The Kiss of a Viscount (The Daughters of the Aristocracy) (27 page)

Elizabeth stared back at George, a truth becoming quite apparent to her as he gazed at her. She had expected him to look upon her nakedness with lust, to see something akin to evil in his eyes as they traveled over her exposed flesh. Instead, she found his gaze one of reverence, as if he worshiped the very sight of her.

Perhaps he felt affection for her.
That could be the reason he agreed to this ridiculous arrangement. He plans to ask for my hand in marriage.
He would do anything for her, she realized.

She just needed to ask.

Reaching for the tail of his shirt, she lifted it. “Take this off, George,” she demanded, her voice quiet but commanding. Pausing only a moment, George pulled the linen from his body and tossed it aside.

He could hear her inhalation of breath as she took in the sight of his bare chest, his muscular shoulders and arms, the dusting of dark hair covering his chest. But her eyes did not suggest she was frightened by the sight of him. In fact, she seemed somehow emboldened, knowing that he would do whatever she demanded. “Touch me, George. Make me ... feel something.”

God, she is naked
, George thought suddenly, remembering his vow that she would be so before ten. And he wasn’t far behind. He paused for only a moment before joining her on the bed, his hand very lightly skimming the surface of her skin, his finger pads and palm sliding along the planes of her body. All of her body. He heard her soft gasps as his hand smoothed along her hip, over the top of her thigh and then over the velvet soft skin between her thighs. He could bring her to the next level of ecstasy in just a few moments! Using his open hand, he gently lifted one of her legs so her knee bent slightly. When he moved his hand to her other leg, the bent leg fell to the side, as if boneless. Using the pads of his fingers, he barely stroked the delicate skin of her inner thighs, felt the shivers beneath and the quickening as her hips tensed. Slipping his hand between her thighs, his fingers parted the soft curls covering her mound and slid between the swollen feminine folds. Her entire body jerked in response, a shriek escaping her lips. George paused the movement of his hand and then slowly, very slowly, drew his middle finger along the moist cleft, up and then back down. Her hips seemed to angle to follow his finger, so he rested the palm of his hand on her mound to hold her down as his finger stroked harder. Elizabeth cried out, her breaths coming in pants. He slid his entire hand between her thighs, felt her wetness, felt the molten heat spreading as he softly rubbed her swollen womanhood. When his movements quickened, Elizabeth whimpered, clutched the bed linens in one hand and George’s arm in the other in an attempt to hold herself down as her body arced into his touch. Capturing the tip of one breast in his mouth, George lathed his tongue across the hardened nipple.

Elizabeth nearly screamed. Her body, bowed and taut and aching for release, gave way to a wave that crashed through her entire being. His name came out as a strangled plea. And when the wave crashed again, she whimpered and clung as tightly as she could, afraid she would be swept away from reality should she let go.

George lifted his head from her breast, amazed at how large and firm it appeared in its flushed, aroused state. He stilled his hand, held it against her engorged womanhood for a moment longer before carefully sliding it up and away from her body.

Elizabeth whimpered at the renewed stimulation and then whimpered again at the loss of his touch, pulling her knees together as she seemed to melt into the mattress. George lowered himself to the bed, straightening his body alongside hers and then gathering her boneless body so it rested against his. The side of her face pressed into the small of his shoulder. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest. Kissing her hair, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of jasmine. Smiling, he slid a hand along her arm, down her back, over the curve of her bottom and back up her body, gentling her to a state of peace and calm.

It had been so easy to pleasure her. So satisfying to know that simple kisses and gentle strokes could bring her to ecstasy. He wanted nothing more than to do it again. Every night.
Every day!
He glanced toward the clock and smiled to himself. He had plenty of time.

Elizabeth was aware of his warm hands caressing her skin as she allowed herself to be held against George’s body. One of her hands rested in the crisp curls that dusted his chest, the beat of his heart creating a tattoo beneath it. She was sure hers was doing the same against his ribs. She had believed the pleasure she experienced earlier was as intense as it could be – how could it be possible to feel such amazing sensations? – and then George had assaulted her senses with a level of ecstasy from which she didn’t want to recover. She could stay like this all night, all boneless and sated and floating between sleep and consciousness, the thought of having to get dressed a repulsive idea she didn’t want to consider just then.

Or maybe ever.

