Gifted: Empath
Page 10
An eternity later, her hand rose toward him. His gaze flew to hers, but she was staring at his hair. She reached out like a slowed, half-time vid. Her touch landed on his hair near his left ear. He watched her eyes dilate, the brown fading from chocolate to black. He saw the tremor of her long lashes, her lips break open revealing a row of tiny white teeth. He was lifting in his pants, the cotton catching him.
Her fingers threaded into his hair and touched his scalp. He could feel each of the three fingertips. She pulled her hand down through his layers, behind his ear, heat scalding the rim. A hectic red appeared on her cheekbones that had been too pale. She hesitated at the bottom, then her thumb gently trapped his earlobe and rubbed it with her forefinger. He was so aware of how it was fleshy, and hot, in her firm grip. His head spun as his cock abruptly hardened.
Her gaze moved along the line of his jaw, and he felt her focus on his mouth like a physical touch. His own lips parted, fascinated, as the blush on her face spread down her neck. His earlobe was abandoned when she delved in a sweep along the curve of his ear. His breath began to come heavier. The head of him was rubbing against the soft waistband.
Her fingers moved where her gaze had, all of them trailing along, petting his lips, the outer edge, the inner skin. Rotating her hand, she sent her palm gliding on the sensitive skin under his chin while her thumb tested the edge of his teeth, boldly daring his lips. He froze absolutely still when she held her breath. She pushed her thumb into his mouth and he closed his lips over the joint while his tongue curled and sucked. The blush cascaded onto her chest, and his gaze followed it.
Her other hand lifted to touch herself, hesitated, middle finger a breath from her nipple. He sucked gently, scraped his tongue over her nail. Her nails scored restlessly against the line of his throat. She took her thumb from his mouth and laid her hand on his shoulder, her damp touch painting the hollow above his collarbone.
Then she closed her eyes as she delicately played over her nipple. He watched her face, now flushed. Her eyes tossed behind her lids. He studied her fingers, how she dragged the edge of a nail over the tip, how she barely touched herself, sometimes tracing the lower swell where her breast met her torso. His dick bounced.
Her grip tightened on his shoulder, nails biting suddenly, as she trailed those fingers down her sternum, over her belly, and hovered over her split lips. Open your eyes. See me. He didn’t say it. But she answered his plea. She gave the faintest gasp at catching his gaze. She wasn’t focusing as well as he. Her lashes fluttered like the rarest butterflies. Her lips were so plump and ripe. His mouth burst with saliva.
Her hand lightened its grip on his shoulder, soothed the shirt over the muscle there with a swirl of sensation. Then she dragged her palm flat down onto his pec and ground her heel into his nipple. His balls churned and boiled. Her eyes looked dazed as she watched her hand massage him, gripping the fabric and his muscle, fingertips pattering over the whole sweep of his chest. Finally, she stilled with her thumb pressing hard against his nipple. He was still watching her face, the want on it making him fiercely glad, when she looked up and met his eyes again. His breath hitched. Hers looked blank now, wild.
He steeled himself as her weight increased, pressing against him. She rose up higher onto her knees. She paused, gathering her balance, taking a deep breath, then looked down at her lower hand hovering over herself. He had no choice but to follow the slender line of her arm down past her breasts.
Who is learning more…the novice? Or the master?
The Countess Takes a Lover
© 2008 Bonnie Dee
Countess Meredith du Chevalier, a widow with a reputation for being sexually adventurous, is intrigued when she is approached by a gentleman who wishes her to “make a man” of his son. Sensing a passionate man beneath Christopher Whitby’s reserved exterior, Meredith takes on the challenge, inviting the botanist to her country home to revitalize her abandoned greenhouse.
Chris finds people to be a chaotic, animalistic species, and has chosen to devote his life to the study of plants. One kiss from the vivacious countess, however, and his inner animal is aroused. But lust is only a fraction of what he feels for the vulnerable woman hiding behind a brittle façade. He resolves to coax her to grow until her petals unfurl in a glorious bloom.
To her surprise, Meredith finds Chris brings much more to life than just fallow soil. But just as their love begins to thrive, he learns about the secret arrangement. Meredith must risk her heart for the most dangerous lesson of all—love.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Countess Takes a Lover:
Despite what his father thought, Chris was neither a fool nor particularly naïve. He’d known when he agreed to come to the countess’s estate that it was not merely to examine her greenhouse. The kisses at the Botanical Gardens had clarified that.
It had taken him a few days of consideration to decide whether he was ready to accept what she offered, but he was tired of his celibate life, tired of imagining what intimate congress with a woman might be like, tired of holding to some high ideal of intellectualism over base urges that he’d set for himself. Yes, he’d known when he responded to her invitation what he was letting himself in for. Meredith du Chevalier was a sophisticated, experienced woman who took her pleasure whenever and wherever she chose and for some reason she’d chosen him. He was damned well going to take advantage of her tutoring in the art of lovemaking.
What he hadn’t counted on was how quickly things would escalate from a few kisses to her taking him by the hand and nearly dragging him upstairs to her bedchamber. Not that he didn’t want to go. But his head spun with the heady liquor of lust, or perhaps from the lack of oxygen due to kissing, and he wished he might have a moment to get his bearings before the act began.
