"We should be in a bed," he whispered as he settled beside her. "You deserve better than this. A cold, hard patch of ground in a public park."
"As long as you are with me, I care not where we are." She rose up a bit so that she could loop her arms around her neck. "I am yours, Gibson. Now and forever. I want to feel as I did that day at Seldon Park. Please. Just this one last time and then, we shall go back to our original agreement."
Gibson could not give her precisely what she asked for, of course. That was one magical day out of time. He could, however, bring her close. At least he hoped that he could. It had been a long time for him as well. After Amy, he couldn't bring himself to touch another woman.
"I will make you soar, my love" he assured her, praying that he could make good on that promise. At the very least, he would do his best.
With a yank, he tugged down her bodice, and her chemise along with it, baring her breasts to his gaze. If it were possible, she was even lovelier than she had been a few days ago. When he leaned down to take one nipple in his mouth, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Just because they were secreted from view did not mean they could not be heard if they were loud enough.
With sure, gentle strokes, he laved her nipples until they tightened even more into hard little buds, and she was squirming beneath him, her hips bucking slightly. Each swipe of his tongue brought her to new heights of pleasure, and she arched up as he bit down on one raspberry tip, eager to give her more.
Amy was awash in sensations, her body on fire. All Gibson was doing was playing with her breasts, but he might as well have been sliding his massive erection - which she felt laying heavily against her leg - into her heated core. She was not as naïve as one might think, and she knew very well what went on between men and women in the bedroom. She wanted that experience with Gibson and no other man, even though she would not have it today. If ever.
Still, she craved more than what he was currently giving her, and when he moved his hand up to toy with one breast while he continued to nibble at the other one with his mouth, she decided that it was time to take what she wanted. She undid a few buttons on his shirt, enough to bare a small portion of his broad, well-muscled chest to her gaze. She did her best to stifle a gasp when she caught a glimpse of his taut skin. He was even more perfect than she had remembered.
Gibson slid his other hand beneath her delightfully rounded bottom to help steady her, and she took full advantage, nosing his shirt open further so that she could kiss his heated skin, giving him pleasure as well. When his cravat got in the way, she simply ripped it off and tossed the offending cloth aside, allowing her more access to his chest, including his flat male nipples.
With a flash of clarity, she remembered how much pleasure he had taken when she touched him there last year. So with trembling fingers, she began caressing him, just as he was touching her. When his body clenched against hers, she smiled to herself. She had given him a small taste of what he was doing to her and it felt gloriously freeing. Not to mention extremely naughty.
"Wench," he laughed softly against her neck as he peppered her with feathery light kisses, "I will make you pay for that."
"I hope so, my dear doctor," she teased in return, feeling happier than she had in months. "Otherwise, I shall be gravely disappointed.
She was taken aback for a moment when she felt him slide down the length of her body and push her skirts up slowly, his hands stroking her legs as he first removed her slippers, followed by her silk stockings. His hands were bigger than she remembered and she felt the slow burn begin inside of her once again.
Amy had only experienced that delicious sensation twice before - the first time at the summerhouse and once again only a few days ago - but each experience left her craving more. Gibson would never give her what she truly longed for, but at the moment, she would have to be satisfied with the deliciously wicked feelings flowing through her veins.
"Open for me, pet," he coaxed and when she allowed her legs to fall open a bit more, she was rewarded with another round of light, feathery kisses on her inner thighs. Absently she plucked at one of her still-swollen nipples and was shocked with pleasure when an electric current ran from her breast directly to the very center of her. She must have jumped enough to make Gibson notice, for he ceased kissing her and brought his head up in time to see her with her fingers still on her nipple.
"Good God, woman! You have no idea what it does to me to see you thus!" It was a scene straight out of one of his most secret and dark fantasies. Amy giving herself pleasure while he pleased her as well.
Cocking one eyebrow, she smiled wickedly at him, relishing the heat and desire she saw in his hungry gaze. "Like this, do you?" Then she rolled her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. The exquisite sensation caused her to draw in a sharp breath as she bit her lower lip, and she threw her head back with barely restrained pleasure when the same erotic pulse streaked through her again.
Gibson swallowed hard, and Amy found that she became even more aroused when she watched his neck muscles move with the exertion. "You have no idea, my love," he said in a strangled whisper. "None at all, I assure you."
Amy inadvertently moved her leg and in doing so, brushed against his crotch. She didn't remember him being quite so large before, not even the other day. "Oh, I think I have some idea," she teased, uncertain where these words were coming from but thoroughly enjoying herself nonetheless. The Paragon of the ton did not even think such scandalous things, let alone say them. Then again, in this moment, she was not The Paragon. She was simply Amy. And Amy would say them to the man she desired above all others.
"Teasing wench," he murmured roughly. "For that, you will pay." Then, before she could even toss back a witty retort, he was between her legs again, this time, however, not nearly as gentle as he had been before.
