The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest (10 page)

A moan escaped her when he eased the fabric
aside and drew a nipple into his mouth. “Gregory.” She clasped her
fingers about his neck, searching for a way to describe the
sensations pulsing through her. “This is so . . . so . . . ”

He lifted his head, “Yes, my sweet?”

She sighed. “Wonderful.”

“Mmmm.”

She ran her hands along his back and stroked
them low on his hips.

“Now
that
is wonderful,” he said.

She opened her thighs to cradle him. “Show me
how wonderful it can be.”

He jerked against her, his manhood hard
between her legs. “Sophie,” he whispered.

“Make love to me, Gregory.”

He groaned and buried his face between her
breasts. Then he proceeded to strip every last shred of clothing
from her until she lay naked beside him. He began to worship her
body with his hands, his lips, his tongue. Sophie sighed as he
caressed her thighs and settled between them once again. When his
hands moved under her to cup her buttocks, she arched toward him,
rubbing herself against his hardness. The heat in his navy eyes
made it difficult for her to breathe. “Please love me.” The words,
spoken barely above a whisper, swirled between them. Gregory dipped
his head once again for a drugging kiss before claiming her body
from breast, to hip, to leg, stroking, molding, branding her
forever his. His lips followed his hands, trailing to her belly,
circling her navel with his tongue. With each touch, Sophie grew
more desperate to feel his naked skin.

When his warm breath caressed her womanhood,
she shivered and dug her nails into his shoulders. His fingers
measured and stroked her, finding the swollen nubbin and circling
it with his thumb in a rhythmic motion.
Oh, but she would surely
die of such exquisite pleasure!
The sensations were too much.
Gregory’s hands and mouth and hard body were all over her, teasing,
tormenting, promising. When his mouth seized the throbbing core of
her womanhood, she exploded into a thousand pieces, clutching him
to her as she moaned his name.

Several moments later, she regained the
ability to speak. “Gregory?”

“Hmmm?” he murmured against her skin.

“Is it always like that?”

He lifted his head from her belly. “Why do
you ask?”
Didn’t she know?

She flushed a pretty crimson and lifted her
shoulders in a delicate shrug.

“Are you saying . . .”
She couldn’t
be.
“You’re a virgin?”
No virgin touched a man the way she
did.

She nodded.

Then again, this was no ordinary woman. This
one had touched his body
and
his heart.

“Are you disappointed?”

His lips twitched. “Disappointed?” She could
teach Madame Founderay and her girls a few things. “No. Definitely
not disappointed.”

“Hmmmm,” she sighed. “I’m a quick learner,
always have been.”

“That’s a useful bit of information.” He
planted a kiss on her right hip. “Very useful indeed.”

She leaned forward and her breasts dangled in
his face. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll master the task.”

Visions of her luscious lips on a certain
very hard part of his body jolted through his brain.

And then she whispered, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Luscious lips that sucked
and teased.

“How do I pleasure you?”

With your hands and your mouth and your –

“Gregory?”

He was not so depraved as to take advantage
of a virgin. “You gave me yourself,” he said on a sigh.

“But that’s not enough.”

What if she were a willing virgin?

“You touched me and my body was not my own.”
Her eyes glittered with desire and sincerity. “You controlled me
and made me feel incredible sensations.” She hesitated, but only
for a brief moment. “Surely you must need me to touch you,
too.”

Holt took in the flushed radiance of her face
and the fullness of her heaving breasts, bared for his open
perusal. But it was the honest emotion that nearly drove him over
the edge. “Do you know what you are saying?”

“I’m asking you to teach me to make love to
you.” Her small hands rose to stroke his cheeks and then traveled
the length of his chest, hesitating a moment in the dark, springy
hairs, before continuing to circle his navel and finally settling
on the buttons of his breeches. Holt’s sharp intake of breath
brought a hint of a smile to her lips and only served to embolden
her. She began unfastening his breeches, releasing each button and
then stopping to caress the expanse of skin which became
visible.

