For Juliet was touching him as though trying to memorize every inch of his flesh. And there were a good few fascinating inches of him, which she was about to reach for when he pulled away and sat up.
"Are you warm enough?" he asked almost desperately.
"It's suddenly become very hot in here," she murmured.
"Perhaps we would do better to go to a bedchamber where we could take our ease more readily?" he said, nibbling her throat.
She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. She was unsure what to say, for no one had ever suggested such a bold thing before. But the prospect of being alone with him was no longer frightening, rather a craving which simple had to be satiated.
He scooped her up into his arms, driving the air from her lungs. "Which way, love?"
She pointed. As he progressed out into the hall and up the stairs, his lips began to tease hers open. He darted his tongue in and out, and nibbled on her lower lip. He licked her upper one in a sensuous feast which left her clinging to him breathlessly.
He headed down the hall as per her indications. Soon they were in the chamber she had been allocated, gold and white with bronze and forest green accents. It had turned chill, and he moved toward the small blaze instinctively. He stood her in front of the hearth. Stooping, he removed the fire screen and gave the embers a vigorous poke.
He straightened and reached for her. "The fire will get going soon."
"I think it's already started," she said with a tiny giggle.
For his manhood was boring into the tender flesh of her stomach with all too obvious need. He rubbed against her, warming their bodies, before moving down to kiss her breasts through the muslin of her gown. This time his mouth travelled down to her navel. He probed her tender belly with his tongue, and brought one hand up to stroke her flank.
"It most certainly has, Juliet. But there's plenty of kindling here to keep it blazing."
She caressed his head and the nape of his neck, and was eager for more flesh to be bared to her touch.
His busy fingers were already tumbling her thick luxuriant fall of raven hair down over her shoulders, running his fingers through it to loosen the coils so that it flowed freely over her curvaceous back and across her breasts.
She held her breath as he combed his hands upwards to massage her scalp, before tumbling her tresses down over her shoulders and bosom once more. One hand on her waist arced her back to press her hips more tightly to his. Her nimble fingers began to undo his silk waistcoat, nearly tearing it asunder in her need-driven haste.
His bold kiss was an unmistakable act of possession. Lawrence ran his tongue sinuously along her own, before testing fully the honeyed sweetness of the inside of her mouth. He cupped her chin for a moment, then glided his hand back into her thick tresses to deepen the kiss still further.
She was curious enough to let the tip of her own tongue peep into his mouth for a second. He moaned and clasped her neck and the base of her skull with one huge hand, trapping her against his body.
Yet Juliet felt no fear. Rather, as she bared his chest, it was as if they fit perfectly together, head to toe. He was so enormous and perfect, like the statue of David. Yet he was scorchingly hot with life and passion.
She had expected a man's face to be hard and bristly like a hedgehog, but all was silken softness. The column of his throat as she bared it was warm and soft too. Nothing marble-like or spiked here.
Lawrence growled in the back of his throat as she slowly undid his clothing with one hand, her other moving up to stroke his own incredibly long lashes. He sucked one finger into his mouth, before breathing in her ear, "Are you getting warm enough, love?"
"Like there's a wildfire searing through me."
She was not the only one on fire. As she eagerly touched him with increasing boldness, she set sparks rocketing though him and straight to his loins. He had hoped to leave within an hour; now he was terrified that all night would never be enough with this incredible woman.
What on earth was happening to him? He was to be married at St. Mary's at eleven. But it was as if he had stepped into an inferno. The sensations blazing up within him were almost more than he could bear.
Bare…. He began to unfasten his waistcoat completely, then the shirt buttons at his chest and waist, until she had full access to him and could press her kisses in a line from his cravat downwards…
CHAPTER TWO
Down and down she went, until she reached his navel. Now he halted her, for if she suckled him he was sure he would not last two seconds. And that would never do.
For making love with this woman for the first time was surely a moment worth savouring. But his desperate urgency was making it more and more difficult to stand, or even breathe.
Her explorations with her lithe fingers were driving him ever onwards. Lawrence was almost tempted to ask her to take pity on him and let him spill just to end the torment.
But her hands were doing the most delightful things to his buttocks and chest, and the last thing he wanted to do was disgrace himself in front of her.
Now she was raking his throat with her short nails; the contact sent a jolt through him like an electric current. He walked forward until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress.
He sat Juliet down gently, then joined her as she kissed down his neck and pushed his jacket and then his waistcoat off his shoulders.
Seeing her awed response as his shirt parted, the desirous expression which crossed her features, Lawrence kissed her full on the mouth, mingling tongues once more while he began to undo her gown. It had a simple enough pair of side fastenings at the waist, but he half-expected a murmur of protest as the garment was taken from her.
