Caroline dropped her eyes as Beckham turned away; her ancient aunt conveniently resided in Audley Street, just around the corner from Mount Street, and probably wouldn’t remember if Caroline had visited her or not, which made her a convenient prop for her story. She felt a pang of guilt at so heartlessly using her neglected relation, and made a silent vow to take her to church that Sunday.
Descending to the sitting room, she sent for her carriage, her anxiety building as she contemplated what she intended to do. She thought briefly about not keeping the appointment, but both the thought of Gresham’s amusement and her own growing curiosity about that gentleman made her steel herself.
A short time later Caroline dismissed her carriage in Audley Street, spent twenty minutes with Aunt Fentbayle and her ear trumpet, and then, covering her hat with a dark veil, walked the few paces to Gresham’s house in Mount Street. She hesitated a moment, almost turning away to summon a hackney or a chair, but steadied herself and rapped the knocker lightly on the door. It opened immediately, and Lord Gresham himself stood before her, smiling wickedly. The flutter in her stomach grew.
Gresham took Caroline’s hand and drew her into the hall, lifting the veil from her hat, and untying the ribbon. “That is by far the least flattering garment I have ever seen upon your delectable person. It’s a very good thing that the point of our meeting is to divest you of this abomination,” he said, matching his actions to his words and discarding both veil and hat on a demilune table standing in the hall.
Caroline watched him toss her hat away, and then looked into the mirror above the little table, to see her rather pale face reflected, and Gresham’s dark and vital one behind it. Their eyes met in the mirror, and she gave a little shiver at the promise she saw in his. He turned her gently from the mirror, and led her to an elegant drawing room, waving gracefully with one hand at a settee as he poured her a glass of ratafia. Caroline sank down on it, gratefully accepting the wine, and downing it quickly. Gresham, watching her, smiled again. He sat down next to her, and took one of her gloved hands in his, turning it to open the buttons at her wrist one by one, and then peel it gently from her slim white hand, as Caroline watched mutely. With the glove removed, he kissed her palm, and then gently bit the sensitive skin at the base of her thumb before placing her hand on his knee.
Caroline shivered; just the feel of his lips on her skin triggered a return of the exciting feelings of the previous day. Gresham lifted her other hand, and equally slowly and delicately began to remove the second glove as well. Looking at his head bowed over the task, Caroline had a sudden urge to snatch her hand away, and begin clawing open his handsome waistcoat. She suppressed it, but felt her heart beating faster, as her bosom suddenly seemed to press more tightly against her bodice. Her companion took his time slipping the glove off, as Caroline sought for something to say.
“You make an uncommonly slow lady’s maid, Lord Gresham,” she observed.
“Tristan,” he said, ceasing his efforts.
“What?” Caroline asked inanely.
“You must call me Tristan, or we go no farther.”
“Yes, Tristan,” she said. “Will you please remove that glove, before you drive me mad?”
He made no move to resume his task, but instead looked at her with raised brows. “I intend to drive you mad, my sweet, but you’ll have to wait just a bit longer for that,” he said.
Caroline was deeply tempted to retort, but feared he would make her wait still longer, so she remained silent, wiggling against the settee with frustration. Tristan eyed her with amusement, but charitably refrained from teasing her further. Removing the second glove completely, he fell to kissing her fingertips, as Caroline wondered if her smoldering desire for him would set her petticoats afire. She finally lost patience, and, gripping his shoulders so he would face her, pressed her lips to his, and then, as he tried to speak, opened her mouth, making it impossible by sliding her tongue into his. Caroline felt a little heave of laughter in him, but since he was finally kissing her in return, she ignored it. A few moments later, the buttons of the dark grey coat had been opened, and Tristan had removed the fichu from the neckline of her dress, revealing her abundant cleavage. Caroline, who had somehow slid onto his lap, could feel a familiar hardness through her skirts, and she moved tantalizingly against it.
