Chapter 10 #2
“She is the one who gave you the book!” A giggle bubbled up from her, turning into a full laugh until they were laughing together, a welcome release from the tension of the past few days, and he knew it would be all right.
“She didn’t quite give it to me. She, er, sold it to me. One of her past protectors had given it to her and she had never so much as opened it.”
Georgie wiped at her streaming eyes with the sleeve of her nightdress and relaxed against him again. “What did she think?”
“She thought I was a madman, of course. But she also seemed touched that I was thinking of how to be a good husband in that way, and she set to the task quite enthusiastically once I convinced her that was all I wanted of her.”
Her laughter subsided, and she turned her pensive gaze to the fireplace.
“I don’t know much about how husbands and wives behave when they are alone together.
Mama and I had a talk before my first season about not allowing myself to be caught alone with a man, but she did not, er, give me details.
And Mrs. Clarke… well, she tried to be helpful. ”
“That may be all to the good, that we don’t have many preconceptions. We won’t need to restrict ourselves to what we think we should do or what others think we should do. We can decide to do what pleases each other.”
“I like that.” She took a deep breath, her soft breasts rising and falling against him, and his cock hardened a little more. She turned her face back to his, her eyes shimmering in the glow of the firelight. “Let’s try.”
Peter lowered his head and kissed her. Her lips were damp, a little open, and clung to his as he pulled a few inches away.
“One of the things Millie told me was that lovers will sometimes kiss using their tongues.”
“Their tongues? How?”
“I’m not sure. Do you want to try?”
Georgie tilted her face up to his. “All right.”
He lowered his head again, and let his tongue trace the edge of her lower lip. She giggled, and he pulled back.
“Did you not like that?”
“Do it again.”
He obliged, and her tongue ventured out as well, bashful at first, but moving with greater confidence as the kiss grew more heated, their bodies pressing together until he realized she had shifted in his lap to straddle him.
He could feel the heat and the dampness of her through the silk of his banyan, and he clenched his jaw against a groan.
“Let’s… let’s move to the bed.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked down at him, seeming to have emerged from a trance. She framed his face in her hands and kissed him, and he surrendered with a helpless groan, his arms going around her waist to crush her against him.
She slid her feet to the floor and he followed her up, ducking his head to kiss her again. He put a hand to the skirt of her nightdress and hesitated.
“May I?”
She nodded, a flush of color coming and going across her face and half-exposed chest, and he carefully lifted it off her, holding his breath for his first look at his naked wife.
He’d had a sense of her form—the swell of her breasts, the slope of her hips—but unclothed, she was even more beautiful than he had imagined, a figure of shadowed hollows and gentle swells, bronzed golden by the firelight. He saw her looking at him looking at her, and cupped her cheek in one hand.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, and kissed her. “Lay down on the bed.”
Suddenly feeling bashful himself, he fumbled with the sash of his banyan to discard it and lay down beside her. He propped himself up on his elbow, and she followed suit. A little frown curved her lips as her eyes skimmed over his body, and he wanted to kiss it away.
“You may do anything you wish,” he reassured her. “There is no need to hurry.”
She swallowed and put a tentative hand out to stroke his bare chest. “You’re furry,” she said, and giggled nervously.
He laughed with her, and then drew his breath in as she continued to stroke him, venturing all over his chest, running her fingers through the hair, brushing past his flat nipples.
Her touch created trails of fire everywhere, and every trail arrowed down to his cock.
Her hand ventured lower, and she glanced up at him.
“You can touch me wherever you like,” he reassured her again, and she did, her face adorably curious as she went from his chest, to his arms, to his belly, her hand stroking lower and lower until it hovered just above his erection.
She glanced up at him for permission. He nodded, and she drew one fingertip up his length, from root to tip, as he smothered a groan. It was the sweetest torture he had ever endured.
“The skin is so soft,” she whispered, “but the rest is so hard.”
“Lay back,” he said, knowing his voice was rough, and she did, still looking up at him with wondering eyes that made him feel like a king.
His hands followed the same path hers had, stroking her breasts, her arms, her belly, coming to a rest just above the patch of hair at the joining of her thighs.
Then he leaned down to kiss the same path until she moaned.
Encouraged, he let his mouth and tongue play with her breasts, suckling her nipples until her back arched and her hands tangled in his hair to keep him there.
Gently, he stroked at the seam of her tightly-held thighs, and she relaxed them, letting her legs fall apart. He raised his head to look at her as his hand slid upward.
She was slick and damp there, and a little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows as he carefully stroked her, searching for the spot that Millie had described to him, trying to bring up the picture she had drawn in his mind even while his body was flooded with sensation.
Georgie’s back arched, and she gasped as her legs fell further open.
There.
He found the wetness that her body created and used it to glide across that spot, adjusting his touch as her hips moved in their own secret rhythm, moving faster until at last she cried out, her fingers biting into his arms as she shuddered with helpless pleasure.