Chapter 12 #2
He nodded toward his groin, which was displayed rather prominently in his current position. “Unbutton me.”
Rosalie swallowed. This was precisely what she had offered to do. It felt a bit awkward, now that the time had come to actually do it. But there was no point in turning missish now.
She felt unaccountably clumsy as she tried to push one of the brass buttons through its hole. She tried to confine her fingers to the buttons only, but she fumbled and wound up brushing the bulge tenting his trousers.
Lucian groaned, and Rosalie froze. She was about to apologize when she caught sight of his expression in the moonlight.
His eyes were closed, and his face was suffused with a mixture of longing and bliss.
Tentatively, Rosalie stroked him through the fabric with her thumb. “Does that feel good, then?”
He opened his eyes. They were glassy with pleasure. “So fucking good.”
Encouraged, she began petting him through his trousers. Gracious—he was so thick! And to think, that part of him was meant to fit inside her!
Thank goodness they were never going to do that bit. Rosalie was not convinced it was physically possible.
She continued stroking Lucian, enjoying both his moans of pleasure and muttered curses. He seemed particularly sensitive near the top of his member. She was massaging him there when a hand clamped around her wrist.
“Damn it, woman!” His breath was coming in pants.
His expression was stormy, but that didn’t dim Rosalie’s satisfaction. “Is there a problem?” she asked sweetly.
“Do you mean other than the fact that you’re about to make me spend in my trousers like a thirteen-year-old?” He yanked at the buttons on his placket and Rosalie heard fabric rending.
Lucian didn’t seem to care. He spread his trousers open, jerked his shirt out of the way, and suddenly there was his member, jutting out into the cool night air.
It was long and thick, as she had discerned from her earlier explorations, with a cap at its tip and a nest of black hair at its base. Rosalie reached out her hand before she had time to grow nervous, touching the tip. A bead of moisture formed beneath her fingers.
She glanced at Lucian’s face. His eyes were hooded with pleasure. “Show me how?” she asked.
His gaze never left hers as he covered her hand with his own. “Stroke me up and down. God, your hand is soft. A little bit harder. Fuck, that feels good…”
Much to Rosalie’s astonishment, his eyes grew hazy, and his breath grew harsh. Was it possible that she, an inexperienced, shrewish society miss, had enraptured one of London’s most notorious scoundrels? It certainly seemed that way.
Suddenly, she remembered his words—I’m going to use my mouth on you.
I want your first time to be beautiful. Well, it certainly wasn’t his first time, but she did want to make it beautiful for him.
She knew that even though a rake like Lucian would almost certainly forget her within a week, if not by this time tomorrow, she would always remember tonight as magical.
And she wanted this to be magical for him, too, or at least, as magical as she could make it.
So, she needed to use her mouth. How hard could it be?
She dropped to her knees before him. Without pausing the motion of her hand, as he seemed to like that quite a bit, she pressed a kiss against his rod. Unsure of what to do, she opened her mouth, swirling her lips and tongue around its tip.
She felt his thighs turn to iron around her. “What are you doing?” he hissed.
Rosalie froze. Slowly, she lifted her head to look up at him. Lucian’s eyes were wild. He looked shocked. Appalled? Horrified?
“I… I’m sorry,” she stuttered. She leaned away so quickly that she overbalanced and sat down, coming to rest in an awkward heap. “I thought you might… enjoy it,” she added weakly.
“You’re damn right, I would enjoy it.” Strong hands gripped her upper arms, hauling her back to her knees. “You virgins aren’t nearly as dull a lot as I’ve been led to believe.”
It was Rosalie’s turn to smirk at him. “Oh, most of us are. I’m just exceptional.”
The corner of his mouth quirked, and a soft expression came into his eyes. Were he anyone else, Rosalie would have said it was fondness, but of course, Lucian Deverell did not cast fond glances. “You certainly are.”
Rosalie cleared her throat, which felt unaccountably tight. “Well. Let me get back to it, then.”
But as she leaned forward, strong fingers threaded through her hair, staying her. She looked up at Lucian.
“Do you know what’s going to happen?”
Her cheeks grew warm. “At the moment of your, er… paroxysm… you will expel your seed.”
A grin split across his face. “I would’ve used the words, ‘I’m going to come in your mouth.’ But essentially, yes.”
Rosalie stared at him a beat. “Will that pose a problem?”
He laughed. “You tell me.”
She bit back her annoyance. “Is it harmful?”
He tilted his head, considering. “Not that I know of. But you might not enjoy it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
She leaned forward, taking him into her mouth, and his soft laughter washed over her in the moonlight.
This time, Lucian deigned to provide her with some instruction.
“Keep moving your hand. Yes. Focus on my head with your mouth. That’s the…
most sensitive part. Use your tongue to…
Oh, fuck. Fuck, Rosalie, that’s so fucking…
I’m already so close. Faster. Faster, please, yes… Yes, oh, fuck… Oh, fuck, I’m going to…”
His fingers dug into her scalp, and his rod jerked.
A rush of liquid filled her mouth, and she froze in surprise even though he had warned her to expect it.
But he encouraged her to continue her motion, and so she resumed her efforts.
She would never have thought she would enjoy hearing such profanity as the words he uttered.
But here was indisputable evidence that her attempts to pleasure him were not so clumsy as she feared, and that, against all odds, he was enjoying them!
And so, his curses fell upon her ears like honey.
After a moment, he drew her off him. He scooped her up from the ground and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. He was still breathing hard when he cradled her to him, pressing her head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair. “That was magnificent. You are magnificent.”
“You’re welcome,” Rosalie murmured. She knew he didn’t mean that, or at least, not in any sort of lasting way. But she felt content. Who would have thought it would feel so natural, sitting half-naked on a bench with London’s most notorious rakehell in the aftermath of her first sexual experience?
He made an amused sound. “I know this will sound crazy. But could I—”
He stopped midsentence, turning his head sharply. That was when Rosalie heard it—the crunch of footsteps on gravel.
“Someone’s coming!” she hissed.
He spoke in the same instant. “Hurry! Get behind the…” He trailed off, glancing around. “Damn it, there’s no place to hide.” He stepped in front of her, shielding her with his back. He began frantically buttoning his trousers. “At least do up your—”
“Deverell?” Male laughter filled the garden. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to find you out here. Who’s your latest paramour?”
Rosalie peeked around Lucian’s shoulder. Edmund Reeves, the third son of the Earl of Starling, was striding down the path toward them.
Rosalie ducked behind Lucian and began fumbling with the ties of her dress. She didn’t know Edmund well, but he had a reputation for being a bit of a blade. In particular, he was known for recording impetuous wagers in the betting book at White’s.
She could hear the crunch of Edmund’s footsteps as he advanced on them. “Tell me it’s not Lady Winthrop,” he said, naming a pretty young baroness who had been recently widowed. “You know I’ve been trying to cajole her into my bed.”
“Never mind who it is,” Lucian snapped. “Do the decent thing and afford us a little privacy.”
Edmund groaned. “It is Lady Winthrop, isn’t it? I’ve laid five quid against McClanahan that I’ll be the first one to… What’s this? Lady Rosalie?”
Rosalie couldn’t meet his eye as she gave the ties of her dress one final tug. “It’s not what you think,” she said quickly.
Edmund’s voice was rich with amusement. “Given both of your states of dishabille, I’d say it is exactly what I think. Good God, the daughter of a duke… and you! This is going to be the scandal of the century!”
“Please, Mr. Reeves—” Rosalie began.
But she was drowned out by Lucian, who spoke at the same time. “There’s not going to be any scandal. Lady Rosalie and I are going to marry.”