Sighing, she clung more tightly to his neck, her knees growing weak as she tasted him as she’d never before tasted a man. When she was certain that she would faint from the pleasure of it, he pulled his mouth from hers.
For a long moment he simply looked at her, his eyes dark and hungry, his breath harsh and ragged. Then he groaned and buried his face into her neck. Hoarsely whispering her name, he kissed her there as well.
“Nicholas! Oh, Nicholas!” she cried, grasping his head to urge him on.
And on he went, lower and lower, kissing over her collarbone and down the slope of her cleavage. She arched and moaned, thrilling to his every move. And still he dipped lower, stopping only when he came to the neckline of her gown. Whispering her name again, he outlined the shape of it with his tongue, tickling her sensitized flesh until her breasts tingled and ached.
Oh, how she wanted him to touch them, to strip away her clothes and fondle them. Maddened by her need, she pulled his arms from around her and guided his hands to caress them.
Sobbing his own need, Nicholas did as directed. God, but she was magnificent in her passion, so responsive, so honest and unbridled in her desire. Never had a woman aroused him as she did, never had one so tested his control. And yet — yet —
For all that he felt ready to burst from his urgency, he had no wish to take her quickly. No. He wanted to savor the taste and feel of her, to love her slowly and thoroughly. If it took him forever to do so, all the better. For what he felt for her went way beyond lust for her flesh, splendid though that flesh was. What he felt was deeper and truer, it was a feeling he knew would last for all eternity.
Sophie, however, wasn’t feeling nearly so patient. His every kiss, every caress fanned her excitement, making her throb in an unspeakable yet thrilling manner. Giddy from the new sensations and eager to experience more, she arched and rubbed against him, gasping when she felt his answering hardness.
Eyes wide, she leaned back to stare at that hardness. Alas, it was concealed by the folds of his gold velvet dressing gown. Curious beyond propriety, she reached down and gently poked the area.
His hips jerked, as if he sought to escape her touch, and a strangled groan issued from his throat. Bewildered by his response, she glanced at his face, searching for an explanation. His eyes were closed, and he looked exceedingly uncomfortable. Could it be that men didn’t like to be touched with anything but daisies?
Certain that that was the case, Sophie gazed about her. Surely one of the pavilions grew daisies? But which one? The forcing houses went on forever. Seeing no choice but to ask, she cleared her throat and murmured, “Er — Nicholas?”
He grunted.
Taking that grunt as a signal to proceed, she shyly inquired, “Where would I find — uh — -d-daisies?”
His eyes flew open, and he frowned. “Daisies? Whatever do you want with daisies?”
She felt herself blush. “You know — ah — unless you p-prefer feathers or custard?”
“Feathers? Custard?” His frown deepened. “Whatever are you talking about?”
Her face burning, she repeated what Lydia’s brother had told her about sexual acts. He looked more amazed with every passing second. When she had finished, she looked down at the floor and timidly inquired, “What sort of man are you, my lord?”
There was a long pause of silence, as if he considered her question, then he chuckled. “None of those sorts, though I must admit that licking custard from a cup between your breasts does sound rather interesting.” He chuckled again. “The sort of man I am, however, is the kind who likes to make up the game as he goes along. Naturally, I wish you to help me do so since you are playing it with me.”
It was her turn to frown. “I don’t understand.”
He tightened her in his embrace again and kissed her puckered forehead. “In other words, the goal of our game is to please each other and ourselves in whatever manner we choose.”
“Does that mean we can touch each other?”
“Most definitely.”
He saw her steal a downward peek. “Anywhere we wish?”
“Anywhere and everywhere,” he replied, grinning at her charming curiosity. “My body is yours to explore, and yours mine. And if either of us wants the other to do something to us, we have only to ask.”
She tipped her head back to meet his gaze, her face radiant in her delight. “Oh, I must say that I far prefer your game.”
“As do I,” he growled, reclaiming her mouth with his.
