Page 50 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
She whimpered, and cast a longing glance at his hand pressed firmly against the wall, willing it to move and to hold her the way he’d described. Yet it remained frustratingly in place.
“Would you merely tell me these things,” she whispered, “or would you do them?”
“All good seduction involves waiting, love. A little teasing builds anticipation, which is part of the joy of it. But,” he went on when she was certain her body would be reduced to cinders, “after telling you what I want to do, I’d lightly, very lightly, stroke my lips along your throat. As gentle as a sigh, but you’d feel my breath against your skin, and then I’d touch the tip of my tongue to your flesh.”
She closed her eyes, lost in the picture he painted. “Yes.”
“I’d go higher,” he continued, his voice deep and rough, “and scrape my teeth to the place just beneath your ear. Perhaps I’d give you the softest of bites, and you’d moan because it wouldn’t be enough. Not nearly enough.”
“Would you kiss me then?” she asked, hardly able to breathe.
His chuckle delved between her legs. “Oh, no, my love. As you tipped your head back, I’d stroke my thumb over your collarbone, and let my fingers drift lower across the skin of your chest. Your breasts would ache with wanting, but I wouldn’t touch them right away. I’d watch you arch your back, offering yourself to me, just like you’re doing now.”
Glancing down, she saw she did exactly that, her chest curving forward. He stood close enough that the front of her bodice just brushed against the planes of his pectorals. It was a maddening taunt, hardly enough to satisfy her.
“I might want you to touch me,” she murmured.
His gaze went even darker. “So I would. With my mouth. I’d kiss my way down until I reached the tops of your breasts, straining against the neckline of your gown. And when you could stand it no longer, you’d grab the back of my head and press me to you. That would be my invitation to finally touch you with my hands. I’d stroke your breasts and pinch your nipples.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
“And then I’d reach beneath your skirts to stroke up your leg,” he went on in a relentless, velvet voice, “feeling all that delicious skin beneath my palm. After that, do you know what I’d do?”
“Wh-What?” she breathed, so dazed with lust she could barely form words.
“I’d go higher until I found your sweet little cunt.”
She gasped at the word.
“Did I shock you with my language?” he murmured.
“I...” She swallowed hard. “I like it. I like hearing those words on your lips.”
He made a dark feral sound. “You are exquisite.”
“Because I’m crude?” She was feverish with embarrassment and pleasure.
“Because you’re you.” He nipped at her throat. “Your cunt would be wet, wouldn’t it? You’re wet now because you’re as on fire for me as I am for you.”
A whimper from her lips. How could he do this? How could he set her aflame with words alone?
“Kieran,” she implored.
“Love?” he growled.
“I want to kiss you. Not in theory, but in truth.”
He sucked in a breath and his nostrils flared. Earlier, when she had recited from the Lady of Dubious Quality’s book, he’d appeared aroused, but now he looked on the verge of devouring her where she stood—and she welcomed it.
“I told myself I couldn’t let it happen.”
“So you don’t want me to?” she asked, though she feared his answer. Because of all the adventures she’d had with Kieran, nothing made her feel the way he did. Awake, alive, potent. The gaming hell and this bacchanal were entertaining, yethewas the experience she’d longed for.
“God, how I want it.” His voice was resonant, more a rumble than words that strummed across her skin.
Excitement and happiness bubbled through her. Yet he didn’t move. Though he was willing, it would be up to her to fling them both into the fire.
Threading her fingers into his hair, she lifted onto her toes. He tilted his head to bring their mouths near, and she closed the distance, pressing her lips to his.
