Page 13 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)

A knot also tied itself in Christoph’s throat. Voice incapable of sound, he grunted as he strode forward and started to undo the gown. His fingers fumbled as he breathed in, his view over her shoulder of her rising and falling breasts. Was she…was her breath quickening? Was that a reaction to him?

Don’t be a fool, he tried to tell himself as the gown came apart in his hands, slipping to the floor in a rush of silks and satins, leaving Daphne in naught but her stays and chemise. She wasn’t reacting to you.

She was probably terrified. The thought was unpleasant. Christoph stepped away hurriedly. ‘You…you can do the rest yourself?’

Daphne nodded, not turning to face him as she started to pull apart her stays.

Try as he might, he could not help but feel despondent at the lack of intimacy.

When he had thought about his wedding night—though in truth he had not given much thought to it—it had not been like this. Not cold, clinical and…and lonely.

It did not take Christoph long to strip off his clothes. When he straightened, standing in the room completely naked, he looked over at Daphne and saw…

Thinking ceased to be possible.

Oh, hell.

She was stunning. Far more radiant than he could have imagined, with soft, swelling curves and flat planes, angles and arches, softness everywhere he looked…

‘I’ll get on the bed,’ Daphne said, cheeks red, turning away from him as soon as she could.

Christoph might have nodded. He might even have opened his mouth and said something, not that he was aware of it. He could only watch in awe as the most delicious woman he had ever seen scrambled onto the large bed and lay back, staring up at the ceiling.

To be certain, she was nervous. He could see it in the tension in her fingers, held rigidly straight by her sides.

Could see it in her breathiness, her breasts rising and falling in quick succession.

Distracting as their magnificence was, he could not ignore the increasing shallowness of her breathing.

Christoph bit his lip. He wanted a willing participant, and she was willing—but frightened. Did she not know what was to come? Perhaps it was not lack of interest he had detected downstairs, after their guests had departed, but shyness.

‘I’m… I’m ready.’

He wasn’t. He wasn’t quite sure how he was still able to stand. He certainly didn’t know how he managed to get over to the bed.

Daphne did not look at him as Christoph pulled himself alongside her. ‘Do it.’

His heart broke. ‘You are very beautiful.’

‘You don’t have to say that.’ Her words were clipped.

Christoph swallowed. ‘I know I don’t. But it’s true.’

She looked at him then, eyes wide and cheeks pink. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing.’

‘You don’t have to do anything. I’ll… I’ll try to make it good for you,’ Christoph said, his voice low, almost trembling. ‘Just…just lie there. If you want me to stop…’

‘I’ll tell you,’ said Daphne solemnly, her focus resolutely on the ceiling. ‘Just…just make it good. If you can.’

And that was when Christoph considered a challenge to have been issued. It hadn’t been. At least, not from her mouth. But it had been in the very air of her determination to suffer through something that Christoph was determined to make enjoyable.

Did she think she wouldn’t feel pleasure? He would see about that. No kissing on the lips. Okay. But that did not discount everything else. He could do…other things.

Propping himself up alongside her on his elbow, Christoph blew out a long exhale and tried to calm his rapidly thumping heart.

What would bring a woman like this pleasure?

It was his own nerves that made his hand shake as he raised it, but Christoph forced himself to move.

A fingertip trailed down Daphne’s beautiful neck, slowly along a collarbone and then gently over the rise of her breast.

Her inhale faltered.

Christoph’s mouth went dry as he allowed his finger to trail to one of her nipples. He circled, slowly, and saw how it tightened, saw the flutter of Daphne’s pulse quiver in her throat. Her breathing halted, then returned.

He was acting restrained, and he wasn’t sure he could do so for much longer. Allowing his hand to wander down the plane of her stomach and across to her hip, caressing her skin along the way, Christoph slowly lowered his mouth, slowly, slowly…until he brushed a kiss across her nipple.

It was not his imagination. For a moment, just a moment, Daphne’s back arched into him. Then she was flat on the bed again, saying nothing.

It did not matter. Christoph had felt such a jolt of desire thrum through him at the taste of the supple flesh that he returned to her nipple again, this time sucking as his hand moved slowly from her hip, clasping it, caressing it, slowly, slowly, slowly, moving it to her curls.

Daphne stiffened. He halted. She relaxed. Christoph circled his tongue around her nipple, revelling in the quivering her whole body now displayed, and slipped a finger into her soft, wet quim.

He could have wept in that moment.

Oh, God, she felt wonderful .

His manhood had begun stiffening from the moment they had been alone together in the drawing room but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing to tasting her, his mouth moving to her other breast, her other nipple, as his finger slowly explored the quaking dampness of her desire.

‘I…you… You don’t have to…’

‘I want to.’ Christoph had not intended it to be a growl, but there did not seem to be any other calibre of intonation in his throat. ‘Our only time—your only time. You will enjoy it.’

He had not intended to issue it as an order, and when he looked up Daphne was still looking resolutely at the ceiling.

But she nodded, and some of the tension left her face as she whimpered, a whimper of pleasure that occurred just as his finger brushed past a small, circular nub within her secret place.

