Page 69 of The Study of Seduction
She was still marveling at how amazing it felt when suddenly, his tongue darted inside her. She tensed a little, but his thrusts were silken and sweet, devoid of pain. Full of the purest pleasure. Oh,Lord.
The fear still lay in a knot at the center of her, but the longer he caressed her with his mouth, the more she was able to push it down. Soon she was clutching his head to her, urging him to greater boldness. “You are very good at . . . whatever this is.”
He paused to glance up at her. “I’ve had enough opportunities to study seduction to know what I’m doing.”
She could well guess why, but she didn’t care what women he’d been with before. All right, she cared a little. Just not right now. Not if they’d taught himthis.
Her body tingled, felt alive and full to bursting. She shimmied beneath him, trying to get more.
“You taste delicious,” he growled against her.
“Do I?” What he was doing to her was certainly delicious. “You are . . . oh . . . that is . . .incredible.”
Who’d have guessed such a thing would make her want to press herself against his mouth like a shameless tart? The urge to squirm grew almost unbearable, and her lower body seemed to move of its own accord, seeking more of the amazing sensations, more of the heat and intoxication. A wildly drumming thrill built inside her, pounding and thrumming and making her strain to feel every caress of the sweet, hard lashes of his tongue until . . . until . . .
“Edwin! Lord, yes,Edwin!” She clasped his head against her privates as lights exploded behind her eyes.
Then she tumbled over into a most delicious oblivion.
Fifteen
When Edwin felt Clarissa convulse beneath his mouth, he exulted. Hecouldmake her feel pleasure. And since that was possible, then all of it was possible. He’d just have to take special care with her.
Perhaps he’d have his wedding night after all.
Smiling against her luscious skin, he nuzzled her thigh, drunk on the smell of her, the taste of her. His wife. She might run him a merry dance, but they would have this, at least.
Her fingers loosened their grip on his head, and she uttered a drawn-out sigh. “Oh my. My, my, my.”
Chuckling, he wiped his mouth on her drawers. “Yes.”
“Mama most certainly did not tell me about that.”
He gazed up at her. “Whatdidshe tell you?”
“Not much; she was blushing too hard. But I already knew . . . some of it, anyway. Just not this.”
“Who told you?”
It was too dark now to see her face, but he could feel her muscles tense beneath his hands, which were still resting on her thighs. “Oh, girls talk about these things, you know.”
“Really? And what do they say?”
“Oh, this and that and the other. You wouldn’t want to know.”
She pushed on his shoulders and he drew back, only to have her pull her legs together and jerk her skirts down to cover them.
“Ah, but I would like to know.” With his erection still thick in his trousers, he rose to sit beside her and put his hand on her waist. “Why don’t you tell me?” He brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Then I can show you which things they were wrong about. And which things they didn’t even know.”
She shifted away from him to look out the window. “Oh, b-but surely we’re getting near to home. It’s been ever so long since we left London.”
Her withdrawal was too obvious to mistake, and he bit down on the impulse to push her, to demand answers. That wasn’t the way to handle a skittish female.
But now that he thought about it, wasn’t her reaction odd? Clarissa was never skittish about anything. She threw herself into every adventure, embraced every experience, was often too reckless for his taste.
So why be afraid of this? Unless . . .
“Durand didn’t do anything to you in Bath, did he?” he asked hoarsely.