She did want to address the issue of George’s breeches. They were still on his body, the wool chafing the tender skin of her inner thighs where her leg draped over one of his. And barely containing what she just then realized was his arousal. “George,” she whispered, her hand skimming down his chest to the top of his breeches. She felt his reaction in the sculpted abdominal muscles even before his sharp intake of breath.

A hand was suddenly covering hers. Although she couldn’t see his face, she felt his discomfort. “Yes, my sweet?” he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips so he could kiss the palm.

Elizabeth bit her lower lip. “You simply must remove your breeches,” she whispered. He had lowered her left hand back to his chest where he still held his hand over it, but at her insistent comment, he gripped her hand tighter.

“I must?” he responded, not expecting a demand like this.

She could feel his pulse increase. She smiled at her ability to discomfit him so. “Yes. They’re most uncomfortable. I don’t know how you can even
wear
them,” she spoke softly. Raising herself so she was supported on one elbow, she caught and regarded George’s panicked gaze in the dim candlelight. One of her breasts rested against his chest while the other rested on the hand that held hers.

George stared at her for a moment more before nodding. “Perhaps you should .. look away, milady ...”

“George, you remove those breeches right now, or I shall remove myself from this bed,” Elizabeth stated in no uncertain terms.

The buttons were undone in an instant, George not ever remembering a time when he had unbuttoned them quite so fast. His engorged cock sprang free as he hooked his thumbs into the waist of both his drawers and the breeches and lifted his hips. Pushing the offending garments over his buttocks and down his legs, he bent and kicked until he could toss them aside, all the while holding Elizabeth’s startled gaze.
Maintain control
, he remembered thinking as he realized he was naked, for the first time, with a woman who wasn’t Josie. Or his childhood nurse.

He thought about reaching for the bed clothes and covering himself before Elizabeth could get a good look.
Coward
! Instead, he lowered his back into the pillows and then locked his hands behind his head, his elbows thrust out on either side of his head as he allowed a smirk to form on his lips. “As you wish, milady,” he murmured.

Her mouth forming one of those perfect ‘o’s he found so delightful, Elizabeth forced herself to look, really look, at George’s body. He was spread out like a lounging statue before her, his taut, muscled body lean and sculpted, like one of the marbles she’s seen at the British Museum just that morning. But another statue came to mind, one far better sculpted and closer in comparison to the body she was admiring. “You have a body like David,” she murmured, her hand hovering just above his abdomen. She pulled it away when his stomach seemed to cave in suddenly.

“David?” he repeated, his brows shooting up his forehead as he suddenly performed a sit-up. “David who?” Her father’s name was David, but certainly she wouldn’t refer to Morganfield by his given name.

Elizabeth pulled her gaze from his bobbing cock, her brows furrowing as she considered the question. “I ... I don’t know. I don’t think he has a last name,” she replied with a shake of her head. “His ...” She pointed at his manhood. “...Isn’t nearly so ... large, of course, but ...”

A strangled curse erupted from George and forced her to return her attention to his face. “You’ve seen a naked man? Besides your father?”

Elizabeth waved a hand in the air, as if it wasn’t important. “When I saw my father naked, he and mother were ... well, making a bit of noise one afternoon in their bedchamber, and I peeked in. So it wasn’t such a shock when I saw David.”

That cursing sound came out of George again.

“I think it must have been a shock for Hannah, though. I thought she would faint. And then she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him!”

She let out a shriek as her body was suddenly brought down to the mattress and George was over the top of her, his eyes wide and ... was that
hurt
she saw in them?

“Who is
David
?” he whispered hoarsely, the words a struggle to get out around the extreme jealousy he was experiencing.

Elizabeth’s mouth opened quite wide as she placed a hand against the side of his face. “Michaelangelo’s David, of course,” she murmured, a smile of delight curving her lips. “I saw the statue when Hannah and my parents were in Italy to visit Mama’s family.” She felt the fire and anger drain from George as he seemed to slump onto her, his erection cradled by her belly.

“You little minx, you,” he said as his own lips curved.

“I meant it as a compliment,” she countered with a whisper.

