Chapter 24 #2
He didn’t answer for a few heartbeats. “You want me naked, Miss Halperston? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“It’s just… Yes, yes, I do,” she answered shakily.
“You do realize you’re straying into dangerous waters here,” he scolded, but even as he said it, he was pulling his nightshirt up and over his shoulders.
She could not hold back the glad little cry she let out as he settled back against her, naked in her arms. “Caroline,” he breathed reproachfully.
“For fuck’s sake, stop being so…encouraging! ”
“Kiss me, Gervaise,” she murmured, grateful there was no light to see by.
The dark was so utterly freeing, and she felt entirely shameless about her eagerness.
He did so, with a thoroughness that left her thrilled and breathless.
The hard press of his body against her own made her feel wild with some kind of rising need.
Finally, she knew why they called Miss Pomfrey a wild woman.
She felt wild. She felt as reckless and desirable as any artist’s model or the belle of any provincial ball.
Gervaise desired her. He had felt obligated to offer marriage, but he was not acting from duty or responsibility now. She was sure of it.
His kisses were hungry and so were his roaming hands.
He too felt as though he could not get enough of her.
His body felt so different to hers, muscular and sinuous, where she was soft and smooth.
So excited was she that she should probably be embarrassed by it.
Here in the dark, however, she did not care to hide the fact and gave herself free rein to explore his intriguing body at will.
He breathed heavily as she ran her hands over his jaw and neck, then down over his chest. “Why, Gervaise, you’re hairy!” she exclaimed in surprise, wishing the first time for light to see.
“Yes,” he murmured in husky agreement before taking her mouth again. When her questing fingers slid lower, he caught them and held them fast. “Caroline…” he burst out, chest heaving, and to her great surprise, he sounded panicked. “Have mercy, for pity’s sake.”
She held still at that, blinking in the dark.
Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to take pity?
What had she done wrong? she wondered, her thoughts scrambling.
Had she been too greedy for him? “Very well,” she resolved.
“You must touch me then, instead.” She tugged lightly on her hands, and he released them at once.
He took a deep breath as though fortifying himself for some ordeal and Caroline’s confidence wavered slightly.
Did he not want to? The thought was a lowering one.
Before she could grow too dismayed, she felt the back of his hand stroke gently over her cheek, down her neck, then lightly caress her collarbone.
Even this featherlight touch made her heart race.
“You have been deprived, haven’t you?” he marveled, but he did not sound mocking this time.
For some reason the words still stung, and Caroline shut her eyes tight.
His hand slid back up to cup her cheek, preventing her from turning away.
“Shhh,” he soothed her though she had not spoken a word.
“Let me be good to you, Caroline. I want to be, if you will only let me.”
What did he mean by that? Before she could puzzle it out, his lips were back on hers, scattering her thoughts.
This time his kisses were cautious and tentative.
They were quieting kisses, soothing kisses with only the faintest suggestion of his tongue which eluded her own, darting and withdrawing where before it had swept in so boldly.
They maddened her. She chased his tongue with her own, her arms winding around Gervaise’s neck so he could not escape her. Finally, finally he relented and their tongues tangled together in a searing kiss which had Caroline moaning into his mouth.
When he broke the kiss, he swore softly, then trailed small kisses along her jaw. “I want to perform a service for you,” he said in a gravelly voice. “I suspect you will enjoy it but there are no guarantees.”
“A service?” she repeated, feeling confused. Like turning down the bed?
“Mmmm. Shall we try it?”
It did not sound very exciting. “You think I will like it?”
“You’ve liked everything else so far,” he reminded her, his breath tickling her ear.
“Then yes,” she agreed easily.
He expelled his breath noisily. “Bend your knees, then spread them,” he instructed and she felt him shift down the bed, peeling back the covers, then dragging them around. He was remaking the bed, she thought with crushing disappointment. They must be finished here.
Her face felt very hot from lying there with her legs apart.
She felt exposed despite the decent cover of her nightgown and prey to a sudden fear she was strangely wet between her legs.
How odd. The next thing she knew, he was bundling a blanket about her shoulders.
“Don’t want you to grow cold,” he muttered.
“You are the one who is naked,” she reminded him.
“I have plenty of covers down this end of the bed. I am going to duck under your nightgown now,” he warned her. “Let me know at any point if you change your mind about this.”
Under her nightgown? Caroline lay stupefied. Perhaps she had misunderstood him? Perhaps…? There was a rustle, and she felt the whisper of his lips run up her left leg. “Gervaise?”
He halted at once. “Changed your mind?” he asked carefully. She felt the brush of his glossy hair against her knee.
“No, no, not at all,” she said quickly. “I want you to do it.” She wanted whatever experience he wanted to share with her.
“You’re sure?” he asked, pressing kisses to the inside of her leg. It felt terribly sensitive the higher up he progressed.
“Quite sure,” she answered in a quavery voice, then cleared her throat to let him know her hoarseness was not from an excess of nerves.
“That’s good,” she thought he said, but his words were a little muffled against her thigh. She shivered and the next thing she knew, his warm breath was in a truly shocking place.