“This room is lovely, but, as the servants are gone, we might do this anywhere in the house,” observed Lord Gresham. Caroline’s eyes widened, and he nodded at her knowingly. “Indeed. Here, or the dining room, or the hall…” his voice trailed off at he watched excitement travel across her face. “You’re a wanton one, aren’t you? There will be time for that. But for the first time, I do think we require a bed.”
Caroline quivered. The word bed had never held such exotic implications for her before. Lord Gresham laughed quietly and stood, then drew her to her feet. “Can you walk?” he asked.
“Of course I can walk,” snapped Caroline, but she wondered if it were true. The excitement building in her made the idea of traversing a flight of stairs seem impossible.
“Ah, but you don’t have to.” Lord Gresham reached out snatched her up in his arms, holding her tightly against her chest. She gasped, and he pressed his lips to hers again.
He carried her across the hall as though she weighed nothing, and mounted the stairs two at a time. Caroline wondered vaguely how she had reached this point, but the sensation building inside her was so pleasant that it could not be denied. Tristan pushed a door open with his foot and carried her into a room decorated in shades of blue and gold, the carpet on the floor so thick that his footsteps were soundless. The dominant piece of furniture in the room was an enormous bed covered in turquoise silk, mounds of pillows piled up in front of the huge oaken headboard.
He placed her gently on her feet and, without a word, busied himself with divesting her of her clothing. Some small part of her brain that clung to reality resented the obvious familiarity he had with the ornate fastenings of women’s clothing. She tried to undress him in return, but he brushed her hands away impatiently and tugged off his coat, dropping it on the floor. As she tried futilely to unbutton his shirt, he pulled her unlaced dress and then her chemise hastily over her head and paused a moment, gazing at her breasts. She made a tentative move to cover herself, but he reached out and stopped her.
“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Let me look at you.”
She hesitated, and then did as he asked. He reached out very gently and cupped one of her breasts, his thumb just brushing her aureole. Her nipple immediately hardened, and he smiled softly.
“Exquisite,” he said. “It’s a shame that these must be covered all day, though I supposed I wouldn’t care for other men seeing them. They would want you almost as badly as I do.” He leaned forward and took the nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking until she arched her back and leaned towards him, seeking greater contact. He chuckled quietly in his throat and raised his hand to her other breast, squeezing the nipple gently. She gasped as sensation shot through her body and her knees almost buckled. He lifted his head and steadied her with his hands, and she made a tiny noise of disappointment.
“Patience, my dear. We don’t want to hurry this.” Gresham’s voice was laden with promise.
He turned his attention to her petticoats, and for once his expertise failed him. There was a ripping noise that she heard only dimly, and then she was naked except for her silk stockings. Gresham stepped back for one moment, surveying her, and then placed his hands around her slender waist.
“The bed,” he breathed. “We definitely need the bed.”
He lifted her, pausing for one moment to again suckle her breast, and then he carried her the short distance to the bed, seating her gently on the silken coverlet. He gently urged her down so that she lay with her hips on the edge of the mattress, and moved her knees apart with one hand, stepping between them. He slid one finger very gently into her, and she gasped.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered.
“I want to be able to see those amazing eyes of yours when I take you.”
Caroline opened her eyes shyly, and took in the scene; her naked body spread wantonly across the turquoise coverlet, her breasts rosy from desire, her spread legs with Lord Gresham between them, his shirt open to reveal a muscular chest, a wicked smile on his face but a curiously intent look in his eyes. She quivered as he slid another finger into her and slowly stretched her.
“You’re soaking,” he observed dispassionately. “You must want me very badly.”
She made a tiny noise, but couldn’t speak. Her hips rotated feverishly, seeking further contact with his hand. His smile grew.
“I can give you something better than that,” Lord Gresham said. He unfastened his breeches, and his erection sprang free. Her eyes widened at the sight; she had known, of course, that he was a great favorite with the ladies, and she was beginning to understand that it was due to more than his personal charm.