He was certain he was dying a slow, torturous
death. When the last button popped, Sophie spread the breeches
wide, released his cock, and proceeded to circle the engorged flesh
with hesitant but curious fingers. “Enough,” Holt growled, forcing
her back onto the bed and kneeling between her parted thighs. “I
can’t take anymore.” He settled between her thighs and searched for
her mouth. His tongue darted in and out, simulating what he was
about to do with another part of his body. Sophie moaned beneath
him, raking her nails down his back and stroking his buttocks. When
she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him to her his
control exploded.

He entered her with one powerful thrust and
would have continued in a mindless frenzy, had she not cried out
and stiffened. “Sophie? Forgive me. I should have been gentler. But
your hips kept moving and your hands . . .ah, Christ.” He scooped
her into his arms, cursing himself for being such an impatient,
careless idiot, and waited for her pain to subside.

Several moments passed before she let out the
softest of sighs and whispered in his ear, “I think I do not want
you to stop.”

He remained very still, certain he was
trapped between heaven and hell. “Sophie, you can’t know what you
are saying.”

She moved her hips against his. “I do
know.”

He was a mere man, flesh and blood, with most
of the blood pulsing between his legs at the moment. He began a
gentle, rocking rhythm, moving inside her with careful, measured
strokes.

“Please . . . ”

He stilled again.

“
. . . don’t
stop.”

It was all he needed. “Oh, Sophie.”
So
deep, so tight, so . . .
his efforts quickened in frantic
desperation.

“Yes!” She clutched his buttocks and jerked
her hips forward.

He thrust into her, withdrew slowly, once,
twice, ten times. All thoughts of gentleness fled as Holt pumped
into her, long and deep and hot with need, fueled by her naked
cries of pleasure.

“Gregory!”

“Come to me.” He reached a finger between
them and flicked her swollen nubbin.

“Gregory!”

He buried himself deep, pulled out until she
whimpered. One more stroke of that delectable nubbin and she threw
her head back and jerked against him in wave after wave of
convulsive pleasure. The sight of her enjoying her woman’s release
proved his undoing. He thrust into her one last time, cried out her
name and buried his hot seed inside her welcoming body.

Chapter 11

He watched her sleep, thinking her a mix of
angel and she-devil, the likes of which he’d never encountered
before.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Gregory? Is
something wrong?”

Damnation, he was growing tired of hearing
that name on her lips.

“Gregory?”

It was that soft voice, like a velvet
temptress that coaxed the truth from him. “Being with a woman has
always been nothing more than a recreation for me.” When she
offered no comment, he continued his confession. “Until today. You
made me
feel
, Sophie. You made me care.” He pulled her into
his arms and said, “We shall make a good match, you and I.”

She responded by burying her head against his
chest and kissing his nipple.

“Enough of that or I’ll start all over
again.”

“And that would be torture?” she whispered,
swirling her tongue over his other nipple.

“You are much too sore. For once, I shall
force myself to play the gentleman.” He planted a kiss on her
forehead and eased away. “I must return you to Waverly before your
father sends someone after you.”

Before she could protest, he released her and
rolled out of bed to retrieve his clothes. It was then he noticed
the red stain on the sheets. Damnation, he should not have taken
her, but he’d wanted her so badly and she’d wanted him. She was a
lady, she deserved better. But she’d responded so quickly and
hotly, how could he resist? He couldn’t. And that was a
problem.

“Gregory!” Sophie scooted across the bed
toward him. “What happened to your shoulder?”

Holt turned and shrugged into his shirt
before she could get a closer look. He was not in the mood to
discuss his father, but neither did he have the desire to lie to
Sophie, for there had already been too many untruths between them.
“It’s the result of a fight that ended badly, but then most do when
one man is armed and the other isn’t.”

She bit her lower lip, her gaze darting in
the direction of his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I rarely think of it and you should not
either.” He would not ruin what he and Sophie had shared with
thoughts of his father. Anxious to regain the intimacy of the
moment, Holt removed the ruby pendant that many a woman had tried
to claim and placed it around her neck. “This pendant has journeyed
with me in all of my travels. I give it to you as my future
wife.”

