A Dash of Scandal

by Amelia Grey

  Millicent gave no heed to his words but kissed his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, and his neck all the way down to the top of his neckcloth, then started back up over his chin again. When she touched his lips with her own, she whispered, “Then forget the bed and take me here on the settee, for I fear I will faint if you don’t return my kisses soon.”

  All rational thought fled his mind. Chandler gathered her up tightly in his arms and moaned into the crook of her neck. To hell with what was right.

  “Yes. How can I resist such a demand when I have wanted to make you mine from the moment you turned and looked at me in that darkened hallway?”

  His mouth closed over hers with such fierce hunger he knew it startled her, but he didn’t relinquish his hold on her. Their mouths and tongues clung together and the sounds they made were soft and struggling.

  He laid her back into the curve of the settee so that her head and neck rested against an arm. She reached up and circled his neck with her arms and threaded her fingers through his hair, teasing him with her light touch.

  They were charged by an awakening and neither of them wanted to let go of it. Their bodies pressed, their lips met, their tongues played together, stirring heated passions that were already on fire.

  Chandler’s lips left hers and he kissed her neck below her ear and down to where her chest expanded with each breath and lifted her breasts up for him. She arched her head back to give him access to wherever his lips wanted to go.

  In answer, he slipped the capped sleeves of her gown off her shoulders and exposed the plump swell of her breasts where they rested in the cups of her corset. He gently pulled the rosebud tips from beneath their bindings of cloth. He looked down at her beauty, and though he would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that he could not grow any larger or harder, he did. How could he have thought about resisting her? He must have been a madman.

  He looked back into her eyes and whispered through thick, choppy breaths, “You are beautiful, Millicent.”

  She smiled at him with clear, bright eyes and breathed deeply before saying, “Thank you.”

  With his lower body he strained against the softness of her womanhood, pressing her farther into the settee. She answered him with a thrust of her own and his body reacted with throbbing, powerful pain. He wanted to bury himself in her, to lose himself in her.

  Chandler wanted to say more sweet words, poetic phrases, but he heard her heavy breathing, saw her desire-bright eyes, and knew that she didn’t want to wait for whispered words, loving touches, or lingering kisses. She’d made it clear she wanted him, that she knew what she was doing. All he had to do was accept.

  Quickly he pulled her dress and petticoat up past her thighs and bunched them below her breasts. As his hands left her waist, he pulled her drawers down past her knees. She kicked them off one satin-slippered foot. She parted her legs and supported herself with one foot on the floor.

  While Chandler unbuttoned the fall of his breeches, Millicent pulled on the bow of his neckcloth and removed the tight garment and the collar from around his neck and slung them to the floor. Chandler slid an open hand up and down that small area of silky thigh between her stockings and her womanhood before placing himself at her center.

  Chandler realized he was trembling, and that stopped him. His need for her was so strong it shook him to the core of his being. His heart was pounding so urgently he had to stop for a moment and try to understand what made Millicent so different from all the other women he had been with. What made her pull at his very soul?

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  He looked into her trusting, eager eyes and knew he had to give her one more chance to stop him. “Are you sure about this, Millicent? I can—I think I can back away if you give the word—damn it, Millicent tell me not to do this.”

  “No. I don’t want you to be a gentleman tonight. I want you to be the rake I know and want.”

  Millicent slipped her arms underneath his and reached around him. With both hands she grabbed his buttocks and pushed him toward her.

  “Oh, damn,” he murmured frantically as he shoved into her all at once.

  Millicent grunted softly but only a moment. She kept her hands on his hot skin, leading him up and down as he pumped his hips. Chandler gave himself up to the exquisite pain of the indescribable pleasure that was Millicent.

  Millicent.

  He planted both his hands on her waist and spread his fingers over her hips and joined her rhythm as she arched to meet him. He moved inside her, up and down. Through the fabric of his shirt he felt the heat of her breast rubbing against his chest. He heard her soft sounds of wonderment and his own animal groan of pleasure as he wonderfully slipped over the edge of reality and into a sweet dream, buried deep within her, spilling into her.

  Chandler lowered his head and breathed heavily into the crook of her neck and whispered her name as he kissed her damp skin.

  His heart lurched with so much emotion he could hardly catch his breath. He knew he must be in love with Millicent Blair.

  Nineteen

  “Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.” There is still time to catch one of the Terrible Threesome before the Season draws to a close.

  —Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column

  Millicent looked up into Chandler’s eyes and smiled at him. She loved him. Loved him madly. There was no doubt of that and not a trace of regret for what she had just instigated. She had no fear that she would ever want another man the way she wanted Chandler.

  He was still inside her. They lay half on the settee and half off. Chandler propped himself up by one elbow on the settee arm and the other on the back of it. She felt his weight, his strength, and his warmth, and she had never been so complete or so contented.

  With a curious expression he looked down at her and said, “You’re smiling.”

  “That surprises you?”

  “Yes. I’m wondering why you’re not angry with me.”

  She stirred a little so she could see his eyes better. “Why would I be upset for getting what I wanted?”