“Let’s see what I can do for you,” he said. He gently parted her thighs further, stroking the damp curls between them. “Are you ready?”
She blinked nervously but managed to nod her head slightly.
“Or course you are,” he said. He moved slightly forward and inserted just the tip of his penis into her passage. “You’re very tight. How long has it been since someone’s been in here?”
Her head moved restlessly on the turquoise silk.
“I told you to open your eyes,” said Lord Gresham. “And you must answer me if you want more of this. How long has it been?”
Caroline opened her eyes again, a faint spark of challenge lighting them. “Giles died four years ago,” she said.
He eased in another inch and she moaned. “And you’ve not had a man since?” He sounded faintly surprised.
“No. No one since then.”
“I’m honored you’ve chosen me,” he said. He slid in a bit more. “I think you need to watch what we are doing,” he said. He reached forward and grasped her wrists, raising her to a sitting position. “Support yourself with your arms,” he urged. She placed her arms behind her, the silk soft under her palms. The new position increased the friction between them, and she gave a mew of pleasure.
“Look at us,” he ordered.
She looked down and saw where they were joined, his rod sliding into her body and she felt a shock of anticipation when she saw how much further he had to go. She felt gorged already, but she tightened her muscles, willing him further inside her.
“Patience,” he said. “You need to learn to be patient. It’s more fun that way. And I have more questions. Have you not wanted a man in the past four years?”
“I….I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
His eyebrows rose as he moved in further. “Really? Because you’re clearly aching for one now. Tell me, would any man do?”
The question shocked her. “What?”
“Would any man do? Would you do this with a footman, or a farmer on your family’s estate, or a man you met on the street?” He slowly gave her another inch.
“Of course not,” she said, but the thought made her passion rise higher, and she squirmed, trying to slide further down his shaft.
“I don’t know how you’ve waited four years. You’re clearly in desperate need of this. So desperate you’d have any man,” said Lord Gresham. He moved in just a bit further, and reached up with one hand to stroke her stomach gently, his hand sliding seductively down to where they were joined. Caroline arched her back and her breasts jutted higher. With a tiny cry she climaxed, her body shaking with desire, and her elbows buckled. He reached out and caught her shoulders, pressing his lips to hers, plundering the softness of her mouth, then moving lower to nibble and suck at her nipples until they were so hard they ached, and Tristan could feel her muscles clenching more tightly around his erection.
“You’re so eager, and we’ve barely begun. Tell me what you want,” he urged. “I’ll go no further until you do.”
Caroline, whose prior experiences with her considerate but far less exciting husband, hadn’t prepared her for this teasing, felt her temper flaring, as her still unslaked lust returned. She stared directly into his eyes. “I want you so deep inside me I can feel you in my throat,” she heard herself say.
Gresham had thought it would be impossible to be more aroused, but he felt himself lengthen and thicken at her words. She gasped as she felt him grow inside her.
“I can do that for you,” he said. He slid out of her and she reached for him, protesting. He seized her about the waist and pushed her up on the bed, hastily shoving the pillows up against the headboard and positioning her against them. Then he moved over her, and, placing himself at her tender passage, moved in swiftly. Caroline gave a little cry.
He froze. “Too much?” he asked.
“Not enough,” she replied, and, seizing his shoulders, pulled him towards her. He laughed and pushed into her as far as he could, then pulled a lace covered pillow under her hips, to go even deeper. Caroline, despite feeling as though he had filled her completely, at the same time craved even more. She lifted her knees, pressing her heels into the mattress and pushed back. Tristan gave her a dark smile, and then slid out slowly, and even more slowly thrust back in.
“Oh, more, don’t make me wait,” Caroline moaned, trying vainly to press against him. She grasped his upper arms, pulling, and he laughed, and stopped again.
