“Would you wish me to touch you this way, too?”
“Not tonight, but, yes. I am sure I will live in torment until our wedding night, thinking of you running your hands over me—intimately.”
She mused at the oddity of them lying on this bed, his hand up her skirts and between her legs. Odd, but not wrong. And more than she’d imagined. Other than Aunt Maggie, everyone had led her to believe, when they were in bed together, the man would stick his member in her while she lay quietly and thought of other things. So far, she’d thought of nothing other than what he’d done to her.
“You are very sure we will suit?”
“Have I not convinced you yet?”
She couldn’t answer that, nor was she particularly certain he required one from her. As shocked as she had been at his boldness while touching her, his next move left her speechless.
“Look to the ceiling and try and focus.”
Managing to count to twenty-three, she thought herself quite improved in her ability to stay on task counting the pleats. That was, until Andrew pulled her knickers clear down to her ankles. He gently stripped them over her sore ankle.
“You are supposed to be concentrating on the ceiling.” Although his reprimand sounded stern, it hinted of laughter.
“But you removed my drawers.”
“Yes, I did, and, if that shocked you, what I plan next may send you into a fit of vapors. The ceiling, if you please.”
Uncertain didn’t begin to describe the feelings coursing through her right then…a sense of adventure, the forbidden, and, she figured, a sense of arousal. Leaning back, she looked at him again but he responded with a raise of a lordly eyebrow. So she was resigned to following his orders.
Until, that was, his tongue lapped between the folds of her most intimate place. She bolted upright and sputtered, unable to utter a single coherent word.
“Be mindful of your ankle.”
“My ankle?”
“Yes, this dainty thing connected to an alluring-as-hell leg.”
Alluring leg? “You just licked me—down there—and all you can worry about is my blessed ankle?”
“I plan to do it again, too.”
“But why would you want to? People don’t do that, do they? That can’t be permitted; it’s not right. You can’t possible enjoy…that.”
He appeared quite put out, lying between her legs, resting his chin on his fist. “Which of those questions would you like me to answer first?” Not waiting for her to respond, he said, “I need for you to listen because this is very important. When we are married, we can do anything we want in our bed. Providing it’s together and, above all, consensual. Do you understand?”
She nodded because what should she to say to that? He seemed quite certain it was permissible, and, as she assumed he had more experience in such matters, she couldn’t argue without facts. She would have to ask Aunt Sarah in the morning. But, somehow, asking her aunt seemed a little too wicked, even for Sarah.
“Next, although I can’t speak for others, as I don’t discuss my sexual appetite, I am certain that the men of my acquaintance do this, if not regularly, on occasion.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Not the marquis or the duke. Not men of such….”
“Yes, them, especially them. Now, your last two questions can be answered together. I very much would like to do this to you. I want to hear you moan with pleasure, taste your arousal, and feel your orgasm. If you would only lie back again and let me have my wicked way with you the only way I can tonight.”
“But….”
“Trust me, when I am done with you, there will be no doubt how well we will suit.”
Though still uncertain, she did as she was told and kept her eyes open. His hands wrapped under her thighs and eased them apart. Uncertain what to do, she intertwined her fingers on her tummy and squeezed.
The first breath of air touched her like the hint of a summer breeze, warm and hinting at rain to come. He kissed her inner thigh, and it took everything she possessed not to jump. The tiny kisses he’d made on her shoulder and neck, that she had so loved earlier, trailed to her apex. He gripped her legs and blew again. Her legs shook, whether from her desire or expectation, or perhaps fear of the unknown, she was unsure.
As he ran his tongue along the sensitive nub he had rubbed earlier, the initial shock wore off and warmth filled her. The shaking increased, but now she understood, and she wanted more. She was unable to control her moan, and he chuckled, a low male, satisfied laugh that vibrated against her and took her breath away. He circled and added pressure with his tongue. When he dove inside her, she lifted her hips, wanting him deeper within her. Her fingers wrapped into his soft hair, pressing him against her, demanding more, desperate for him to make good on his promise.