Page 79 of Forever Her Bachelor

They cried out from the pleasure of being connected without a barrier. She was his, and they were finally free to be husband and wife in every way.

This was where he belonged, inside of her. Nothing else mattered but her.

“I want to see you ride me, to take your pleasure from me.” His hands on her waist guided her slow, steady movements.

“Chauncey, please,” she cried out, begging him.

Sitting back, he guided her with him, thrusting up as he pulled her down on his hardness. His teeth nipped at her lips, one of his hands moving to grip her neck. “Please what? Tell me what you want.”

“I need …” she whined, throwing her head back as he rolled his hips, nearly causing him to come undone himself.

“Take what you need. I am yours.” St. Clara released his wife, resting against the back of the sofa.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, his little minx bent forward, taking his mouth greedily. He was lost to her as she set a grueling pace, riding him like he was a prized stallion. Balling his hands into fists, he tried not to touch her, to allow her this level of control.

St. Clara’s head fell back. “That’s it. Take my cock, Kitten.”

She pressed her head against his, her eyes on his, her mouth open in pleasure. She was a vision.

Unable to contain himself any longer, St. Clara sat up, taking her hips in his hands and slammed her to him … repeatedly.

“Oh God, Chauncey!” Her voice rang through the room as he leaned her back so that he could ravish her breasts.

Capturing a nipple in his grasp, he sucked hard, never stopping his movements. His wife clung to him, her hands buried in his hair. His cock was ensconced in her wet heat as she clenched around him, her body moving erratically over him as she found her own release.

Needing to move, St. Clara squeezed Pippa to him, thrusting up into her. He saw nothing but her and him forever. It was what he had always wanted if he was being honest with himself. Even when he was a boy, she had always been the most important person in his life.

There was no sweeter love.

He squeezed her to him, relishing the feel of her heavy breasts against his chest. Sweet abyss was just out of his reach as he pounded into his wife. She clung to him, her body bouncing up and down with the force of their movements.

His greedy mouth found hers, the sweet clutch of her cunny suffocating his cock. There was an intense warmth spreading from his heart into his entire body.

Heaven. He was in heaven.

His body erupted, filling her, triggering another release. The agonizing torture of her walls clenching around him had him thrusting deeper inside of her.

Lips never parted as two bodies shattered into pieces. St. Clara clung to his wife like she was his only reason to live.

Slowing their kiss, he brushed his lips against hers, his heart overflowing, and for the first time in his life, he was afraid of failing someone.

Like he had failed everyone who had ever loved him.

After dressing in only breeches, St. Clara held his wife, who insisted they be presentable in case a servant came upon them. Pippa moved closer to him, her warm body awakening his sleeping member.

“Would you like to read your mother’s journal together?”

St. Clara kissed her forehead, inhaling a deep breath of her sweet scent before he sat up to take one of his mother’s journalsfrom the table. Making himself comfortable, he pulled her to his chest before he began reading his mother’s words.

It was fascinating to read about his mother as a young girl in Scotland. A young Charlotte told the tale of an English duke visiting her father with his heir. He continued reading page after page of his parents’ love story out loud to his own wife.

Reading of their infatuation with one another and the powerful love they had for each other nearly caused him to weep. He mourned for his parents’ love. Reading his mother’s words, he could feel how strong it was. Yet neither one of his parents could stop their love from imploding.

St. Clara tried to control his emotions, but it was impossible not to feel melancholy knowing how his parents’ story ended. Reading of happy times at the castle and the joy his mother felt when she discovered she was with child broke his heart like he was experiencing every event with her.

Her entries weren’t daily. They were spread out depending on her moods, which were always happy, except for the rare argument with St. Clara’s father.

Light snores reached his ears as he looked down at his sleeping wife. The moon outside was high in the sky, a sign that they had stayed too long in the Queen Anne rooms.