Page 17 of A Scandal Before Christmas
Sheneededthose hands to fill the empty spaces inside her.
“Come for me, Lauren,” Theodore commanded roughly. “Come for me and give me your heart.”
A firm revolution of his wrist, and Lauren melted, the sensation so overwhelming and unexpected she grew dizzy. The quickness of the orgasm, her first by another’s hand, obliterated anything before it. Every splinter of ecstasy was painful, true, and addictive.
She wanted more.
Theodore immediately swallowed the cry hovering on her lips, his mouth consuming hers with an animal-like intensity. It seemed that he kissed her forever, guiding her through the heights of the climax, slipping in and out of the pulsating pleasure of the waves, and finally allowing her to drown in the giddy, dreamy aftermath of the descent.
When it was over, when she was boneless and complacent, Theodore gently withdrew his hand from beneath her skirt.
He tucked her body back into her corset, tightened the bodice ribbons, straightened the elbow-length gloves she wore, and smoothed stray tendrils of hair behind her ears.
Lauren watched him silently, allowing him to move her as he wished as if she were a boneless doll. There was no hope for her at that moment, anyway. After that jaw-dropping, earthshattering experience, she could hardly string two words together to form a sentence.
Once he finished putting her to rights, Theodore gave Lauren a crooked smile.
“I’m afraid there is no way to hide the stain.”
Glancing down, Lauren saw the slight discoloration on her dress caused by the lemon ice. Only then did she register the faint dampness seeping through the fabric. “Oh. That’s unfortunate.”
She still trembled from the pleasure he’d given her, little tremors rippling up and outward from her sex to the ends of her toes and fingertips. To her own ears, she sounded drugged, her voice slow and husky.
A sinful glimmer danced in Theodore’s eyes when they settled on her bosom. “I wasn’t thinking clearly before…”
Lauren’s gaze was helplessly drawn to Theodore’s firm, plush lips.Just moments ago, those lips were on my breasts. His mouth was on mine. His hand was beneath my skirts, and he was…
“Lauren.” Theodore snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Go on to your room. Tell the maid you spilled your dessert if she asks, and if she doesn’t ask, then all the better.” Kissing her softly, he released her with a chuckle. “I’ll renew my assault tomorrow, and you can continue fighting my efforts if you like.”
Pulling the alcove curtain back, he checked the corridor for unwanted visitors. “Based on your actions earlier, I don’t doubt you will still resist.” He allowed Lauren to slip past, calling after her in a lowered voice as she hurried away, “But should I catch you standing in a chair again, you won’t like the consequences.”
* * *
Lauren enteredher room almost as if in a trance. She didn’t even see Anne until she rose from a chair near the fireplace. The maid was waiting for her.
“Here, milady.” Anne began unlacing Lauren’s gown, clucking with disapproval when she spied the stain on the bodice. “I hope it’s not ruined.”
“Perhaps it’s not.” Lauren sighed as the maid pulled the dress over her head in a flounce of satin and ruffles and then helped her out of the corset. A nightgown of soft muslin encompassed her body next, the ribbons at the neck made of silk. Lauren tied those herself then sat at the maple vanity table. She watched Anne in the mirror draw pins from the coiled mass of her gold-sparked brown hair, the intricate design allowed to unwind in a shimmering waterfall down her back.
She groaned in relief as the pressure from the hairstyle eased. Anne began pulling a boar-bristle brush through the straight locks, from crown to the ends landing just above the nip of her waist.
The rhythmic tugging was relaxing, to the point Lauren put aside the incident with Theodore. For a few moments, at least.
“How is Ollie? Is he feeling better?”
“Oh, yes, milady. Asking for something to eat other than broth.” Anne hummed a tune beneath her breath as she worked. “He should be up and about tomorrow or the next, I think.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Silence loomed. Lauren picked at the blue forget me knot flowers stitched on the nightgown’s sleeves. “Anne, may I ask you a question?”
“Surely, milady.”
“Which room does Lord Hawthorne occupy?”
The motion of the brush stilled then began again. Lauren knew she’d shocked Anne, but it couldn’t be helped.
“It is down the corridor, milady.”
“But do you know precisely the room?” Lauren nudged.