Caroline’s eyes grew wide as she stared into the darkened room. What was he doing? It wasn’t even as though he could see anything, so why would he hover there, breathing on her most private place like that?
She let out a startled exclamation when he suddenly surged forward, pressing his lips fervently to her, as though in an ardent kiss. She sucked in a shocked breath. He could not be! Her mind rebelled. He could not be kissing her mound! She must be mistaken. Such a thing would be…
Then she felt it then, the wetness of his mouth.
She gasped, then clapped a hand over her own in case she made him stop again.
He was working his way toward her cleft, she realized, feeling the dart of his tongue.
How could he do such a thing? She was embarrassingly hairy there too.
Would that not deter him? she wondered aghast, thinking of the patch of dark curls. Apparently not.
It was a kiss! One of his terribly wicked kisses and he was bestowing it between her legs!
She dragged in another breath, even as her thighs tensed in anticipation.
Oh dear, oh dear… However could she withstand such a thing?
Her face grew so hot she feared she would burst into flame and set the pillows alight.
And then he was there, his licking tongue swiping between her cleft and making her gasp and twist. His arms came up to curl about her thighs, holding her in place as he pressed his face closer and groaned with apparent pleasure at her wetness there, lapping it up with enthusiastic swirls of his tongue.
She would never be able to look him in the face again, she thought faintly. A gently reared maiden should swoon with horror at such treatment. Not dig their heels in the bed and bite their lip to stop from whining. Oh God, what was he doing to her?
Gracie must have been right about the aristocracy having a taste for perversions.
How could he? How…how…could…he? And so enthusiastically too!
It was indecent. Suddenly, instead of licking, it felt like he was running the slope of his nose along her aching cleft.
His nose was nudging something that made Caroline let out a stifled cry.
Then he sucked it into his mouth.
Caroline yelled until she was hoarse, her head thrashing about on the pillow, but Gervaise did not relent or show her any mercy.
Instead, his firm grasp kept her exactly where he wanted her, his voracious mouth sucking and licking, until finally the storm broke over her and she lay limp and sated against the pillows, her heart pounding against her ribs.
What in heaven’s name had he done to her?
When he emerged from under her nightgown, he was breathing just as hard as she. “Ambrosia is rather a good name for you,” he said throatily, “though I am a little put out that Bailey should have thought of it.”
“Is it?” she uttered faintly.
“Yes, for you taste divine.”
She caught her breath at this outlandish compliment and then next thing she knew, he was on top of her again, grabbing the back of her knee and pulling it up, so she cradled his hips more securely.
“Your nightgown stays on,” he panted, giving her hem a tug so her leg was still decently covered. “But I need this.” She nodded, even though she had no clue what he was referring to. She felt entirely dazed and euphoric. “Yes?” he asked sharply.
“Yes, yes, whatever you want,” she assured him.
He lowered his brow to touch her own. “For fuck’s sake, don’t say things like that, Caroline,” he implored in a pained voice. “If you knew how tempted I am right now—” His throat seemed to close on his words, and she reached up to pat his head soothingly.
Abruptly, Gervaise dropped his weight on her, starting to grind his hips against hers at a brisk pace, his breathing ragged and uneven. “Fuck,” he wheezed, and Caroline gazed dreamily where she guessed his face must be.
The press of his manhood was insistent and his intent unmistakable even to someone as inexperienced as herself. She knew what act he was mimicking right now. One of Delia Pebmarsh’s spaniels was forever trying to hump the squire’s leg.
Suddenly, she wished she could see his face.
He could not possibly look his urbane self in this moment, while he desperately rubbed his engorged manhood against her for relief.
The guttural grunts his thrusts were punctuated by painted an altogether different picture and she desperately longed to see it.
After an invigorating bout of this rude treatment, he stiffened above her, letting out a low, shaken groan, then slumped atop of her.
Caroline passed her arms about him, stroking his back and feeling serene, despite the damp spot spreading over her stomach.
She was not sure how much time passed before he spoke.
“The nightgown’s going to have to come off after all,” he said regretfully. “I’ve made a mess of it.” She was a million miles away. “Caroline?” he prompted when she did not speak.
“Mmmm? Oh yes, I do not care.”
He did not speak for a moment, and strangely, she thought he gritted his teeth. “You can have my nightshirt,” he said grimly, levering himself up and off her.
When prompted, she held her hands up so he could strip her of it. He swiped ineffectually at her stomach, clearing his throat. “I’ll fetch a washcloth,” he muttered. “I…apologize. That was somewhat undignified at the finish.”
“No offence taken,” she said, touching a curious finger to her stomach. It felt tacky. “Do you need to light a candle?” she asked hopefully.
“No,” he said quickly. “This room is only small, I’m sure I can find my way to the washstand…” He slid off the bed, and she heard him swear and clutch at the bedframe which creaked in protest.
“Gervaise?”
“It’s nothing. I’m just a trifle…dizzy,” he admitted. Curious. She felt more dazed than dizzy. He bumped against something in the dark and swore.
She was sure he would find it much easier to navigate by candlelight.