Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Safely behind the door of Georgiana’s bedchamber, where the fire crackled merrily in the grate, the first flush of lust from the carriage developed into a richer flavour, heady and wild.
Caroline unbuttoned Georgiana’s dress as quickly as possible, clumsy fingers shaking as she unfastened dozens of tiny catches.
She helped Georgiana out of her dress and dragged the petticoats over her head, revealing pale flesh bathed in firelight.
Georgiana leaned backwards, aiming for the bed, but Caroline pulled her upright again.
“In front of the fire. Your fingers are cold, and I need them warm for what I plan to do.”
Georgiana obeyed, grinning wickedly. “Don’t you want to take off your dress, too?” She lay down on the rug in front of the
fire, hands wandering over her soft stomach and up to her considerable bosom.
“No time,” Caroline said breathlessly, kneeling astride Georgiana and hiking up the hem of her dress. “Georgie, it’s no good.
I simply have to have you.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “What, fully? But your—” She halted, her hands stilling. Caroline knew she’d been about to say your future husband, and the unspoken words hung in the air between them like a bad smell.
“I need you,” she growled, grabbing Georgiana’s hand and pushing it under her dress until still-cool fingers brushed her entrance.
“If I don’t have you right this moment, I feel like I’m going to expire.” It was hardly the most romantic sentiment, but she
was far too afraid to voice all her new thoughts and conclusions. Half-mad with need, Caroline leaned forward and pulled Georgiana
into a long kiss which she hoped spoke at least some of the feelings she did not dare to utter.
Georgiana still looked uncertain, although her body had relaxed. “You could always say it was from horse-riding,” she suggested,
her voice trembling slightly. “Lots of girls accidentally break that way. But, Caroline, do you understand what it means to . . .
to . . .”
To give myself to you, she thought. To give you everything you haven’t even asked for. Wordlessly, she placed her own hand over Georgiana’s heart, feeling it thud rapidly against her palm. “I do.”
Miss Darcy stared up at her, dark eyes wide and wanton in the firelight. Her fingers curled, uncurled, and curled again, as
if Georgiana was balancing on a knife-edge and could not decide which way to fall. Then they pressed against Caroline, asking
a question she was desperate to answer. Feeling relief flood her, Caroline sank down onto Georgiana’s extended fingers, groaning
as they slipped knuckle by knuckle into the deepest, darkest part of her body. Their gazes locked as Georgiana gasped, fully
submerged inside, her eyes burning with the same desire Caroline felt.
Wincing, she rose a little as Georgiana pulled out.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No. God, no. It’s just all so much.” She wanted to laugh and sob and scream all at the same time. Georgiana inside her, Georgiana
under her. Why did it feel like everything in the world suddenly made sense? “Please, don’t stop,” she begged, and bit down
on her lip to keep the rest of her words from spilling out. Oh God, don’t ever stop. Use me always, just like this.
Love me.
Georgiana set a steady rhythm, and Caroline settled into the feeling.
Each thrust was an exquisite blend of pain and pleasure, building towards a different kind of finish.
Georgiana’s mouth was agape, her lips damp with continual licking, her own breath coming in harsh pants even though Caroline had not so much as touched her yet.
The tiny part of Caroline’s mind that could still formulate thoughts suggested that she ought to do something about that, and she reached down, stroking Georgiana’s stomach, cupping her breasts.
The thrusts became slightly more erratic as Georgiana responded to the touches, her gaze moving between Caroline’s hands and her own, though the fabric of her dress covered most of what was happening.
Caroline grabbed the hem and rucked it up to give Georgiana a better view, eliciting a moan. “Shall I . . .”
“Yes,” Georgiana gasped, though Caroline thought she might have agreed to anything at that moment. “Yes, please.”
Caroline dragged her fingers down through soft hair, finding slippery flesh. “If . . . if you keep doing that,” Georgiana
said, sounding slightly strangled, “I won’t be able to stop myself from finishing very quickly.”
The idea excited her beyond measure. Georgiana, out of control, unable to help herself. “That’s rather the point, isn’t it?”
she murmured, stroking Georgiana in the fashion she knew would produce the greatest pleasure, watching as her companion squirmed,
revelling in the way the fingers inside her stuttered and jerked. “Wait. I’m going to—” Georgiana gasped. “Caroline, I’m going
to—”
She finished with a breathy gasp, her eyes screwed shut, her fingers still thrusting into Caroline. The feeling was sublime,
and Caroline’s climax came moments later as she shuddered around Georgiana’s fingers, grinding down onto her palm. She collapsed
next to Georgiana on the rug, pulling her into a long, breathless kiss that merely stoked the blaze roaring inside her. It
was immensely difficult not to whisper a confession of amor, though even if Caroline had felt herself free to say something of the sort, she hardly knew what that something might have been.
Georgiana had made it plain from the beginning that this affair was only ever supposed to continue until Caroline had completed her Great Endeavour, and that nothing further could be offered on Miss Darcy’s end, even if the scheme were not still afoot.
And you agreed to that, remember? the little voice inside her said. You thought yourself incapable of love, did you not?
Caroline had never been so wrong in her whole life, nor regretted any promise more. It will all be well, she promised herself, though she hardly knew how. One may fall out of love as easily as one falls into it, or so I have heard.
On that subject, the little voice was silent.