Her mindset needed adjustment and her confidence bolstered, but that was a challenge for another time, and he had other things on his mind just now.
“Gladly.” He fumbled at the buttons of his frontfalls. The thought occurred to take her on Andrew’s desk, but he couldn’t do it at the last second. Besides, the wall would suit his purposes much better. She was petite enough that he picked her up and leveraged her against it, holding her thighs while letting the tip of his hardened shaft brush against her center. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.” She looped her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers at his nape encouraged him with slight pressure, and she sought his lips, lightly nipping the bottom one.
“Oh, God.” That little gesture nearly sent him over. With one flex of his hips, he penetrated her body, buried his shaft deep in her warmth, easily breaking through that slight resistance. “Bloody hell, Francesca,” he whispered against her lips. “You feel so good, tight.” And damn if she wasn’t already so wet.
Never had anything been so wonderfully right or refreshing. She was beautiful in that moment, when she had the world at her feet—him at her bidding—with pleasure mirrored in her eyes.
“It’s… oh, you’re so… large.” She wriggled her hips to better accommodate his girth, and that movement nearly became his ruination. “Oh, dear. It makes me feel so…”
“This will go quick, for I’m woefully out of practice.” Too bad there was simply no possibility of them being together for a lifetime; he didn’t need the distraction or the responsibility, for he could become all too accustomed to joining with her. This was a one-off deed to rid her from his system so he could fully concentrate on his work and solve his cases.
Then there were no more words, for he couldn’t spare the energy. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs, and as need raced down his spine and tingled through his stones, he pulled out merely for the heady rush that thrusting into her honeyed heat brought.
Over and over, he stroked into her body, taking, claiming, fusing. There was no doubt that he was lost in the glory that was Francesca, the petite menace he’d invited into his life a mere handful of days ago. The deeper he went, the more frantic and intense his thrusts became.
Her eyes shuttered. Twin spots of high color stained her rounded cheeks. A few tendrils of hair tumbled from their pins. She burrowed her fingernails into his shoulders, and he welcomed the prick of pain, for it kept him as focused as he could be while losing himself in her bliss. When she locked her ankles and her heels dug into his backside, his hold on control snapped.
He pushed with ever more fervor. The need to claim her became greater than everything else. Merely knowing that he was her first made him smug and entirely too cock-sure, but at least she’d not forget him, and damn it all, he wanted her exclusively. “Tell me you’re close.” His words were raw, ragged, propelled into being by emotions he refused to acknowledge.
“Close to what?” She restlessly tossed her head. Yet her inner muscles fluttered around his cock, ushering in the beginning of the end. “Lady Jane never told me about this.”
“Never mind.” It was an honor and a privilege to teach her about coitus. Nearly gone, William clenched his jaw, held back the urge to finish in order to slide a hand between their bodies. When he found the slippery, swollen button at her center, he rubbed his fingers over it with varying degrees of friction.
Francesca’s eyes rolled back in her head. She bucked her hips, which buried him ever deeper, and he hissed out a warning. “I… I… Oh, William!” The cry startled them both, but there was nothing for it. The butler would come running and that meant William would have to finish.
As she fell gently into her first release, he renewed his hold on her and gave himself over to ruining the hell out of her. His strokes were frantic and hard, and all too soon hot sensation raced through his stones and shaft. He pumped for all he was worth, hoping she’d reach bliss, and when her body stiffened slightly and she clutched at him in confusion, he grinned and claimed her mouth, taking her cry into himself.
Release crashed over him, through him, roaring along every nerve ending like a voracious beast—changing him. Again and again, he pumped into her contracting passage even as his prick pulsed and jumped. For long seconds, he lost himself to the act of spending; it had been so long, and once his body had ceased the mad torment, he held her close, keeping her safe between himself and the wall.
There was no turning back from this point. He’d irrevocably either done the stupidest thing in his life or the smartest, and where he’d go with her from here was still unknown. But right now, he couldn’t have asked for a more perfect moment.
As his heartbeat returned to a normal pace and his breathing evened, he pulled slightly back from her to peer into her face. A pink flush had overtaken her chest and cheeks, and when he would have spoken, a loud hiccup issued from her. His eyebrows soared. “What the devil does that mean?”
She giggled and hiccupped twice again in succession. “I did warn you.” Hiccup. “That when I’m extremely excited or emotional—” Hiccup. “That I come down with these things.” Hiccup. Hiccup!
Was there ever a more endearing woman? He kissed her despite the pauses in breath that set her body jiggling, and then ended the embrace by laughing long and deep with her as the hiccups continued.
Finally, he set her on her feet, waiting until she’d steadied herself before releasing her. “Are you certain you’re quite well?”
“Yes.” Hiccup. She adjusted her bodice until it lay as it should over her swollen breasts, as he set himself to rights. “They’ll fade once I compose myself.” Hiccup. Hiccup! “What we did, what we shared was quite… something.” Her words were breathless but filled with awe.
A certain smugness came over him to know he’d affected her so much. “Are you upset?”
“Of course not. I enjoyed every moment. I knew you’d be impressive.”
Dear God, she’d thought about him in that way? “I’m glad.” Before he could say anything else—or even apologize for ruining her in the heat of the moment—voices in the corridor beyond reached his ears. His pulse kicked up. Her eyes widened. “Quickly, go sit in one of the chairs, and strive for some semblance of normalcy,” he hissed in a whisper.
Francesca did as he said, hiccupping along the way. By the time the study door swung open, and his cousin Andrew came into the room, William had affected a pose of nonchalance as he stood by her side, using a fan he’d found in her reticule to cool her face as she tried to gain control over her mad hiccups.
“Ah, Cousin Andrew. How nice of you to finally arrive home,” he drawled, hoping his cousin would become annoyed with him and thus ignore the high color on Francesca’s face or her slightly mussed hair. “We’d arrived here on two different errands, but when Miss Bancroft suffered an attack, I brought her here hoping you might have spirits on hand to soothe her.”
“I see.” Though his expression assured William that he knew the explanation was a lie. Damn his eyes! He went straight to the sideboard, poured out a half measure of brandy into a cut crystal glass, and then returned with it, offering it to Francesca. “Drink, Miss Bancroft. No doubt you’ve overtaxed yourself.” When he glanced at William, heat went up the back of his neck. “Perhaps we should reschedule this meeting when you’re both more… calm.” One dark eyebrow rose in challenge. No doubt Andrew would flay him alive later for conduct unbecoming a gentleman.
As was his right as the head of the Storme family.
“Agreed.” And then the reality of the situation came home to roost. What would happen now? He’d deflowered this woman—his partner on investigations—and yet he still maintained at the back of his mind that he wasn’t in the market for a wife. Neither had she pledged her whole fidelity to him.
Why had life suddenly become a blasted sticky wicket?