"Never been fucked in the ass?"
"Most certainly not," I replied, straightening my spine.
Liam nodded thoughtfully. "We will change that someday soon. Did Richard take you from behind?"
"Um, no."
"Surely he pleasured you with his mouth."
I nodded. "He kissed me. Yes."
"On your pussy?"
"My...where?"
He searched my face as if the answers were written there, like chalk on a slate. "I see."
I didn't. I had no idea to what he spoke. I knew he spoke of acts that happened between a man and woman, but Richard had done nothing he mentioned, nor even tried. It was all fumbling hands and his...his man part being nudged, then thrust into me. It was over quickly, always with him groaning as if in pain, then slumping over me, pinning me in place. Nothing Liam mentioned had ever occurred. Richard hadn't even seen my breasts let alone my nipples. I hadn't wanted him to do so. I'd wanted the marriage act over and finished as quickly as possible.
"I am thankful to Richard for keeping you safe. For me. You should not feel guilty in your feelings. He was not the man for you, was he?"
I couldn't lie, but the truth hurt, like pricking my finger with a sewing needle. "No."
Liam lifted my chin with his finger, met my gaze with his piercing dark one. "I want you, Charlotte. The way a man wants a woman. Will you give yourself to me?"
"You're asking?" Richard hadn't, just rolled over on top of me, lifted my nightgown and took me.
"I won't force you. I know you feel it though. The pull, the need between us."
I did. Sitting on his lap, wrapped in the heat of his body, his solid muscles surrounding me, his scent enveloping my senses, I wanted. I wanted him on top of me, feeling his weight pressing me into the mattress, his hips settled in the cradle of my thighs, to feel his hard length, even now pressed against my hip, nudging my entrance. Filling me.
I nodded and slipped off his lap. Walking to the bed, I sat down and tugged off my boots, then pulled back the quilt and sheet and climbed beneath, sliding into the middle. I reached down and worked the long length of my dress up to my waist, then undid my drawers and worked them down my legs. Beneath the covers, I was naked from the waist down. All the while, Liam leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs and watched me. It was very disconcerting having a man look at me as I undressed, even doing so modestly beneath the protection of the quilt. I placed my white cotton drawers on top of the quilt, pulled the quilt up to my neck and said, "I'm ready."
Liam stood, his height and broad shoulders more pronounced from my prone position. I held my breath as he approached, my knuckles tightening on the quilt. I expected him to pull back the covers and climb on top of me. Instead, he sat with his back against the headboard, his long legs out in front of him, our bodies parallel. He looked down at me, so calm, so relaxed and tilted his chin. "Come here. Come sit in my lap."
"I thought..."
"We'll get there soon enough, but I do this a little differently."
My cheeks heated with embarrassment. Lowering the covers, I pushed down the bottom of my dress and came up to sit across his lap.
He shook his head. "Put your knees on either side of my hips."
Before I could understand his words, he grasped me about the waist and hoisted me into the air so I faced him and over his lap, giving me no choice to straddle his thighs as if riding a horse. My dress bunched up, but only my ankles and part of my calves showed and they were covered in my stockings. I lifted my gaze to meet his and discovered his face was only a few inches from mine. I could see a pale scar on the bridge of his nose, the dark depths of his eyes. Our breaths mingled.
"I don't know what to do," I whispered, studying him.
He gave the slightest shake of his head. "I do." The corner of his mouth turned up and I remembered our kiss and wanted more.
"Put your hands on my chest."
Glancing at him for a moment, I lowered my eyes to his torso. His chest filled out his shirt well, and from when I leaned against it earlier, felt hard and well muscled. Tentatively, I placed my hand on the white of his shirt, my fingers slipping beneath the dark jacket.
He leaned forward so our mouths almost touched. Why didn't he kiss me? I licked my lips, wanting to lean in the small distance that separated our mouths and taste him again.
"Slide the jacket off my shoulders."
Thankful he was giving me orders, I followed them, forgetting about how he tasted and let my hands slide beneath the jacket to push the material back and then down his arms before he tugged it free. I felt his strength, his power, beneath the glide of my hands. He leaned back against the headboard with his eyes on mine.