George regarded her for a very long time, his eyes locked with hers in shared amusement. But after a few moments, he became aware of how his entire body was atop hers, aware of where their skin touched, how her breasts were mounded from the weight of his chest on them, of his turgid manhood pressed into the soft flesh of her belly, how his thighs straddled hers, of her toes where they rested against his calves ... he slowly took inventory of all his parts and her parts and desire overwhelmed him. His mouth settled onto her willing lips and he kissed her slowly, kissed her until he felt her need for him through her very being. Lowering his lips to her jaw, he trailed a line of kisses down the front of her body, a few here, and few there, occasionally allowing them to take purchase on a breast, on the tip of a nipple, over a rib. When he heard her breathing change, felt her body become taut, he pushed himself lower, bringing his legs to rest between hers as he continued his descent. His kisses brought out whimpers, driving him lower along her body.

Elizabeth’s whimpers turned to sobs, to pleas for him to take her. He moved his body farther down the bed until he could see the soft, moist folds between her thighs, feel the wetness as he drew a finger down the moist cleft. Before he could repeat the stroke, Elizabeth’s body arced up and she cried out, his name suddenly a plea. Circling his thumb into the soft, wet flesh of her womanhood, George slowed his breathing and waited. Her quickened breaths, her tensing body told him she had to be close to her ecstasy. Simply watching her made his cock throb, his own release almost eminent. He had never been so close to orgasm and yet not been inside a woman.

“Take me, George. Please. I beg you,” she whispered hoarsely, her head tossing from side to side.

George heard her plea. He had promised her he would not hurt her, though. He could not take her maidenhead. Not tonight, at least. Perhaps not ever if she chose the earl over him.

The thought of Trenton helped him to regain control of his body.

He placed his head between her legs, moved his hands to cradle her bottom and gently lifted her hips. Her legs boneless, they spread apart, and suddenly, she was all his. He lowered his face to the soft curls as he used a finger to gently part her feminine folds. His mouth took purchase on the swollen flesh, his tongue stroking and circling. He first felt her recoil in surprise at the assault of his tongue on her womanhood, and then he was aware of her trying to force herself harder against his mouth. Lifting and tilting her hips until she felt his hand cover her mound to hold her down, she began mewling. When his thumb pressed against the aching bud he’d aroused with his tongue and thumb, Elizabeth inhaled sharply. George gently licked the space beneath the bud, inciting another gasp and a whispered ‘yes’. Knowing she was as ready as she would ever be, he lathed his tongue across the swollen center of her womanhood – once, twice – and then his lips took purchase on it and suckled it.

Her back arched up, her chin tilted so her head was thrown back to expose her throat, and her hands clutched the bed linens as if to keep her body anchored to the bed. George could feel her entire body shatter beneath him. But it was the sound of her voice, crying out his name, the sound of her ecstasy his very name, drawn out in several syllables in the form of a prayer, that made George realize his own release could not be stopped. He hauled his body up and over hers, his rigid cock seeking her sheath. Sliding it along her wet folds, desperate to bury it inside her but knowing he could not – he’d
promised
her he would not – he growled as her hot, slick vulva surrounded him, cradled him when her knees lifted and pressed against his hips, slid along the entire length of him, up and back down his hardened shaft as she lifted and lowered her hips. When Elizabeth’s body again shuddered beneath his and her fingernails branded his back with half-moons and her voice cried out his name again, ecstasy took him, the intense darkness and bright light and extreme pleasure engulfing everything around and inside him.

Only she could do this to him – make him
feel
like he hadn’t felt in his entire life. Make his body ache for her touch and her lips and those fingers that were hot and searing against the skin of his back. His voice forced out a strangled, “Oh, God, ... Elizabeth ... I ... I love you,” before his seed spilt onto her belly. Suddenly drained of strength, his body collapsed onto hers. He buried his head between her neck and shoulder and allowed a blanket of darkness to cover him.

The sensation of warm arms wrapping around his back, of fingertips stroking his flesh, of lips kissing his ear, brought him back from sleep. He listened intently at first, aware his breathing had finally returned to normal. He wondered if Elizabeth was alright.

And, for just a moment, he wondered
where
he was.

“George?” It was a barely audible whisper, said against the whorl of his ear and followed by the sensation of a tongue licking his earlobe.

George slowly lifted his head, careful not to put more weight on the feminine body he was squishing into the mattress.
How long did I sleep?
he wondered absently, suddenly embarrassed that he had passed out on her, his hard body pressing her deep into the bed. The sight of Elizabeth in the waning light from the fireplace made him grin. Her bee-stung lips were smiling, and her hair was splayed out in a jumble of curls across the pillow they shared. “Are you ... well?” he wondered, his voice still husky.