This time, however, it was she who kissed him, her lips and tongue greedy as she explored and tasted every inch of his mouth. Helplessly inflamed by her probings, he grasped her buttocks and ground his arousal against her belly. She cried out and thrust back in uninhibited response.
“I feel so — queer,” she whispered, dragging her lips from his. “I ache in the oddest places. I — I — ” She squirmed against him, making it perfectly clear where her discomfort lay. “I — oh!” She wriggled again. “Nicholas — please help me. I — I — “
“Shh. Hush, now, love,” he murmured, stopping her plea with a kiss. “Of course I shall help you, just as you shall help me. I feel exactly as you do, you know.”
She looked up at him, her beautiful gray eyes troubled. “I want to help you, truly I do, but I don’t know how.”
He smiled down at her, his hands going to her hair to release it from its pins. “Never fear, love. I shall show you how.”
“But — oh, Nicholas! You know what a mess I make of everything. What if I make matters worse instead of better? You have already suffered so from my stupidity.”
“You shan’t make a mess of it,” he assured her, entranced by the beauty of her hair as it tumbled down her back. This was the first time he’d seen it down, and it was every bit as glorious as he’d imagined. Gently finger combing its golden length, he added, “You also shan’t make matters worse. I promise.”
She nodded, though her eyes were still filled with uncertainty. “In that instance, w-what should I do next? I mean — ” she shook her head ” — what would feel good to you?”
He eyed her thoughtfully, then replied, “It would give me great pleasure to look at your body.”
She flushed a most delightful shade of rose. “You want me to — to — remove my — uh — clothes?”
“No. I want to remove them myself, but only if you wish me to do so.”
Her color deepened, and she bashfully looked away. “I — I wish it very much.”
His hands trembling with anticipation, Nicholas reached around to the back of her gown and rather clumsily unbuttoned the buttons. When the garment lay at her feet, he quickly divested her of her corset. Pausing only long enough to kiss her blushing cheek, he pulled her thin cambric chemise over her head. It was then, and only then, that he stepped back to look at her.
She stood before him naked from the waist up, her lower body covered by drawers and long pink stockings. Nicholas couldn’t help smiling at her drawers. Of course she wore them. Such garments were worn only by the most modish women, and even in her reduced circumstances she remained au courant.
It wasn’t her drawers, however, that arrested his attention, interesting though they were with her woman’s triangle shadowed beneath them. No. What enthralled him was her form. She was exquisite, a visual feast of slender lines and lush curves.
Never in his life had he seen such breasts as hers, ripe yet firm and succulently round. And her waist! It was so small, flaring into such lusciously rounded hips, that he wondered at her need for a corset. If she were his, he’d toss them away so he would have the pleasure of feeling her delectable body every time he hugged her.
If she were his. His heart raced at the thought of having such sweetness and beauty in his arms every day for the rest of his life. As his gaze moved over her, relishing the flawless texture and blushed cream hue of her skin, his thought firmed into resolution. He would have her … for all eternity if she would have him.
“Nicholas? I
s something wrong?” Sophie inquired, her voice tinged with alarm. “Don’t you like my body.” “Like it?” he groaned. “I adore it. You, Miss Barrington, are the most beautiful creature on earth. It leaves me breathless just looking at you.”
She sighed her relief, making her breasts heave in a most tantalizing manner. Smiling timidly, she softly inquired, “Would you mind if I - I look at your body, too?” He smiled back and held out his arms. “Be my guest.” Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she slowly unbuttoned his dressing gown. When she finished, he shrugged it off and tossed it onto the worktable behind them. He then turned back to her to allow her to continue.
Quivering as much from excitement as from apprehension, she reached up to unknot his neck cloth. The wicked thing refused to cooperate. No matter what she did, it became more and more tangled. Just when she was ready to scream her frustration, Nicholas removed it for her. “Damn complicated, these knots,” he declared, flinging it next to his dressing gown. “Took me years to master them.”
