrs. Estwood.” He toyed with that small bit of flesh hidden in her folds once more before thrusting two fingers deep into her.

The stretch was like nothing she’d ever imagined.

Pleasurable, in the most decadent way. Over and over, his fingers stroked and teased until Lucy writhed and made incoherent sounds in his embrace.

“Pay attention, Lucy.” Harry sounded pained. Slightly out of breath.

She gazed at the woman reflected in the mirror, now transformed into a wild, sexual being with her hair streaming in disarray over her shoulders. One breast peeked through the waves of her hair, the nipple erect.

Harry’s wrist twisted, moving until Lucy could feel the slickness drawing down her thighs.

“Not flawed, Lucy. Perfect. All mine.” His eyes lifted from the side of her neck, eyes glinting back at her like bits of pewter in the mirror. His thumb pressed down on that small, raised bit of flesh, teasing at it.

Lucy bucked against him, shamefully pushing into his hand. Reaching for the molten touch of his fingers, wanting more of that rich, deep sensation.

Another gentle brush of his thumb. More wicked things murmured along the curve of her ear. A rumbling masculine sound echoed from his chest.

Her entire body grew taut, like a bowstring. The air stilled in her lungs as sensation ratcheted up her thighs. A needy, soft whine escaped Lucy. Her fingers clawed at his wrist.

Dear God . She’d never known such ecstasy existed.

Her climax was glorious. Magnificent. Made that much better because it was at the hands of Harry Estwood. She writhed in Harry’s arms, limbs shaking while his fingers continued to move along her the entire time. Each tremor echoing along her skin brought another fresh wave of pleasure.

Utterly intoxicating .

Lucy had barely caught her breath, body still throbbing, when Harry dragged her in the direction of the bed.

Yes, that’s right. There’s more.

“I should have taken you,” he said again, an angry, possessive look fixed on his features.

“Yes,” was all she managed, relieved that the lisp had retreated. Falling back on the bed, her legs splayed wide, Lucy pulled at her hair, trying to cover herself, feeling entirely too exposed.

“Stop.” Harry shucked off his boots and trousers, eyes never leaving her. He tore at his shirt, buttons flying through the air in his haste to remove it. “I’ve already seen everything. But you haven’t.”

Oh. Dear . Lucy shut her eyes.

She was horribly unprepared for the sight of a naked man. Ridiculous, given her age. Which made her feel…inadequate. Foolish . How could she possibly hope to satisfy Harry? A woman such as Mrs. Armstrong would know what to do to keep his interest. He would be disappointed at her inexperience, her?—

“Lucy.” Harry’s voice soothed her. “I’m sure you have a fair idea of what the male anatomy looks like. Your father has a horse farm.”

She cracked open one eyelid. “I wasn’t permitted to look.”

Lucy had… glimpsed a stallion mounting a mare. But little else. Not that she would admit to it.

“Then I insist you do so now. I’ve little modesty about such things, which is something you will have to grow accustomed to. I don’t generally sleep in my trousers.” She heard his feet pad towards the bed. “Do you mean to say you weren’t curious?”

“Father didn’t want me to become a harlot.”

Harry burst into laughter. “From a horse’s cock? Far more likely the sight would have frightened you into celibacy forever. Well, you should look now.” Good lord, he sounded so…full of himself. “You’ll be seeing it often enough.”

Lucy opened her eyes, fixing her gaze to a spot just below his navel.

Good grief . His arrogance was not unfounded. Even for a woman as sheltered as Lucy had been—even she could see that Harry was…rather exceptional.

I merely thought his tailor hadn’t measured his trousers properly.

“We’ll go slow.” He stroked the large, thick length several times while watching her. “I realize it seems…challenging.”

Challenging? Lucy snorted in disbelief. She only had so much courage, and most of it had been expended on Dufton’s unwelcome appearance outside of Granby’s home today. What little remained had been stripped from her, literally, as Harry had brought her to climax before a mirror.

But this.

She forced her gaze from the harsh cut of his hipbones to what lay between them, then back to the lean, muscular torso.

Harry had the body of a man who was no stranger to physical labor, as if he still worked the forges at Pendergast. Likely could shoe a horse.

Beat bits of metal into something useful, like those rods and beams she’d seen on the sketches in his study.

Dig in the dirt for ancient weapons if the mood struck him.

Not a spare ounce of fat lingered on her husband’s form.

If anything, Lucy thought he should eat more.

A lovely dusting of sherry-colored hair covered his chest and… matters below.

Lucy picked up a pillow to cover herself. Or possibly it was for protection.

Harry sighed and crawled on all fours until he loomed over her. “Stop that nonsense.” He took the pillow and tossed it aside. “You can’t hide from me.” The tip of his finger traced a circle around one nipple, making her gasp.

Good lord, it was… bobbing every time he moved.

“Harry, I don’t think I can…” Lucy cleared her throat. “Accommodate you.”

“What a lovely sentiment. Does a great deal for my ego. Now, open your hand.” He took her wrist, unfurling her fingers. “Touch me before I resort to begging you to do so.”

Lucy lightly brushed her palm over him, marveling at the velvety feel. The heat.

Harry let out a hiss, and she jerked her hand back. “Did I…?” Her voice was so papery thin, Lucy could barely hear herself. “Did I hurt you?”

“Words, Lucy. Loudly. And no, you did not. Don’t worry, my lovely girl.” A soft groan left him. “I’ll be careful.” He sucked in a breath as she once more trailed her fingers over him and his— length —jerked at her touch. “An infant’s head is much larger.”

