“Interesting.” He repeated her bothersome choice of word against her skin, accompanying it with another slow scrape of his nail over her bound nipple.
Her moan rewarded him.
“Yes,” the minx dared repeat, taunting him. “My research has proven most enlightening, Mr. Kirkwood.”
Most enlightening?He would rob her power of speech. Render her breathless and helpless. He kissed a necklace around the base of her throat, stopping at the dip where her pulse galloped even more than it had just moments before. His hand found the fall of her breeches. The fastenings. He plucked one button free of its moorings. Then another.
“Mr. Kirkwood,” she said softly. Shakily. “What do you think you are doing?”
He smiled against her silken skin. Button three was removed. Then four. The fall dropped. His fingers slipped into the opening, happy to discover her flesh, warm and silken and so damned glorious he could not resist dipping his fingers between her folds to truly feel her for the first time. Wetness kissed his skin, and he found her pearl unerringly. It was even more responsive than the rest of her. Her hips jerked, and she cried out.
“I am helping you with your research, my lady,” he said, answering her question at last. He stroked her with increasing firmness, noting her wide, glazed eyes and shallow breaths. If this was how it was between them the first time, what would it be like the second? The third?
No.
He could not think in those terms. As adrift as he was in his own lust, even he could acknowledge tonight would be the only night he could allow himself to misbehave with Lady Frederica Isling. Her reputation was important. As was her innocence. He required both to remain intact in order for his plan to succeed. Did he not?
Perhaps notwhispered an insidious voice inside him.
“This…Mr. Kirkwood…I…oh.” She made a delirious sound of pleasure, her head tipping back as if it were too heavy for her neck.
Precisely, and he had not even had his tongue upon her yet. He kissed her again, inhaling her sweet scent, like a sugared flower, before dropping to his knees on the carpet. He had not locked his office door, and the cautious part of his nature reminded him he ought not to take such a chance. If they were discovered, any witnesses would instantly imagine he was servicing another man. It was the sort of rumor from which he doubted he could ever recover, though dalliances of that sort were common enough among theton.
And yet, with Lady Frederica, he did not care. He could not summon the will to leave her. All he wanted was just one taste, he promised himself. He would give her pleasure, restore her costume to rights, and send her on her way assured she would never again wear a gentleman’s breeches without thinking of him.
But first, he wanted his name on her lips when she came.
“Duncan, my lady,” he told her, caressing the generous curves of her hips. She had clamped her legs shut during his descent, and she watched him shyly now, cheeks flaming.
No sight had ever been lovelier than Lady Frederica Isling disheveled and unbuttoned atop his desk, her mouth swollen from his kisses, her gaze glistening, pupils black and huge.
“Mr. Kirkwood.” Her protest was small and husky and redolent with uncertainty.
He could see in her eyes she wanted whatever he would give her, but she did not know what that something was or how to achieve it. What it would mean for her. When was the last time he had been this near to innocence? When had he ever been so untouched, so pure?
Never.Was it why he wanted her so badly? Did some primitive part of him think to regain what he had lost by claiming it from her? He wanted her. Wanted to consume her. To lick and taste and suck. And yes, to fuck, though he would restrain himself from the last. He was Hades, and his Persephone was seated before him.
For tonight, he could drag her brilliance into his dark world. She would leave, but she would never be the same.
“Duncan,” he coaxed again, gliding his palms down her thighs. Her heat scorched him. He stopped when he reached her knees, and he gently urged them apart. “Open for me, sweet.”
Her lips parted, her lashes fluttering on her cheeks. For a beat, he thought she would deny him, that he had pushed his intrepid virgin too far. Until she responded, her knees gliding apart with the cajoling pressure of his hands.
One word escaped her. A whisper of sound. “Duncan.”
The sweetest sound he had ever heard. It was like a promise on her lips. He dipped his head to trail a line of kisses up her inner thigh. The fall of her breeches slipped down, revealing her to him. He guided her legs wider, mesmerized by the exquisite sight, like a blossom opened just for him. Pink and pretty.
He lightly scored his nails back up her thighs as he leaned forward. The earthy musk of her arousal consumed him, and he could not wait a moment more. He ran his tongue along her slick seam. A hum of approval tore from him. She was sweeter than a candy. Up and down he licked, slow and lingering, allowing her to adjust to the newness of the sensations. To the delicious intimacy of him pleasuring her with his mouth.
He parted her folds with his tongue, finding her pearl, flicking over it with steady, quick pulses. She jerked, hips rising up to meet him, and he obliged, burying his face deeper, breathing only her, tasting only her, hearing her rapid breaths, the soft cries of pleasure she made no effort to contain. When he suckled the needy bundle of flesh, she writhed against him, her fingers delving into his hair.
Damnation, he had scarcely begun, and she was about to spend.
She was so responsive, and he was harder than he had ever been, his cock desperate to sink inside her tight, wet cunny. But he could not. All he could do was lay his tongue to her, bring her to the precipice.
A low, keening sound burst from her. She quaked as her pinnacle gripped her, fingers tightening in his hair, a small flood of wetness slipping from her channel. He lapped it up, savoring it on his tongue as if it were the finest nectar. He stayed with her until she rode out the final spurts of pleasure, using his tongue and teeth to heighten and prolong it.
At last, he pressed a final kiss to her sex before he gently fastened the fall of her breeches. He slid the buttons into their moorings and rose to his feet. She wore a dazed expression, cheeks flushed, eyes closed, almost as if she did not dare to look at him after what had transpired between them.
