Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square (17 page)

He suckled there, sure he would leave his mark.

Before this night was through, he planned to leave his mark all over her. But first things first.

Sliding his finger onward, he found the top button on her nightgown. She tensed as he slipped it free with the aid of his thumb. He moved to the other side of her neck and began suckling anew.

Her legs shifted beneath the sheets, her pulse beating wildly.

He opened two more buttons in quick succession, then moved on to a fourth.

Leaving the honeyed haven of her throat, he began kissing his way downward across her breastbone, where a sliver of her skin lay exposed between the open edges of her nightgown. He paused when he reached the place between her breasts just above her diaphragm. Without warning, he ran the tip of his tongue back up the flesh he’d kissed only moments earlier, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

Then he blew in a long line and heard her gasp and shiver.

“I wonder what pearls I might find awaiting me now,” he murmured, as he looked up and into her eyes. They
were dark and lambent, her lids heavy with a surfeit of sensation.

Slipping a hand underneath the left side of her nightgown, he cupped her breast and discovered what he sought. Just as he’d hoped, her nipple was round and firm, drawn up like a bead. He flicked it, then flicked it again, watching the heat rise in her cheeks as she caught her lower lip between her teeth and sighed.

Deciding she was ready for more, he rubbed the tender peak between his thumb and forefinger, gradually increasing the pressure until she let out another little cry.

Abruptly, he pushed back the material of her nightgown with both hands and worked it down her shoulders and onto her arms. He wedged the cloth, buttons straining so that her arms were trapped against her sides, her naked breasts fully exposed to his view.

“Ah, look,” he said. “A second pearl. I am showered with a wealth of delights.”

And before she could react, he bent to feast on her, fondling one breast while he opened his mouth over the other and began to lick and suckle.

•   •   •

Esme arched uncontrollably, her body on fire, awash in waves of need and delight.

Ah gods, the pleasure.
It was indescribable, more intense than any pleasure she’d ever experienced before.

A part of her knew she should be shocked, that she ought to be cringing with dismay at the brazenly intimate things he was doing to her body. But exactly like his other kisses, this new variety was something she could not seem to resist. Everything he did to her felt too good, far too wonderful to even consider telling him to stop.

His teeth scraped against her nipple and she arched again, pressing her breast more fully into his mouth, as if she were begging for more. He smiled, then complied,
suckling with more force before he gave her aching nipple the slightest little nip.

Fire flashed through her, searing her veins.

“Oh!” she said.

“‘Oh’ is exactly right.” His voice was low and throaty. He met her eyes and smiled as if he were enjoying every one of her naive responses.

And she realized in that moment that he was.

Gabriel was the teacher and she the pupil, an acolyte learning from the master, who was nothing less than a virtuoso of all things carnal and impure.

She twisted, trying to move her arms. But he’d imprisoned her neatly inside her nightgown, leaving her utterly at his mercy.

Her breasts quivered and she moaned as he repeated his trick of blowing on her wet flesh. He did it again, swirling the tip of his tongue around the tight bud of her other breast before teasing it afterward with a draft of cool air.

A moan sang from her as he continued to lavish her breast with the kind of attention he’d applied to the first. Hums of pleasure came from deep in his throat as he drew on her with a powerful intensity.

She shifted her legs beneath the sheets with a sudden restlessness, her body burning and feverish.

As if he knew exactly how she was feeling, he flung back the bedclothes, tossing them all the way down to her feet.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded, unable to find the strength to reply aloud.

He leaned up and kissed her for the first time since he’d come into the room, claiming her mouth in a series of long, sultry, openmouthed kisses that made her head spin and her heart speed even faster.

Before she had so much as an inkling of his intentions, he pushed the skirt of her nightgown up around her waist, leaving her completely exposed.

He began touching her, one big hand moving in a
slow exploration of her thighs and knees and calves before gliding upward to settle on the delicate skin of her stomach. He splayed his hand wide, rubbing her in a tantalizing circle before he dipped his little finger into her belly button and gave it a wiggle.

