Chapter 7 #2
The cravat finally came free and she moved to his waistcoat, unfastening the buttons with increasing confidence. Kenneth helped her, working at the cufflinks of his shirt while she pushed the waistcoat down his arms.
Then came his shirt, and Barbara grabbed the hem eagerly, pulling it up and over his head, buttons be damned. Kenneth had to duck to help her, and when the fabric finally cleared his face, he was grinning—good heavens, but that dimple was tempting!
But Barbara’s attention had already moved to his now-bare chest, and her breath caught.
She’d imagined him without his shirt, of course. In her more wicked fantasies, she’d pictured touching him like this. Having access to him like this. Possessing him like this.
But the reality was so much better than her imagination.
He was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with the classical sculptures in Papa’s Greek collection, and everything to do with raw masculinity.
His chest was broad and defined, with muscles that spoke of physical strength and well-practiced endurance.
Dark hair dusted across his pectorals, narrowing to a line that disappeared into his breeches, and Barbara found herself wanting to trace that path with her fingers, her tongue.
But what caught her attention most were the scars.
There were several—a puckered mark on his left shoulder that looked like it might have been from a blade, a longer pale line across his ribs, smaller nicks and marks that spoke of a life lived dangerously.
They reminded her that Kenneth wasn’t just a charming rake who climbed walls to seduce young women.
He was a spy: someone who’d risked his life for his country, someone who knew violence and danger intimately.
It should have frightened her. It only made her want him more.
Barbara reached out, her fingers trembling as they made contact with his skin.
He was warm, almost hot to the touch, and she felt him shudder beneath her exploring hands.
She traced the scar on his shoulder, then smoothed her palms across his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her touch.
He wanted this…like she wanted this.
“Barbara,” he breathed, and she could hear the strain in his voice, the barely leashed control.
She was so aroused she could feel her wetness between her thighs, her core throbbing with an ache, demanding to be filled. Her nipples were so hard they almost hurt and she pressed herself against him, seeking relief from the building pressure.
“My turn, love,” Kenneth said, his voice rough and low.
His hands went to the straps of Margaret’s negligee, sliding them slowly over her shoulders. The silk whispered against her skin as it fell, pooling at her feet in a puddle of pink, leaving her completely bare before him.
Kenneth sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes roaming over her body with an intensity that made her feel like she was burning. “A fooking work of art,” he breathed reverently.
But despite the admiration clear in his gaze, despite the obvious desire evident in the bulge straining his breeches, Barbara felt a flash of self-consciousness to be seen without her special boot.
Instinctively she shifted her weight, hiding her twisted left foot behind her right, trying to angle her body to minimize its visibility.
Kenneth saw the movement. His eyes tracked downward, taking in what she was trying to hide, and Barbara braced herself for disgust or pity, for that was surely all that limb could receive.
Instead, he smiled—soft and genuine and full of something that made her chest ache—and he scooped her up in his arms as easily as if she weighed nothing.
Barbara let out a small squeak of surprise as he carried her to the bed and laid her down gently on the coverlet, following her down to brace himself above her on his forearms.
He kissed her quickly, thoroughly, then began to move down her body.
His lips traced a path along her throat, pausing to suck gently at the hollow above her collarbone.
Lower still, to her breasts, lavishing attention on first one, then the other, his tongue circling her nipples before sucking them into his mouth.
Barbara arched into his touch, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close to her.
The sensation was exquisite, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
She was so wet she could feel it on her inner thighs and she squirmed beneath him, trying to press her legs together to ease the ache.
But then Kenneth surprised her by moving quickly down her body, past her ribs, past her belly, all the way to her left foot.
No—
Instinctively Barbara tried to pull back, tried to hide it from him, but Kenneth’s large hands cradled her foot gently, holding it steady. He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming gold in the candlelight, before he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the twisted bones.
Barbara’s breath caught in her throat.
He kissed the ancient scars, the places where the bones had broken and healed incorrectly, the foot which had caused her pain and limited her freedom ever since. His lips were soft against the rough skin, reverent.
