Page 68 of Nothing But a Rakehell
He scarcely breathed as she explored the impressive bulge. He held himself tense and motionless. She hadn’t expected to find . . . so much of him—but the length and breath of the swollen ridge beneath her fingers was unmistakable. Experimentally, she placed her palm along it and explored with measuring fingers.
He groaned out loud.
She snatched her hand away. “Did I hurt you?”
“No! You’ve done nothing wrong.” His voice sounded strained. “Everything you are doing is perfect. It’s just my body wanting more of you—because you are sweet and lovely and so utterly desirable.”
Pleasure flushed through her veins in an entirely new way. Confidence surged. There it was again—that feeling of feminine power. It made her bold and she placed her hand on him again and bent down to trail hot kisses along his neck and chest.
His hips raised, pressing him further into her hand. She gripped him tighter and followed the earlier path of her fingers, kissing her way down to his navel.
He surged upright then, and lifted her hand away. “Apologies, but there is only so much that a man can take.”
Her lips curved. “Am I driving you mad with desire?”
“You are. Most definitely.”
She glanced down. “Is it painful?” Her hand began to move. “Shall I let it out?”
“No!” In one fluid motion he stopped her and pressed her back and onto the blanket again. Looming over her, he let his weight and bulk hold her down. She could feel the hard length of him against her belly. “This evening is about you. It’s all for you.” He kissed her. “I’ve always considered myself a generous lover, but this is different.” His hand caressed her temple and cupped her jaw. “It is an honor, Glory. It feels . . .” He stopped. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Tears welled in her eyes. There were so many things she wanted to thank him for. She couldn’t though—she couldn’t speak and still keep her word, keep to their bargain. She kissed him instead.
He responded fiercely, and then pulled away. His weight shifted and gave her a clear view of the sky. “Remember this, Glory. Drink it all in. The stars overhead, the breeze rustling the leaves, the regard I feel for you, the trust we’ve built between us and the pleasure we are giving each other. Gather it all into your heart. In the future, when you have choices to make, pull it all back out. Don’t settle for a dynastic marriage or fall prey to a passion that feels forbidden or sordid. Use this night as your measure and your shield. Promise me—and I will know that I’ve accomplished something worthwhile.”
“I promise.” She captured his face between her hands. “I will not settle.”
He swooped down and took her mouth. Temptation and gentleness gave way to ruthless, zealous skill. She was swept up—and thrilled to go along where he wished to take her. This time, when his fingers lifted her skirts up, she hesitated only a moment before helping him push them up and out of the way.
His fingers teased again, lingering at the tie of her garter. “Open your legs for me, Glory.”
Swallowing, she did.
He made a noise of approval. It seemed to come rumbling from his chest and she immediately wished to hear it again.
His touch climbed higher. He stroked her curls and she gasped. He ran a firm caress down the middle seam of her sex, then pressed in with a swirling stroke that made her legs drop wider.
Flames leapt, crackling higher and higher within her with each circling pass. Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears, and desire curled, thick and heavy, in her womb.
He inched higher once more. His fingertip scraped lightly over her most tender spot. She gasped, helpless, and he nudged closer to her, paying decadent, delicate tribute to her wet, silken flesh.
Her head fell back. Her fists clenched. She was caught in his spell, in the magic he was making and the sweet pleasure that moved all through her. Her hips lifted. Her legs splayed.
“Keswick!”
“Yes, Glory. It’s coming for you. Let it have its way.”
The rhythm of his fingers changed, became steady and gradually more intense.
She rose up, out of herself. Desire was a string, tied to her soul, lifting her higher and higher—and then she was up and over the top of some mysterious wall—and caught up in a wave of tight, delicious shudders. Her back arched, her toes curled. She was held there, suspended in pleasure for a long, long moment, before she collapsed in on herself.
Unclear, how long she floated in a cocoon of utterly relaxed bliss, but she gradually came back to herself to find the stars still overhead, the river still murmuring and Keswick lying next to her with an arm draped over his eyes.
She drew a breath—
“Don’t you dare thank me,” he said starkly. He sat up, took her hand, and kissed it. “Can you get yourself and Poppy back, on your own?”
“Of course.”
