The Kiss of a Viscount (The Daughters of the Aristocracy) (26 page)

She gazed up at him through long lashes that nearly hid her eyes. Finally able to catch her breath and allowing her vision to clear, Elizabeth sighed. “That was ... amazing,” she murmured, noticing for the first time that he now wore only his linen shirt and breeches. “Will you ... stay with me while I rest?”

George blinked and straightened, momentarily confused by her question and then amused when he realized to what she referred.
I shall see to it you are thoroughly pleasured by midnight and allow you to rest undisturbed until one
.  “My lady, I haven’t yet begun to pleasure you,” he responded with a devilish half-smile that made him look enticing, handsome even.

Elizabeth stared back, her mouth forming one of those perfect ‘o’s that it seemed to do so well. And that made him want to cover it with his own lips and kiss it until the ‘o’ was in awe and begged for mercy. “Oh,” she breathed, her eyes widening as she realized the implication of his statement.

George nearly drowned in their aquamarine depths. Aware he was staring, he nodded and said, “I will be but a moment.” He forced his gaze away and moved back to the chair. He turned down the flame in the main lamp and then sat down to take off his shoes and stockings. Having no intention of being naked himself, he thought only to get himself comfortable enough to perform the ministrations he thought would prove his skill. He wondered at Elizabeth’s comfort. She hadn’t made a single protest as he’d removed her shoes and stockings, nor had she put up a fuss about his having unhooked her gown or about nearly removing the last vestige of covering she still held clutched to her bosom. Well, by the time he was done – he had over two hours before midnight would strike – she might yet remove the gown of her own accord. He had decided he would not take it from her unless she asked for him to do so.

With any luck, she would beg him to do so.

And, although the flames in the fireplace were dying just a bit, when he thought about adding another log, he decided against it – the extra light would counter his efforts to relax her enough for what was to come, and the room seemed especially warm already.

Or perhaps it is just me who is too warm
.

There was still a good deal of champagne in the bottle, although the ice around it had mostly melted. He refilled her glass and took it to her, noting that she supported herself on one elbow and let go of her gown to take the champagne. Refilling his own glass, he took a long drink of it and looked about the room, very aware that her eyes followed him. He finally moved back to the bed, raising one leg so that he could sit on the edge of it and support most of his weight on the foot that remained on the floor. Elizabeth’s gaze followed his movement, her body backing up into the middle of the bed as he did so, as if to give him room to join her there.

“The first time I saw you dancing, you were waltzing,” he said in a very quiet voice, so husky he almost didn’t recognize it as his own. “Your gorgeous hair was all lit up with the light from the candles in the chandeliers, and you had a brilliant smile on your face, as if you were having the best night of your life. And it was at that moment that I ...” He looked away for a moment, leaving her hanging on his last word. She pushed herself up so that her arms were straight and slightly behind her, the gown barely perched on the tips of her breasts. “I wanted so badly to be a part of your ... of your night.” He’d nearly said ‘life’ just then, but thought better of it.

No need to frighten the woman just yet.

“So, you can imagine my delight when you were thrown into my arms and danced the rest of the waltz with me. You dance beautifully, by the way” he said before drinking the last of his champagne. “And then you agreed to attend the supper with me. I thought I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

At some point in his confession, Elizabeth had raised a hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into it and closed his eyes, covered her hand with his own and then pulled her hand away so that he could kiss the palm. His tongue trailed up to her wrist and his lips took purchase there, forcing Elizabeth to take a sharp breath when the unexpected sensation of pleasure shot up through her arm. His other hand had moved to support her elbow, where his lips fluttered like butterfly wings over the delicate skin. George heard her whimpers, felt the ripples under her skin and carefully repositioned his body so that he could reach her lips with is own.

The kiss was ever so gentle at first – barely a whisper of a touch before he pressed the tip of his tongue against her teeth. She moaned and slowly lowered her upper body back down to the pillows, the strength in her arm suddenly gone. As George deepened the kiss, he moved a hand to stroke her other arm, his fingertip trailing up the inside of her wrist to her elbow and on to the soft, silken skin under her arm.

