Chapter Twenty-Two
The desire blazing in Olivia’s deep blue eyes was more arousing than anything Griffin had ever seen before, and though he knew he should, he was powerless to resist her.
“Loosen the buttons,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble. She wanted to see his body. Far be it from him to deny the lady’s request.
Olivia dipped her head and went to work on his waistcoat, her progress slowed by unsteady hands, but Griffin did not hurry her, nor did he offer to help. This night was hers—her pace, her preference, her power. He would let her be his guide tonight.
“There,” she murmured, pushing his waistcoat from his shoulders and down his arms until it fell in a heap at his feet.
He smiled at the glint of triumph in her eyes. “Shall I remove my shirt, as well?”
She nodded, her gaze already skimming over his body, as if picturing what he would look like. In one deft move, he swept his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.
She was silent for a long moment, her eyes skating over his torso, and then she lifted her hands and pressed them to his chest. Griffin held his breath as her fingers began to roam, her skin feather-soft, her touch so light yet so intense it sent shivers across his flesh.
“You told me not so long ago that you think of me sometimes,” she said. “When you pleasure yourself.” Her gaze lifted from his chest to his face. “I think of you sometimes, too.”
God, what was she trying to do to him?
Images of Olivia finding her pleasure at her own hand flooded his mind and his cock surged beneath his trousers.
Gritting his teeth, he guided her to the chaise and urged her to lay down, determined to go slow.
She reclined against the cushion, her fingers laced across her belly, her skirts askew, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
She watched him openly, unabashedly, with curiosity in her eyes, and desire, too. Desire for him.
His breath whooshed from his lungs.
He joined her on the chaise, leaning on one elbow to keep from crushing her as he covered her mouth with his. Olivia arched into him, meeting his kiss with a slow sweep of her tongue along his lip, her hands gripping his shoulders.
Her body was soft and lush beneath his, her scent curling around him, sweet and seductive, just like her.
He skated his hand along the dip of her waist, over her hip, down her thigh, his lips never leaving hers as he hunted for the hem of her gown.
His fingers skimmed satin and he realized she still wore her slippers. He made quick work of them, nudging them to the rug before sliding his hand up her ankle to her calf, caressing her through her stocking. He had just crested her knee when she pulled her mouth from his.
“What about Artemis?” she gasped, glancing over at the kitten’s chair, which was turned away from them, facing the hearth.
“She’s sleeping.”
Her brow lowered. “But…what if she wakes?”
“She won’t,” he said. “Not if we’re quiet.” His hand ghosted up her thigh and he nuzzled her throat. “Can you be quiet for me, Olivia?”
He nipped her collarbone with his teeth as his knuckles skimmed her inner thigh, and her breath caught in her throat.
“Griffin,” she choked out, her hips bucking, a visceral plea for more. He gave it to her, stroking her softly, her plump, wet heat soft beneath his fingers. Lightly he grazed her nub with the pad of his thumb.
Her groan rent the air.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he teased, his gaze roaming over her flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. God, she was gorgeous, so needy and aroused, reveling in her own pleasure. He wanted to give her more of it, even as his own body demanded satisfaction.
“Bite your lip for me, petal,” he demanded, his voice ragged.
She obeyed, her gaze locked on his as she drew her lower lip between her teeth, and Griffin’s cock throbbed at the sight of it.
“Yes,” he murmured approvingly. “Just like that. Don’t let go.”
He worked his way down her body, bunching her skirts up as he went, his gaze greedy, devouring every inch he uncovered. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her knee as he settled between her delectable thighs.
The scent of her arousal, sweet and tangy, shot lust through his belly to his groin and he groaned. God, she was so wet, so pink and perfect. He leaned in, craving a taste, and brushed his lips against her sensitive flesh.
Her hand grasped his shoulder and squeezed, but she made not a sound. Not even at the first touch of his tongue.
He worked her over with soft flicks and firm strokes until she was writhing against his mouth, her hips and hands frenzied with her need.
She was no longer mute, but muted whimpers and groans escaped from her throat as she tried, and failed, to keep quiet. He loved her like this, desperate, unraveled.
Unraveled because of him.
“Griffin…” His name was barely a whisper on her lips, but he sensed the want in it, the plea to ease her torment.
With quickened strokes of his tongue, he focused his attentions where he knew she wanted them most, letting her body be his guide. She wove her fingers through his hair as the muscles in her thighs began to tremble and as the first tremor took hold, Griffin eased a finger into her wet heat.
She cried out, her body stiffening and clenching around him as she found her release. Griffin nearly joined her, so acute was his arousal, his cock stiff and aching inside his trousers.
But he was no innocent lad. The days of spending in his pants were long behind him.
He sat up and leaned his weight on one hand.
Her eyes opened and met his. “Goodness.”
He smiled, inordinately pleased by the edge of wonder in her voice.
“I wasn’t quiet, was I?” she said, her expression sweetly flustered.
“Not very. No.”
