An Indecent Wager

by Georgette Brown

  Chapter Two

  SHE DID NOT DWELL long for he captured her mouth once more in his and she was content to revel in his desire for her. He trailed his lips down her neck and her back arched of its own volition, pressing her body into his, feeling the weight of him. She had not expected that area to prove so sensitive. As if cognizant of that delicacy, he kissed her with feathery lightness, a contrast to the vehemence with which he had plumbed her mouth earlier. His hand went to the small of her back, and that too proved provocative. She felt surrounded by him.

  Desire swelled below her waist. She put her hand to the back of his neck, brushing the ends of his hair as he nestled into her neck. Forgetting her intentions to make quick her obligation to him, she allowed him to take his time caressing her décolletage and skimming the tops of her breasts. She had expected him to ravish them. In her previous encounters, the men had torn at her bodice as if they were starving babes eager to nurse, but she sensed that Lord Rockwell was no callow lover. Her nipples hardened, desiring his attention. As if sensing her precise need, he cupped a breast and grazed the nipple with his thumb. Her breath caught as a jolt of sensation shot from her nipple to the apex of her thighs. His thumb circled the nipple, rubbing the fabric of her dress into the bud until she squirmed and moaned her need for release.

  He slid his hand to her upper thigh. Would he now throw up her skirts and mount her? She found she did not dread the prospect. Indeed, the carnal yearning within her welcomed it. But instead of unbuttoning his trousers, he pulled up the hem of her dress and ran his hand along her leg. How she wished she had a better pair of stockings to present to a man who undoubtedly knew all the luxuries in life. He brushed the soft skin just above the stockings with his knuckles, his hand dangerously close to where her desire pooled hot and wet.

  She glanced into his face. His soft brown eyes gleamed in a manner that made her reconsider once more the wisdom of her intoxication. He had the upper hand in more ways than one. But she had no time to chide herself for his fingers skimmed the patch of hair at the base of her pelvis. His thumb slipped lower and teased that small but potent nub of flesh between her legs. She closed her eyes against his stare, marveling at the delicious disconcertion in her body. Lightly he fondled her clitoris, nipped it between two fingers, stroked its length ’til she was panting. Her body, now a coil that needed unwinding , strained to his touch. In response he deepened his caress. Dipping a finger into her hot wetness, he rubbed her with increasing vigor.

  Gasping, she felt herself thrown over a familiar precipice, only it felt more glorious than when she attended to her needs in solitude. She erupted in uncontrolled paroxysms against him. A cry escaped her lips. He pushed the last of the spasms from her body before easing his caress into a gentle swirling. She shuddered.

  “You spend beautifully, Miss Herwood.”

  She barely heard his words. Lost in a fog of relief and glory and the remnants of her inebriation, she allowed herself to sink into the sofa. If he wanted her to attend him, he would have to wait and acquire some of the patience he had advocated earlier.