Page 48 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
He interlaced his fingers and placed his hands in front of his groin. It didn’t fully hide the massive ridge in his breeches, but better that than let her see how much she affected him.
She continued circling the table, clearly aware that everyone watched and listened avidly. “‘He wasted no time in gathering up my skirts in his massive hands, and when he lowered to kneel between my legs, I gave way to my most sensual urges and moaned like the strumpet I was.’”
She stopped to pluck a berry from a guest’s plate and pop it in her mouth. “‘Grinning like a demon, he lowered his head to my cunny and gave it one thorough swipe of his tongue. My dew soon coated his cheeks as he made a meal of me, and I the willing feast.’”
Celeste sipped from another guest’s glass. Everyone, Kieran included, was in thrall to her masterful performance. It was a magnificent agony to listen to her, to watch her, bold and confident. Salome. No, not merely Salome, but Celeste, as well.
All he wanted was to lead her to some darkened corner, hold her neck with his teeth, and sink into her.
She can’t be yours, so think of something else. Anything. Cold porridge slipping down the back of your shirt.
“‘When I had given way to no fewer than three deluges of release, he freed his cock, and thrust—’”
“A stirring recitation, Salome.” Unable to withstand this torture any longer, he looped his arm with hersand pulled her away from the table. “Yet there’s much more for us to see, and you’re so captivating, the guests are neglecting their supper.”
Celeste appeared momentarily stunned as they moved out of the dining room. “I was just getting to the best part.”
“Apologies, but it was either end your performance or else make a spectacle of myself in front of the entire company.” He steered them down the corridor and toward the back terrace, passing more guests engaged in revelry. “Mind, I’ve happily made a spectacle of myself numerous times in the past, but I’m not fully prepared foryouto observe that.”
“Preserving your dignity?” She smirked.
“What little of it remains.”
They stepped onto the terrace, which opened to a spacious garden. Here, too, the celebration continued, with guests chasing each other around the hedges, and half a dozen people cavorting in the fountain. The air was warm, but he dragged it into his lungs. Hopefully, it was brisk enough to cool the heat searing him from the inside out.
“I wish I could join them,” Celeste said, staring longingly at the men and women in the fountain, splashing each other.
“This is your night to do as you please.” He propped his elbow on the stone railing that ran the perimeter of the terrace, affecting a lounging pose that was far more relaxed than he felt.
She gestured toward her face. “My paint would run, and of all the scandalous things we’ve witnessed here tonight, the scandal of proper, virginal me being discovered here would eclipse them all.”
“A virgin who knows filthy literature by heart.”
Her smile was ripe with secrets. “The masculine gender hasn’t cornered the market on dimensionality and contradiction.”
“We men like to believe ourselves the apotheosis of complexity, but we’re just crawling infants in comparison to the women running past us. All we can do is gurgle and hope we don’t soil ourselves.”
Her laugh plucked along his nape and trailed under the folds of his neckcloth. “What a way with words you have.”
His chest puffed—he’d been commended for his verbal and linguistic skills before, but havingherpraise him far outpaced any other compliment.
“I warrant,” she continued, “that you’ve developed a fine set of skills as part of a rake’s seductive repertoire.”
“You can talk a fine game, but if you can’t see it through to the end, then all devices—rhetorical or otherwise—ultimately fail. Nothing speaks so well of one’s abilities than the satisfaction of prior lovers.”
There her hand went again, trailing along her neck, as if the minx had no idea that the sight of her fingers on her throat drove him to madness.
He didn’t want this time with her to end. And he prayed that the additional excursion he’d planned for them would give her some happiness.
Below, the revelry continued, with more guests romping in the fountain. A woman in a diaphanous yellow dress rode a horse through the garden, up the stairs to the terrace, and then past them and through the double doors that led into the house.
He took her hand and led her back inside. They peeked into a sitting room, and inside, Curtis and Rowe were splayed across a sofa, kissing with tender passion. Wanting to give the couple privacy, Kieran escorted her to the next room.
Her hand was still laced with his, and when they passed a group of guests shouting as they kicked a football back and forth along the hallway, he urged her into an alcove to avoid the commotion.
He angled his body to shield her from the boisterous tumult as she pressed her back to the wall. Two of the men began to argue as they debated who tripped whom.
“It’s getting wilder as the night continues,” he noted, glancing over his shoulder as the argument grew more heated. Turning back to face her, he murmured, “I should take you home.”