She blew out a breath, as if baffled by her own behavior. “I couldn’t help it. Not with your mouth on my…” Her hand flicked down her body, filling in the blanks.
Griffin’s smile widened. “Yes, I noticed.”
She studied him in silence for a moment, and then spoke. “Would you…” She paused and licked her lips then started again. “Do you think you would suffer the same affliction? If I were to…kiss you the same way?”
God. His grin faltered and he swallowed hard. Just the thought of her mouth on his cock made him want to howl, but this night was supposed to be hers, not his. And he was determined to make it everything she wanted it to be.
Even if he perished in the process.
“I can almost guarantee it, petal.”
Her eyes sparked with interest. “May I find out for certain?”
His cock throbbed with an interest of its own. “You may do anything you like,” he answered, keeping his voice even, though his body thrummed with anticipation.
She rose to a sitting position and chewed her lip thoughtfully, as if plotting out her best strategy.
“Will you lie down?” she asked. “Like I was?”
He did as she requested, trading places with her and leaning back against the arm of the chaise with his legs stretched out before him.
Then, heart thudding, he laced his fingers behind his head and waited for her next move.
Olivia had no ideawhere to begin, but she knew one thing for certain. She’d never seen a more arousing sight in her life than the one before her now.
Griffin lay sprawled on the chaise, watching her with patient eyes, the lean muscles in his bare chest and arms gleaming in the low firelight.
An artist’s dream subject.
And then, of course, there was the bulge at the front of his breeches, stark evidence of his arousal, though he seemed in no hurry to satisfy it.
Excitement pulsed through her. Free rein. He’d given her leave to explore his body and her own curiosity, and she intended to take full advantage.
She scooted forward on the chaise until she was perched beside him, her hip pressed against his thigh. Heart pounding, she laid her hands on his naked chest, and smoothed her palms along the ridge of his pectorals, enjoying the way his dark, springy hair tickled her skin.
“You’re hairier than I thought you would be,” she murmured as she traced a finger down the slender trail of hair bisecting his firm, flat stomach, watching his muscles leap beneath her touch. “I like it.”
“Good.”
His voice was rough, his eyes like smoke, and she held his gaze as her hand hovered just above his erection. Finally, she touched him, running her palm down his hard length, stroking him through his breeches.
He sucked in a breath and his hips jerked, thrusting into her hand as if of their own accord. She liked that, a reaction beyond his control. A reaction drawn from her touch.
She undid the fastening of his falls, and his manhood jutted out, thick and hard. She took him in hand, wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking upward in one smooth motion until she reached the head.
He was hot, hotter than she remembered, and she loved that she could see him this time, his nakedness, his shaft in her hand, the pleasure etched on his handsome face.
“I’ve never done this before,” she whispered as she slid to her knees on the rug. “You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?”
“There is no–Christ above, Olivia.”
She smiled and licked the tip of his shaft again, slower this time, circling the whole of it with her tongue before taking him in her mouth. He groaned and she could feel his gaze on her, watching her every move, but instead of making her feel shy, his attention emboldened her.
His fingers wove through her hair, his hips undulating in short thrusts as she sucked him harder, drawing him deeper into her mouth, one fist holding him captive.
“I can’t…last any longer like this,” he said through gritted teeth and then he swept her up onto the chaise and covered her with his body.
“This mouth of yours is dangerous, petal,” he murmured before taking her lips in a long, intoxicating kiss.
“I liked tasting you,” she admitted when they separated to breathe. “I liked making you moan.”
He kissed her again, his hands wandering over her body, every touch setting her ablaze and making her ache anew. He eased his lips from hers to kiss her cheek, her jaw, working his way down the column of her throat until she was writhing against him, her hands gripping his biceps.
“How is it that you are still dressed?” he asked as he skimmed his teeth along the slopes of her breasts. “I want to see you naked, Olivia. Sit up.”
The low command sent a shiver of heat straight to her core, and she obeyed, lifting so he could access the buttons at her back.
He made fast work of them, his large hands more nimble than they had a right to be, and in a matter of moments he’d divested her of her clothing until she lay before him in only her stockings and stays.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and the look in his eyes, the frank desire there, brought a flush of pleasure to her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she whispered back.
And then she drew his mouth to hers and kissed him, running her hands over his naked back as he settled between her thighs. The feel of his rigid length, hot and smooth against her wetness made her groan and she rubbed herself against him, whimpering into his mouth.
“Are you certain, Olivia?” Griffin pulled back to meet her gaze, his body unnaturally still as he awaited her answer. “I need you to be certain. There is no undoing this.”
She raised a hand to his face and stroked his jaw with trembling fingers. “I’m certain,” she said. “I want this, Griffin. I will not regret it.”
What was there to regret? She was giving herself to the man she loved, the man she would always love. She would never want to undo this night.
He nodded, his eyes fierce as he leaned in to kiss her again, his mouth taking hers in a hard kiss that left no doubt that he wanted this, too.