This time, his kisses on her skin were hot and demanding, his fingers sliding up her thigh until they found her soft, feminine mound. He used his fingertips to explore her slick channel, teasing a particular spot that nearly drove her mad with need. She knew that the pearl of pleasure was there, having discovered it herself ages ago. However, she had never been able to give herself this same level of sheer, sweet, torturous pleasure, the kind that made her body burn so delightfully. As a physician, however, Gibson knew the secrets of a woman's body in a way no man other than a rake could.
"Gibson, please!" Amy whimpered softly, not knowing quite what she was asking for, only knowing that she needed something. Another release. An end to the slowly building sweet torture that was welling inside of her, making her restless and achy.
With skillful fingers, he continued to stroke her, harder at first and then slower in turns. "Hush, pet. I know what you need. And I assure you, I will make this good for you." Then his fingers were working their magic again, brushing against that sensitive nub until she thought she might expire from all of the wonderful feelings crashing through her body. Just when she thought she could not take any more, he dipped first one and then a second finger inside of her. Her body locked around his hand as the first wave of release swept over her.
"We're not done yet, my love," she heard Gibson whisper, and then his lips and tongue replaced his fingers. She should have been shocked, but she was not. Instead, all she could do was feel. This was not like before. This was better. Glorious, really. More perfect and absolutely right. Amy felt her heart soar with an unnamed emotion that terrified her, but she did her best to concentrate only on the sensations flowing through her body. She did not want to spoil this day in any way.
When Gibson slid his fingers back inside of her slick heat, his mouth still teasing her heated mound, she began to buck her hips furiously as she plucked at her breasts once more, the need inside of her rising to a greater level than before. All around her, there was nothing but Gibbs. His touch. His smell. His very presence.
Then, with one last, masterful stroke, he slid his tongue over the tightened bud of her pearl. Amy shattered. She shoved her f
ist into her mouth to keep from screaming aloud as wave after wave of pure, perfect pleasure washed over her. She felt her very insides quake, as if a million suns were exploding inside of her in that precise moment.
It was perfect. And then, all too soon, it was over.
Slowly, as she returned to her senses, Amy became aware of Gibson leaning over her, his hand gently caressing her face.
"Are you injured, sweeting?" he asked, his concern etched deeply. "I only wanted to give you a little, but when you teased me so, I could not help myself. Perhaps I pushed you more than I should have."
Amy shook her head and reached up to grasp his hand in hers, needing to feel that intimate connection with him again. "I am fine, Gibbs. Truly." Then a thought occurred to her and she opened her eyes wide. "And there is still more we could do!"
"It might kill you, I fear, if that is your response to what I just did," he teased in return, no matter how inappropriate his words. This was his Amy. There was no other woman like her in the world.
Then he winced slightly, and she immediately took note. "Are you unwell, Gibbs?" she asked worriedly, sitting up as quickly as she could while the languid remnants of pleasure still flowed through her veins.
Shaking his head, he attempted to push her away. She did not need to see him like this and feel obligated to relieve him. He did not want that. "I merely need a moment to compose myself." Or a quick dip in the Serpentine. That might kill his ardor as well.
Understanding flashed through her. She had found release from the gnawing ache inside of her. Gibson had not. She needed to rectify that immediately.
"Let me." Slowly, Amy sat up, heedless of her bare breasts, and reached for the placket on his breeches, but he pushed her hand away.
"No. It is not right. I will be fine." Then he grimaced again, and she knew that his erection was paining him. When she looked down at his groin, she imagined she could see it throbbing beneath the restraining fabric. "I cannot allow you to do that. You are..."
She knew he meant to say lady, but she cut him off before he could utter the word. "A woman who knows what she wants," she corrected, and then, without waiting for him to agree, pulled at the buttons keeping his cock from her gaze. "And right now, I am a woman who would very much like to please her lover."
Gibson's erection sprang free, hot and heavy, longer, she thought, than it had been that day so long ago. In a word, he was magnificent and without realizing what she was doing, she licked her lips in anticipation. In this moment, she wanted nothing more than to give him the same pleasure he had lavished on her. She had done it once before. She could do it again.
"You don't have to. Amy, I will understand if this is too much. I do not wish you to feel it an obligation." Still, it was clear from the look in his eyes that he very much wanted her to take him in her mouth and please him. Yet at the same time he did not want to force her. That made her want to please him all the more.
"I know." Her voice was soft and coaxing. "But I want to. It is not an obligation when I long to recall how you taste." He made a move to protest again, but she pressed a finger to his lips, suddenly feeling a rush of feminine power flow through her. She could do this. More than that, she wanted to do this. For Gibson. To do it better than she had the last time. To give him a truly magnificent memory that he could take with him forever, as she was certain no other proper lady would ever offer what she was about to.
Gibson made one last attempt to dissuade her. "I would never..." He was unable to complete his thought when she was looking at his cock and licking her lips in that manner.
"But I do. And that shall be the end of it." Then she smiled, a wicked smile similar to his own. "You do not reach my age, Gibbs, and not hear of a few things in ladies' retiring rooms. And last year, you taught me so much. But I also know I was not as successful in this as I could have been. I am certain that this time, I will give you pleasure, and I so want that. I want to give you what you have given to me. Please."
