Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
That night, Alexander lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His body throbbed with frustrated tension, made all the worse by the illicit kiss in the cellars. He truly had been afflicted by madness.
All it had done was make the want deepen into something impossible to ignore.
With a groan, he pushed back the covers and took hold of his persistent arousal. No amount of concentration had made it disappear for any length of time; every time his mind wandered back to her, his body responded.
What he needed was to get her out of his system. To have a clear head with which to make his decision once and for all.
As he stroked, he tried to think of Helena, but time had blurred her memory, and when he imagined how he had once felt kissing her, he now saw Lydia’s body.
Her soft curves, the press of her breasts against his chest, and the gentle hand she curled around the nape of his neck.
Every eager slide of her mouth, the way she followed his head.
True, she had been a novice in the art of kissing, but she had responded to him with such enthusiasm, it had practically ignited his desire beyond all help. He had almost been at the point of stripping her down and taking her there and then, in the damp with the cellar and ale.
All his vows, all his better intentions, every single one of his principles, gone in an instant.
Pleasure locked his spine and gathered at the base.
He pumped his fist harder, closing his eyes.
She had been so plump and lovely under his hands.
Every time she walked, he saw the sway of her hips, watched the shape of her thighs under the material of her skirts, and the sight was half making him mad.
How could he endure this?
The best thing to do would be to leave before he let anything get any further, so as not to taint Helena’s memory in the house where he had entertained her so many times. How could he think of being with his wife here?
Yet, how could he endure her company and not inevitably give in to temptation?
As his back arched, and he groaned, finally giving into the pleasure and letting his seed glisten up his chest, he realized that it would be impossible.
Lydia stared at the ceiling of her bedchamber. The darkness enclosed around her, soft as a blanket, and just as protective. Here, she could do anything, and no one would know. She was utterly alone.
This was her private space.
And here, she could consider what Marie had suggested at the dinner.
After the kiss with Alexander, her body had felt… different. Empty, in a way. As though it had been expecting something that hadn’t materialized, and although she had attempted to ignore the feeling all day, she finally could not.
And the kiss itself—well, it had shown her that there was at least the potential of passion between them. The potential of more.
And if there could be more, then she should know what she wanted. Tutor him, so that if and when they came together, he could pleasure her precisely how she liked.
Feeling as though she were doing something illicit—and indeed she was—she reached a hand down under the covers.
Down past her stomach to her thigh, and then, with a gasp, she let her knees fall apart to reveal the tender flesh between.
With cautious strokes, she explored. Hair, then underneath, between, parting like a gift, her slit.
She slid her finger through her folds and let out a little gasp at the shocking pleasure of it.
Heavens above, she was touching herself. And it felt good.
As she explored, she became more certain. There was a particular spot, near the top, that she particularly liked. A tiny nub that seemed to contain almost blinding pleasure.
Then, below, she found she could press her fingers inside herself. This time, the pleasure held a different kind of note, and brought with it a new sensation. Hollow wanting. Her fingers might offer her something new, but they weren’t enough on their own.
Shocked, a little, at her own daring, she inserted first one finger, then two.
She moved them in and out, rocking her hips against her hand, and pressed her other hand against her mouth, biting the soft flesh of her thumb so she would make no noise.
Perhaps she was alone, but she wanted no one to hear evidence of the things she was doing.
The wicked, wicked things...
Wickedness had never felt so good. She never wanted to stop.
She rocked faster, wishing she could turn her body into something new, to reach the heights that promised just out of reach. Her breath came fast, and she teetered on the very edge for so long, sweat soaked into her hair… but in the end, she couldn’t quite reach wherever it was she wanted to go.
Marie ought to have given her more specific instructions. Even when she gave up, exhausted and with her heart pounding, her body ached for more. Was this how it was supposed to feel? Would Alexander make her do this?
She wished she knew.
Frustrated, she rolled over and punched her pillow. Tomorrow was her last chance, her last opportunity to persuade Alexander to let her stay. If she failed, he wouldn’t delay any longer, she was sure of it.
Somehow, she would have to seduce him—and convince him once and for all that he could never let her go.