Louise Allen - Regency Surrender - Passion And Rebellion

He nuzzled her neck as he slid one finger inside her. She gasped and tensed. His heart lurched. But as he continued to caress her and nibble at her neck, she slowly relaxed, until he was able to slide another finger inside her.

‘Nathan,’ she moaned, half-plea, half-protest. ‘I really don’t think I want to do this...’

‘Hush,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘You don’t know what you want. You cannot, because you have never experienced any of this before, have you?’

He groaned into her neck as another wave of anguish assailed him. They’d been on the brink of something, ten years before, which would have resulted in them both becoming very different people. He wouldn’t have become the cynic, or the rake he was, if he’d married her. And she... Well, he didn’t know what she’d become since they’d last met. But she didn’t look any happier than he was. She had that mean, pinched look about her mouth common to impoverished spinsters. She dressed dowdily, as though she had no pride in her appearance.

Well, that was all going to change. While she was in Paris he would show her a new world. A world of sensuality. She’d said she wanted to break free and find out who she really was, who she was meant to be. And he’d be the man to show her. He’d peel back the layers of hurt and caution that shrouded the girl who’d once made his heart dance, as surely as he’d peeled away her clothes tonight. He’d kiss the meanness from her mouth and teach her to love what her body could make her feel.

Starting right now. She might not want to marry him any longer, but she did want him to show her the kind of pleasure most spinsters could only dream of. And...he wanted to give her the wedding night they should have had ten years ago.

For once he was glad he’d had so much experience. In gaining his reputation as a rake, he’d learned a lot about what brought a woman pleasure. Now he could apply it all to Amethyst.

Her neck had proved to be particularly sensitive, so he kept on kissing her there, while toying with the damp folds between her thighs. He dipped and teased, nipped and nuzzled, until her hips began to squirm in a rhythmical response.

And then, when he was sure she’d got to the point where she wasn’t going to tell him to stop, he began a leisurely exploration of the rest of her body, paying close attention to anywhere that provoked a gasp, or a shiver, or made her fingers curl a little more tightly round his neck.

She shivered with pleasure when he lapped at the indentation of her waist, moaned when he nipped at the soft flesh on the outside of her hips and squirmed when he trailed his tongue further down, and inward, to the insides of her thighs.

Since she was a total innocent, he hesitated before bestowing the most intimate kiss of all. But had this been their wedding night, he would have made sure she came to orgasm before he made any attempt to enter her. And this was the most reliable way, he’d discovered, of pleasuring a woman.

And he wanted to give her pleasure. Such unimaginable pleasure that she would want to come back to him again and again. He couldn’t make amends for every single hurt he’d caused her, but by God, while she was in Paris he could give her pleasure unlike anything she’d known before. Or would ever experience again.

It would be no penance, no penance at all. It wouldn’t wash away his guilt. That would stay with him to his dying day.

But at least she wouldn’t think of him as the biggest disappointment in her life.

Chapter Eight

Amethyst could not believe the things he was prepared to do with his tongue. Part of her wondered whether she ought to stop him. But it was making her feel so...blissful. And she’d got the idea he wanted to do penance, in some way, so who was she to demur? Besides, when he slipped first one finger, then two inside her, she lost the ability to think anything at all. It was all melting heat, and rivers of delight, and then a kind of starburst that shattered her, yet made her feel completely whole for the first time in her life, all at the same time.

And then he was above her and sliding into her before she’d even recovered her wits enough to tense, or make a protest that she really didn’t want him to try again.

And this time it didn’t hurt a bit. In fact, it brought another wave of pulsating pleasure shivering through her, making her flex her hips upwards in an instinctively welcoming gesture.

He kissed her on the mouth. Gently, tenderly. A different kiss from any he’d bestowed on her before. He encouraged her to open her mouth, so he could drive his tongue inside. It was almost more shocking than having that other part of him driving into her, though equally as delicious. After a bit, she wondered if he was trying to distract her from the gentle, yet insistent rhythm he’d set up with his body, by teaching her lips to part, her tongue to duel with his.

If so, it was rather...sweet of him.

And then he broke away from her mouth, to pay attention to that sweet spot just beneath her ear, which sent shivers skittering all the way down her spine. And his movements became more insistent, demanding a response from her. And her body gave it, of its own volition. She’d just discovered that touching and kissing a certain spot between her legs resulted in almost unimaginable pleasure. Now, awakened, that place was clamouring for more sensation, more pressure. And the only way to get it was to grind upwards against his pelvis as he thrust down.

She wouldn’t have believed that after the pain she would ever permit a man inside her again, let alone want him to go deeper, and harder, but she did. She wouldn’t have believed he would be so sensitive to her needs, after the clumsy way he’d started, but he was. It was as though he was completely in tune with her body now, giving it exactly what it needed, a split second before she knew it herself.

So there was no reason for her to thrash about under him, or claw at his back, or wind her legs about his. Not that he seemed to mind. Not to judge by the way he kept on saying, ‘Yes, oh God, yes.’ Or the way he moaned and shuddered, and showered kisses all over her face and neck.

But then, once again, her mind took leave of her body as delight broke over them both in a great wave.

‘Amy,’ he cried as she splintered apart. And there was something in his voice that sounded almost as though...

No. It wasn’t tenderness. It was just...passion.

And yet the tone of it had plucked at some long-suppressed emotion deep inside her, which made her want to weep.

Which was ridiculous, she panted, as she drifted back to shore. She’d cried enough tears over this man in the past. His purpose in her life now was to teach her about pleasure.

And he had. Once he’d realized just how inexperienced she was, he’d applied his considerable skill with gentleness.

She should have told him, before they got started, that she hadn’t a clue about what went on between a man and woman in the bedroom.

So why hadn’t she?

It wasn’t just that she’d been flattered he thought her so attractive she could make her living in this way.

No. The truth was much more muddied. He’d accused her of tempting him to marry unwisely in his youth. If he’d known she was a virgin, she’d feared he might have thought this was a renewed attempt on his freedom. And she’d wanted him too badly to allow anything to make him reconsider.

All of a sudden, panic clawed its way to the surface. She wanted him, yes, but not enough to sacrifice her own freedom. Any more than she expected, or wanted, him to sacrifice his.

‘I really didn’t expect you to propose to me,’ she bit out, ‘just because I was a virgin. That is not why I chose you to become my first lover.’