Page 13 of Surrender Your Grace (Impromptu Brides #1)

“I’ve been called worse.”He dove back in, lips reclaiming flesh, and soon her laughter turned into a symphony of oohs, ahs , and oh, Andrews . Lifting his head a touch, his warm breath taunted her sensitive flesh. “That’s it, sweet pea,” he murmured. “Sing for me.”

His mouth moved deliberately, licking and suckling with rhythmic devotion until her body writhed beneath his hands, alive and burning. Her hands gripped the linens; her thighs trembled.

One long finger slid through her slickness, drawing a gasp as her cries mingled heat with helplessness. Then he paused—just long enough to tease the bud at the front of her sex—before sliding a single digit into her entrance.

She stiffened instinctively at the intrusion but didn’t resist. Her body, though startled, welcomed the growing ache.

“Easy. I’m simply preparing you to take me.” His finger moved slowly, in and out, each glide a tender promise. As if beckoned by his stare, she lifted lashes she hadn’t realized had fallen. Blue eyes met hers—fierce and searing.

“How does that feel?”

Cici’s answer came without hesitation, honest and unguarded. “Sinful, and better than I thought possible.”

He chuckled, low and like velvet. “You should withhold judgment on that until the end.”

***

Andrew pressed in gradually, careful not to frighten her.

Wanting nothing more than to drive his aching prick into the heavenly heat that surrounded his finger, it took a herculean effort he didn’t know he possessed.

She was tight and without a doubt untried.

That he would be her first, last, and was well and truly his, no one else’s, almost unmanned him.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he murmured, gruff with restraint. “I will be gentle, but you may still feel a pinch. After this first time, there will only be pleasure.”

He aligned their hips, guiding his aching length to her opening, swirling the head against her slick heat.

Looking down at her beautiful face—lips worried between her teeth, eyes squeezed tight as if bracing for execution—he dipped inside just enough to stay seated and settled close, his mouth hovering above hers.

“Eyes open, sweet pea,” he coaxed, voice husky with promise. “I want to see you when I take you for the first time.”

When her lashes fluttered open, he claimed her fully—body to body, flesh into flesh. Her heart and soul would take time, but he intended to win those too.

He felt the resistance as he slid deeper and stopped, watching her expression twist in alarm. Her palms pressed against his chest.

“Please, stop. We don’t fit.”

He linked their fingers. A big man with every inch proportionate, he knew it would take care.

“We’ll fit. There will be a moment of discomfort then pleasure.

“You’re too big,” she gasped, her breaths shallow and quick.

“Trust me. You will stretch to accommodate my size.”

He saw the silent plea in her tear-filled eyes and knew he was asking a lot. Their marriage might be legal, but they were still strangers in so many ways. He didn’t blame her hesitation—but he wouldn’t retreat.

“You’re incredibly snug, but what we’ve done has you slick enough to take me. If you breathe deeply and relax your tense muscles, I’ll slide right in. That will put an end to the pain so that pleasure may follow.”

“How embarrassing,” she whispered, cheeks flaming.

“Let’s try to focus on the matter at hand. We can talk about why there is no need to ever be ashamed with your husband, later.”

Closing her eyes tighter, which he didn’t think possible, she inhaled deeply then nodded. “All right, Andrew. I’ll trust you to know how this goes.”

He smiled at her actions, more than her words, because with that deep breath he slid in deeper. The barrier held, however. No sense in prolonging the inevitable. With one firm thrust, he broke through, making her his.

He groaned at the sensation of claiming her utterly. Her whimper and nails biting into his shoulders were a fair exchange for what he’d taken. He bore it gladly.

He kissed away her tears, tracing the flushed path of her cheeks, murmuring words of praise and encouragement. Her body trembled beneath him, exquisite and warm.

Minutes passed. He remained embedded in her heat, unmoving, letting her adjust. But the torture of stillness wore thin. He pulled out slowly then slid back with equal care. Watching her face—searching for pain, panic—he found neither. Only wonder.

“Is it easing?” he asked

Gold-tipped lashes lifted. He saw a new light in her eyes, equal parts desire, confusion, and awe.

“There was more than a pinch,” she said pointedly. “It burned. But now there’s a fullness. And something else.”

“What else?” he asked, thrusting gently again.

Blushing, she looked away. He caught her chin, tilting her face to his. “Tell me.”

“A tingling. In my breasts. And… between my… uh…”

She faltered, glowing like sunrise.

“There’s a burning. And a restlessness. I’ve never felt anything like it. Is something wrong with me?”

He kissed her tenderly, brushing from mouth to cheek to ear. “Nothing is wrong. You’re perfect. Your body is responding to mine. Where I’m deep, you’ve softened, stretching further. You’re slick, wet, willing. The friction where we connect—that’s pleasure. For both of us. Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered, half moan, half revelation.

As if testing that it was true, her muscles tightened, squeezing him in a warm, wet hug.

It was too much. His control unraveled.

Sweat beaded his forehead, proving the strain of holding back.Slipping a hand in between them, he located the pearl at the front of her sex.

“If I don’t come inside you, I’ll lose my mind,”

Cici’s eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat. “But Andrew,” she gasped. “You are already inside me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he rasped. “But you’ll understand soon.”