“It’s more fun if you wait,” he reminded her, then took her wrists in one of his hands and raised her arms above her head.
“Leave them there,” he ordered. “If you don’t, I’ll stop altogether.” Caroline gave him an infuriated look, but left her hands on the pillow behind her.
Tristan bent down to kiss her deeply, then nibbled his way across her cheek, and down her neck, as he continued to move slowly and smoothly inside her. He thrust just hard enough to stimulate her further with every stroke, but not enough to satisfy her building passion. Hands still above her head, Caroline strove to push against him, to feel more of that tantalizing pressure on the sensitive bud that he was teasing. She moaned in mixed frustration and desire.
“You just can’t wait for it, can you darling?” he murmured.
“I’ve been waiting four years, damn you,” Caroline retorted, as she strained for the hovering pleasure he was delaying.
“When you put it that way, I begin to think that I should be a gentleman, and postpone matters no longer,” he teased.
“Then why don’t you?” she burst out.
“Because I’m enjoying how you fit me like a velvet glove, and the sight and taste of your magnificent breasts far too much to hurry,” he said, and he matched the action to the words by lowering his dark head to one breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth, first drawing on it, then nipping it gently. Caroline groaned again, and Tristan could feel her clenching around him. He switched to the other breast, as she gasped beneath him. “I, too, have been waiting for you, Caro,” he said.
Tristan could feel the first flutter of her climax and see the blush of arousal on her chest, and finally gave in to Caroline’s urging for more. He gripped her hips, pushing his hands beneath her to fondle her lush buttocks, and then adjusted her pelvis minutely on the pillow. As he did so, Caroline felt him rub against some spot which had previously gone unstimulated, and suddenly felt a rush of pleasure grip her, then flood her entire body, until she trembled with it, every nerve ending sensitized beyond anything she had felt before. Dimly, through her haze of bliss, she realized that Gresham, attuned to the nuances of feminine response, had loosened his iron grip on his own passion, and had followed her climax with his own.
A few moments of silence reigned in the room; Caroline felt herself to be boneless, as if she floated on the luxurious bed, while a deep satisfaction and contentment filled her. She opened her eyes to see Gresham’s dark head resting next to hers, his face in the crook of her shoulder. She idly stroked his thick dark hair, and watched motes of dust dance in the shaft of af
ternoon sunlight that slipped through the velvet curtains.
Gresham rose gently off her and rolled onto his side. He reached across her and pulled the silk and fine linen covers down, easing her gently under them. She murmured softly as he rose from the bed.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. He hastily pulled off clothing until he was naked, and then he climbed in next to her, drawing her close. He stroked her cheek with gentle fingers.
“Did you enjoy that?”
“Mmmmm.” Caroline stretched like a cat and licked her lips. “I did.”
“There can be more if you want it.”
“We can’t do this again,” she said mournfully. “It’s impossible.”
“How is it impossible? There is nothing stopping us.”
“But my lord—”
“Tristan,” he interrupted. “At this point I must absolutely insist that you call me Tristan. And I will call you Caro.”
Caroline shook her head anxiously and sat up, suddenly appalled at what she had allowed to happen. The past hour had been exciting beyond words, but now she felt a sense of foreboding come over her. She must have been mad to think that she could embark on an affaire. She had far too many duties that precluded indulging herself in this way.
She tried to fight back a rising sense of panic. “We cannot be on a first name acquaintance, and we can never do this again. I have no time in my life for this sort of thing, and surely you would tire of me quickly.”
“Never,” he said. “You have no idea how amazing you are, do you? A man who tired of you would be a fool, and I am emphatically not a fool. You proposed a liaison, my dear, and I will hold you to it. I want more of this, now that I have tasted it once.”
“I must go,” she said softly. “My carriage will be waiting for me outside my aunt’s house in Audley Street very soon.”
Sense & Sensuality: Caroline's After Dark Georgian Romance (The Gravesmeres Book 3) Page 5
