Page 48 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
“Fletcher,” she breathed.
He put his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her so that she’d wrap her legs around him. She reached between them, impatiently gathering her skirts to bunch them at her waist. He kissed her again and pressed himself to her hot center. There were still too many layers of material separating them, but he was close enough to feel her warmth, and he knew she would not mistake his hardness.
He kept one hand at her bottom to hold her in place as he pressed her against him. She bucked against him and still he kissed her, his tongue sliding against hers. His other hand scooped into her bodice and nudged her breast free, enough so he could suckle at her nipple.
At the first brush of his tongue, she arched against him and cried out. Again and again she rocked against him, while he teased her nipple with his mouth, then he moved back up and claimed her mouth for another fevered kiss. Christ, he wanted her. Wanted to rip off those damn pantaloons and plunge himself into her hot, wet center.
“Fletcher,” she whispered. “Oh God!” And then she came, her body shaking with waves of pleasure, her exquisite face tilted upward with an expression of sheer bliss. She cried out again and again, calling his name as her body shook with her release.
He stilled his movements to try and gather his wits about him. He braced his forehead against hers, closed his eyes, and held her. Then slowly he shifted her off of his lap and straightened her dress.
Pink flush stained her neck, chest, and cheeks. A telltale sign of the orgasm he’d given her. He shifted but knew nothing would alleviate the pressure in his cock until he could get home and take a hand to himself. It would solve the problem for tonight, but it never lasted very long.
It was then that he realized the carriage had stopped. He peeked out the small curtained window and saw her townhome outside. “You should get inside,” he said, his voice coming out harsher than he’d intended.
“Fletcher, are you angry with me?”
“No, Bluebell.” He cupped her cheek. “Having you come apart like that in my arms…it was everything. But I can’t trust myself with you anymore this evening.”
She nodded.
He sat quietly in the rig until she was safely in her family’s townhome. Then he withdrew himself and decided to walk the rest of the way. He hoped the brisk night air would cool his desire and the fire in his loins. But by the time he arrived home, his trousers were only slightly less tight.
He took the stairs two at a time until he reached his bedchamber, then he quickly disposed of his clothes. Her surprised cries of pleasure still rang in his ears. He lay back on his bed and gripped his cock tightly in his hand and jerked it up once. He closed his eyes and let his imagination take hold.
This wasn’t the first time he’d taken a hand to himself with a vision of Agnes in his mind. And it likely wouldn’t be the last.
In his head, she lay beneath him on his bed, with her hair spread out across his pillow, her legs parted. Her body was perfection, all luscious curves and pretty pink parts. His hand moved quicker imagining entering her tight warm center. He flipped himself over to press himself into his mattress.
Then he rutted against it while in his mind he plunged into Agnes. Again and again. Her breath caught, her lips parted, she called his name, and her core clenched around him…and he spilled himself onto his sheets and his own stomach.
