Page 90 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
He chuckled, and drew back to reveal a smile. “I’m feeling no pain. Now, we’ll have a lesson.”
“That wasn’t one?”
“No. That is, we’ll do something new, now. May I touch you? Down there?”
Excitement raced through her, curling and unfurling low in her belly.
“I want to see if you are wet.”
“Of course I’m not wet. I’m not an infant, or...” Or on her courses. She calculated in her head and looked down again.
“You’re a talker.” He touched a finger to her and she shot up straight, arching closer. His finger slid down and pleasure arrowed through her from the point where he touched.
Oh. He should not. It was wrong, this sort of pleasure.
She closed her eyes against the pinpoint of sensation. Everything in her squeezed.
His finger inched inward, freezing her breath until she finally gasped.
“Yes.” His face was a grimace of concentration as he rubbed her, the touch silky and smooth. “Oh yes. You are just the way you should be. The way God made you to be for the man you love. Give me your finger.”
“I won’t,” she huffed. “It is...shameful.”
“Shameful. Did your mother say that?”
“No.”
“Francisca?”
“No.”
His finger began to move again. “It was someone who didn’t know this pleasure and didn’t want you to know it. But I tell you, Gracie, between a man and a woman marrying for love there’s no shame in pleasure, unless it’s forced, unless it causes the other pain. Do you know who taught me that? No of course you don’t, but it wasmymother.”
“Your mother talked to you about such things?”
“Yes. Of necessity. Father was gone, and the milkmaid was after me, and Mother very shrewdly saw what was afoot. She told me everything, and let me know she did not countenance liaisons with servants. Did your mother—”
“No. She never got to it before…well, after she said it shouldn’t have been like that.Oh.” He had slid that finger in deeper, making her clench the muscles there.
He drew in a sharp breath and plundered her mouth again, long minutes of passionate kissing while she could do nothing but writhe atop him. New sensations started at her bud—where his thumb swept her gently, steadily, beating a pulse through her. She rose on her knees, bucking against that insidious hand, and the pleasure he stirred.
He dropped from her mouth to her breast, moved a hand to her bottom, under the robe, kneading her, steadying her as she moved and gasped and searched for something, gripping his shoulders, choking for air.
He nipped her neck, swiping the sensitive spot there with his tongue. “Oh, my love,” he mumbled. “My love. Yes. Yes.” His tongue found her other breast and suckled. “So beautiful.” He had pulled her closer, her belly rubbing his hard shaft with each up and down thrust. “That’s it. Almost there. Yes. So beautiful.”
The murmurs grew faint. The pinpoint of pleasure bloomed in her, growing, all of her fixed on that one place while she struggled, struggled, for something, something, and…
Pleasure burst in her, streaking through all of her nerves, pounding in wave after wave until the crashing subsided, the storm abated, and she found herself sprawled, plastered against him, her head on his shoulder.
She lay there long moments, too stunned to speak, and became conscious that her nightrail was wet.
In front. She sat up and looked down. His erection was gone.
Charley’s eyes opened a fraction. “I do apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” His eyes closed again.
He had...come. That was the word the men used. But not inside her, as Rigo had done. So she would not get with child.
She studied his face. He looked paralyzed. Rigo had paused after each rutting to tie her up and then he had slept. She could leave now. Charley would not detain her.