Her toes curled, her legs sliding upward and slightly apart as if they had a will of their own.

And that’s when he shocked her again as he slid his hand down and settled it over the mound of dark curls between her thighs. He cupped her there with undisguised possession, as if he were letting her know that this part of her belonged to him.

That every part of her now belonged to him.

Her blood beat in a wild rhythm as he reached a finger inside her. It felt tight, too tight, and he stopped with only a knuckle at first. But then he continued, pressing inexorably onward until his finger was lodged fully inside.

She drew a sharp inhalation, then another, as he teased her inner flesh with gentle but insistent strokes. Leaning over, he kissed her again, muffling the helpless little whimpers that were coming from her throat.

Then he added another finger and began stretching her more.

An embarrassing moisture formed as she turned slick against his hand. Instinctively, she clamped her thighs tight, trying to force him out.

But he burrowed deeper, his fingers scissoring open like a fan as he insinuated his thumb into her outer folds to find a spot that made her convulse and cry out.

“There’s a girl,” he said against her lips, his fingers moving insistently below. “Spread those pretty thighs and let me make it even better.”

But she didn’t know how it could get better, as a clawing hunger built inside her that demanded appeasement.

He stroked faster, deeper, and she was lost—his to command, his to please. Her thighs fell wide, as she gave him permission to do whatever he wished.

He leaned up next to her and watched. Watched as he continued moving his fingers inside her with deft strokes. Watched as her breasts heaved and her hips bucked, taking his fingers into her now with a kind of grateful supplication.

And then light and heat spread through her in an astonishing burst, pleasure radiating out from where he cradled her and into every inch of herself.

She lay stunned, half-giddy and giggling as she wondered why in the world she’d ever been nervous about this.

About him.

This was wonderful.

This was heaven.

When, please, could she have some more?

He eased away and stood up, his hands going to the belt of his robe. When he turned back, her eyes went wide and a warning glimmer of her fears returned.

She’d seen him before, there at the lake. Seen him in all his glorious masculine beauty.

But she hadn’t seen him aroused. Hadn’t known he would look so powerful, so strong and tall, or that his shaft would be so large.

He was a big man, in every way.

Good heavens, she’d had trouble taking his fingers at first; how was he ever going to put
that
into her?

“You’ll never fit,” she blurted out as she tried to scoot off the other side of the bed. But she was still bound inside her infernal nightgown, her arms incapable of helping her stand.

Before she could go so much as another inch, he caught her around one ankle. “No,” he admonished, “you’re not going anywhere.”

Settling a knee on the bed, he joined her. “As for fitting, you’ll take me just fine. We’ll just have to make sure you’re ready first.”

What does that mean?
She frowned.

He reached up and rubbed the spot between her
brows, then kissed her, taking his time to gently reclaim her mouth.

“You’ve liked what we’ve done so far, have you not?” he said a minute later.

“Yes,” she admitted on a whisper.

“Then trust me to make the rest of this good for you. I can, you know.”

And suddenly she realized that of all men, he was likely the best she could possibly have found to take her innocence.

“It’s going to hurt, though, isn’t it?”

“A little. I won’t lie. You are a virgin and you’re quite small. But we’ll find a way to make it easy. All you have to do is trust me. I am your husband. Let me decide what it is you need. Trust me to know best.”

On any other occasion she might have taken exception to his statement, since she wasn’t the sort of woman who could blindly obey a man. But he was right in this instance. He was her husband and he was going to consummate their marriage tonight no matter what she said or did. And he was right as well that she had liked everything he’d done so far. So why not trust him?

She nodded. “All right. But could we at least take off this nightgown?”

He laughed. “We can tonight. There’ll be plenty of occasions later for that sort of play.”

Before she had time to consider his remark any further, he reached out and freed her from her gown.

