He thrust his tongue inside her entrance, penetrating her in shallow thrusts. She made a muffled sound of pure bliss. He glanced up at her, his tongue inside her, and their gazes met. She had pressed her hand over her mouth, presumably to stifle her cries. Her eyes were wide and glazed, the obsidian discs at their centers dilated wide with desire.
She was flushed, her hair wild about her face, her breasts thrust in the air, and her cunny his to devour. So, devour it he did. Until she was coming undone again. She shuddered and undulated beneath him, riding out another wave of pleasure.
He would have brought her to a third pinnacle, but he did not think his cock could withstand any more torture and denial. With great reluctance, he kissed her once more, and then kissed a path back up her lovely body before sprawling alongside her, his heart pounding. His ballocks drawn tight with the need for his own release.
One which would not be forthcoming.
He sighed. And this was why one did not dally with virgins.
But it had been worth it. So very worth it to be the first to make Grace spend.
Indeed, if he could do everything all over, he would not change a bloody thing. This small part of her, this memory, would always be his.
Even when she was not.
Grace had beenright. This night had ended her. She had exploded into a thousand glittering shards of light. There was nothing left of her. Her heart was galloping. A warm, delicious glow suffused her body. The center of her was still throbbing with the incredible aftermath of what Rand had just done to her.
Yes, Rand.
He would be Rand to her forever now. She did not suppose she could ever think of him by his title now that his tongue had been inside her.
His tongue had been inside her.
Good God.
Slowly, the stupor of her pleasure began to ebb. Reality returned. With it, the realization she was naked save her stockings, and her feigned betrothed was clad in nothing but breeches, his bare chest pressed intimately to her side, his lips slick with her own dew.
She stared at him, at the shocking yet erotic picture they made, their bodies aligned almost as one, his so masculine and different from hers. And then she could not help but steal another look at his mouth. Could not help but to imagine it there, between her legs. Making her wild for him, bringing her to heights she had not known existed.
Nothing inthebook had warned her about what Rand had just done to her.
Nothing could have prepared her.
But then she thought of other things she had read about inThe Tale of Love. Specifically, actions a woman could take. Ways a woman could bring pleasure to a man. Her mind returned, inevitably, to the way he had been upon her entrance of the chamber. Asleep, moaning her name, stroking himself. Her gaze dipped lower and found the bulge at the fall of his breeches had not diminished at all.
If anything, it had grown more pronounced.
The sight sent a pulse to her core. To the place where he had licked and kissed and sucked her with such inspired abandon. That old curiosity was back. She could not help but to wonder what he must look like. The engravings inThe Tale of Lovewere only so detailed.
She licked her lips before modesty returned to her. She was naked. Lying next to the viscount. Hastily, she plucked up a corner of the counterpane and drew it over her body, covering herself.
“You have no need to be shy, love,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple.
The gesture was so tender, very much like one a true betrothed would give to the woman he intended to wed. Her foolish heart gave a pang before she reminded herself none of this was real. Rand still had no desire to marry her. As soon as he had Tyre Abbey, their betrothal would be over.
Tonight had been a lapse of reason.
A momentary abandoning of her wits.
For a rake who had seduced and charmed his way through the ladies of his acquaintance, tonight had likely meant nothing at all. Nor could it mean anything to her. And neither could it be repeated, she admonished herself sternly.
“I am not accustomed to…this,” she managed to say.
He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face toward his. He was so unfairly handsome, it almost hurt to look upon him.
“You had better not be accustomed to any other man but your betrothed making himself so familiar with you,” he said, his countenance grave.
“Feigned betrothed,” she reminded them both.