When his thumb brushed against the side of her breast, she jerked, the reaction causing George to pause a moment and finish the kiss. His lips worked their way down her jaw to her neck and then to her throat, where his tongue found the round hollow and seemed to take delight in feeling the source of her light moans and whimpering. He brushed his thumb against the side of her breast again, teasing and testing to determine if she would deny him. When her chest lifted just a bit from the bed, he slid his hand higher, using his thumb to brush over the nipple. The ruched bud was already erect, already aroused and ready for his lips to take purchase and suckle it. He wanted to hear his name spoken in her velvet soft voice as he took her to her first level of ecstasy.

Her eyes, if not already closed, were nearly so, the lashes seeming to rest on the tops of those beautiful cheekbones. His lips finished the work his tongue had started on her throat, moving ever so slowly down the front of her body. When his lips reached her collarbone, he let his tongue lathe across it as his chin caught the edge of her bodice. As he moved lower, the upper edge of the fabric caught on her erect peaks, chafing them so that Elizabeth’s body nearly came off the bed, her arms struggling to take purchase in the soft mattress. His mouth covered her nipple, sucking it until it was between his teeth and then gently biting it – not too hard, for fear she would deny him any more of her body. Her cries were louder, no longer whimpers, her breaths short, quick gasps as his mouth lifted and let go the nipple. Reaching out with his tongue, he lathed it across the hardened bud. Elizabeth’s chest came up from the mattress, as did her hands, and her fingers buried themselves in his hair.

“Ge ... orge!” she cried out, drawing out his name as she writhed beneath him. Her hands had moved down to the sides of his body, clutching at the linen of his shirt, pulling it out of his breeches in handfuls as he moved his mouth to the other nipple. He cupped the breast in one warm hand and lifted it up, his lips kissing and suckling as he did so, barely aware that she had managed to get his shirt up along his back. And then he felt her warm hands, her fingers, her nails taking purchase into the skin of his back, scraping and gripping and leaving little half-moon brands in his skin. He let go of her nipple and groaned, suddenly aware of his own body’s reaction to her arousal. With her writhing, her gown had moved down to her hips. Gasping for his own breath, George lowered his head against her belly, the tip of his tongue circling her naval and the soft flesh around it while the hair on the top of his head tickled the underside of her breasts.

“Take it off,” he heard from somewhere above. His tongue slowed its descent and he wondered at the words. “Get it off,
please
,” she was whispering, begging as her fingers fumbled and clutched at her gown. Suddenly understanding, George moved a hand beneath her bottom and lifted her hips as he gently pulled on the fabric. He wanted to jerk the gown free, tear it from her body in a fit of lust, but the litany of
maintain control
echoed in his mind. 

She should have felt chilled. Should have felt vulnerable. She should have felt embarrassed at her nakedness.

I should be feeling ashamed of myself!

But Elizabeth felt none of those as George’s gentle touches pushed her gown down past her hips, exposing her most intimate places, his fingers barely making contact with her flushed skin as he complied with her request.

My request! My demand!

Where his fingers touched her, she felt a soft warmth, a caress of heat that enveloped her. She’d expected his hands to be rough and harsh, impatient, commanding and demanding as he undressed her, as he drew them around the curves of her breasts, down the sides of her torso, around her hip and over her bottom, down the length of her thighs and over the slope of her calves. Instead, they’d been patient, reverent, so very careful, as if she she was made of fine china and might shatter should he press too hard.

He’d warned her. He’d said he would have her undressed by ten.
How could he have known? How could he know she would simply give in to his seduction?
A thought struck her and she gasped.

Perhaps this wasn’t the first time a woman had asked him to do this to her!

How many others had he pleasured like this? How many others had succumbed to his gentle caresses and begged him to undress them? Did he do this often? “George?” she got out, her hoarse whisper nearly caught in her throat, her body still shivering as if she was cold.

George stilled his hands where they were at her feet, her clothes draped over one arm as if he was a ladies maid about to hang her gown in the clothes press and take the rest to the laundry. “Yes, milady?” he answered, concern evident in his voice. He set her clothes out on the back of a chair and moved quickly to the head of the bed. She reclined near the middle of the mattress, her auburn hair spilling over the pillows to create a halo of curly silk around her head. She was watching him through lowered lashes, her mouth slightly open, her entire body naked. Until that moment, he did not realize just how much he had been craving her, that he had been a man starving for her kind of sustenance, and here she was, bared and spread before him like a banquet. It took every bit of willpower he possessed not to rake his eyes over what he knew must be a beautiful body, to concentrate his attention instead on just her face, on just those aquamarine eyes barely visible through the curtain of her lashes.