He skimmed a palm down her belly and eased his fingers into her heat, teasing with strokes so gentle, so not enough, he had her arching into his hand, practically panting with need.
“Griffin…please…”
He drew back, balancing on his forearm, his gaze trained on hers, dark and intense.
She reached up and stroked her fingers along his hard jaw, needing to touch the evidence of his desire, his loss of control, as if she could keep it in her hand forever.
“This might hurt, petal,” Griffin said, sweat beading his brow. “I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t so, but—”
“I know,” she said. “It will be fine. I’m ready.”
A smile flashed in his eyes, as if he found it amusing that she was consoling him, but then he sobered, and she held very still as he slowly eased inside. She watched his face, holding her breath as he filled her, and her toes curled as her body stretched to accommodate him.
She gripped his shoulders as she grew accustomed to the feel of him, the sensation unfamiliar but not unpleasant.
He pulled back, then gave another short thrust forward as his eyes met hers. “Is this—am I hurting you?”
“No,” she said. “Keep going.”
It was starting to feel rather nice, actually, the friction of each thrust sending a little pang of pleasure through her loins, and if he would only quicken the pace, she might finally—
She stiffened as he thrust deep, the twinge swift and sharp, and Griffin held himself very still as he gazed down at her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes remorseful, though the rest of his face seemed carved in stone. “Do you want to stop?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.” There was no turning back now, not when they’d come so far. And the discomfort was beginning to fade now.
He nodded, then slowly edged back then forward again. In and out. In and out. Slow, measured strokes, each one a little deeper than the last, the slide of his shaft an abrasion that was both too much and not enough.
A frustrated noise sounded in her throat, and she arched her hips, rocking into him. Their moans mingled and Olivia wrapped her legs around his hips and thrust again, harder this time, taking in more of him. Still, it wasn’t enough.
“You want more?” Griffin rasped, gripping her thigh. “Is that it, petal? Your cunny wants more of me?”
She clenched around him, the naughty word heightening her pleasure, and she gripped his neck, arching up to meet him. He adjusted his angle, leaning into her just so, forcing his long, thick length to drag across her swollen nub.
Her body seized and clenched as she burst into a thousand pieces, keening her pleasure into his ear.
Griffin grunted, quickening his pace, and then, with a low growl, he withdrew from her body and spilled his seed on her thigh.
A long silence followed and then Olivia sat up and sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm her galloping heart. “Oh, my.”
Griffin chuckled and sat up, reaching for his discarded shirt. “Indeed,” he said, wiping her thigh clean. “I had no idea how persuasive you could be. You would make an excellent barrister.”
Olivia laughed, her cheeks warming with pleasure. “Don’t be silly. I’m not clever enough to be a barrister.”
“Nonsense. You’re more than clever enough.”
Bemused, Olivia searched his face for a sign he was poking fun, but there was not a glimmer of amusement to be found. “You’re serious,” she said, hearing the surprise in her own voice.
“Of course,” he said.
She looked away, her heart aglow, the compliment and the matter-of-fact way in which he gave it pleasing her more than any praise ever had before. “You’re the first man who has ever called me clever.”
Griffin leaned back against the chaise and shook his head, chuckling softly. “I find that hard to believe. You must have received hundreds of compliments from men.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “On my glorious eyes and beautiful smile.”
“How awful for you,” Griffin drawled.
She smiled wryly. “Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mind those compliments. I rather like that men find me attractive. But it would be nice to be praised for my talents or my sense of humor every once in a while.”
He nodded. “I hate to speak ill of my fellow men, but we can be astoundingly dense at times.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Yes. You certainly can be.”
He gave her a half-grin then, the one that always stopped her heart, and then he reached out and brushed his thumb over her smile. “In our defense,” he said, his voice husky, “it is a beautiful smile.”
Olivia swallowed, mesmerized by the warmth in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch. “Griffin,” she whispered. “I…”
The words were on the tip of her tongue, words of love, the future, words that would change everything. Words she could not take back.
In the end, she lost her nerve. “I should probably go,” she said finally, sitting up.
She dressed quickly, avoiding his gaze, and when she was done she faced him again, unsure of what to say. How did one bring an evening of lovemaking to a close?
“Thank you,” she finally settled on. “This was…everything I’d hoped it would be.”
Almost everything. But it would have to be enough.
“It was my pleasure,” he answered, his voice sincere, though tinged with a dash of amusement she could not fault him for, considering the unusual turn their night had taken.
“Well,” she said. “Good night, Griffin.”
“Good night, Olivia.”
It felt like goodbye, she thought, as she headed for the door. And she supposed it was, in a way. She was bidding farewell to her girlish dreams, the hopeless fantasy she’d held onto these past several years. It was time.
And it was probably for the best. She would marry her duke and lead a full and contented life with him. But she would always have this night to look back on with fondness. She had no regrets.
If anything, she was proud of herself for asking for what she wanted, for taking something for herself, something that had nothing to do with her father or his expectations of her.
And now life would go on as it should, as it was always meant to. And she would be happy with that.