Kasey Michaels - The Regency Redgraves - What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares

The bed sagged slightly as he joined her, as he leaned over her, as he brought his head close to hers once more. Good. At least it would soon be over.

“You’re even more perfect than I imagined,” he told her as he slowly drew his hand down her body. “No flaw, anywhere. Perfect seduction. Last night was an uncomfortably long night for me. Was it for you?”

Was what uncomfortable for her? She couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate on anything but the travels of his hand, knowing where he was heading, to the juncture of her thighs.

Would he please just finish it, this inevitable he spoke of, the inevitable she’d stupidly goaded him to. That would tell him more than she could ever hope to say. Then they could put all of this behind them and move on to the subject of her father’s supposed murder, the golden rose he’d worn in his cravat.

His hand slid over her lower belly, and she sighed, opened her silk stocking-clad legs to him. Let him take what he believed he needed. This meant nothing to her. It was only her body. A few more minutes, that’s all. Just, please, quickly.

His kiss surprised her; she hadn’t expected any more coaxing now that he had her where he wanted her. Not that James hadn’t tried this sort of arousal in the beginning, until he’d realized he was only wasting his time, delaying his pleasure. But, Lord, he had tried, each thing he’d attempted worse than the last. The bites, the pinching fingers, the supposedly arousing slaps, believing perhaps pain would turn to pleasure. And it had…for him.

Jessica felt tears burning behind her eyes and forced her mind to stop thinking about James. He was dead, he didn’t control her any longer. She owed him nothing she hadn’t paid back tenfold in the nearly eight long months of their bizarre marriage.

Now another man was touching her, taking what he wanted. What would he do if he knew what she’d been thinking? No, he couldn’t know.

She raised her hips slightly, as she’d been taught.

Gideon’s response was to continue his travels across the landscape of her lower body. His fingertips drew a route from her navel to within a heartbeat of her center, then moved on to skim the inside of her thighs. And still he kissed her, his tongue teasing, tasting, coaxing a response that surprised her; that curl of desire returned, deep inside her.

She moved her hips again, this time without first thinking about the action. Was he avoiding her? Did he have to be pointed in the correct direction?

Hardly. The man kept four mistresses.

Jessica swallowed hard, barely given time to draw in a fresh breath between kisses, barely wanting to waste time in doing so. Because Gideon’s mouth was so provocatively enticing, she actually heard herself moan in loss when he broke the last kiss and began moving his head lower, beginning a new journey that led to her left breast and ended when he took the nipple into his mouth.

She braced herself for the pain, but it didn’t come. He didn’t take, he…worshipped. Yes, that was the word. He tasted, he suckled, he drew the tip of his tongue around her, he coaxed rather than commanded .

She opened her eyes, raised her head as best she could and watched. Her arm seemed to rise, unbidden, so that she could run her fingers through his dark thatch of hair. She felt a closeness, a communion with the man, a feeling unexplainable yet perfectly understood. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before.

When he finally slid his fingers between her legs, curiosity overcame her fear, even though she held her breath, until the slow, nearly circular strokes set off a curious sort of pleasure that showed every sign of turning her limbs to water.

Oh, yes . The words came unbidden to her mind and repeated themselves. Oh, yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes… “Do that,” she moaned, not realizing she’d spoken. “Please…there. Do that…”

She drew up her feet, bending her knees, allowing them to fall open for him, lifting her hips as he seemed to somehow spread her and stroke her at the same time, finding some previous hidden center of her that had to be acknowledged, demanded some sort of satisfaction.

I’m real , she rejoiced inside her head. This is real , this is happening, this is… And then she didn’t think at all. her body simply reacted to Gideon’s touch, flowering, quivering, pulsating, flinging her out over some abyss as pleasure held her aloft, in its thrall.

He filled her then, levering himself up and over her and then plunging into her in one swift movement.

From some distant place, out over the abyss, she saw herself wrap her limbs around him as if fearful he would leave her. She saw herself kissing his heated skin, biting into the straining muscles of his strong neck and shoulders, rocking with him, urging him on, almost grimly determined to give pleasure for pleasure.

Gideon pushed himself up and looked down at her, as if to gauge her response. “Now?” he asked, watching her closely. “Please God, woman, say now.”

“Now,” she responded, not quite certain what she’d just agreed to, because nothing could be better than what she’d already felt. That was impossible.

But it wasn’t. Gideon didn’t just move inside her now. He plunged, he took, he pumped. Ground himself against her and then took up the rhythmic movements again, each time faster, each time deeper, each time giving more, demanding more, and all while watching her, watching her, watching her.

“No,” she said at last, fear finally finding its way back through the haze of passion. A new fear, one she’d never before had to face. This felt too good, she might shatter with it, disappear inside the pleasure. Her heart might burst, her mind explode. Too good. This was too dangerously good. “Oh, God…no.”

“On the contrary. Oh, God…yes,” Gideon said, and then buried himself inside her one last time, their bodies fitting so tightly together they may have merged into one. She felt her own body clench and unclench again and again, even as his did the same, on and on, until at last he collapsed against her, chest to chest, and they both lay still, perhaps he as well as she in order to assess whether or not they’d just died.

A single tear escaped Jessica’s eye and ran down the side of her head, into her ear. It tickled. All right, she was still alive.

Gideon finally stirred, and she moved her hands over his sweat-slick back, reluctant to let him go as he made to leave her.

“Insatiable, are you, madam? I’m devastated to admit I’m of no further use to you for at least an hour,” he said in a joking voice as he turned onto his back, his forearm over his eyes. “I should have taken you up on your offer last night, although it’s possible the anticipation increased the pleasure. Clearly you were born for this, Jessica Linden. And at least I know now how your late husband died. Undoubtedly in bed, and with a smile on his face.”

As more tears threatened, Jessica quickly turned her head and surreptitiously wiped at her eyes with a corner of the sheet. “He wasn’t smiling, no,” she said, and then quickly shut her mouth so she could say no more. She wanted to rest her head on Gideon’s shoulder, to curl her arm about his waist and simply…cuddle. “Could…would you please gather your clothing and give me my privacy? I’ll join you in the sitting room. There’s wine in the decanter.”

“Suddenly I feel this strong urge toward leaving a purse on your bedside table,” Gideon said, his tone having returned to the careless sarcasm he seemed so adept with most times. He left the bed, most probably to gather his clothing from the floor. “Very well. But ten minutes, no more. I’ll help you with those bloody buttons, as it wouldn’t do to return to the gaming floor in another ensemble.”