“How many women have you seduced like this?” she whispered, reaching up with a finger to capture the knot of his cravat. The perfectly tied mail coach knot was undone in an instant, the ties spilling down to graze over her dewy skin.

Taken aback by the question, George blinked once, twice as he tried very hard not to notice the ends of his black cravat puddle onto her midriff and drape over one breast. “I have ... never done this before,” he replied with a shake of his head, the motion causing the linen fabric to dance over her skin.

Elizabeth’s first reaction was to call him out as a liar, but then she noticed his fingers were shaking just a bit. Indeed, his hands were shaking, quivering, making her realize something.

He was just as nervous as she was.

For despite not being cold, her entire body shook, vibrated, shivered. Surely not from fear; she had nothing to be afraid of with George. Anticipation, perhaps. She grasped one of the ends of the cravat and gently pulled it so that George was forced to lower his head until the length of fabric unwrapped itself from around his neck. “But you ... you knew I would beg you to remove my gown. How did you know?”

Lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed, George shrugged and tried hard to avoid the sight of his cravat spilled over her body. At that moment, he decided he would never again complain to Elkins about having to wear one, as long as it was
this
one. “I didn’t,” he claimed, his shoulders slumping with the admission. At the sight of her cocked eyebrow, he added, “I thought when you heard such a warning, you would ... withdraw your request to have me pleasure you,” he struggled to get out. 

This is unexpected!
“And then I did not,” she whispered, her arms suddenly moving to cover her breasts, despite the cravat already doing a fine job of it. Her right knee bent slightly and crossed over her left leg so that her mound was hidden from his view, should he even look there. A flush of pink suffused her entire body.
What was I thinking? What must he think of me?

“And when you did not,” George continued, a wan smile touching his lips, “I felt so honored ... I
feel
honored ...”

“Honored?” she interrupted in disbelief, raising herself onto one elbow and leaning toward him.

George took in the sight of her then, his cravat no longer covering any of her as it slid off the curves of her body. He reached down to capture a hand in his, to raise it to his lips and kiss the back of it, closing his eyes as he did so. “That you would give me such an opportunity to spend time with you,” he murmured, not letting go her hand. “That you would ask me to pleasure you. That you would give me the chance to prove myself in the bedchamber. At least, as much as I can without ruining you completely,” he added as he gazed at her. He kissed her hand again, this time turning it over in order to place his lips against her palm.

Elizabeth regarded him for a very long time as he held her hand.
He is honored
.

His itinerary had promised she would be
thoroughly pleasured by midnight
. Without loss of virtue. How could he expect to bring her such pleasure if he had no intention of performing sexual intercourse? The very thought of his naked body atop hers – anchored to her by her legs wrapped around his thighs – came unbidden, and a pleasant sensation passed across her belly. The sudden hitch in her breath broke the momentary spell. “Do you ... do you still wish to do so?” she whispered, her breaths coming a bit faster, her swollen breasts suddenly aching to be touched, to be kissed and suckled again.

“God, yes,” George blurted, his free hand raking his hair into spikes as a grin split his face.

Elizabeth nodded and raised herself so she reclined on one straight arm. “Then look at me, George. All of me. And tell me, truthfully, you must be truthful about this or I shall never speak to you again. Are my breasts ...?”

“Perfect,” George interrupted, his head bobbing up and down. “Beautiful ...”

“Look at me, George!”

Her plea startled him, forced him to look at her as she lowered herself to the bed, to gaze at all of her in her naked glory, all at once and then in little bits as he took in the sight of her long legs, the curve of her hips, the indentation of her waist, her very swollen breasts as they parted slightly from the middle of her chest, her one arm draped over her stomach while the other rested, bent, on the linens, her collarbone where it crested, her shoulders as they curved and dipped and joined her long neck. When his eyes finally locked with hers, he stayed very still, wondering what she would have him do next.