Chapter 7 #2
Taking her lips under his—someone would be pleasured soon, and it would be her—he wrapped a strand of her wildly curling hair around his fist, and walked her toward the small bedchamber.
“You first,” he murmured, giving her a gentle push to the mattress as he dropped to his knees before her. This was a rule never to be broken.
She rose on her arms, murmured words he missed, then fell back as he trailed his mouth across her thigh, his hands up the length of her long legs.
Her muscles tensed and released under his palms, breath coming faster.
She tasted intoxicating, smelled like nectar, and more, this felt natural.
He was where he was supposed to be; he’d never been more sure.
“Lie back, Gia,” he whispered, his appeal mixing with her soft moans.
He started slowly, watching her. Eyelashes fluttering, body arching, his cravat looped between her fingers, a wash of white on dark gray sheets.
Her skin glowed, flushed and covered in a light sheen, silky beneath his tongue.
He loved this primal part of sex, though he rarely had the chance to experience it.
His encounters of late were rushed, impersonal, full of time constraints and jaded advance. The act commenced, then done.
This was the opposite in every way. They were alone in their passion, the sounds and sights of the world receding. There was only this bed, this moment. Her.
Ren lost all words as he put his lips to her, legs spread, welcoming.
Tunneling his hand beneath her bottom, he brought her closer, tilted her hips into his touch.
Near the end, when she quivered and gasped, he slid his finger inside, thumbed her sex, and watched her crest. He reached to stroke his pulsing cock, praying he would last long enough to pleasure her again.
Her fingers had knotted in his hair during her climax, and after she quieted, she urged him up with a weak entreaty. Bracing his forearms on the mattress, he settled his body over hers, hard meeting soft. Her eyes were wide with wonder, a wash of deep gold as they met his.
And, like the rest, he tumbled into them without design.
Georgiana noticed little about the bedchamber when they stumbled into it. A small window on the far side with a tattered lilac curtain, a faded rug that might have been Aubusson beneath her bare feet.
After that, she would recall only disjointed slices.
The rasp of Ren’s stubble scraping her thigh.
His calloused fingers parting her. His tongue circling.
His touch far surpassed anything she’d created on her own.
She’d explored her body; she had needs, although knowing how to satisfy them in a world that overlooked women wasn’t clear.
She had no knowledge because it was denied her.
Ren didn’t deny her anything.
And somewhere along the way, as the Duke of Dunmere kissed his way to her ankles and back, her unease dissolved.
He seemed to like her curiosity, her intelligence, her rebelliousness.
Her abundant curves. Adore being his word, one he whispered again as he sank atop her, her body still recovering from the most incredible bliss of her young life.
“I like watching you,” he whispered against her collarbone, the hollow in her neck.
“Your soft little moans drive me mad.” He followed this confession by telling her all the things he’d fantasized about this morning when he brought himself to release.
Taking her in his big copper tub in London, water splashing over the sides as she climbed astride him.
Getting his hands on the emerald gown she’d worn at the archery tournament and ripping it apart with his teeth.
Sketch her nude form a thousand times, until he could do it with his eyes closed.
She bloomed beneath his touch and his honesty.
His bold hunger. He wasn’t holding back, so she didn’t have to.
He curved his hand over hers when she circled him, showing her how he liked to be caressed.
And when it got to be too much—too close, he whispered in a ragged voice—he sucked her fingertips, her nipples, then left her damp fingers to press hard into his shoulders.
The cravat wound around her hand fascinated him. He caught it tight in his fist and drew her arm high above her head. “Here,” he murmured. “Leave it.”
A request she was happy to follow. Because another kiss sparked and ran free, making him lose sight of his plan, their bodies sliding together in a hot, urgent rhythm, her oath forgotten.
She wanted to forever capture the sight of him in amber candlelight, the flex of his biceps, his sleek shoulders rippling beneath her touch.
The faint smattering of hair on his chest teasing her breasts, his weight braced on his forearms, then with his rising need, laid fully atop her.
He was beautiful and kind, and the enchanting part was, he didn’t appear to know it.
His fingers returned to her, sliding, delving deep. One, then two. “I’m sorry, it might—”
She kissed away the rest before it hit the air. “Touch me, Ren. Take me.”
As he pressed into her, he reached his broad palm beneath her bottom and slanted her hips, like he’d done before he fit his mouth to her. The adjustment lit a fire, a tremor working its way down her body.
Yes. Maybe she said it aloud, or maybe he simply knew.
From there, it became something ungoverned, a cadence that took hold and would not surrender.
He slowly inched inside, until they moved past any semblance of delicacy.
Hooking her leg alongside his hip, he grasped her hand, his cravat’s silky ends trailing over their flushed skin, and drove into her, sliding them back on the bed.
The pace was frantic one moment, slow the next, until Georgiana lost the ability to document where pleasure was taking her, where he was taking her. Ren dragged her between delight and desperation—never letting her settle on either.
She caught the skin of his neck between her teeth. “Now, Ren, now.”
His back arched as he groaned, shouldering at the sweat beading his temple. “I want to ruin you for anyone else. Like you’ve ruined me.”
“You have,” she promised and lifted her hips, urging him. Help me.
Taking pity, he ended it, his fingers sliding between them to find exactly what she needed.
She closed her eyes as sensation pulled her free of the world, brutal and bright and almost too much to bear.
Her release rocked her seconds later, pleasure cresting through her in waves that left her unsteady, undone, making her do all kinds of things she’d have been mortified to do with anyone else.
Cries and those soft moans he loved, ravenous behavior allowed in the secret places lovers inhabited.
Georgiana loved it, and she loved him.
She was, in fact, destroyed by the way she governed him in those last moments, as he shook and trembled. As he gave himself over to her entirely.
There would be no forgetting this.