Page 32 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke (Notorious Sisters of London #3)
Emma could feel her husband's consideration and care with each movement, with each touch as he removed another piece of clothing in the soft low lit oil light that filled the room they now shared. Her skin was more exposed with each passing moment, and it tingled with the feel of Donovan’s gaze and the lingering leftover sensation of the brief touches he was afforded each time he took another article away.
When she stood naked before him, her breath came quickly, her heart galloping in her chest. But there was no fear with these sensations, only excitement.
“You're so beautiful,” he whispered to her in the golden twilight.
“Your turn,” she said with a smile and tugged on the front of his shirt.
Donovan obliged her, stripping much more quickly since he had fewer layers to remove and a more practiced hand with the nature of men’s clothing. Emma ran her fingertips through the fine soft hair of his chest and looked over the muscular chest and shoulders of her husband.
“You are staring,” he said with a bit of a laugh.
“This is the first time I’ve got a good look at you as my husband,” she said, still looking him over with intent and admiration and touching him gently up and down his body.
“What do you think?” he asked playfully.
“Do you want me to tell you, or do you want me to show you?” Emma countered.
They were at each other again in moments, bodies intertwined. They may have had all night to spend together and the rest of their lives to follow it up, but they had been waiting for a long time for one another. They knew what they wanted, and they no longer had any reason to wait.
Donovan grasped Emma, and they moved together to the bed.
Donovan lowered his new wife onto the white sheets, and she pulled him down on top of her, her nails digging lightly into his back.
Many women are nervous when they first enter their marital bed, and Emma was, but her trust in Donovan chased away fears and apprehensions.
He would take care of her. He would love her.
Emma moaned when she felt the weight and heat of Donovan’s length caress her thighs.
“Oh god, Donovan, I want this so very much. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”
“Love your eagerness, dearest. Still, we should start slow,” he whispered into her ear affectionately as his fingers traced down the inside of her thighs.
Emma was a little more prepared when Donovan touched her this time.
Prepared for the heat and the fire that his fingertips could elicit from her.
Prepared for the coming new sensations as well as the care and consideration with which they would be delivered.
Donovan was always gentle, and in turn Emma was always wanting more.
Donovan's ministrations went farther this time, farther than ever before. True, they were married now, but also, they had the space, and the lack of danger of getting caught allowed him to explore her more thoroughly. He gently pushed her thighs farther apart, used his fingers in more courageous ways, and had her gasping and twisting beneath him on the bed sheets. Emma couldn’t understand; he felt like he was fulfilling her every wish but denying her something at the same time. It was sweet, beautiful torture.
“Donovan, please, I am begging, please make love to me,” Emma cried desperately.
“No more waiting?” he asked in a playful tone.
“No!” she insisted, and Donovan obliged.
Some had told Emma to expect a brief coarseness or pain that could occur at this moment, but Emma would hardly have described it as such.
If anything, it was a brief bit of pressure and then nothing but warmth and pleasure after that.
The absence of pain didn’t even occur to her until afterward because she was so enraptured.
“We will take it slow to start,” Donovan assured her while he planted small, gentle kisses on her face.
Emma was feeling so amazing that she wasn’t really sure what more could be done.
What was there to take slow? But when Donovan began to move his hips, that was when it all became very clear to her.
The very academic insights she had been allowed had all talked about insertion, but none discussed the intimate details of human procreation.
Details to which Emma was suddenly becoming very enlightened to and delighted with.
“Oh, Donovan!” Emma had to fight not to cry out too loudly. “Oh, my word, you are amazing.” She dug her nails into him even more tightly, only aware of how good he was making her feel and not the force with which she gripped him. In all fairness, Donovan wasn’t fully aware of it either.
With each passing moment, Donovan’s motions became more energetic. He fought the urge and the instinct to move, to thrust, but more and more he lost his connection with his civil mind and was overcome by the mind of need. He needed Emma.
Emma was driven by her own compulsions, her hips pushing forward to meet him with each thrust. Their breathing and their motions soon began to sync with one another, merging together as they did at the moment.
They increased in pace as they met over and over again, pushing each other to an ever-nearing precipice.
And then Emma was suddenly over the top.
She gripped Donovan as tightly as ever, her breathing, her feelings, and her thoughts all merged into one until she couldn’t think anymore.
All she knew was a never-ending moment of intense pleasure and warmth.
When she started to calm down again, she found herself embracing Donovan, breathing harder and much steadier now.
“That was amazing,” she told him, “You have made me feel things I never knew I could, dear husband.” She kissed him tenderly. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, dearest. Now, after a long day and night, I think we’ve earned some rest.” He sighed and pulled her gently against him.
Emma doubted she would be able to sleep, even as tired as she was. Her mind was simply abuzz with excitement about her new life and all of its developments. Still, she drifted off only a few minutes after Donovan without even realizing it.