She saw in his eyes the moment he surrendered and with a grin, slowly moved so that she knelt between his legs, her still-heavy breasts brushing against his body. She was not skilled in this art, not the way a courtesan would be. In fact, she had only done it once before - to Gibson himself - and even then for only a moment or two. Still she would do her best.
Gently, she wrapped her hand around his length, eliciting a hiss from him. His cock was softer and more velvety than she remembered, but it felt just as right in her hands. Slowly, she began to stroke him, careful to tease the plump head with the pad of her thumb every so often. She remembered how much he had liked that before.
With each caress of her hand, she took him closer to the edge, the look of rapturous desire on his face enough to make her wet between her legs once more. But it was not enough. What he had done for her today had gone beyond what they had shared before. She had to do more.
Then, she remembered something Julia had mentioned last winter during the house party. About how there were other ways to increase a man's pleasure while doing this, just as the ladies at balls spoke of in hushed tones. Amy had immediately gone to a secret stash of books she knew Radcliffe had kept hidden in his library and looked up those "other ways." In the pages of one of those naughty books, she had seen a crude drawing of a woman pleasing a man with her mouth, her hand lower, caressing him just below his base. She wanted to do the same for Gibson.
When Amy lowered her mouth to the very tip of him and repositioned her hand to where she thought she should be, he stopped her. "No." He shook his head and swallowed hard. "I cannot allow this. It is not right." Yet the yearning in his eyes told her he truly felt otherwise.
"Can and will," she countered, unwilling to allow him to protest any longer. She was doing this for herself as much as for him, even if he didn't know that.
Then, her lips were on his cock and she was pulling him deeply into her mouth, fighting against her natural instinct to gag. It was difficult, but soon, she had worked up to a steady pace, if not a very skilled one. Then she began stroking his heavy sac with the tips of her fingers. Gibson let out a ragged and harsh groan in response. He was obviously enjoying himself immensely. Excellent. Amy was very pleased with herself.
Emboldened now, she ran her hands over the bare skin of his hips, or as much as she could reach anyway. This would be better if they were both naked, but she would take what she could get. There might not be another opportunity and she knew it.
When she reached down to caress his ballsac again, harder this time, she thought he might expire where he lay reclined on the grass. Instead, he gripped her wrist with his hand and began pumping his hips harder, groaning and crying out with each thrust. That only served to spur Amy on, and she teased his length with her tongue, her movements unskilled but still enough to drive him to the brink of pleasure.
Then, he pulled away from her and as she worked to catch her breath, he expended himself in the grass. She would have done the unthinkable and drank down his seed, but she knew he would never have allowed it. That was the kind of thing whores and lightskirts did. Ladies did not. She knew that. Still, she would have done it. She would have done anything he asked. And in that moment, she realized that she had done the one thing that even she, The Paragon, should not have, for it would come to no good end.
Amy had fallen completely in love with Gibson. And in the end, they would be destined to part. Yet she could not make herself regret it, no matter how much her head insisted that she should. With him, she was finally the woman she had always longed to be. There was no way she could regret that, either.
Chapter Eleven
Society Tales
Dancing. Revelry. A carriage ride along Rotten Row. Strolls in the park. This author believes that the status of Lady A.'s health is quite fine indeed, even though she continues to be seen in the company of a certain Dr. G.B. And, also in this author's opinion, that is not a bad thing. It is, in fact, a testament to a power greater than all of us, and I am certain that my readers
know of what I speak.
Perhaps it is time to revisit why we, as a society, punish the child for the sins of the parent. It is not right, nor is it fair. I am not advocating for change. No, certainly not, for I am merely a humble observer reporting the news. However, I do often wonder, what would be different if only we could learn to forgive and let go.
It is that thought that I leave you all with today and not another tidbit of juicy gossip.
- Lady X
Four days after that magical afternoon, Amy was certain that anyone who looked at her would be able to tell that she had indulged in pleasures of the flesh that should have been forbidden. Yet, so far, no one had said a word, even if they did suspect. Not even the maids had said anything, accepting her story without question that the stains on her gown had occurred when she had slipped on the muddy ground at the park. She was scarcely able to believe it, but then, she was The Paragon, and thus, she did not indulge in scandalous behavior. She was not a common trollop or whore.
If only they knew.
At first, it had been awkward between her and Gibson. After all, she had granted him liberties that no one else had ever been given, but soon, her heart reminded her that this was the man she had fallen in love with so easily. If she could not grant those liberties to him, then she would grant them to no one. When she finally allowed herself to relax a bit, she found that their easy camaraderie returned, yet now, she was even more aware of his body and just how much she longed to see all of him.
They had also agreed to forget their past arrangements regarding their relationship and simply go forward as best they could, even though neither was certain what, precisely that entailed. They could not go back. That much was certain. They had shared far too much. And neither was certain what the future held, though they both agreed that it was time to be realistic. There was no true future for them, not together anyway. Yet until either the earl or Marcus returned, they would simply forge a new path and see where it led. After that? They would part. It could be no other way.
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