Indescribable
“Indeed, Mrs. Fazakerly,”Griff replied, breathing a sigh of relief at the woman’s good sense. “We’ll perhaps meet with the staff in the morning, when we’re not so fatigued.”
The housekeeper’s knowing grin proved she wasn’t fooled.
He had a hard time keeping his face composed as he scooped up his bride and carried her over Clifton Height’s threshold. “The wise woman knows I’ll be far too fatigued in the morning to even get out of bed,” he whispered.
Susan clung to his neck as he carried her upstairs. It was tempting to simply carry her into his own chamber, shut the door and get on with it. However, Olivia and Frederick were hurrying up the stairs right behind them, so he supposed the proprieties had to be observed.
Susan gazed around when he deposited her on her feet in the chamber adjoining his. “I’ve only been in this room once before,” she said. “When Rebecca and I were planning redecorating, we decided it was charming enough to leave as it is.”
Her words pleased him. “As you’ve guessed, this is the chamber of the mistress of the house. My mother chose the pale yellow decor, so I am pleased you like it. However, I don’t intend for you to use this room much.”
“I thought earls and their countesses slept in separate bedrooms,” she teased with a glint in her eyes.
“Not this earl and not this countess,” he retorted, tearing off the cravat that had come undone during the journey.
He longed to strip her of the wedding gown, but suspected it might be more challenging than it looked—and the ensemble looked daunting enough. Besides which, Olivia hovered just inside the door, her adolescent face as red as a winter beetroot.
“I expect Frederick awaits in my chamber, so I’ll leave you in Olivia’s capable hands, my love. Don’t be too long.”
He kissed her hand and left through the adjoining door, almost laughing out loud when he beheld Frederick standing to attention, holding up an ankle-length linen nightshirt. “I assure you I won’t be needing that,” he declared.
His valet’s shoulders relaxed as he rolled up the garment. “Potts insisted, my lord,” he explained with a trace of a smile.
“My butler never married,” he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed so Frederick could remove his boots. “I won’t need it. I usually sleep in the buff anyway, but especially today.”
Within minutes, he was naked. Rubbing his hands together, he dismissed his valet and stared at the door, willing Susan to appear soon before his need exploded.
Frederick paused with his hand on the doorknob. “If I may suggest, my lord,” he said. “Even the most eager bride might tend to be overwhelmed by the sight of an unclothed, aroused man ready to pounce.”
Griff was tempted to laugh, but the sound of Susan’s voice thanking her maid banished Frederick from the chamber. Taking the advice to heart, Griff dove under the bedcovers seconds before his bride entered.
“Olivia had laid out this nightgown,” she explained, peeling the flimsy negligée off over her head. “I didn’t have the heart to say no.”
Griff had seen Susan naked before. It wasn’t the first time he’d reveled in the sight of her thick, dark locks draped around her shoulders. The hungry look in her eyes as she stared at his chest wasn’t new. None of those previous delights mattered to his overjoyed cock. The Griff who’d preferred fair-skinned blondes must have been out of his mind. His alluring gypsy bride was the only woman for him.
He threw aside the linens to welcome her into bed.
Greedy eyes fixed on his manhood, she climbed into the enormous four-poster, startling when he came to his knees.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, reaching to close the heavy curtains. “I want to shut out the world so there’s just you and me in our cozy nest.”
Nodding, she stood to pull the opposite curtain closed, teetering on the soft mattress.
The sight of thrusting breasts, a delectable bottom, firm thighs and the prize he sought so near was all too much. Growling, he clamped his arms around her hips to steady her and nuzzled his nose into the dark curls. She put her hands on his shoulders, thrust back her head and cried his name. It was an easy matter to lay her down and let his tongue follow where his nose had led.
He lapped her honeyed juices like a man who’s crossed a barren desert, savoring her arousal. She fisted her hands in the sheets when he reached to roll rigid nipples twixt finger and thumb. Wanting her pleasure to last, but fearing he might soon spill, he flicked his tongue in and out of her sweet folds.
She arched her back and babbled his name as rapture took her. Needing no further encouragement, he knelt between her legs, dipped the swollen tip of his cock in her juices and thrust.
He expected her to cry out in pain when her hymen surrendered to his assault, but she clamped her legs around his hips and rose to meet him stroke for incredible stroke.
“I’ve tried to imagine what you would feel like inside me,” she said seductively, looking into his eyes. “It’s indescribable.”
Was it his imagination, or had her voice deepened? Held in the thrall of the most incredible sex of his life, he decided not to worry about it.
Striving for a release he knew instinctively would be the best he’d ever had, he lost control, plowing into her like an animal. His skin heated. His biceps quivered with the effort of preventing his body from collapsing on top of her. The contented smile never left her face, until he reached between them and pressed his thumb to her jewel.