That was interesting. Christoph returned his lips to her body, moving across her décolletage, pressing kisses against her collarbone, fluttering kisses up her neck and behind her ear, all while his fingers gently stroked her quim.

When he reached her ear, he didn’t know what made him do it.

But he couldn’t help himself. ‘You’re beautiful, Daphne,’ Christoph groaned, his thumb circling around that delicate nub.

She gasped, she shivered, and he continued, both his words and his fingers unrelenting.

‘You are clever, and beautiful, and wise, and brave, and I’ve never wanted anyone like I’ve wanted you… ’

Daphne was panting now, whimpering, her hips rocking into his fingers as though she could no longer restrain herself.

Christoph buried his face into her hair, breathing her in, desperate not to lose himself. ‘I wanted to do this to you the moment I first met you. I wanted to know how you felt, the depth of you…’

‘Please.’ The word seemed first dragged out of her, as though Daphne could hardly believe she could say such a thing, but then said, ‘Please, please, yes…’

It was almost too much. He had to get her there, had to bring her to a peak, because soon he would reach his own.

Christoph pressed a desperate, urgent kiss to Daphne’s soft skin, just below her ear, and whispered, ‘Let go.’

And she did. Daphne came apart in his arms, his fingers remorseless in the stroking and teasing, and she cried out in wonder and shock and let go, her whole body shaking, as Christoph hoped pleasure and not pain rocked through her body.

When she finally quietened, Christoph moved swiftly. It had to be now, while the afterglow of her ecstasy protected her.

Daphne’s eyes widened as she took him in, nestled between her legs. ‘Christoph, I…’

‘This might hurt,’ he warned her before slowly inching the dripping head of his manhood to her quim.

When Christoph entered her, slowly, inch by inch, sheathing himself in her as though he hadn’t waited his entire life for this moment, he worked hard not to let the intense sensual bliss show on his face.

This wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about his pleasure.

This was about consummating their marriage.

She looked at him in wonder, almost in confusion. When Christoph let out a sigh, unable to help himself as he finished plunging slowly into her, she whispered, ‘When is it supposed to hurt?’

Christoph breathed out a relieved sigh with a smile. ‘It doesn’t? Good.’

‘It feels…’

‘And I will be careful not to…’

‘It feels good.’

It was all Christoph could do not to moan aloud—partly because he did not wish to frighten her, partly because the lack of control might mean he’d pour straight into her. ‘It—it does?’

She looked up at him, nerves still visible in her eyes, but something else too. Something warm. Something trusting. ‘You feel good.’

He was almost ready to spill into her immediately, the tension working on him, the exquisite decadence of feeling her come around his fingers more than he could take. She felt so good, so tight, so welcoming, so ready for him.

Daphne nodded, lying back without saying another word.

Well, it wasn’t what he had hoped for his wedding night. But he could not have imagined a woman like this.

Gritting his teeth, and hoping to goodness he could give her additional pleasure, but knowing that she was getting him to a peak just by him resting within her, Christoph drew himself back almost until his manhood was free, then sank into her again, faster this time.

He groaned with the pleasure…and was that something from Daphne? No. No, he had been dreaming it, surely?

‘Not long now,’ he said with terrible accuracy. God, he hoped he’d be longer next time.

But there wouldn’t be a next time, would there?

No, this was it. The thought further stiffened his manhood and, before Christoph could stop himself, he was thrusting in and out, in and out, glorifying in the tight clenching of her body that welcomed him in, tightening around him, and it felt wonderful and…

And it did not appear to be only he who was enjoying this. Daphne was breathing heavily, her hips twisting to take him deeper, and there was a look on her face that he recognised. It had, after all, only been visible a few minutes ago.

A rush of delight soared through Christoph as he realised he was bringing Daphne to another crest, and it focused him as he built the rhythm, driving harder and harder into the welcoming wetness, and he groaned with the tension of withholding his own pleasure.

‘Christoph!’

Daphne shouting his name did it. That, or how the sudden cascade of sensuality that was rushing through her tightened her quim in a desperate spasm of agonising rigidity.

Unbelievable ecstasy roared through Christoph as he pumped into her, once, twice, a third time, a fourth, pouring all that he was, all that he wanted to be, into the woman who was his wife.

His body spent, his shoulders aching from holding himself up, Christoph almost fell into Daphne’s arms but managed to catch himself. He rolled to her side, his body still spasming with the glow of his peak, not knowing where he was, what he was doing, or even his own name.

Time passed. Christoph lay back, hardly able to think, his chest heaving.

That…that was…

‘Daphne,’ he murmured. He needed her. He needed to touch her, clasp her into his arms.

His questing fingers found nothing but empty air. The bed was empty. So was the room.

Sitting up so suddenly that his head spun, Christoph looked around himself in confusion until the memory of their agreement returned.

No…no cuddling. I will depart from your bedchamber the moment it…it is over.

Of course. She was gone. The deed was done, and they would never have to do it again.

Christoph fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes in horror at what he had agreed to.