Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
God forgive me was the last thought Algernon had before he finally gave in to his wants and kissed Beatrice.
He had told himself that that particular part of their lessons was over.
That he had taken too many liberties with her body and needed to stop.
He had vowed to never touch her like that again.
He had meant to scare her by being so rough in the moments leading up to their kiss, to show her that he was not the man she needed to teach her such things, but she did not react the way he had thought she would.
Instead, her eyes rolled back and her lashes fluttered when he pulled her hair and yanked her head back; she had quivered with need as he pushed her forcefully into his body.
Her reactions had only served to torture him further, and yet he was still determined to let her go and send her to bed alone.
And then she said please. Said it in such a way that matched perfectly with his own need, and he was lost.
His kiss was possessive and feral as he slammed his lips down on hers.
He drew her in fervently, drawing in her bottom lip and suckling it before urging her lips to part wider with his own.
He was not tentative this time, did not glide his tongue gently across her lips to ask for entrance.
He simply took it, claiming her mouth as he had done so many countless times in the erotic dreams that had filled his night.
At his shoulder blades, he felt her nails dig deeper into his flesh, and with a growl, he grabbed her backside and hoisted her up onto his hips.
He relished the feel of her legs instantly wrapping around his waist and thrust forward, showing her just how much she was affecting him.
Beatrice broke the kiss as she threw her head back, a sinfully erotic moan leaving her throat as she ground her sex into his aching erection, showing him she was not afraid but wanted more.
The feeling of her willingness was so delicious, he hissed and fought the overwhelming urge he suddenly had to release.
It had been so long, so very, very long since a woman had affected him this way. He was always in control… but not now. Not with her. Whether Beatrice recognized it or not, she had him in the palm of her tiny hand, hers to do with as she pleased.
“More,” she moaned before her plump lips slammed back into his.
He met her kiss greedily, holding the back of her head tight as he walked to his bedroom door and kicked it open.
He barely noticed the riotous slam! that echoed through the room as his door flew into the wall from the force of the kick, nor did he notice that his drapes were still open, bathing his bed in moonlight until he opened his eyes and all but flung Beatrice away from him and onto his bed.
Her eyes widened with a brief terror as she sailed through the air for the briefest of moments then before her back could even hit the soft stretch of his bed, he was there, his body atop hers, his mouth sealed over hers so that he could swallow her gasp.
Then her hands dove into his hair, and this time, it was she that wrenched his head back, breaking their kiss.
It startled him a moment, such a blatant shift of power as it was, but then he let out a throaty groan as her teeth sank into the pulsing vein at his throat, sending desire shooting from the possessive bite all the way down to his groin.
Then suddenly her teeth released him, and in their place were her lips and tongue, soothing gentle laps and kisses over the bitemark and down his neck.
He shifted up, letting her needy mouth explore a path from his throat down to his pectoral muscles, and as she sank her teeth into one, he captured the back of her head and held her there, silently urging her to bite as hard as she could.
He wanted her mark.
Then the need to kiss her became too great again, and he once more reclaimed the power by using the grip on her hair to force her mouth to let go, and he sank back down to viciously kiss her lips.
He was rewarded with a deep moan and the hitch of her leg over his hip, the action causing her nightgown to travel above her knee and gather at her hips.
He let go of her hair then, only to reach down and smooth his hand up her shapely leg to her bare hip. His grip tightened there, and Beatrice broke away from the kiss with a sharp gasp as her back arched and her trembling grew greater.
Algernon rose up on his knees then, gathering the fabric of her nightgown that had pooled at her hips, and he dragged it up her body before flinging it to the floor. What he saw next made his breath catch in his throat and his heart thud hard against his chest.
He had teased her breasts, her sex. Had seen them bare individually and reveled in it, yet seeing her like this.
Completely stripped of any clothing; her legs and arms spread wide, her panting breath making her pert breasts rise and fall—it was heaven.
She was his heaven. And he was going to let another man take her from him.
“Algernon?”
