Chapter Seven #3
Louisa’s cheeks burned brightly. She nodded once, unable to speak and a perverse desire to tease her coursed through him.
“Is that so,” he said lowly, his mouth drifting to her ear. “I wonder what you know of it.”
“Rhys…”
His fingers snaked down the column of her neck to her clavicle before drifting the tops of her breasts.
“Tell me, Louisa.”
She shook her head, trembling.
“I-I can’t.”
He bet she couldn’t. He was being a right bastard, but there was something sinful about making her confess things she’d never told anyone. Hell, she had never even spoken the words aloud.
But he was desperate to hear it.
His large hands dropped to her waist and firmly settled on her hips.
His mind was racing, trying to compare this experience to that of the dozens he had had before, but all those women had been experienced in lovemaking and unashamed of their wants and desires.
Louisa, on the other hand was terrified, and untamed man that he was, he was hardened by the idea of her stepping out of the fear and into pleasure with him.
His fingers dug in slightly, pulling her against him. She gasped at the thickness she felt against her belly.
“Tell me how you know about pleasure, Louisa.”
A shaky breath drew from her lips.
“I… I…” She exhaled, struggling to find the words. “Please, Rhys, don’t make me say it.”
My God, was he so close to spilling his seed when they weren’t even undressed yet? Her sweet plea to remain on the outside of their lovemaking was a valiant effort, but he would leave no part of her unturned. He was desperate for her, to know everything that pleased her.
Turning his head, he kissed her deeply, as her arms wrapped around his neck.
She pressed into him, arching her back as she tried to melt into him, her one small hand falling to his chest, and then lower.
He moaned into her mouth as the tables turned.
He was suddenly at her disposal as she palmed the front of his buckskins.
“Louisa,” he murmured into her mouth between kisses. “My God.”
Suddenly, her arms tightened around his neck, and she pulled him close, her mouth on his ear.
“At night, sometimes, when everyone’s asleep, I… I have the worst sort of yearning,” she whispered, her words practically wrapping around his member and pumping up and down themselves. “Like an itch that cannot be reached, but so much worse.” She exhaled. “Have you ever felt like that?”
He wanted to say something, but his throat constricted. He nodded his encouragement.
“It was an accident, the first time. I genuinely thought it might be an itch. But then… Oh Rhys, please, just touch me.”
He shook his head, barely able to compose himself.
“You thought it was an itch, but then?”
She scowled at him.
“But then I was so sensitive and, well, swollen I suppose.” Rhys bit his tongue and closed his eyes.
By God, if her speaking about touching herself wasn’t the most erotic thing he had ever heard in his entire life.
“And I just began moving my fingers, up and down.” She demonstrated by stroking the outline of his cock through the fabric. “Like this.”
Rhys hissed, his eyes closing as she moved those damn beautiful fingers against him.
“Take off your dress.”
Without so much as a nod, Louisa bunched up the sides of her skirts and quickly pulled the gown over her head. Now standing in only a thin chemise, she dropped her gaze and began to pull her arms free when he stopped her, his hand on her chin to force her to look at him.
“Watch me.”
The intake of breath was enough to set him on edge, but with her eyes locked on his, she gently pulled one arm out of the short sleeve, and then the other.
In the next moment, the chemise slipped low, exposing full, rounded breasts and smooth stomach.
She had to yank the fabric over her wide hips, and Rhys nearly came at the sight of it.
Sure that his eyes had turned black, he bent down and swept her into his arms as he carried her to the bed. He may have started the teasing, but she had returned it tenfold, and he was desperate.
Dropping her gently on her back, he stood and gazed down at her with lust-filled eyes.
Slowly, he removed his straps and undressed as deliberately as possible while she watched.
Once all his clothing was removed, his ridiculous masculine pride surged when her eyes dropped to his manhood and widened.
The subtle twitch of her fingers caught his eye and having gone this far, he thought to push it further.
“Touch me, Louisa,” he demanded, though his tone was anything but. He wanted her to touch him, to touch every part of him, but he understood that she was petrified.
Hesitantly, Louisa’s hand lifted and her fingertips grazed the hot, silken skin of his length. Instantly, he inhaled as her hand eventually encircled his skin as she gently moved. Not up and down in a practiced or knowing way, but more like she was exploring him.
“It’s so smooth,” she whispered absently, her mouth slightly parted as her eyes lifted. “I didn’t think it would be.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. I never really thought about it,” she mused quietly.
Then, to his astonishment, Louisa shifted to her side, her one leg curving above the other like some painting of a Greek siren, and she kissed him.
There.