  “This isn’t why I brought you here, Millicent. I never imagined we’d end up like this. I didn’t plan it.”

  “I know. I wanted this to happen. It’s what I planned,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to admit this to him.

  He returned her smile. “I’ve never had a lady pursue me quite like you did tonight.”

  “You’ve never had reason to. You’ve always been the one in pursuit.”

  “I fear I didn’t know what I was missing or surely I would have been much easier to catch.”

  She laughed softly as she looked up into his handsome face. “Well then, you should thank me for awakening you to such wonderful delights.”

  His long, dark lashes hooded his eyes attractively. He said, “Indeed, Miss Blair. Thank you.”

  “Would what we just shared have been different if you had planned it?” she asked.

  He nuzzled her hair a little and kissed her cheek. “A little perhaps.”

  “In what way?”

  “More words, more caresses, more time.”

  She smiled at him. “A bed?”

  He groaned and adjusted his arms, which were holding up most of his weight. “Most assuredly a bed.”

  “Would all those things have made what we shared better?”

  His gaze locked on hers instantly, piercing her. “It was the best for me. Nothing could have made it better.”

  Millicent’s heart grew in her chest and she smiled again. He couldn’t have said anything that would have pleased her more. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “I mean it, Millicent. It’s never been so good for me before.”

  She nodded and reached up, letting her fingertips lightly caress his beard-stubbled cheek. She wished she could stay here with him for the rest of the night, the day, forever, but knew that wasn’t possible.

  “I have to go.”

  “I know. Don’
t worry, I’ll have you home before dawn. I promise.”

  He thought she was talking about tonight, but she meant she would be going home to Nottinghamshire soon and would never see him again. She would be saying good-bye, not good night. That thought wrenched her heart.

  Chandler lifted himself from her and pulled up his breeches with one hand as he rose and pushed down Millicent’s dress with the other. In one fluid, sweeping motion he hooked one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders and lifted her into his arms as if she were weightless.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m going to make love to you the right way now.”

  “Why? Did we do it wrong the first time?” she asked, a bit confused.

  He carried her over to a thick, sable-colored fur rug that lay on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace.

  “It wasn’t that it was wrong,” he said, kneeling down and gently placing her on the rug. “God no. It was impatient and a bit self-indulgent on my part. I know what we did on that settee was a damn sight more pleasurable for me than for you. I want it to be good for you.”

  The pliant pelt cushioned her comfortably and felt deliciously soft. Pale yellow light from the lamp cast a golden glow around the room. It was quiet, not even the sound of a clock to disturb the magic of the evening, the thrill of lying half dressed on the floor with Chandler.

  Chandler sat down beside her and pulled his shirt off his head, then threw it aside. Her breaths quickened at the sight of his strong chest with firm, rippled muscles filling out his skin. She saw a dark patch of hair low on his stomach where the waistband of his trousers parted invitingly. Her abdomen quivered with anticipation.

  She raised up to a sitting position and touched his knee. “I was not disappointed, Chandler. I thought what we did was wonderful.”

  He reached over and covered her mouth in a brief but deep, tongue-thrusting kiss. “Then wait until you find out what comes next.”

  “There’s more than what we did?” she asked, relaxing a little.

  “Yes. And I’m going to take my time and make love to you properly. The way you deserve to be loved.”

  He untied his evening shoes and took them off, then rose up on his knees. He turned to her and removed her drawers where they hung on one foot. Chandler reached for the hem of her dress, which rested mid-thigh, but stopped as he looked at her clothing. Her high-waisted dress hung off her shoulders, showing a prim-looking stays.

  “But not as much time as I would like. I want to undress you layer by layer, kissing you with each garment I take off, but completely undressing you tonight would take longer than we have.”

  Chandler slid his breeches down his legs and kicked them aside. He was nude. Beautifully nude. Her heart lurched with love, with wanting. She felt hot and eager when he reached over and gathered her into his arms. His bare skin brushed hers and she tingled, relaxed and melted into his arms, giving herself up to Chandler.

  He gently laid her into the softness of the rug and stretched his warm body beside her. He rose on his elbow and slowly inched the skirt of her dress and chemise up to her waist again. He looked into her eyes for a long moment before his gaze drifted down her face, lingered over her breasts, before going on to the junction of her thighs, and looking down the length of her legs.

  “I love the way you look, the way you’re shaped, and the richness of your satiny skin,” he whispered huskily. “You’re beautiful, perfect.”

  Millicent felt hot, flushed, urgent as his gaze continued to roam freely over her.

  With an open palm, Chandler cupped her cheek, caressed it. He slid his hand down her neck, over her chest and shoulders with a gliding touch of his fingertips that thrilled her. He let his open palm drift over to her breasts. He lifted first one and then the other, gently squeezing their fullness, feeling their weight, seeming to memorize their shape.

  Millicent closed her eyes and savored his gentle touch. She was sensitive to his every move, his every breath. He rubbed each nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she thought she would explode with sweeping, ecstatic sensations that she had never felt before.

