Page 34 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
She set her gaze upon him, watching him in his glory with his dark hair moving over her thighs and his chest bent forward toward her, the muscles in his chest golden in the light of the fire. His hands slipped beneath the covering of her gown around her hips. His fingers teased her hips, light touches, then he gripped hard, and she moaned at his touch.
“Will…” She had shortened his name merely because she was gasping at the sensation, but his dark eyes flicked up to meet hers with the sound.
“Always say my name in such a way,” he pleaded.
She moaned once more as he took hold of the gown and shifted it higher. She was now exposed to him, completely, but any embarrassment or nervousness she might have felt was consumed by shock and pleasure in the next moment.
As he looked her in the eye, one of his hands moved from her hip to the center of her damp curls. He moved his hand against her in such a way that pleasure shot through her core. He palmed her, moving against the bud of nerves that was now so sensitive, every move he made was a delicious intimacy.
“Will…” she moaned his name once more.
It seemed to do something to him, for he shifted his hand and moved his fingers closer toward her. A finger slipped inside of her. Becca tipped her head back, and she moaned again. The pleasure curled so far inside of her at what he did that she closed her eyes, thinking only of what he was doing to her.
How had it come to this? How had they hit this note of pleasure so fast between them, when just less than a week ago they hadmet for the first time at an assembly? When their paths were so different, too; she a poor writer, and he a baron, surely this was out of bounds, and they should not both have wanted to do this?
Yet she couldn’t imagine stopping, and it seemed neither could he.
He moved his fingers in and out of her now. She writhed with pleasure, reaching up toward him. His other hand found her hip and playfully held her hip down. She loved the dominant feeling, to open herself up to him and let him take complete control.
Breathy moans repeatedly escaped her as she opened her eyes again, looking up at him to see the heated look of desire in his eye. She reached up toward him, lifting her torso high enough to show what she wanted. He bent toward her, too, kissing her, just as his fingers moved faster still.
She was now a dithering mess, both exhilarated and overawed to be pleased by him in such a way. When she moaned again, falling back from their kiss onto the settee, he moved once more.
He bent forward; only this time, he bent toward her core.
What is he…?
She knew a man could pleasure a woman with his hand. No one could live in the backstreets of London for so long and not seesuch a thing between drunkards in darkened alleys, but what he did next was something she had not known was possible but was thrilled to be introduced to it in such a way.
He removed his hand from her and replaced his fingers with his lips.
The most intimate kiss she could imagine followed, and he pleasured her with his tongue.
“Will!” she gasped, far louder than she knew she should have done. She gripped hard to the cushions over her head, panting at the pleasurable sensation now shooting up and down through her body, finding it impossible to keep under control. She imagined she was being tossed in the waves of an ocean, only rather than water, that ocean was made purely of pleasure. He was riding her through those waves to the point that her body was quite out of her own control.
He shifted his touch again. He moved his lips upward, pleasuring her outside of her body, and drove his hand forward so his fingers entered her again. The dual sensation was enough to make her hit a new height.
Something was going to happen. She had no concept of what it was, but she could feel something nearing as if when tossed in those waves, she could see a giant tidal wave coming toward her. She would be drowned in pleasure—that was the only possible explanation for it.
Then it happened. She reached that tidal wave, and her whole body tightened. She felt her core tighten around him as her body writhed from side to side. Her fingers curled, her hands tightened harder over the cushions, and she said his name with such a breathy sound that the syllable itself was warped.
“Oh, Will,” she repeated as the wave started to subside. She panted madly, her chest rising and falling as he moved himself up from her body. He no longer kissed her, though his fingers moved ever so delicately and slowly now, helping her come down from that height.
“Becca,” he whispered, bending down toward her. When he kissed her, she could taste herself on him, but she hardly minded. With urgency, she kissed him back, tangling her hand in his dark hair. It was a heated kiss, both of them desperate to taste more of one another. When they pulled back from one another, the space between them was just an inch. He rested his forehead against hers as she smiled up at him.
“Well,” she murmured, struggling to keep her voice level. “If you wish to charm a lady, Will, that is certainly one way to do it.”
He chuckled and lifted his head, shaking it a little.
“There’s only one woman I’m interested in charming, Becca,” then he kissed her again.
She wasn’t sure how much longer they stayed there on his settee, kissing, but it was some time until the sun dipped so far in the sky that it was dark, and they were forced to part from one another. He helped her put her stockings back on, teasing her with more touches, as she assisted with his shirt and cravat, too, then he called for his carriage to take her home so she wouldn’t be walking in the dark.
“Until tomorrow?” he whispered to her in the entrance hall of the house. He didn’t touch her, though she could see in his eyes that he wanted to, for Mr. Fitzwilliam was standing across the room, talking to a footman about the preparations for the carriage.
“Until tomorrow,” she assured him with a smile and took the papers they had agreed she would take with her in order to start her work. She left, hurrying out of the house and down the front porch steps toward the carriage. As she climbed inside, she looked back at William, seeing that he was staring at her from the doorway, such a happy and contented smile on his feet that she mirrored it.
He looked more at peace than she had ever seen him before.
