Page 31 of One Night with Mr. Darcy
“Whatitcould be like?” he repeated, giving her little smile, as if he approved of her words, as if everything she said or did made him very happy. “What isit?”
“Everything,” she said. “Show me it all.”
He drew away from her. “You don’t mean…” He flushed. His gaze alighted on the swell of her bosom and then he jerked his gaze upwards.
She felt herself flush as well. She reached out to get the bottle of absinthe. Grasping it by the neck, she drank it straight from the bottle. Oh, dear, that was strong. She coughed, setting it down.
“Oh, dear, Miss Bennet, do go easy on that,” he soothed, taking it from her, patting her on the back. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve gone mad, I think,” she said. “So, perhaps I’m not all right.”
“When you say everything, you don’t know what you’re asking,” he said.
“No, I suppose I don’t. You’ll have to show me it all.”
His lips parted.
“Or…?” She was struck by a particularly wicked and daring thought, something that should have made her horrified just to think it. But she was so very drunk and the kisses had turned her head, and the absinthe was swimming around at her temples, and she was doing it before she could stop herself. She reached into her stays and scooped out one of her breasts. “Or, I’ll show you?”
His gaze honed in on her bared flesh. “Oh,lookat you. You’ve justdonethat.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought his other hand up. “Did you show me yourself because you’d like me to touch you here?”
“Is that part of everything?” she whispered.
He nodded, wordless. “May I?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He cupped her.
She gasped. His hand was warm and pleasant.
He caressed her, gentle, then toyed with her as she stiffened.
It went through her like a dart of sheer pleasure. She tipped back her head and moaned.
“Oh, Elizabeth, may I kiss you there? I want my mouth on that pink, hardened tip of you.”
“Yes,” she gasped, suddenly also wanting that very badly.
His mouth was warm and wet, and it was like being kissed on the mouth, only she was so wondrously sensitive here, and the tip of her tightened into a sharp point as his tongue lathed her. Then he sucked, and she let out a little keening cry.
He chuckled, low in his throat. “Do I please you?”
She could only moan.
His mouth began exploring all of her bare skin, down to where she was protruding from her dress. He kissed the underside of her breast. “Elizabeth?” His mouth was against her flesh. “You seem so delicate here, and the way this is biting into you… it doesn’t look comfortable. Should we… loosen…?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Yes, please.” Her voice had become throaty and soft. Languid, she gave him her back.
He fumbled with her buttons, then seemed to discern how to undo them. He kissed her neck and her jaw, and she sighed and shuddered, shutting her eyes.
He loosened her stays and then she was spilling out, freed, her dress gaping open.
She turned to him, and he had his hands on both of her breasts, and they were both sighing like steaming tea kettles, and she felt as if she was floating and loose in a dream world. Perhaps it was the absinthe? This wasn’t the real world. She wasn’t really here. This wasn’t really happening.
“Oh, you’re so very pretty,” he murmured, gazing openly and wonderingly at her body. “I could not have imagined how lovely you would look this way, your dress in disarray, showing me your pretty breasts. I can’t look away.”
She writhed a bit, arching her back, presenting them to him.
