Free A Duke Deceived by Cheryl Bolen Page A

the soft join of her thighs, and she sucked in her breath. After she became accustomed to the gentle movement of his hand, she widened her legs and his stroking eased into her wetness, making her breath come even faster.
    She pressed into him, urging him with her movements to continue whatever it was he was doing to her.
    He had kept on his breeches so she would not see his enlarged need and be frightened. When he could stand it no longer, he eased open his pants and brought her hand to stroke him. Her hand did not enclose him but petted him as a frightened child might pet a dog.
    “It’s all right, my love. This was made to fit perfectly in you.” He gently guided her to lie on her back and withdrew his luxuriously wet finger, replacing it with himself.
    She gasped, but it was a gasp of pleasure rather than pain, he discovered as she parted her legs ever wider, raising her hips to meet him.
    Mindful of his wife’s innocence, he went ever so gently, savoring the incredible feel of being sheathed within her. As she lunged against him with urgency, he began to plunge deeper and deeper, his mind incapable of anything save the utter joy of his wife’s compliance.
    He felt her warm breath and held her tighter as she began to shudder beneath him in wave after wave of wrenching spasms that perfectly matched his own release. Then he collapsed over her.
    He had never felt so utterly satisfied with a woman, but he had never lain with a woman he truly loved. His love for Barbara nearly overpowered him with its intensity. Nothing in her statuesque demeanor would ever have told him she could be so receptive to his lovemaking, though he’d known of her warmth by her affection toward Emily and her devotion to her mother.
    Bonny told herself she should be ashamed over her wanton behavior. Wasn’t a lady supposed to recoil from such intimate acts? But she couldn’t seem to get enough of this man who was now her husband. She had not even felt any of the pain a virgin was supposed to feel. Was that because Richard was so skilled a lover? She wondered if what happened between them was just another physical act to her experienced husband. Was she just another body he could use for his own pleasure? Could he possibly feel half of what she was feeling?
    She lay in his arms a long while, feeling utterly complete while wrapped in his embrace. She lost all track of time. It occurred to her she should be embarrassed, were the servants to guess what they were doing, but her pride was not as great as her pleasure.
    Richard propped himself on one elbow to trace with a finger her cheek, her nose, her mouth as his eyes studied hers. “Do you hurt?”
    She shook her head, the vestiges of passion still in her eyes as she raised her head to kiss him.
    “Oh, my love, you will get me started all over again, and we cannot spend the day in bed—much as I would love to.”
    “I did not realize this—what we have done—happens in the daytime.”
    He laughed a hearty laugh. “Oh, what an innocent you are, my dear.” He brushed back stray strands of black hair from her damp temples. “But very satisfactory in bed, I am happy to say.”
    Words of love would have pleased her more, but those words would have to hold her. “I feel like an utter harlot, I assure you.”
    He laughed again. “Please don’t. Remember, all married persons do what you and I just did.”
    “And a lot of persons who aren’t married. You most certainly must be considered a skilled lover, my husband.”
    “My love, if I have intimately known women in the past, I must assure you none have been nearly so captivating as you.”
    Those words gave her great comfort. She had felt her lack of experience would render her unpleasant in his bed, since she had been told men placed great importance upon the pleasures of the flesh. She was gratified to know he found her adequate, and she decided to learn to pleasure her husband in every way.
    Radcliff kissed the tip of her nose, rose from