After tossing it onto the floor, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, parting her lips to thoroughly plunder the inside of her mouth. He coaxed her to join him, her responses growing more open and eager, natural and easy.

“Touch me,” he said, as his mouth moved to her throat and his hands to her breasts, where he began toying with her nipples in the most stirring of ways.

“Where?” she whispered.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

She was tentative at first, careful to confine her hands
to his arms and shoulders and the top of his back. But when he started suckling her breasts again, she grew bolder, letting her fingers wander over his chest to thread into the light thatch of hair that grew there. She found one flat nipple, and with a daring she didn’t know she possessed, she flicked it with her fingernail.

He shuddered and groaned, much to her delight.

She roved more freely after that, tracing the lean plane of his stomach, the curve of his hip and the hard, muscled length of his thigh. She located the slight hollow at the base of his spine and the firm roundness of his buttocks.

He liked that, especially when she stroked down to the clef where his buttocks met his thighs.

Suddenly, as if he could stand it no more, he reached out and took hold of her hand, moving it between them. With his large hand guiding hers, he wrapped her fingers around the hard length of his arousal.

She startled at the sensation, marveling at the contrast between his warm velvety skin and the rigidity of his shaft. He moved her fingers, showing her what he wanted, compelling her to tighten her grip far more than she might have imagined he would want.

Then he left her again to explore, while he continued his own sensual wanderings.

She was stroking the head of his shaft, moving her thumb over a curious bead of moisture that formed there, when he pulled her hand away and rolled her onto her back. Without preamble, he parted her thighs with his hands, then buried his face where she least expected.

“Ahh, ahh, ahh,” she cried as he began licking her core as if he were enjoying some particularly savory dish. He parted her nether lips and feasted more fully, spearing her with his tongue before finding a nub of flesh and suckling in a way that made her writhe in abandon.

Thoughts slid away as her entire world narrowed to the place between her legs and the sharp, aching need
he was building with relentless determination. She had no control, her body growing increasingly slick as his every touch coaxed forth more of her feminine moisture.

But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed as if his actions were specifically designed to elicit that effect, as though he wanted that part of her as wet and needy as it could possibly become.

She ached with a violent yawning desire to be filled, to be taken in ways she didn’t even understand. The yearning grew, driving her half-mad and desperate, until she wondered if she might die were it not assuaged. He drove her to the brink, but just when she prayed to be cast over into blissful oblivion, he stopped.

Her eyes popped wide, a half scream of frustration issuing from her lips.

But she realized he wasn’t being cruel moments later as he rolled onto his back and lifted her so that she was straddled over him.

“Take me inside you,” he told her, his words harsh with need. “Take as much of me as you can manage; then I’ll see to the rest.”

Take him?

“I don’t know how,” she cried.

“It will come naturally—you’ll see. Here, I’ll help.”

Reaching between them, he guided his shaft so that the head rubbed against the entrance to her femininity. “Press down. Feed me into you.”

She tried, leaning forward with her hands braced on his chest to urge him deeper.

But he was large and her own untried passage so narrow that she could barely take more than the tip.
She realized now why he’d tried to make her so slick, so she could accept him more easily, more fully.

“Rise up,” he said, teeth clenched, “then come back down. Hard.”

She did, lifting herself up, then bouncing down.

The move gained him another inch. She did it again and was rewarded by a bit more. But then it began to hurt, his intrusion leaving her stretched and uncomfortable, though he was still barely inside her.

“Rest a moment,” he said.

She shook her head, her long hair tumbling over her shoulders and across his stomach. “Gabriel, I don’t know if I can do this. Maybe we should stop.”

“No, sweetheart, not when we’re nearly there.”

Reaching up, he swept back her hair, then cupped her cheeks with his broad palms and leaned up for a kiss. The move pushed him a fraction deeper, her cry lost against his mouth as he ravished her with his lips and tongue.