But Juliet made no demur, only kissed him back even more ardently as his hands lightly stroked the tops of her now bare shoulders, his thumbs dipping down to the full curves of her breasts.
He slipped one strap of her chemise off her creamy shoulder, and licked and nuzzled her the exposed flesh until he moved downwards to fasten his lips on one rosy nipple.
Scorching heat flooded them both. For a moment he felt the blood surge through him. He wanted to end the sweet torment and simply take her then and there.
But the red-hot agony became a gentle warmth radiating outwards as she cradled his head against her breasts. It provoked sensations within him such as he had never experienced before, for all he had enjoyed the most remarkable professional women.
There was a delightful sweetness about the young woman, a light fragrance of rose petals which clung to her, innocent yet heady. Lawrence dipped his nose into her fragrant cleavage for a second before baring her other breast to nip and tease it.
Her hands were suddenly all over him once more, face, hair, neck, shoulders, which were straining through the linen shirt.
She tried to tug it off his rippling muscles, but he stayed her hands, pressing them back to his chest to prolong the final moment. The last thing he wanted to do was rush. No woman had ever touched him as heatedly as this; it was as addictive as a drug.
Over his massive chest, down his hard abdomen, and then back up over his shirt, her fingers soothed and massaged, as she revelled in the warmth of his body, the contrast of textures, soft, solid, silky, lightly downed, velvet, steel. Before Lawrence could stop Juliet a second time, she yanked his shirt all the way off, stroked down his long hard back, and kissed him even harder.
She ran one hand through his hair, and he had never felt so at peace. Or so powerfully aroused. His broad expanse of chest was explored thoroughly. She even rubbed his nipples with the balls of her thumbs, peaking them as her own had done.
One part of her mind was screaming at her that this was sheer madness, the other whispering for her to see all he had to offer. She should have been nervous, but she felt so calm, so certain, that even when he moved to slide her chemise down to her ankles, she made no protest.
Now clad in nothing more than a pair of lacy drawers, and her stockings and garters, she looked like
an alluring woman of the world. The need to bare her thus-far perfect charms propelled him onwards. Never had he seen such breasts, hair, skin. His hands roved everywhere, almost searching for some flaw, some imperfection.
Yet there was nothing but the velvet of her skin, sweet as nectar as he began to kiss her thoroughly while he untied the tapes of her drawers. He gentled his hands up and down the silk of her stockings, warming her legs too, marveling at the shapely knees, calves and ankles.
She was a goddess, there was no denying it. Every man who had told him about her had said the same thing. Now he truly believed. She was divine, and about to become his in every way.
He moved her hands from his back and chest and put them at the waist of his trousers, giving her the hint before pulling the coverlet down to expose the crisp white sheets, smelling of starch and roses.
Juliet took the suggestion, and in the split second after she had innocently rubbed her hand against his shaft, he was pressing her backwards on the bed. He stroked up one stockinged leg, enjoying the glide of the silk, before tugging at the garter ribbon.
He moved to cradle both legs in his lap, sliding one stocking down with feather-light strokes before removing it and both her dainty black satin pumps. Her other stocking soon followed, every touch of his hand and the silk a dazzling flame.
She gasped and licked her lips, causing him to press his mouth to hers for another devastating kiss. Her little pink tongue darted maddeningly in and out in imitation of his own caress, enough to drive him nearly to distraction.
Even now Lawrence wondered at what it was about the woman which was driving him wild. She had done nothing artful, not even made any lewd suggestions or whispered naughty things to him. She was not acting either coy or predatory, trying to drive the passion between them. Not once had she ever even mentioned money, or how she only had a set amount of time before her next client.
And the way Juliet was touching and kissing him was like nothing he had ever encountered. It was a complete concentration upon him, as if he were the most important man in the world. Wonderful, perfect, a deity in his own right, worthy to complete her in every way.
Never had he felt the awe which emanated from Juliet as she gave herself up to the thrilling sensations his every kiss and touch filled her with. His head swam. Lawrence knew he could take her now, in an instant, hot and hard.
But she was small, delicate, and though she was a professional, he did try to make sure he wasn't completely selfish. He knew most of them never felt any pleasure in what they did, but that did not mean to say he should bludgeon her to bits with his blunt instrument the way so many men did.
That thought filled him with revulsion, and he kissed her harder, caressing her breasts and gliding one hand up between the legs still relaxed in his lap. From calf to knee it travelled between, alternating legs as it made its slow, inexorable progress toward that most secret haven of her body.
Lawrence raised his head to look at her, and kissed her once again. Her lashes did not flutter down to conceal her gaze this time. Again he had the uneasy sensation that there was something about all of this that he was missing. The way her kisses, her whole body fit with his, the way her voice was like music to his ears, her rosy fragrance a balm to his soul. The magic of her hands on his sizzling flesh. The way her hair shimmered in the light from the candles burning in the room.
