Page 60 of Enticing Odds
“You’re so bashful and—” Her voice caught as she approached the final reaches of her anticipation.
“Am I now?” he said, voice low and rasping, his hand tightening over her breast.
Then she called out, and unraveled herself against him. Thrusting back and upward, extending her body as far as she might, willing the sparking hot pleasure to reach the tips of each extremity. Gasping, pushing against waves of ecstasy, she welcomed every second of it, praised the heavens for it. And then she went limp. Dr. Collier held her back against him with seemingly little effort.
Still awash in the aftershocks of her climax, Cressida felt him lift her, cradling her against his wide chest. She placed her hands against it, plucking at his woolen undervest.
They broke apart as he set her upon the bed. Cressida melted into the coverlet, noting how much rougher than her own bed-linens it felt. Her skin felt positively electric, every sensation heightened. She sighed happily, dimly aware of the sound of rustling about her, of undergarments being shed.
And then he grabbed her by the hips. Cressida’s breath caught.
Dr. Collier stood over her, nude. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick and ropy, his chest a topography of hard, muscled planes. His cock was everything she’d hoped for since before she’d first felt it hard against her back. He was perfect, truly magnificent. Nothing like the soft bodies of idling aristocrats. Nothing like Bartholomew’s overlarge paunch and rheumy eyes. Cressida shooed the thought away and reached up to touch, one finger tracing along the soft line of sandy hair down his middle.
“Bashful now, am I?” he taunted, stroking his length slowly.
“Hmm. I don’t believe I’ve experienced enough to properly judge.”
The doctor gave her a look that would make lesser women swoon. But Cressida returned his roguish smile with one of her own.
“Remove your drawers,” he commanded.
What could she do but comply? Keeping her gaze locked upon his, rising to his challenge, she wriggled out, then kicked the linen underthings across the floor.
“Now the chemise,” he said, his voice gravelly.
“I have to say,” Cressida said as she fiddled with the few buttons, “I’m quite enchanted with this presentation of Dr. Collier.” She lifted the chemise over her head, her voice slightly muffled. “Where have you been hiding him?”
Tossing her final undergarment aside as if it wasn’t the finest and most expensive chemise to be found in London, Cressida leaned back, cocking one leg coquettishly. She knew which were her finest features, knew just how spectacular she was.
A muscle tensed in his jaw, and his hand ceased stroking, though it remained wrapped around his prick. For several moments they were both still, Cressida proudly reveling in his heated stare.
“Ah, there he is, my wee lamb,” she purred, breaking the silence. “Be a dear and fetch my preventive?”
He moved at her bidding, walking back to the chair where the pile of their clothing lay.
“I believe my reticule is by the door,” she offered.
“No need,” he said, producing a narrow box from his jacket pocket.
“Oh,” she said. “You’ve considered the implications, were I to…”
“To conceive?” he said as he withdrew a condom. “Of course I have. I’m a doctor.”
Cressida looked away as he slid it on, feeling her cheeks warm. It was no small thing, not to her. Never before had one of her paramours thought to arrive at a rendezvous with the proper precautions. No, it had fallen to Cressida to always consider her future, to keep her reputation secure.
His massive form dipped the bed as he sat alongside her.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Cressida closed her eyes shyly at the tender gesture.
He guided her face back to his, kissing her gently at first, then deeper, hungrier. Soon she was in his arms, her breasts crushed against his chest. He pulled her into his lap. Cressida fell back into a pleasant haze, enjoying his masculine smell, the taste of him, how hard and solid he felt with his arms encircling her. Soon he lay back and maneuvered her atop him with ease.
“My lady,” he said, breaking their kiss, “take your pleasure from me.” He kissed her again, long and deep. Cressida could practically hear her heart beating. “Please, my lady.”
She smiled, and pushed him back into the pillows. With a happy sigh, she shifted her hips until she’d scooted back enough to feel him hard against her slickness. Reaching down, she positioned him just at her entrance. Now it was his turn to gasp, to come undone under her ministrations.
“That’s lovely, that,” she said, reaching up to flip her hair over her shoulders.
