The Governess Club: Claire by Ellie Macdonald Page B

could not remain passive. Her fingers itched to know him and caressed his skin in much the same manner. Their moans and gasps created a symphony of pleasure in her tiny room.
    When he moved his hand to cup her, he knew he could not last much longer. Her warm wetness beckoned to him and the urge to mount her grew to extreme necessity. He would not be able to do everything to her he desired this time, but there would be ample opportunity in the future. He was sure of it.
    Preparing her with his fingers, he moved into the cradle of her thighs and kissed her deeply. “Claire,” he groaned.
    “Jacob,” was her answering gasp as she felt the tip of his hardness at her entrance.
    “I’m sorry,” he said and pushed deeply into her.
    A small cry tore from her throat and he stilled. Her body tensed around his, an instinctive reaction to the pain. He could feel her inner muscles throb and clench around him and he had to grit his teeth against the urge to move. He would wait until she was ready for him, even if it killed him.
    “Claire?”
    “Jacob.” A whimper remained in her voice.
    “I am sorry, my lady.” He kissed her eyes, tasting the saltiness of unshed tears.
    “It is not your doing,” she managed. “It happens to every woman.”
    He chuckled at the revelation he held in his arms. Even at a moment of such personal discomfort, she sought to ease his own suffering. He kissed her deeply, coaxing a response out of her.
    When he felt her begin to relax, he yielded a small amount to instinct and rocked against her. Her gasp fluttered over his lips and her body tensed again, but this time he could tell it was not quite from pain. He repeated the movement. This time her hips arched off the bed to meet his, and he knew the moments of discomfort had passed.
    He did not surrender himself entirely to his instinct; such selfishness would only cause her more pain, and he refused to make her first experience one she looked back upon with displeasure.
    It wasn’t long before small squeaks of pleasure bubbled up from her throat; he instinctively recognized them as the hallmark of her impending release. Scant moments later, she arched her body and her head fell back, her mouth open in a silent cry.
    Her muscles contracted around his manhood, and he allowed himself to slip into his own release after a few more thrusts. “Claire,” he groaned as he spilled into her. He laid his head on her shoulder, inhaling deeply against her neck.
    “Jacob,” she whispered, hugging him to her.
    Silence enveloped them, blanketing the couple with satisfied intimacy. Life is good , was his thought as he drifted off to sleep in her embrace.
    “W hy do you call me ‘my lady’?” Thanks to the close quarters of her bed, Jacob was currently spooned behind her. Sometime earlier he had rolled off of her and adjusted himself into the position, pulling her coverlet over them to fend off the crispiness of the night. His solid form behind her both comforted and warmed her, the lazy kisses he was dropping on her shoulder sending quivers along her skin. A lone tallow candle remained flickering on the stand that held her washbasin.
    “You have as much grace and poise as any lady I have ever met, so why wouldn’t I call you that?” His voice reflected the same satiation as she felt coursing through her veins. “Besides, I like the thought of you being ‘my lady’.”
    Claire smiled at the thought and teased, “You have met so many ladies in your life that you can make an accurate comparison?”
    His body tensed behind her. It was infinitesimal, but they were so close she noticed it. “I have met my share,” he finally said.
    Claire turned to face him, tangling her legs around his and placing a hand on his chest.. Tufts of dark hair spotted Jacob’s torso and she ran her fingers through them. She smiled at his inhalation when her fingers brushed over his nipples. “Should I be calling you ‘my lord’ then?”
    Jacob grabbed her hand and raised it