Now he could feel her hand upon his thigh. He moved it upwards to cup him, preparing her for his own hand an instant later. She stiffened slightly, but only opened her mouth and legs further to give him all that he sought. He still waited for some coy rejoiner, some show of reluctance, but the woman was utterly without shame. Without shame, and full of desire, he discovered as he felt her warm dampness dew his fingers.
He began suckling her lush breasts like a starving man devouring his first meal in months, though he had been sexually active enough since he had come home to London from India when he had had the chance.
Business be damned for the moment. His only mission now was to stroking her inner folds gently, spreading her budding moisture so that when he joined with her at last she would not be split in two by what he had discovered was his vast size.
But she seemed to have no qualms, for her hands were urging him to remove the last of his clothing as if she had no hesitation in making love to him. Yet there was nothing tawdry about it; it seemed as blissfully innocent as Adam and Eve discovering their own bodies for the first time.
He could not recall the last time he had been completely naked with a woman. Some of his transactions recently were so hurried he simply undid the falls of his breeches, clapped on his armour, finished in five minutes, then headed back to his warehouse at the docks once more.
But now Lawrence raised her legs from his own and flung off the last of his clothes in gleeful abandon. The feeling was most liberating, joyous even. Though he knew he ought to retrieve his evening jacket to get his protectors, he could see that she was a good, clean woman, just as everyone had said. Where was the harm in indulging himself fully just once?
Juliet kept waiting for herself to call a halt to the remarkable but terrifying things Lawrence was doing to her. But the voice of moral conscience and self-reproach was utterly silent. She who tended to analyse everything could not summon up one word of argument against this man bedding her, despite knowing all too well the enormity of what was about to happen. What she was about to become. Yet even as she heard the words in her head, wanton, whore, woman,she watched him disrobing fully.
More torrid heat now flooded through her languid limbs. No matter what her good Christian upbringing told her, her body screamed a different conclusion: this was a man worth risking everything for.
His lean, raw power was almost terrifying. But oddly she did not fear him. She sensed underneath it a tentative quality, an uncertainty, a doubt and anger that she could not put her finger on.
Juliet could still stop this madness, run into the safe haven of the bathroom and wait for him to leave. But as Lawrence stepped back to the bed, cupped her head in his hands and looked at her for a long moment, before lowering his lips to give her the sweetest kiss, she responded ardently and rose onto her knees to stretch against his huge frame.
Fully pressed together from head to knee, bare flesh to bare flesh, there was no mistaking what was to happen next. The joining she had heard whispered about. Had seen pictures of in a book in the library which had been on a high shelf but had had an intriguing title.
She knew enough about her own body to wonder how such a thing would be possible, for she was most slender, and he most formidable.
He was a man of the world, she a sheltered blustocking. What on earth was she thinking?
But rationality had little to do with it as the steady pressure of his hardness against her belly, and his hands cupping, kneading her bottom, drove her to kiss him even harder, touch Lawrence everywhere.
Juliet found herself imitating his strokes, down over the rugged slope of his back, to his gently rounded smooth buttocks, perfection themselves, until he sucked in his breath and rolled her over into the bed.
Lawrence laid down with her beside him, and there was no longer any hesitation or resistance in her mind or body. She simply had to make love to this dark Adonis. With no fear of consequences, no thought of the punishment God or man would inflict upon her if anyone ever knew...
The blood sang in her veins as Juliet let her fears slip away and they kissed torridly, mouths wide open, wet and sensuous. His hand slipped up to caress her gently once more. He murmured words of endearment against her fevered flesh. She was scorchingly hot, and heated up even further as he inserted one finger into her tightness.
He had learned from experience that women came in all different shapes and sizes. With some he had not been able to manage more than the smallest portion of his huge size. With this woman he not only wanted to manage, he needed to please her the way she was thrilling him.
He laid her flat on her back and s
pread her legs, devouring her leg from knee to hip with nibbling kisses as he put it over one shoulder, and then grasped the other leg. "You are so beautiful."
If this was his last night of freedom, he was going to enjoy every minute of it. And that meant trying things he had never ever even considered doing before.
She let out a token protest at his questing tongue and he withdrew it for a brief time. Now as he propped her other leg upon his shoulder she had no chance to escape from the erotic onslaught. He licked, nipped and nuzzled, before inserting his tongue deeply within her, tasting her like a fine wine. Her smell and taste were all powerful aphrodisiacs.
In fact, being with a complete stranger and doing things with her that he would never have dared even mention to a wife, let alone tried upon her, was the most thrilling experience of his life.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5 Page 3
