Kate Pearce - Educating Elizabeth

She gazed blankly at a portrait of King Charles the Second arrayed in a monstrous black wig, cradling a Diable Delamere godchild. She tried to think of something to say as Gervase's hand stirred beneath her skirts, inched up her thigh, and settled over her mound. He spread his long fingers and cupped her, pulling her slightly up onto her toes and back against his chest.

"That is King Charles the Second," she managed to gasp as his fingertip stroked back and forth over her sensitive bud. "He was known as the merry monarch."

Gervase increased the tempo of his fingers his voice a mere whisper in her ear. "Why was that, Elizabeth?"

"Because," Elizabeth was reduced to balancing on her toes as Gervase thrust his fingers inside her, "Because he had so many mistresses...please, Gervase, please..."

She didn't know whether she was pleading with him to stop or to continue, she only knew that she would start to scream if he didn't do something to end her plight soon.

He turned her around and kissed her hard. She barely repressed an unladylike desire to climb his breeches and wrap her legs around his hips. She was panting by the time he pulled back and studied her face.

"If you would only listen to me, ma belle ," he said patiently. "I've told you before that anticipation is a major part of the fulfillment of passion. You are always in such a hurry."

His calm voice set her teeth on edge and she backed away from him, her hands behind her back, her fists clenched. "I do apologize, Your Grace, I'm obviously far too inexperienced for you to bother about." She gave him a curtsey. "I will relieve you of my presence."

His hand shot out and he hauled her back against him. "That is exactly what I'm talking about, Elizabeth. Rather than think about the merit of my words, you immediately fly into alt."

She pressed her forehead against his waistcoat and went still. He could not discover that she feared to give him any more of herself. She knew in her soul that if she allowed him to seduce her completely then she would be lost. She didn't want to turn into one of the no-doubt legion of women who had begged the duke to love them.

"I'm sorry, Gervase. Maybe I don't have the necessary passion to become a good courtesan."

"Passion? You have passion in abundance, ma femme ." His voice deepened and he speared his fingers through her hair before kissing her again. "Give it to me," he commanded. "Give me all of your passion."

He drew her in front of an ornate mirror that hung on the end wall of the picture gallery. Elizabeth scarcely recognized herself in the tumultuous, tousled, sensual woman who stared back at her.

"Lean forward, Elizabeth, and put your hands on either side of the table and keep looking into the mirror."

Mindlessly, Elizabeth obeyed the duke's command and bent forward. She watched him reposition the candles until her face was illuminated and his remained in the shadows. The soft whisper of silk reached her straining ears as he lifted her skirts and petticoat and folded them neatly at her waist.

She shivered as the cold air hit her naked skin and Gervase made a sound of approval. She inhaled the hint of citrus from his cologne mixed with the scent of his arousal and relaxed against the supporting table. He ran his hands from her hips to her ankles and then sank to his knees. She could no longer see his intent face in the mirror, only the top of his head. She tensed as he grasped her ankles and began to kiss his way up the insides of her legs.

When his mouth closed over her most intimate flesh she moaned but he held her still, his tongue a flicking, probing torment that made her arch her back and brazenly seek the devilment of his touch. Pleasure consumed her and she started to tremble as he gave her one last lascivious lick and slowly rose to his feet.

He held her gaze in the mirror as he unbuttoned his breeches and leaned over her. "Watch me, Elizabeth and let me watch you."

He filled her slowly, keeping his gaze locked to hers, allowing her to see the blatant lust that colored his expression. She sighed as his flat, furred stomach pressed against her back and he was completely buried inside her. He held still, waiting for her to relax and accommodate his cock. When her tight grip eased a little, he withdrew and then repeated his long, smooth drive inwards. He brought his hand up from her hip and ran his fingers down the side of her throat until they settled over her breast.

"Watch me touch you, ma belle ." He rolled her nipple between his finger and thumb and eased his hips into the same light, tantalizing rhythm.

Elizabeth tried to endure his shallow, incomplete thrusts as best she could. His silvered eyes caught hers in the mirror as his hand slid around to cup her between her legs.

"Do you know why men like this particular position so much, my dear?"

Goaded well beyond her normal politeness, Elizabeth hissed. "So that they don't have to look at a woman's face and make conversation?"

He laughed. "That is highly amusing, ma belle , but not what I had in mind. And not what we are doing at all." He leaned into the small of her back, pushing her sex forward into the palm of his hand. "No, it is because a man has control. He can control the depth of his thrusts and his partners' movements."

"I can vouch for that," Elizabeth muttered as Gervase continued moving against her with his infuriatingly slow pace and frustrating, light rhythm.

"Ah, but you will glad that I made you wait in the end, Elizabeth, trust me on that."

As she hovered uncertainly on the brink of another climax, Elizabeth clearly heard the distant clanging of the front door bell and the sound of a carriage being driven around the side of the house toward the stables.

"Our guests are arriving, my dear. I wonder if my butler will send them down here to find us or make them wait in the receiving rooms?" She gasped as he drove deeply inside her. "Who would you prefer to find us like this? My butler or my mother?"

"Your, your mother is here?" She squeaked.

His fingers pressed once, twice urgently against her swollen flesh and she shattered for him. He quickly muffled her scream with his hand as he joined her in the fiery climax.

Before she could begin to breathe normally, let alone speak, he refastened her bodice, shook out her skirts and hurried her to the far corner of the huge room. He opened a concealed door and pointed up a narrow flight of stairs.

"Go up two levels and then look for a door on your right. You will find yourself in my bedchamber. You have ten minutes to make yourself presentable and meet me in the formal entrance hall, now go!"

Gervase shut the door behind her and returned to the mirror to attend to his own disheveled state of dress. He smoothed a hand through his disordered hair and drew in several deep breaths. As far as he knew, his mother was in Brighton. He was expecting a selection of local residents and vague relations whom he was duty-bound to entertain.

He smiled as he straightened his cravat, recalling Elizabeth's dismayed expression and hasty retreat. He wondered if she would have the courage to come back down and hoped that she would. His little brown bird had all the nerve of a fighting cock. He grimaced as his own particular cock responded to that notion far too well.

With a final glance at his now-immaculate reflection, Gervase pasted on a welcoming smile and strolled down the corridor to greet his guests.

Elizabeth paused on the landing above the medieval hall and looked down upon the assembled guests. She patted her hair, pushed in an errant pin, and checked that the three flounces of her lavender silk dress were straight. Assuming a gracious smile, she made her way down the stairs, murmuring greetings to those near enough to hear her.