Sophie smiled at his obvious attempt to save her feelings. Her heart swelling with tenderness at his thoughtfulness, she unbuttoned his shirt. When he pulled it over his head to bare his torso, she could only stare in stunned awe.
He was perfect, more perfect than she’d ever imagined. So perfect, in fact, that she couldn’t resist touching his muscular chest to see if it were as hard as it looked.
It was, and as she’d imagined that day in the garden, the sprinkling of dark hair there was crisp rather than soft. Delighting in the way that crispness tickled her hands, she thoroughly explored the sculpted contours of his chest, then smoothed down his ribs, marveling at the way they tapered into his lean waist.
As she moved inward to trace the ridges of his flat belly, she breathlessly whispered, “Oh, Nicholas. You are so magnificent that I can scarcely believe you are made of flesh and blood.”
He moaned and pulled her into his embrace. “I am indeed flesh and blood, my love … flesh that trembles beneath your touch, and blood that sings with desire to possess you.”
“Then, possess me,” she murmured, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.
His only reply was a feverish groan as he scooped her up in his arms. Pausing a beat to glance about, he finally set her atop the worktable, her backside pillowed by his dressing gown.
For a long moment thereafter he simply looked at her, his gaze hot and hungry. Then a hoarse cry tore from his throat, and he cupped her breasts in his hands. His breath harsh and rasping, he circled her nipples with his thumbs, producing the most exquisite sensations. She moaned her bliss and arched up, thrusting the hardened peaks beneath his fingers.
For several rapturous moments he teased them, flicking and tweaking them in turn, then he leaned down and took them in his mouth. Time froze in a burst of ecstasy as he suckled them, sometimes licking, other times nipping and kissing. No matter what he did, it sent surge after electrifying surge of sensation vibrating through her.
Where those vibrations terminated was deep and low, bedeviling her unmentionable place in a way that made her squirm and groan. Mindless of everything but her need, she grasped his hand and wantonly pressed it between her legs.
Nicholas lifted his head from her breasts to stare at where she held his hand, then he growled and stripped her lower body bare. After laying her back on the table, he parted her swollen flesh, lightly tracing its length as he did so.
She gasped and strained her thighs apart. When he separated her farther to expose and caress her hardened core, she thrashed her hips, screaming her pleasure. For a long while he stimulated her thus, stroking, teasing, and tickling her, then he knelt down and kissed her intimately.
Over and over again he took her to the edge, only to pull back at the last moment. She arched against his mouth, sobbing and begging for release. When she lay wet and trembling before him, he stood up and stripped off his trousers.
“Oh, my! Just look at you,” she whispered, rising to her elbows to stare at his sex. Slanting him a shy glance, she stammered, “May I t-touch you?”
At his nod she grasped him. He emitted a strangled sob and jumped. Certain that she had again done something in her ignorance to hurt him, she released him, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He stammered between gritted teeth. “For hurting you. I didn’t mean to do so. I — I just wanted to feel you.”
There was a pause, then he softly commanded, “Look at me, Sophie.” When she did, she saw that he smiled. “You didn’t hurt me. I like you touching me.”
“But you jumped,” she protested, staring at his handsome face in bewilderment.
“You jumped when I touched you intimately, too. Don’t you remember?”
She nodded.
“And did you do so because I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. No! What you did felt wonderful.”
“Well, that is exactly how it is with me. I move from pleasure, not from pain. Do you see?”
She did see, and smiled. Thus assured, she again took him in her hand.
Nicholas, however, instantly regretted his encouragement. The feel of her fingers, gentle yet eager, as they touched and explored his inflamed length proved far more stimulating than he’d expected. So stimulating, that within moments he was forced to pull from her hands, certain that he’d lose himself if she continued.
“Nicholas?” she whispered, her eyes again wide and worried.