There was her bed, the tall posts draped in blue fabric, the white and blue coverlet pulled back invitingly. In a few moments they were going to be lying together on it. He would be inside her body. His cock swelled in anticipation yet at the same time his stomach twisted. What if he didn’t do it right? What if he made a fool of himself by exhibiting his virginal inexperience? Oh God, he wished he’d taken his father up on that offer of practicing with a prostitute. He would surely reveal his incompetence, perhaps move too fast or release too soon, or worse, lose his momentum completely.
She turned to him, her eyes bright and a smile playing over her lips. Her black hair had fallen completely loose from its pins due to his hands being plunged into it. She looked charming with the curls framing her heart-shaped face. Her jonquil-colored dress was like a ray of sunshine in the dim room, which was shuttered against the heat of the day. The slats of the shutters were open just enough to let in a faint breeze and a few rays of light that illuminated the elegant furnishings and plush carpet.
“Are you ready?” The countess stroked the side of his face. “You look uncomfortable.”
“No. I’m fine. I’m ready.” He breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.
Once more she curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her as she rose up on the balls of her feet, reminding him of how short she was. “Just kiss me. The rest will follow naturally,” she whispered, before blending her lips with his.
He closed his eyes and did as she bid, and of course, she was right. It felt good and natural to hold her in his arms. His hands knew what to do, where to touch, how to stroke up her back and then down again to hold her rear. Her buttocks were buried beneath layers of fabric but he still felt a thrill at the unbelievable liberty of touching them. He pulled her tight against the hard erection filling the front of his breeches. It was nearly painful in its throbbing need. The yielding softness of her body both relieved and made the ache even worse. He needed to be inside her, not rubbing against her.
He kissed her mouth, slipping his tongue between soft lips to touch hers. She teased him, darting her tongue out and pulling it back in a little game that made him smile. He’d never realized playfulness might be
a part of lovemaking.
After kissing her softly and gently then hard and deep for several minutes, he pulled his mouth from hers and moved it to her neck. The smooth, warm skin beneath his lips, the pulse of life in her throat and the salty taste of her skin sent new waves of desire coursing through him. He licked down the column of her throat and along her delicate collarbones. Her soft intake of air, such a sweet, feminine sound, made him feel strong, powerful and very masculine.
He dared to dip his mouth lower, to kiss the flat plane of her chest down to the soft swell of her cleavage. The top mounds of her breasts pushed up by her tight bodice were displayed in a tempting froth of lace that framed them like a picture. He kissed them. By God, his mouth was on her breasts and they were so incredibly soft. Their plump fullness yielded to the pressure of his lips. They were scented with rosewater and he thought he would never again smell a rose without thinking of her breasts.
Her hands threaded through his hair, pushing on his head slightly and encouraging his exploration of her breasts. “You may remove my dress,” she murmured, tugging on his hair to pull him away.
Chris straightened and the countess turned her back to him that he might unfasten the row of hooks down the back of her bodice. His hands felt huge and clumsy as he concentrated on the painstaking assignment. He was in too much of a hurry and his fingers trembled from nervous excitement. Giving an impatient grunt, he considered ripping the dress open.
“Patience, ma petite.” She laughed and her smooth white shoulders shook. “Open your present slowly. Savor each moment.”
He resumed the task and this time followed her advice, bending to kiss each inch of flesh as it was revealed. She wore no corset beneath her high-waist dress, just a light camisole, the fabric so sheer it revealed her rosy skin. He kissed her right through the cloudy material, his mouth wetting it and molding it to her flesh.
As soon as he had enough hooks unfastened, he peeled the bodice down her body while she pulled her arms from the small, puffed sleeves. He pushed the dress over the flare of her hips and let it fall to the floor in a pool around her feet. Within seconds he had her camisole peeled off, too, and turned her to face him.
Other than white marble statues in a museum, he’d never seen a naked woman. The mystery of the soft mounds a woman’s décolletage only teasingly advertised was revealed to his sight. His breath caught as his gaze riveted on the pale globes of flesh, small and high with rosy aureoles and peaked nipples centered in each. They were lovely. He thought he could simply feast on the sight of them for hours, but his body had other ideas. His hands reached for them and his tongue swept over his lips, eager to taste them.
Touching her breasts tenderly, he stroked the flesh, as soft as a kid glove, feeling the texture beneath his fingertips. Then he cupped one in each hand and tested the weight and firmness. Finally he could resist no longer and drew one erect tip into his mouth. He rolled his tongue over it and sucked lightly. Such bliss!
He never stopped to worry if he was doing it right, and the countess moaned softly, assuring him that she was pleased. While his tongue laved the slope of her breast and suckled her nipple, he continued to fondle her other breast, rolling the tip between his thumb and forefinger lightly.
“You can pinch a little. I don’t mind.”
Chris glanced up to meet her eyes, the dark gray of a stormy sky.
“A little pain mixed with the pleasure is a good thing.” She smiled. “As long as the lady wants it.”
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