“So strong,” he murmured between kisses. “So beautiful. Every part of ye, Barbara. I want to kiss every part of ye.”
She was still aroused—her body throbbing with need—but now something else bloomed in her chest, something warm and overwhelming. Tears pricked at her eyes as she realized Kenneth saw all of her, accepted all of her, wanted all of her.
“Kenneth,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
He looked up at her and smiled, then began to kiss his way up her leg.
Oh yes…
His lips traced her ankle, her calf, the sensitive skin behind her knee. Higher still, to her inner thigh, and Barbara sucked in a sharp breath as she suddenly realized what he intended to do.
Kenneth settled himself between her spread legs, his broad shoulders forcing them even wider. He looked up at her, eyes gleaming with wicked intent and something deeper, something that made her feel cherished.
“I cannae wait any longer to taste ye, Barbara,” he said, his voice a low growl.
She’d read about this act in some of the more scandalous books she’d managed to acquire, but had never truly imagined it could happen to her. The idea Kenneth wanted to put his mouth on her, that he found her desirable enough to—
Her thoughts scrambled as Kenneth lowered his head, his hot breath fanning against her most intimate place. She felt his fingers gently part her folds as his tongue—wet and warm and wonderful—slid along her cleft.
Barbara’s hips jerked at the sensation, a gasp escaping her lips.
Oh dear God, this was—it was—more than she could—
Kenneth’s hands moved to her hips, holding her steady as his tongue began to explore her in earnest. He licked and sucked, learning her with his mouth, tracing her folds, finding the spots that made her gasp and writhe.
When his tongue circled her clitoris, Barbara thought she might come undone right then. The sensation was intense, almost too much yet also not enough. She needed more, needed something to fill the aching emptiness inside her.
As if reading her mind, the experienced rake between her thighs slid one long finger inside her.
She clenched around him, her hips lifting to meet his touch.
He began to move his finger in and out, mimicking the act she so desperately wanted, while his tongue continued to work magic on the pearl hidden in her curls.
Barbara’s breath came in short gasps, her body coiling tighter and tighter with every lick, every suck, every thrust of his finger. When he added a second finger, twisting, stretching her, filling her more completely, she thought she might fly apart.
Then he did something with his tongue—a flick, a suck, perhaps both, she wasn’t sure—and the world exploded into white-hot pleasure.
Barbara slapped a palm over her mouth, stifling her cries as her orgasm crashed over her.
Her body clenched around Kenneth’s fingers, her hips bucking wildly as waves of ecstasy pulsed through her.
Through it all, her lover kept his mouth on her, his fingers inside her, drawing out her pleasure and keeping her flying until she was limp and gasping, her body slick with sweat.
Only then did he lift his head, a proud smirk on his face as he looked up at her from between her thighs. “Next time, I want to hear yer pleasure, love,” he said, his voice a low rumble against her hip. “I got to taste it already.”
Next time.
Barbara felt a blush heat her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. She felt sated, boneless, utterly wrung out—yet at the same time, there was a warmth burning in her chest, a hunger for more.
More?
Kenneth seemed to sense this, his wicked grin softening into a tender smile as he moved up her body to settle on the pillows beside her. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her against his chest, and she went willingly, resting her head on his shoulder.
They lay like that for a moment, Barbara tracing idle patterns on Kenneth’s chest as she listened to his heartbeat slow.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his fingers tangling lazily in the curls at the back of her neck, and Barbara realized with a start that she wanted all he could give her.
She wanted everything.
“That is not all you have to teach me, is it?” she asked, tipping her head back to gaze into those brilliant eyes.
Kenneth’s brow furrowed in mock offense. “I’ve no’ satisfied ye? Ye’re a greedy lass, eh?”
Barbara grinned, feeling a surge of boldness. “I told you I want to learn all about pleasure from you, Kenneth, and there is so much more, is there not?”
Her lover looked uncertain for a moment, his gaze searching hers. “Ye’re a virgin,” he said, as if that explained everything.