"I feel like a doxy," she said to him, not even whispering. "I lured Gideon into making love all those years ago, you know. I made him do it."
"You would have had to, given that he takes himself so seriously. Too much attention to manners turns a man into a judicious bore," Leopold said, pushing her so she was sitting on his stomach. "I'm listening breathlessly, but meanwhile, if you felt like edging back just a tad?"
She grasped what he was getting at and could feel her cheeks flaming. "Have you no shame?" she asked, curious, not reprimanding.
"Shame has nothing to do with it," he said promptly. "Warn me some more about your seductive self, and meanwhile I'll show you what I have in mind."
"You make me sound so foolish," Eleanor said, covering her face with her hands.
He pulled them down. "I shouldn't make fun. You slept with the inestimably tedious Gideon, who doubtless credited you with every spark of passion that ignited between you. Because that way he could stop himself from feeling any blame."
"Well..." Eleanor said.
"And by blaming you for every rule the two of you broke, he could walk away from you and marry someone else. Because you made him uncomfortable, Eleanor. All that passion, and he's nothing more than a dry husk after all."
"You mustn't say that," she protested. "You're talking about my fiance."
He made a rude gesture. "And then I came along, and we're like tinder and spark, the two of us. But you measured me by his ashes and thought I was crediting you with being the courtesan of my dreams."
"You did say..." Eleanor whispered, feeling herself turn even pinker.
"I said that it was the best sex I ever had. I didn't say you were the best lover I ever had."
She scowled at him.
"You're getting the hang of it," he said, drawing his hands slowly over her breasts. She looked down at his hands. They were large, and darker than her skin. They shaped her breasts, played with them with exactly the right mix of tenderness and strength. "What should I have done?" she asked.
"Are you genuinely curious, or are you going to fall into a pit of despair and decide that you are the worst courtesan in all of England?" "I'm not a courtesan," she pointed out.
"No. You're an utterly delectable woman, with the most gorgeous breasts in Christendom."
His voice was darker, lower. "What should I have done?" she persisted. "Touch me," he said. "You kept your hands on my shoulders, more or less." "Oh." She colored."! didn't think..."
"You didn't think I'd like to be touched, because that fool Astley had a poker up his arse about it.
But I don't. I want you to touch me everywhere." Suddenly his hands were around her waist, picking her up, easing her back down.
She squeaked, but it was so much easier this time. She felt soft and wet. He thrust into her with a groan that sent a bird flying from the bushes beside them.
Neither of them moved for a moment. Their breath was harsh.
"Would you like me to touch you like this?" she said, circling his nipple with one finger
"Hmm. That's not terrible but it's not great either," he said. "What else might you do with that finger?"
He was teasing her again, so she pinched him as a rebuke, and his breath caught—and she learned something.
He recovered fast, though, and pulled her tighter, whispering, "Any more of that and this will be a very short encounter, princess." She didn't want that, and neither did he. So he gave her one of the kisses that made her feel as if she were both drowning and catching on fire, all at once.
"I want you to lick me all over," he said, hoarse in her ear. And he started to move.
It took a minute for what he was saying to sink into her mind, and then she suddenly imagined herself on her knees before him, as he had been before her, making him groan and cry out, as he had to her.
"I'd like that," she whispered.
His fingers were gripping her hips, but she could feel the fire clamping down so soon, too soon.
"Oh, Leopold," she said helplessly, running her fingers through his hair. "I can't touch you now, I can't because..." But whatever she was going to say was lost in a wave of pure, violent pleasure.
She came back to herself slowly to find that he was still there, still... with her.
"A courtesan would never come before her client," Leopold said in her ear. "And if she did, she'd have to come again, just to make up for it."
She would have laughed but she was too tired.
"There are other things I'd like you to do," Leopold said, his voice like a velvet whip. And he started to tell her. In detail.