Her eyes glistened. “I will wear it close to
my heart.”

His lips twitched. “You might look a bit
ridiculous in a ball gown with that dangling from your neck.” He
touched her cheek, already anticipating the next time she’d lay
naked in his arms.

“I believe I can pin the jewel to the inside
of my chemise. Close to my heart.” She leaned on tiptoe, placed her
hands on his shoulders and kissed his mouth ever so gently. “As you
will also be.”

Holt groaned and wrapped his arms around her,
deepening the kiss. If this weren’t her first time, he’d hike her
gown about her waist and take her again. The very thought of
bedding her made him hard and greedy to touch her naked flesh once
more.

Sophie pulled back slightly and removed the
green satin ribbon she’d recently re-tied in her hair. Pressing it
into his hand, she whispered, “Keep this and think of me, until we
can be together again.” She leaned on tiptoe once again and kissed
him. Open-mouthed. Tongue to tongue.

Holt ended the kiss, abruptly setting her
aside. “We can’t.”

“Can’t what?” She smiled and eased her
fingers beneath the thin material of his shirt. “You have a most
magnificent chest,” she murmured, placing soft kisses beneath his
shirt.

“Sophie. Stop.” He grabbed her wrists and
stilled her roving hands.

“But I don’t want to.” She nuzzled her face
against his chest and proceeded to punctuate her next words with
tiny kisses. “I absolutely. Do not want. To stop.”

Holt squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the
seductive picture she presented to his weakening conscience.
“Please. I am only a man.”

Her soft laughter shot through him, straight
to his rock hard shaft. He hadn’t thought he could get any harder
but her next words proved him wrong. “Yes, indeed you are a man.
I’m well aware of that.”

Was she engaging in sexual teasing? If she
didn’t stop soon, his attempts at playing the gentleman would be
short-lived.

“Gregory?”

“What?” He fixed his gaze on an empty chair
in the corner. There was nothing sexual about that. It was just a
wooden chair, brown, common.

“I’m feeling a little tired.” She pressed her
body against his arousal, rubbing herself along the length of him.
“I think I’d like a short nap.”

Was the chair made of pine?

“
. . . on the bed . . .”
her hips began to move faster.

Or was it maple? He squinted, gritting his
teeth.

“
. . . with you.” Her words
fell out in short, choppy gasps. “Naked.”

Christ, he didn’t care if the goddamned chair
was made of gold. He grabbed Sophie’s hips and fitted her between
his legs, easing her along the length of his shaft. “I don’t want
to hurt you.”

“Let me feel your hands on me.” She flicked
open a button on his shirt. Then another. “Feel your mouth on my
body.” Her fingers slipped to the top of his breeches.

He thrust against her, once, twice. “God,
you’re torturing me.”

She slid her hands inside his breeches and
cupped him with both hands. “Make love to me.” Her eyes glittered
with passion and need. “Now,” she murmured, stroking his stiff
cock.

“I don’t want—”

She cut him off with a kiss, plunging her
tongue deep in his mouth. “I don’t want you to be a gentleman. I
pray you aren’t one.” She eased her hands from his breeches and
slowly lifted her gown, exposing glimpses of creamy flesh. “Because
I don’t care to act the lady right now.”

“God help me, I’m not going to be able to
stop myself,” he said, eyeing the top of her thigh.

She smiled.

“I could tear that gown off you this moment
and bury myself so deep inside, I wouldn’t be able to find my way
out for a week. That’s how much I want you.” He traced the chain of
the medallion from her collarbone to the dainty lace trimming her
neckline. He held her gaze as he dipped his fingers beneath her
gown and stroked the ruby nestled between her breasts. “But perhaps
we should save that for the honeymoon.”

She swallowed twice and said, “I will look
forward to it with great pleasure.”

“Trust me, Madame, the pleasure will be all
mine.” He reached for her pantaloons and tugged them down her legs.
“Perfect.” He cupped her and buried a finger inside her woman’s
heat. She jerked against him, moaning his name. Holt sat on the
edge of the bed and dragged her on top of him. “Straddle me,” he
rasped.