Chapter Fifteen
Penelope knew this was against all her self-imposed rules.
Her very crucial self-imposed rules. She wasn’t sure how she had reached this point—although a sly voice in her head told her that she had known all along this was going to happen.
She should pull away now and tell him no.
She should get up and go home. He didn’t need any more instruction on the dance floor; he was perfect as he was.
The Bohemian Ball had deteriorated far quicker than she’d feared, and if not for the mouse, she would have drawn the lesson to a close.
But there was the mouse and now here she was, alone in a bedchamber with a man she had found insanely attractive from the first instant she saw him.
Stopping felt as if it might very well kill her.
His mouth against hers was tender and yet masterful. No lessons needed there either. She allowed herself to be drawn into the heat and excitement of the kiss. There was a curl low in her belly that she hadn’t felt for years, and she craved more.
Her body ached for this man.
Placing her palm flat against his chest, she began to explore the hard muscle and bone beneath the layers of his clothing.
Suddenly, more than anything, she wanted his naked flesh against hers, the intimate press of their bodies, sliding together.
The ache inside her grew until the longing to have it assuaged was too loud to ignore.
It had been too long since she’d felt the pleasure of physical love, and to feel it with this man . . . she couldn’t wait any longer.
He nuzzled against her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth gently, before dipping his face to her neck and sucking at her skin.
Shivers ran up and down her back, and she gasped, arching so that he had better access.
The neckline of her gown was not overly low, not like some of the women here who were showing all they had, but it was low enough for him to lick a line across the swell of her breasts.
Her nipples hardened into painful points, rubbing against the stiff cloth of her bodice, desperate for his mouth. His tongue. Half dazed, she looked up to meet his eyes. Heat and longing shone in their dark depths—a match for her own.
“Will you allow me?” he asked in a voice grown husky with desire. His hands rested on her shoulders and slid around to the hook at her back, teasing the fastening but not opening it yet. Waiting for her consent.
No, she thought. This is an awful mistake. But her voice refused to obey her.
“Yes,” she said.
He smiled, and his fingers worked at the fastenings with swift movements. In an instant, her bodice sagged and her breasts were free. He drew in an appreciative breath.
She told herself she would only allow him to touch her once, just once, and then she would put a stop to this.
She must put a stop to this. Even when Selina had told her to make the most of her time with him, she had thought her rules would keep her safe.
They hadn’t, and it was too late, and suddenly she didn’t care.
Whatever happened afterward, she would remember this night forever.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, and then he was sucking and lathing with his tongue, and she lost any strength she had to push him away.
It felt wonderful, and once again, that heat unfurled inside her belly, the ache between her thighs, a physical response of her longing for him to join with her.
For three years she had been so responsible, so strict with herself, but now she lost it all. Everything crumbled before him. She surrendered. With a soft groan, she held his head closer, arching into his mouth.
He had been kneeling on the bed, but now he leaned back and began to strip off his clothes with a complete disregard for his new finery.
She didn’t scold him; instead, she helped him, her hands trembling with urgency, until she found bare flesh.
His chest made her mouth water and she leaned in and ran the tip of her tongue over his warm skin, and then took his nipple in her mouth.
He gasped and reached to gently cup the back of her head, wanting to keep her there.
But she wanted more of him. She licked up to his throat, tongue tracing the dip there before seeking his strong jaw.
Tasting him. He swallowed, took a breath, and reached to fumble with his breeches.
When she looked down, she could see the hard line of his cock, pushing against the silk.
She had meant to help him, but he distracted her with kisses, desperate and passionate, and for a time she forgot anything but the heat and taste of his mouth on hers.
It might have been enough, but Penelope was no innocent.
She was aware of what pleasures could be had with a man, and she craved them with this man.
“I want you inside me,” she said.
“God, yes,” he muttered.
She pushed him back onto the bed and he raised his head to watch as she unfastened his breeches and reached in to close her hand around the hot length of him.
He looked feverish, she thought, as she lowered her head and took the tip into her mouth, sucking.