  She didn’t want him to stop, ever, but he moved his hand down to the curve of her waist, over her hip to let his hand rest possessively low on her abdomen. When his hand slipped farther she jerked with surprise, with pleasure. His fingers were still for a moment, letting her get used to the touch of his hand so intimately on her before starting a gentle, slow stroking with his fingers.

  Millicent moaned from somewhere deep inside herself but could form no real words. All she knew was that she wanted more and more of what he was doing.

  “I love the way you feel,” he whispered. “Silky, warm, moist. Beautiful.”

  Chandler continued to stroke her up and down in her most womanly place as he bent his head and lightly rubbed her cheek with his nose, then he moved on to her chin, down the sweep of her neck, before snuggling his face into the velvety skin at the curve of her shoulder. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, loudly.

  “I love the fresh, womanly scent of you,” he whispered and inhaled deeply once again.

  Millicent felt as if she was about to go over the edge of something and she couldn’t stop herself. Without conscious thought, she moved her lower body in rhythm with the motion of his fingers.

  Chandler started with her eyes and kissed his way down her cheeks to her lips. She opened her mouth wanting to taste more of him, wanting to be a part of him again. He lingered over her mouth, kissing her, letting his tongue play with hers, occasionally nipping her bottom lip between his teeth.

  Slowly he moved to her breasts and covered each rosy peak with his mouth and suckled first one and then the other and back again. Millicent was pliant and dazed with an indescribable pleasure that kept mounting low in her abdomen. All these things he did were so new to her she could hardly catch her breath or stop the contractions of wanting that wracked her muscles.

  “I love the way you taste,” he murmured against the swell of her breasts. With his tongue he sampled her heated skin. “I can’t get enough of you.”

  Millicent entwined her arms around his neck and pressed her body closer to his. His touch, his words were delicious, but she knew she needed—wanted—more. She ached to feel him inside her again.

  Breathlessly she said, “I feel the same way, Lord Dunraven. I fear you are teasing me.”

  “Teasing you?” he questioned between brief kisses that made her body rise up and meet his hand. “I thought I was loving you with words and caresses.”

  “I don’t think I can take many more of your words and caresses. I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t thoroughly kiss me and—” She stopped. And what?

  “And fill you?” he finished for her.

  She knew he expected her to want the treasured touches and sweet words and, as a lady, she should have been satisfied with that, but she wanted more. She wanted Chandler inside her, filling her, taking her. She didn’t want the gentleman. She wanted Chandler the man, big and powerful, making her his as he had on the settee.

  “Yes, yes, my lord, fill me.”

  Suddenly Millicent gasped and arched into his hand with a jerking motion. She buried her face into his shoulder as waves of explosive sensations tore through her with gripping speed before fading into pleasant ripples.

  “Chandler.” She whispered his name softly before collapsing back down onto the rug with no breath left in her lungs, no strength in her muscles.

  Without giving her time to catch her breath, Chandler settled his body over the length of her as his mouth covered hers. His lips were moist, hot, and demanding as he kissed her deeply, roughly, crushing her body and her lips beneath his. Millicent loved his aggressiveness, welcomed it. She matched him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, breath for breath.

  She parted her legs and he pushed inside her. Millicent arched to meet him, taking all of him at once, deeply. She heard his breath quicken, felt him tremble, and
she gloried that she could please him in this way. She joined the hungry rhythm he determined with his body moving in and out of her with long, sure strokes that grew stronger, sharper with delicious sensations until she stopped and cried out, breathless with exquisite pleasure once again.

  Chandler covered her mouth with his in a bruising kiss that absorbed her cry of pleasure as he pumped powerfully into her. He slid his arms under her back and cupped her to him as her body shuddered with quivering muscles.

  He continued to move a moment or two longer before he stopped deep inside her and shakily whispered, “Oh, Millicent, you are too wonderful, too beautiful, too exciting.”

  “And so are you,” she answered and snuggled her nose into the warmth of his neck.

  He lay hot and heavy upon her. Her hands made a slow trail over his back, down to his buttocks and up to his shoulders again. She wanted to hold him forever in this moment.

  Chandler raised his head and gave her that knowing grin she had come to love.

  He said, “Wasn’t that better than before?”

  “Oh, my, yes! I can’t explain it, but I felt such extraordinary feelings. What happened?”

  “You just experienced what’s called the climax of lovemaking.”

  “It’s really quite breathtaking, isn’t it?”

  “It stole mine. I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so satisfied.”

  “Mmm. That’s a good way to describe it. I feel completely contented, too.”

  He chuckled low in his chest. “So do I.”

  Millicent sighed, wanting to enjoy a few minutes more in Chandler’s arms before she returned to thoughts of what must be done, but she knew the hour was late. She didn’t want to think about going home to her aunt’s or to Nottinghamshire. She didn’t want to think about never experiencing again this wonderful part of life with Chandler, but she must. Now that their lovemaking was over, the sooner she got on with her life, the sooner she would get over missing Chandler.