Page 86 of Nothing But a Rakehell
He deliberately kept his focus on her face. “Are you sure?” he asked again. He recalled her shyness regarding her leg, that night by the river.
“I am. Today is my day for being brave and true to myself. The first of many, I hope. I’m finally going to listen to Hope, and to you, and even to Miss Myland.” She gave him a nudge. “Go and sit on the rocks, please.”
Pursing his lips, he obeyed, but when she moved to stand in front of him, and paused to gather herself, he surged back up and took her in his arms. “You’ve already given a performance today.” He trailed a finger along her brow. “Why don’t we do this together?”
Breathing in, she nodded.
He gathered her close and bent to press a kiss behind her ear. She shivered and clutched him tighter. Murmuring sweet words and tender noises of appreciation, he made his way down over her bodice, then lower, shifting positions until he knelt before her, his hands on her hips.
She steadied herself with one hand on his shoulder and took her skirts in her other hand.
Sitting back on his haunches, he ran a hand behind her leg and urged her to rest the foot of her injured leg on his thigh. “Take your time,” he said quietly.
She nodded, paused, then began to hike her skirts up on that side.
He watched the determination and the resolve on her face until her hems reached her knee, then he looked down.
Even through her stocking, and without comparing this leg to her sturdy one, he could see that this limb was thin. The first sign of damage began beneath her knee, where the shinbone extended outward at an awkward angle before turning sharply inward. Her walking boot had a sole that was several inches thick.
“This leg is slightly shorter,” she explained. “The boot helps keep my gait even. Will you remove it?”
He did, and revealed an ankle that looked slightly tilted and uneven and a small, slender foot.
He looked frankly up at her. “Honestly, it’s not half so bad as I feared. Does it pain you, still?”
“Occasionally. Most often when the weather is going to turn bad. It aches, then.” She sighed. “Or in all the dreaded turns in the cursed dancing.”
“I resent every moment of pain or distress it’s ever caused you. I wish I could ensure that you never have another.”
“You cannot.” She raised a brow at him. “But you can ensure that my next few moments are filled with pleasure.”
“Few moments?” he repeated in mock indignation. “Give me some credit, please!” And he stood suddenly, and swept her up into his arms and laid her down upon the waiting pallet.
She was still laughing when he kissed her, and it filled him with . . . something beyond joy. She grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and waistcoat and pulled him closer.
The desire came quickly this time and hit them both hard. Their mouths and tongues dueled, their kisses surging deep and frantic. They broke apart again and again as they removed clothes from each other, and came back together again.
Finally, he was bare and she was too, save for her stockings. He let them be and filled his hands with her breasts and gave a happy sigh. Her head went back and he settled in to lick and tease her taut nipples. Several minutes of that highly pleasurable activity left her panting, but she eventually put her hands on his chest and pushed him back.
“We’re in the light. You’ve seen me. Now, I want to see you.” He held himself above her while her fingers roamed his chest and explored up and over his shoulders. “You look like you could hold the weight of the world alone, Keswick, but I want you to know, you never have to.”
She wriggled then, sitting up and urging him to lie back beneath her. He shifted carefully, taking care to support her and they ended with her straddling his thighs, while his cock bobbed happily before hers.
She bit her lip and eyed it.
“Touch it, if you like.” He tried to keep any hint of order—or begging—from his tone.
“Would you mind?”
‘No,” he said on a strangled laugh. “I would love it if you put your hands on me, Glory.”
She did and her cool, little fingertips drifted softly over him, like dandelion fluff in the wind, touching him up and down his shaft, exploring ridges and smoothing over the head, before reaching down to cup his scrotum.
“Harder,” he asked in a whisper, and took her hand in his to show her how to stroke him. Then he leaned back and groaned while his cock grew as tall and hard as a post.
“Would you like me to put my mouth on it?”
He stilled. “What do you know about that?Howdo you know about it?”
