Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Isobel felt herself being consumed by sensations, by the heat of Richard's mouth moving against hers, by the strength of his arms around her. Every rational thought seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind, replaced by pure, overwhelming feeling that threatened to consume her whole.
His hands moved from her waist to her hips, pulling her harder against him, and she gasped at the contact.
He was so sturdy, muscles twitching and tensing beneath her touch, and she felt what was left of her sanity step further away from her.
The sounds she made seemed to drive him even wilder, his kisses becoming more demanding, more insistent.
When his teeth caught her bottom lip gently, pressing into the plump flesh for a moment before soothing it with his tongue, she whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulders through the fabric of his coat.
“Your Grace,” she breathed when he finally released her mouth, only to trail hot kisses along her jaw.
“My name, Isobel. Call me by my name.”
“R-Richard,” she gasped, clinging harder to this glorious man,
He groaned at the sound of his name, the vibration of it against her skin sending shivers down her spine.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her skin, even as his hands began to explore, one sliding up her back while the other remained firmly on her hip. “Tell me to end this at once. Tell me to leave you be.”
“No,” Isobel whispered, her head falling back to give him better access to her throat as his teeth grazed over the soft skin at the juncture of her neck. “Do not stop.”
She felt him smile against her neck before he pulled back to look at her. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and his hair was disheveled from where her fingers had threaded through it without her quite realizing.
“So brave,” he murmured in awe, one hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb tracing her kiss-swollen bottom lip. “Do you have any idea what you are asking for?”
“I know exactly what I am asking for,” Isobel exhaled, a little startled by how unsteady her voice sounded. “I may be inexperienced, but I am not ignorant.”
Richard's expression shifted into something that was almost a smirk. “Is that so? Then you should know that there are certain... rules to this.”
“Rules?” Isobel blinked, confusion taking over her lovely features.
Richard tried not to groan as he resisted the urge to kiss her again until her expression was as desperate as it had been moments earlier.
“Mm. If we are going to do this – and make no mistake, Isobel, if you do not stop me now, I am going to touch you, taste you, and I will orchestrate an event that will cause you to fall apart in my arms – then you need to understand that I will be in control.” His voice had dropped to that rough, commanding tone that made something low in her belly clench.
“You will do as I say. And if you do not...”
“What?” Isobel challenged, unable to keep her defiant streak from showing as she lifted her chin stubbornly. “What will you do if I do not obey?”
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. “Then I will stop. I will leave you wanting, aching, desperate for release that I will not give you until you learn to follow my instructions.”
Heat flooded through Isobel, along with a strange thrill at his words.
She should have been offended, should have pushed him away for suggesting such a thing, but she had never heard of it.
Instead, she found herself wondering what it would feel like, her curiosity and desire overrunning the caution in her.
“I understand,” she said quietly.
“Good girl,” Richard murmured, and the praise sent a flush of pleasure through her that surprised her with its intensity.
He kissed her again, softer this time, almost tender. Then his hands were at the fastenings of her dress, and Isobel felt her breath hitch.
“Do not worry. I won’t take all of you now. Not yet. I want to savor you for as long as possible, and while you have issued an invitation to me to ruin you, I will teach you that pleasure can be obtained in numerous ways. More so than you will ever know.”
Isobel nodded, not trusting her voice at that moment. The want within her was growing, snowballing steadily into something she couldn’t control or fathom.
Richard's fingers were deft and sure as he loosened her bodice just enough to slide it down her shoulders, exposing the thin chemise beneath. His eyes darkened as he looked at her, taking in the way the fabric clung to her curves, the way her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his hands skimming up her sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through the fabric.
Isobel gasped, her back arching involuntarily toward his touch. But he pulled back slightly, shaking his head.
“Patience,” he commanded softly. “You do not move unless I tell you to. Understood?”
Frustration flared within her. “But—”
“Understood?” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.
“Yes,” Isobel bit out, even as her body throbbed with need.
“Yes, what?”
She stared at him, huffing with a pout. “Yes, Your Grace.”
His smile was absolutely wicked, and it sent flames of need licking at her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. “Good. Now, stay still.”
His hands resumed their exploration, moving with agonizing slowness over the thin fabric of her chemise. When his palms finally cupped her breasts fully, Isobel bit her lip to keep from crying out. His thumbs found her nipples and circled them with maddening lightness.
“Richard,” she whimpered, her hands reaching for him.
Instantly, he pulled away. Isobel made a sound of protest, her eyes flying open.
