Page 40 of To Tame the Wild Rake
He was curving his hands around her breasts, stroking and admiring. “Dusky rose,” he said, and nodded. “I thought so.” He dipped his head towards one breast then sat back up again. “This is a game for two, beloved. Touch me anywhere you wish.”
She followed his lead, her hands at first tentative, but growing more confident as she became fascinated in the similarities and differences between them. She froze briefly when his seeking hands found her most private places, but he reminded her that she had only to ask him to stop if he did anything she didn’t like.
She didn’t dislike it. Soon, she discovered she liked it very much, and not long after that she yearned for something more.
Charlotte was so responsive, so passionate, Aldridge lost himself in the give and take, the sharing of physical intimacy, and forgot the need for extreme care. Fortunately, he was so attuned to her that when she froze as he entered her, he knew it immediately. He stilled.
“Cherry? Does that hurt.”
She had her eyes screwed tight shut, but she opened them at his words and looked up at him. “Not hurt, no. It just... In my mind, I know it is you, Anthony, but I am having trouble convincing my body.”
“Do you want to stop?” He shifted his pelvis and she grasped his buttocks to hold him in place.
“No. Please. Just give me a moment.” But she was still tense, all the fire gone from her.
“I have an idea,” Aldridge said. “Let’s try this the other way around.” He shifted again, and Charlotte clutched even tighter, which was a help since he managed to keep her with him as he rolled.
“If you can manage to sit up while still keeping us attached, I will be able to caress your delectable breasts as we wait for you to become accustomed to the sensations,” he suggested. His hips wanted to buck. Fighting his physical response while keeping his voice casual and relaxed was a strain, but he managed it.
She worked out how to perform the manoeuvre, slowly bringing her knees up to either side of his hips. The move was sweet torture, and Aldridge barely breathed until she was sitting above him, her brow furrowed. Her eyes had been distraught, but now they were merely puzzled.
“We can do it this way? Is that allowed?”
He resisted the obvious point that ‘allowed’ was an odd choice of word when their coupling had not been sanctioned by a church blessing, and instead told her, “It is sometimes known as ‘riding St George’.”
That sparked the intellect he admired so much. “Why on earth—?”
“Because the dragon is on top,” Aldridge told her.
When she laughed, he felt her relax, just an infinitesimal amount, so he cast about for something else to amuse her. “You were saying that you didn’t know the words,” he commented.
“Bedding, you said.”
“Here are some more. The beast with two backs, basket making, blanket hornpipe, bed sport, horizontal waltz, at clicket.”
Another snort of laughter, and she relaxed still more. He let his hands roam over her breasts as he added, “If you want to be polite, amorous congress or even convivial society. I am enjoying your convivial society, Cherry.”
Her giggle sent quivers through her torso. “Anthony, I’ve heard that one before! I overheard one lady ask another if she had enjoyed a certain gentleman’s convivial society, because if so, she would accept his invitation herself! I had no idea it was such a scandalous conversation.”
This was working. If he could keep sane long enough to relax her completely with jokes and anecdotes, while bringing her back to arousal with his hands, he might persuade her safely beyond her memories of terror and give her pleasurable memories in their place.
He told her a story about a pair of stupid boastful fellows who had once bet on the number of ladies they could persuade to join them in convivial society in a week, without once repeating positions. He was cautious about describing the positions, until he was sure that it was having the hoped-for effect. His Charlotte was too honest a woman to deny her physical reaction to the mental pictures he was drawing for her.
“But is that even possible, Anthony?” she asked, a couple of times, and he promised, “We shall have to try it some time, Cherry, so I can show you.”
He could feel her let go of her fear and lean into the sensations he was invoking. As for him, he was in a space he had never imagined, for all his experience. He felt what she felt, and her arousal not only became his, but also defined his. He could have kept on all night if that is what she needed in order to reach her peak.
He had loved before, but never had he felt as if he and his beloved had fused into one being. He didn’t know where he ended and she began. They were one body with two centres but only one heart, one spiralling arousal, one—ah yes, here it came—one trembling, quaking, gushing, sparkling, glorious, all-encompassing release.
19
Having amorous congress with Anthony was a dreadful mistake. Charlotte realised it when he first took her to bed. She fought the awareness, telling herself she had made a commitment. She should have run.
But even then, it was too late. She had come to the heir’s wing of Haverford House to seduce him, and instead, his tenderness had seduced her. The gentleness with which he negotiated her fear. The reverence he showed to her body. The love with which he infused every word, every action.
The magical response he aroused in her when the sensations overwhelmed the last of the old nightmare.
He is a rake. This is how they treat their women. She told herself that, but she didn’t believe it.