His fingers worked her pleasure point as he pumped into her in a steady rhythm. She arched her back until the tips of her breasts brushed his chest. Once again, her nails dug into his flesh.

“Something’s… happening,” she cried, body arching beneath him.

“Good. Let go. Let the bliss of orgasm take you away.”

He thrust. His fingers worked. Her body bowed more. And then—like a thread pulled to tight, she snapped. Her cries filled the air as limbs tightened around him, body shuddering in a rush of uncontrolled passion.

Unable to hold off any longer, Andrew answered with a carnal roar, burying himself deep as he spilled inside her.

Panting, drenched in sweat, he collapsed atop her. Realizing his weight, he rolled to his side, taking her with him, still joined, still connected.

Touching her face, he brushed damp tendrils from her skin, kissed her cheeks, held her close.

“I have no words,” she breathed.

“Neither do I,” he agreed against her kiss-swollen lips. “But sometimes speech is unnecessary.”

***

Lying limp in his arms, Cici thought back over the past hour and blushed. The things he had done to her. Actually putting his mouth on her… there.

She could hardly think about it, let alone say it. Also shocking, Andrew possessed a remarkably salty vocabulary for a gentleman.

“Where did you learn such scandalous words?”

“I said quite a bit. Which are you referring to?”

She could feel his lips curve against her skin. He was teasing her, of course. As if she would repeat them!

Her face burned as she remembered what he had called her woman’s flesh. And foreign words she could only guess at had passed his lips at the height of his passion.

“I have traveled the world. Those were mild compared to some of the other bawdier nouns and adjectives I have heard.”

“I can’t fathom what half of them mean.”

“Should we start a vocabulary lesson?” he teased, trailing kisses along her cheek to the corners of her mouth.

“Maybe just the last one. The Latin sounding word you said before I... and you… That is to say we…”

He arched a skeptical brow, offering no help, clearly enjoying her uncertainty.

“Never mind, then,” she said with a pout.

“My apologies,” he said, giving her a squeeze.

“My excuse is that you’re delightfully adorable when flustered.

I think the word you’re referring to is orgasm, and it is indeed Latin.

Now to define it.Hm,” he hummed thoughtfully.

“There are so many synonyms I don’t know that I can remember them all.

To climax sexually is one, for certain. Or to swell with excitement.

” He winked at her. “I certainly did that, didn’t I?

To become ripe or go into heat.” He rolled onto his back with her lying atop his chest, and his grin was full of mischief as he added, “We can assign those characteristics to you. There is also to burgeon, to culminate, and to surge with strength. Again, regarding myself.”

Giggling uncontrollably, she swatted his shoulder. “You are incorrigible, husband, and a veritable fount of information.”

“No… fount would signify you, for I certainly baptized you in the living waters this evening.”

She choked with laughter at the same time her hands flew to cover her flaming face. They gripped his shoulders the next instant, squealing, when he flipped her onto her back and lay on top of her again.

“Up for another round?” he asked, eyes gleaming with heat.

“Again?” she asked, breathless at the notion.

“Indeed. I’m good for one more, but a woman… Ah, the blessing of a woman. You can climax over and over.” Abruptly, he eyed her with concern. “Unless you are too tender to try.”

“I don’t feel tender.”

“You might notice it tomorrow, when you move around—so I’m told.”

“I hope you were told wrong. I was hoping to go riding again.”

He rolled to the edge of the bed and got up. “I’ll ring for a bath. That will help.”

She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. “Don’t wake the servants,” she pleaded. “It’s late, and they’ll guess the reason for it. I’m fine. I promise.”

As if he hadn’t heard her, he crossed the room but instead of summoning the staff, he disappeared behind the dressing screen. Shortly after, he reappeared, carrying a cloth.

“What are you doing?” she asked, clutching the covers as he tried to pull them away.

“I’m going to wash you. The cool water will soothe you.”

“No, thank you,” she squeaked. “I can do it myself.”

“Allow me,” he said. “I made the mess, after all.”

Another tug-of-war followed, ending with him winning once again.

“Are we to battle over the blankets every time?” Andrew inquired as he pushed her thighs apart and bathed her gently with the cool, damp cloth.

Her voice came out muffled from the arm covering her face. “I expect so. If I don’t perish from embarrassment, first.”

Once done, he discarded the cloth and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers over them both. “You’re going to have to get used to me seeing and touching you, Cici. To speed that along, we can share a tub tomorrow morning.”

“Dear heavens,” she whispered sure that would scandalize every one of the servants.

Chuckling softly, he took her in his arm and lay back on the pillows. With her head resting on her husband’s shoulder, listening to his breathing, the warmth of his big body pressed to every inch of her front, she closed her eyes and relaxed.

This part was nice. So was the other—the ending at least. She couldn’t help but be struck by the peculiarities of the marital act, with its heavy breathing, groaning, and interlocking parts.

Her first time wasn’t perfect—she’d been hesitant, unsure. But his warmth, his gentleness, turned uncertainty into wonder. And though he was a man of rules, she’d glimpsed the heart beneath them. Perhaps her marriage might hold more than duty. Perhaps it might bloom.