Free The Earl and His Virgin Countess by Dominique Eastwick Page A

feelings of a beautiful masked lady with amazing boxing abilities. But it bothered him he could have lost her without knowing she had been his to lose.
    The door clicked softly and Sarah left them alone. Andrew gazed into Miranda’s eyes, only to have her throw herself at him and kiss him. Although taken by surprise, he caught her easily and, ensuring the care of her ankle, he pulled her tight.
    His little virgin vixen had a hidden fire he planned to stoke at every opportunity. Maneuvering to sit on the chaise beside her, he allowed her the lead on the kiss until her hand trailed down his back, and over his hips to his thighs.
    Pulling away, he stayed her touch. “I can’t take much more.”
    “I simply want to touch you the way you have touched me.”
    “And I promise you may touch me anywhere your heart desires, once we are wed.”
    “Is a special license an option?” she asked, biting her plump lower lip, leaving him breathing hard. Damn, if she brought him low already, as a virgin with no experience, what would she do when he awakened her sexual side to its full potential?
    He stood, praying desperately for strength. “You said in the carriage just this morning that, should we marry, you wanted it to take place in the church on my lands, before your friends and those who have been less than kind to you through the years. Though I personally would have told them to take a jump in the nearest river.”
    “Yes, but they never believed I was promised to you. I want them to see us wed so they—”
    “Can eat crow? That I do understand.”
    “Is that petty?”
    “I think it’s human nature.”
    She reached forward and rested a warm palm on his upper thigh. “Four weeks seems a very long time.”
    “Right now, it seems like an eternity,” he said between gritted teeth.
    “Let me touch you. It’s terribly unfair that I feel so unprepared for our wedding night. You are so much more experienced in giving pleasure, as you demonstrating amply well last night. I know next to nothing.”
    “That is the way it’s supposed to be for well-bred ladies.”
    “It doesn’t have to be.” Her fingers worked closer to the growing bulge in his pants. Images of her wrapping the, dainty digits around his hard cock dropped the last bit of argument he had formed. He gripped her wrist, and a whimper of protest escaped her lips. She evidently believed he would prevent her exploration. But he placed her hand over the prominent bulge and she gasped.
    “It’s so—hard.” She traced the outline of it through his britches. “Is it always like this?”
    “Around you, yes.”
    “What about when you aren’t around me?”
    Could he remember that time less than twenty-four hours ago? “Then it is soft and slightly smaller.”
    “It grows then?”
    “For you, yes.”
    “Take it out so I can see it.”
    “It is called a cock, and, no, your aunt might be back any moment.”
    Apparently not listening to a word he’d said, she worked the buttons of his pants. “She shan’t come in, that I can promise.”
    He went to argue, but she slipped a hand inside and wrapped it around him. All coherency fled. The soft palm added just enough friction and, when she squeezed, small beads of sweat broke over his forehead. His balls tightened with the need for release. Finally, he had to lock his knees to prevent them from knocking.
    “Like velvet,” she murmured. “I hadn’t expected that.”
    Clenching his jaws, he managed, “What, dare I ask, did you expect?”
    “I expected something sharp that would cut my maidenhead.” She grinned up at him then faltered. “You don’t seem to be enjoying this. When you touched me, I enjoyed it very much. What am I doing wrong?”
    Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, all the while delaying his release. Releasing a clenched fist, he caressed her cheek. “You are doing everything right. I am fighting my need to make love to you. In doing so, it may appear I am in pain.”
    “Oh.”