“What?” Lucy blinked.

“The head of an infant.” His breathing became a bit uneven. “I had to help deliver Mary. That’s my youngest sister. The midwife was late, and my father, well, he was passed out in the garden. Right on top of the beets.” He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nipple. “Delicious.”

Lucy would consider that bit of information later. “ Itth —abnormal.” She gently stroked along the velvet soft length, the heat of him stinging her palms. How did he hide this in his trousers every day?

“Passing out in the beets? Hardly.”

“No. I meant?—”

“I know what you meant.” A sound of satisfaction came from him as he covered her hand with his own, showing her what to do.

“I’ve been called overly large. Well-endowed.

The biggest prick I’ve ever seen, which quite frankly, might have also been a comment on my personality and not the size of my cock.

But never abnormal.” Another soft moan came from him.

“Keep doing that. Say ‘you have a large cock, Harry.’”

Lucy sat up, watching their hands move together. “Why?”

“I want to hear you utter a vulgarity from that ladylike mouth.” Harry was staring at her lips. “I can’t tell you how much it arouses me. Go on.” The words turned into a low purr. “Say it.”

Lucy felt her cheeks pink. Goodness .

“You have a—large cock—Harry.”

He made a noise, so male and blatantly sexual, her entire body arched towards him in response.

Her thumb accidentally brushed the very tip.

“Oh, God, yes. You’ve no idea how badly I want you. Years of lust, Lucy. Thoughts of you touching me. Putting your mouth on my cock.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. Would he want that?

“But not at the moment.” Harry’s hand trailed between her thighs, touching her as he had before, making that delicious ache return with every stroke. He pushed her gently back into the feather mattress, and her hand slipped away, trailing along his hip.

Mouth moving to her breasts, Harry sucked one nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth along the edges until Lucy whimpered.

Her nails scratched along the side of his torso, hips pushing up against him.

Harry settled between her thighs, positioning— he’s going to split me in half —at her entrance.

Lucy stiffened, fearful of what would come next.

But she would do anything for Harry Estwood. Even if walking was unlikely tomorrow.

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I would never hurt you, Lucy. Not ever.”

Lucy clutched him closer. Widened her legs as moisture gathered behind her eyes.

Despite his childhood, everything Father had done to him, no matter that this marriage had come about for the wrong reasons.

Or his lingering suspicions. Lucy knew, in her heart, that the darkness lingering inside Harry would never be directed at her.

She was safer with him than anyone else.

“I know, Harry.” Lucy ran a finger down his cheek.

“Now, there is no avoiding that this will hurt. Possibly more than it should, given?—”

“That your cock is so large, Harry,” she whispered, watching as his eyes turned the color of pewter. “Enormous, in fact.”

A half-smile crossed his lips before he kissed her once more. “I knew you’d catch on.”

She tensed at the impending invasion, unable to help it. Lucy forced herself to stay still and calm as he inched inside, the veins in his neck straining as he struggled not to cause her pain.

The stretch was nearly unbearable. Painful but also…good. “Harry.” She cupped his cheek, undone by the intimacy of this moment. “You won’t hurt me,” she assured him.

“You’re mine, Lucy.” He nipped at her bottom lip.

Always , only Harry just didn’t realize. She’d always wanted him too. Found him brilliant. Dazzling.

A cry left her at the sudden sharp pinch of pain.

Harry groaned. Stopped moving. “Lucy?”

He was buried in her, and…dear lord, this was uncomfortable. Far worse than she’d anticipated. She squeezed her eyes, not wanting Harry to see her weeping like some milksop.

You are something of a milksop, Lucy.

“I’m sorry, my lovely girl.” A soft kiss met her lips. “It won’t be like this again.” Another kiss. “I promise.” He waited until she nodded before he carefully rocked his hips against hers. The sharp ache started to fade. Still…uncomfortable, but bearable.

“Better?”

Lucy gave him a stiff nod, and Harry chuckled softly. “Liar.” He shifted just slightly, changing the angle. “And that?”

“Oh.” That was…actually…Lucy arched beneath him, eyes wide as the next thrust dragged along something deep inside her. There was still a fraction of pain, but there was also a great deal of pleasure, slowly coming to the surface.

His hand moved between them, touching her as he had before. “There,” he whispered. Another stroke.

“Yes,” Lucy moaned, grabbing at his hips. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer. “God, yes.”

Surprising how little he cared about Marsden when he was buried inside his wife. He should have been crowing that he’d finally had revenge on Waterstone by bedding his daughter, but—he tenderly tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear—Harry didn’t care about any of that.

Nothing compared to the pleasure clouding the blue of her eyes when he took her.

Or the way her slender hands grabbed at him with such passion.

Harry’s heart tugged and pulled in his chest while his cock had her calling out his name.

Her nails dug into his skin, body clenching, before a muffled moan signaled her climax seconds before he found his own pleasure, his nose buried in the lemon scent of her hair.

Now, Harry found he was slightly dazed. Deliriously happy.

He had imagined bedding Lucy Waterstone in at least a dozen ways, but he hadn’t accounted for how it would feel , beyond the physical aspects. How the knowledge that it was her would affect him. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, before rolling to the side, he stayed buried between her thighs.

Lucy’s hand searched for his across the coverlet, making a small grunt as she laced their fingers together.

Harry sighed in pleasure as he pulled her close. Breathed in her scent. Content.