“What did I tell you?” Richard asked, his voice stern even as his eyes glinted with dark amusement. “You do not move unless I permit you. You just lost the privilege of my touch for...” he glanced at the clock on the mantle, “Two minutes.”
“Two minutes?” Isobel gaped at him. “That is absurd—”
“Would you like to make it three?”
Isobel clamped her mouth shut, glaring at him even as her body ached for his touch.
Richard simply watched her, waiting, his arms crossed over his chest. The two minutes felt like an eternity, every second stretching out as she stood there, her dress disheveled, her body humming with unfulfilled need.
“You are cruel,” she muttered, feeling humiliated and embarrassed, even more so when she realized it did nothing to quell the arousal she was being consumed by.
“I am patient,” he corrected. “And I am teaching you to be the same.”
It felt like an eternity had gone by when the time had finally elapsed. He moved toward her again, but slowly, deliberately. “Now, let us try this again. Keep your hands at your sides unless I tell you otherwise.”
Isobel wanted to argue, to refuse and make demands, or simply put an end to it, but the promise in his eyes kept her silent. She lowered her hands to her sides, her fingers curling into her skirts.
“Much better,” Richard praised, and the approval in his voice sent another flush of warmth through her.
This time, when his hands touched her, she forced herself to remain as still as she could be.
It was torture – sweet, exquisite torture – as his fingers traced patterns over her skin, as his mouth followed the path his hands had blazed.
When he kissed the curve of her breast through the thin chemise, she whined low in her throat, her fingers tightening on her skirts.
“Good,” Richard murmured against her skin. “You are learning.”
His hands slid down to her hips, then lower, gathering her skirts slowly. Isobel's breath came faster as she realized his intention, but she did not move, did not protest. When his hand finally found the bare skin of her thigh above her stocking, she gasped, her knees threatening to buckle.
“Steady, there,” Richard tutted, his voice commanding as his arm wrapped around her waist to support her. “I have you.”
And she believed him. Despite everything – despite his harsh behavior when they had meant and his criticisms. In that moment, with her in an increasing state of nakedness, she trusted him completely.
His fingers trailed higher, and when they finally brushed against her most intimate place, Isobel cried out, unable to contain the sound. Richard groaned in response, his mouth finding hers again as his fingers began to explore and tease, eager to learn more about her body.
“So wonderful,” he murmured against her lips. “So ready for me. Do you feel that, Isobel? Do you feel how much you want this?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, past the point of embarrassment, utterly consumed by her desire. “Please, Richard, I need—”
“What do you need?” he asked, his fingers circling her entrance but never quite reaching where she needed them most. “Tell me.”
“I do not – I cannot – ” She could not find the words, could barely think past the overwhelming sensations.
“Then let me show you,” Richard said, and finally, finally, his fingers slipped past her folds and set her ablaze.
Isobel's hands flew up to grip his shoulders, and this time he did not reprimand her. Instead, he held her closer as his fingers worked magic, building a pressure within her that she did not quite understand but needed desperately to reach.
“That is it,” Richard encouraged, his voice rough. “Let go, Isobel. Trust me.”
She was not sure what she was supposed to let go of, but then his fingers pressed harder, moved faster, and suddenly something within her shattered.
Pleasure crashed over her in waves, so intense she thought she might faint from it.
Her body shook in his arms, her voice crying out his name as she fell apart.
Richard held her through it, his mouth pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, her lips, murmuring praise that she barely registered through the haze of sensation.
When she finally regained her senses, she found she was trembling, her forehead resting against his chest as she struggled to catch her breath. Richard's hand stroked her hair and back soothingly, his other hand gently smoothing her skirts back into place.
“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You did so well.”
Isobel felt a flush of pride at his words, mixed with lingering pleasure and a strange sort of vulnerability. She had just... she had never...
“What was that?” she finally managed to ask, her voice muffled against his chest.
She felt him chuckle, the sound rumbling through her. “That, my dear, was raw pleasure. Perhaps the first of many, even, if you continue to be such an apt pupil.”
Isobel pulled back to look up at him, her cheeks burning. “You are insufferable.”
“And you are beautiful when you come undone at the seams,” Richard replied, his thumb tracing her jaw. “Especially when you finally learn to follow instructions.”
“I did not – I only –” Isobel sputtered, but found she could not quite muster the indignation when her body still felt soft and liquid with satisfaction.
Richard smiled, that genuine smile she had only seen glimpses of, and kissed her softly. “Be more careful what you wish for next time, Miss Wightman. I might just give it to you.”