He shook his head at her silent query. “No, my love. You did nothing wrong. What you did was very right, and I promise that next time I shall let you explore me to your heart’s content. Right now, however, it is time for us to release each other.” After thoroughly kissing her, he again teased her woman’s flesh.
When he was certain she was ready to receive him, he moved between her thighs and rubbed his tip over her. She cried out and opened yet wider. Lightly stroking her feminine bud to ease the pain of penetration, he slowly entered her.
Her head shot up at the feel of him, and she exclaimed, “Nicholas! Whatever are you doing?” all while staring at their joining flesh.
“Why, I’m entering you, of course,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her lips.
Her eyes widened. “You’re what!”
“Entering you,” he repeated. “Surely you know that that is how things are done between a man and a woman?”
She shook her head, her face troubled as she continued to stare at his sex. “But — but — it won’t fit.”
“Of course it will. Women have babies every day, and a baby is much larger than I shall ever be.”
“Yes, well, I hear that it hurts dreadfully to have even the tiniest of babies,” she retorted, squirming to remove him.
He smiled gently and drew her up into his embrace. “Unfortunately, I can’t promise that this won’t hurt the first time. It shall. But the pain will soon pass, and you shall enjoy the experience immensely. I promise.”
She frowned, clearly not at all reassured.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Trust me?”
She gazed at him for a beat, then bit her lip and nodded.
“Good, then try to relax. It will be much easier if you are relaxed.” Though she still looked frightened, she leaned back again, calming only when he had again prepared her.
“Now, just relax, love. And remember: You have only to tell me to stop and withdraw, and I shall do so immediately.” With that, he eased into her. Though she gasped at the feel of him, she voiced no protest. He entered a fraction more, pausing to stimulate her when she tensed.
Inch by slow inch he moved deeper until he felt the barrier of her maidenhood, then he stopped and gathered her into his arms. Hugging her close, he thrust sharply and broke through. She sobbed and buried her face against his chest.
Expecting her to demand his withdrawal, Nicholas sat perfectly still, stroking her hair. To his surprise, she instead moved her hips, as if adjusting to his size. After a few moments of such squirming, she nodded.
She looked up and smiled. “Yes. It doesn’t hurt so much now.”
“Do you promise to tell me if the pain worsens?” he said, searching her face for signs of discomfort. There was none.
“I promise.” With that vow, she again moved her hips, making him groan at the resulting friction. “Now, please do continue. I find that I like the feel of you inside me.”
In one smooth motion he filled her completely. She wrapped her legs about his hips, urging him on. Ardently he complied, thrusting time and again. Soon she found his rhythm and moved with him.
As one now they continued on, thrusting and arching in perfect harmony, their pleasure swelling with every blissful stroke. And when they finally reached their climax, they did so together, shuddering in unison as they found heaven in each other’s arms.
“Nicholas! Oh, Nicholas,” she gasped as they gently floated back to earth. “Will it always be like this?”
He laid his scarred cheek against her forehead, sighing his contentment. “For all eternity, my love.”
Sophie should have been exhausted when she entered the kitchen the next morning, beyond exhaustion really, for she and Nicholas had remained together, laughing and talking and making love until just before dawn. Yet she wasn’t tired, not in the least. Indeed she’d never felt so wonderful in her entire life, or so very alive, for Nicholas loved her.
Oh, he hadn’t uttered the exact words, but she knew it was so. It had to be. How could he have shared what he’d shared with her last night if he didn’t love her? Besides, he’d promised her an eternity of bliss, and a man didn’t pledge his eternity to a woman he didn’t love. Not a man as good and honorable as Nicholas.
Smiling with all the joy she felt inside, Sophie gaily greeted the staff as she waltzed to the sideboard to collect her ladyship’s breakfast tray. She had just picked it up when she heard Cook holler to Meg, “No need to fix Lord Lyndhurst a tray this morning.”
For All Eternity Page 30