He groaned so loudly she thought they might hear him downstairs.
His chest was rising and falling, and he arched his hips, and she knew if she kept on, he would spill. And what a pity that would be when her body was crying out for his. Penelope knelt over him, straddling his hips and lifting her skirts out of the way.
Callum growled out something that sounded like, “So bonny.” He slid his hands over her knees and up her thighs.
Up and up, until his thumbs brushed her most intimate flesh.
She gasped. He gripped her bottom and had lifted her up as if she weighed nothing, and then his mouth closed on the throbbing nerves between her legs.
Quite simply, it was ecstasy. This was something that had never been done to her before, although she had heard of it from others.
When his tongue lathed around her bud and sucked the responsive flesh into his mouth, she could not be quiet.
She cried out as pleasure soared through her, again and again, leaving her lightheaded.
Penelope went tumbling amongst the stars, the universe topsy-turvy about her, spinning endlessly. Or so it seemed. When she came back to herself again, catching her breath, blinking, she found she was sprawled on the bed and he was now above her.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes shining. “I want you so much.”
There was something she should say, something she had meant to do, but her mind was empty of words, so instead she reached up to kiss him. At the same time, she stretched down to stroke his cock, which at some point he had completely freed from the constraint of his breeches, and he groaned.
“Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly.
She was already positioning him at the entrance to her welcoming sheath.
“Take me,” she said.
He filled her, sliding easily inside, and the passion she had thought spent began to build again.
He moved and so did she, gripping him with hands and legs and body, feeling like she would never get close enough to this man.
Whatever might happen tomorrow did not matter.
Right now, there was no tomorrow, only this intimate, magical moment between the two of them.
He was a powerful man who could easily have taken her without care for her own pleasure, but he didn’t. He was no brute. He was patient, taking his time. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. “Feels so good,” he groaned. “Perfect. I knew it would be. I don’t want it to stop.”
He was too sweet and suddenly she could not bear it. She did not want him to love her—that would be disastrous for them both.
“I do not give lessons in fucking,” she said crudely. “Only manners and etiquette.”
Instead of being hurt or insulted, he grinned. “I do not need lessons in fucking,” he growled, and thrust deeper, brushing against some spot inside that made her cry out with aching pleasure.
God, he was good. She wanted to laugh with joy, but just then her orgasm caught her and she was gasping and arching against him as he reached his own crescendo.
For a time they lay, panting and wrung out.
Her muscles seemed to have ceased to exist, and he was heavy on top of her.
But she didn’t mind. She was sorry when he rolled to her side.
She could feel his gaze admiring her, on her face and her bare breasts. She turned to face him.
“I suspect you were no virgin,” she said drolly.
“You suspect right.” He looked up at her almost coyly through his dark lashes. “I have had my share of girls, me and Rory both. He has had more, and Donal loves only one girl and he is true to her. But Penelope, I have never had anyone like you. You are . . .”
His voice trailed off as if he had thought better of his next words.
What had he been about to say? You are the love of my life?
Stay with me forever? She knew he must not love her, and their time together was finite.
Why did she long to hear those words from him?
What was wrong with her that she would destroy her future and his for the sake of a vow no man had ever made to her?
His face turned serious, because he had guessed at some of what she was thinking.
“Don’t send me away, not yet,” he said. “We have more lessons. More time.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him there could be no more lessons, but instead she lifted her hand to touch his cheek, cupping the warm flesh and feeling his whiskers rasp against her palm.
“It cannot be more than a brief affair,” she said seriously. “Do you understand? Even so, I am risking—”
“Nothing,” he assured her. “I will not tell, and we will be careful. No one will know, Penelope.”
Wouldn’t they? There were so many ways in which this could go wrong, but she already knew she was going to do it. It was worth taking the gamble to be with him again, and as many times as they could manage, before it was over.
“I am a fool for agreeing,” she said, even as she stretched up to kiss him.
His mouth was warm with promises, and Penelope wanted to believe every one of them.