Page 20 of The Rake's Bride
“What is my name?” His voice was barely above a growl.
“Please,Rafe!” she cried out, writhing beneath him.
With that, Rafe’s restraint snapped, and he, too, allowed himself to be wild. He pounded into her, reveling in the way her body accepted his and embraced his invasion. She was so sweet, so wet, she felt like liquid silk. In turn, Victoria welcomed everything he gave her. It wasn’t long before she began to throb around him, her body beginning its tremors of pleasure once again. Just three more thrusts and he had her screaming her release beneath him. She yanked him over that edge along with her, his own orgasm nearly crippling him in its intensity as he spilled himself over and over again against the lips of her womb.
Boneless and sated, they collapsed in exhaustion. Rafe rolled to lie beside his wife, and the two of them stared at the ceiling, chests heaving, hearts pounding, as they reveled in the afterglow.
Victoria’s head swamas she slowly drifted back into her body. She was somehow drained and incredibly awake at the same time.How was that possible? How could joy like this exist in a world where anyone ever left their marital beds? More importantly, how could she survive if this was a taste of what her future held?
Surely, a woman’s body could survive being broken in such a beautiful way only so many times before it gave out.
She listened to the heavy cadence of Blackwood’s breathing beside her. The fire had died low, casting the room in deep shadows and cocooning them together. He was so warm beside her; he smelled so good. Heaviness gradually settled in, beginning with her fingers and toes, working up her limbs to weigh down every bit of her until she found it impossible to keep her eyes open.
It wasn’t longbefore Victoria’s breathing evened out and she curled against Rafe’s side, fast asleep. She’d been drained by the emotions of the day and the physical relief of her orgasms. He hoped she would sleep soundly and rest, because she certainly deserved it. Lord knew Rafe hadn’t expected their first night together to go likethat. She was explosive in the bedroom, and he couldn’t wait to see where that might lead them. In the warm aftermath of their intercourse, it was impossible not to enjoy his good fortune at marrying a woman who wasn’t missish or painfully reserved. They could have some fun together, to be sure.
When he was sure Victoria was sound asleep, Rafe slipped from her bed, committed the rosy perfection of her naked body to memory, and gently pulled the coverlet over her. He gathered his discarded clothing before returning to his own bedchamber. He’d never stayed a full night with a woman—never allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to sleep beside one. His marriage was the beginning of a lifetime of compromises, but that was not a concession he was ready to make.
Chapter Nine
The next morning,Victoria awoke with a feline stretch and a languid sigh. As she moved and her consciousness grew brighter, she gradually became aware of small aches which could only have resulted from the previous night’s activities. Her inner thighs twitched with the memories, and her core emitted a tender throb. Judging from the halo of warm sunlight peering around the room’s curtains, she’d slept the entire night following her thorough introduction to the art of wifehood. She bit her slightly puffy lower lip and fancied she could still taste her husband in the whisper of brandy. It had been more than she could have imagined, and even more wonderful than Lady Morton had led her to believe.
The duchess had pulled Victoria aside toward the end of the wedding breakfast, saying, “I realize you do not have a feminine influence in your life, and I refuse to allow you to go into tonight without even the slightest bit of warning; therefore, I am taking matters into my own hands.”
“Warning?”
Lady Morton had nodded. “It isn’t really my place to have this conversation with you, but I will not allow you to be as unprepared as I was.”
“Unprepared?” Victoria had squeaked.
“Oh, are we doing this now?” Lady Swanleigh flitted over and joined their private corner.
“Doing what?” Victoria had asked, her alarm growing by the second.
“As much as I enjoy both Mr. Rockfords, they aremenand surely have not bothered to consider what this night will entail. I am certain I would have been brought in if they had.”
“And how would that conversation have gone?” Lady Swanleigh had laughed airily. “Can you imagine?”
Having had enough of their banter, Victoria grabbed Lady Morton’s hands and pleaded with her to just come out with whatever she needed to say. The day had gone so well up to that point.
“What Lady Morton is trying to say is that there is usually a mother or other close female relative with whom a bride might discuss the…mechanics of the wedding night.”
The pang Victoria felt in the vicinity of her heart whenever her mother’s absence was pointed out made its presence known once more, but then it quickly gave way to the realization of just what they wished to discuss with her. Instantly, Victoria’s cheeks caught fire, and it was everything she could do not to turn toward her husband at the sound of his laughter across the room.
“I see,” she’d rasped, then cleared her throat. “That is, I have a somewhat rudimentary understanding.” Her mouth was parched, and her tongue felt suddenly too large for speaking; her cheeks had only burned more brightly. She’d prayed the ladies would not ask how she knew of such things, even if Lady Morton’s books had been one of a handful of forbidden sources for her material.
“Good,” the duchess had chirped with a smile on her pleasingly wide mouth. “Then you are already more educated than I was on my wedding night. I was told to lie back and allow whatever my husband wished to happen.”
“My mother never spoke to me about any of it,” Lady Swanleigh chimed in with a dismissive shrug of a shoulder. Victoria didn’t know if it would be more damaging to pretend marital relations did not exist, or to be told they were something to be endured. Neither option had left her with a particularly pleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach.
“And…” Victoria paused and looked between the women. “You intend to step in?”
“Precisely!” Lady Morton had beamed before leaning in to speak so they would not be overheard. “First and foremost, it is not something to be feared.”
“Not if you are with the right man,” Lady Swanleigh had added thoughtfully, then rushed to say, “And Rafe, of course,isthe right sort of man! I’ve known him for many years now and count him amongst my closest friends. He can be quite thoughtful.”
“And his reputation precedes him,” remarked the duchess. “I do not believe you have anything to fear on that front—not that either of us would know first-hand, though.”
Lady Swanleigh rapidly shook her head in agreement.