Beatrice’s voice, tainted with worry, brought him out of the damning thought, and he dragged his eyes from beautiful figure up to her face. In the moonlight, he could see the insecurity in her eyes and arms start to draw toward her chest, and he hated it.
“Is something wrong? Do I not look—”
“No,” Algernon rasped, refusing to even let her finish the thought.
He reached down, his touch gentle as he ran his palm over her neck, over the sweet mountains of her breasts and the peaks of her taut pink nipples, earning him a shuddering breath from Beatrice’s lips.
He did not stop though, he let himself revel in his exploration, letting his hand caress over her small, tapered waist, to her hips, and down her leg again.
“Do not ever question your beauty again,” he commanded, going down on his elbows so that his body could barely brush against hers.
Beatrice’s brow tensed, but she pressed her lips together and nodded silently.
He felt her tremble beneath him, as if she needed more of his heat despite the warm summer air surrounding them.
He obliged, letting himself sink fully down atop her bare body, and it earned him another delicious moan.
She leaned her head up to him, and without thought, he gave her the kiss she wanted. Softly. Quickly. Then he pulled back.
“I have decided what our next lesson will be,” he told her.
The look Beatrice gave him was curious. Innocent. Expectant.
“Oh?” she whispered, reaching up to caress his hair.
He trembled at her soft touch and could not help but turn his head and kiss her palm.
“Yes,” he whispered, already feeling his manhood grow harder at the unsaid thought. “I am going to teach you how to pleasure yourself.”
“Algernon, I cannot do that,” Beatrice whispered, her eyes wide with alarm. She shook her head, as if doing so would add emphasis to her insistence.
“Yes, you can,” he answered calmly, drawing her fingers to his mouth.
Beatrice’s breath hitched as he slowly drew one finger at time into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl and coat each one with his saliva.
It was not just that she could learn. It was that she needed to.
Algernon had a realization earlier when Henry had broken his promise to Beatrice and left her in his care.
His little brother might want to marry her, but as far as pleasure, as far as any intimacy in their marriage, Algernon came to the grim realization that no matter what Beatrice would offer, she was simply not what his tastes ran to.
Beatrice’s bed, Algernon predicted, would lonely enough, but he did not want her surrounded by such loneliness with no means to ease the heat he knew ebbed within her.
So, he would teach her to how pleasure herself—and selfishly by doing so, he would imprint such an image in her mind for her to use when she felt the need to give into such an inclination.
“Algernon, I am not sure,” she began to say.
“Start here,” Algernon explained, cutting her off.
He dropped his lips to her nipples, kissing the taut peaks one at a time before guiding her wet fingertips to the left one. Beatrice’s breath hitched as she drew the tips of her fingers over her own nipple, but she did not fight him.
“Be gentle with yourself at first,” he coaxed, his eyes traveling from her breasts to her face every few seconds. “Just like that.”
He helped her brush her fingertips over the very peak of her nipple quickly, and he was rewarded with a deep tremble and another shuddering breath.
“Let your body tell you what it wants,” he coaxed then drew her right breast into his mouth.
Beatrice moaned deeply as he did so, and he took the moment to savor the sweet taste of her breast, the perfect feel of it in his mouth, before he slowly drew away.
He shifted further down her body, guiding her hand to the nipple he’d just teased and made wet as his kisses caressed over her ribcage and waist.
“Keep doing that,” he softly commanded, letting go of her hand.
He did not pause his kisses to look up and see if she was obeying him.
He could tell just by the way her body was beginning to writhe beneath him that she was.
His lips traveled over her stomach then, taking the time to sweep his tongue over every bare inch his lips made contact with until his shoulders and head were settled between her parted thighs.
His mouth immediately began to water as he caught her sweet, feminine scent, and he could not help but bury his head between her legs and inhale deeply.
Beatrice shuddered at his intense attention, and it urged him to continue. He drew his tongue out, his eyes rolling with pleasure as he found her folds already slick with warm dew and her bud just above them taut and pulsing.