She would be bruised later, but she could only concentrate on the shock of sensations ripping through her body. He took possession of her lips in a soul-destroying kiss as he found his own pleasure, pulling from her and splaying his warm seed atop her quivering mound.
Lily’s senses were overwhelmed, and inexplicably, she felt like crying. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she tried to swallow past the lump forming in her throat. She searched the dark and could barely discern the outline of the man poised above her. His weight supported on his elbows, her stranger lowered his forehead to hers. His heaving chest rasped against her tender nipples, and she bit back a whimper. Everywhere ached, and she hardly knew what to do with herself.
This had been a fierce burn of insanity that was over too soon.
Her legs slid weakly from his hips, her arms falling to her sides.
“Are you well?” She fancied his eyes glowed with tender emotions.
Yes… No. She had no notion of how to reply. What was there to say? This midnight encounter had rewritten everything she knew about herself. She wanted nothing more than to flee to the sanctuary of her bedchamber, to flee from this forbidden scene and the heart of the woman that had been revealed within her.
…
Oliver could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. Her elusive fragrance of honeysuckle and the scent of their combined arousal filled the air. He could feel the jerking rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest, and she seemed unable to respond to his concerned query. He frowned. Had he hurt her? She had been very tight, and he had been rough in his demands.
“Did I hurt you?” Please God, let her say no. The memory of one of his mistresses crying prettily into his handkerchief after he had taken her mouth with his cock roiled through him like a bad ale. The shock of that encounter had kept him from her bed, even though she had pleaded for him to return.
Why in God’s name hadn’t he tempered his passions more?
“You didn’t hurt me,” she said, her voice low and husky.
Thank Christ.
He eased away from her, barely able to make out the white of the nightgown in the dark. He had fucked her without any care for her sensibilities. Oliver scrubbed a hand over his face, never feeling so uncertain about anything in his entire life.
“Let me clean you,” he murmured, reaching for his handkerchief before biting back a curse. She was still sprawled on his jacket, her breathing choppy, and the silk he needed was in the pocket.
He drew her gently to her feet, holding her as she swayed in his grip. He barely discerned her motions as she tugged her gown over her breasts.
“I must go.”
“Stay.”
A sharp inhalation of shock.
“I meant, I understand,” he said, ruthlessly tempering his responses. He didn’t want to alarm her unduly. “Allow me to escort—”
“No!”
He belatedly recalled her request that her identity be kept secret. From her untutored responses, he did not believe assignations like this were common to the lady. It was as if he could feel her mortification, and he knew without a doubt she was blushing furiously.
“I…thank you for tonight. It was wonderful,” she said softly, the pleased astonishment in her tone soothing the jangle in his heart.
“You’ve never climaxed before.”
There was the slightest hesitation, then she replied, “No…I never knew. I must go.”
“It will haunt me to not know who you are, my lady.”
“I see years of torment in your future, my lord.”
His lips twitched at her disgruntled reto
rt.
“Please do not follow me.”
“I swear on my honor.”