According to the naughty books she had devoured, there was only one way to assuage such an ailment. So doing, she would be free of the hold Neville had upon her. She would forget all about him and happily go on to her trip with Auntie Louise when the house party came to an end. Moreover, she would finally know whether or not everything she had read about in the books was true.
She would have knowledge.
Carnal knowledge.
She hooked her legs around him, trying to draw him closer. But he had slid lower on the mattress, denying her the pleasure of his rigid cock against her aching core. That was where she wanted him most.
“Charity.” He moaned her name against her lips, and his hand cupped her breast, his thumb flicking over her nipple.
Without the proper barrier of layers and corset, she became aware of a new sensitivity. The breath hissed from her and her back bowed from the bed. She wondered what it would feel like if he were to take the peak in his mouth.
“This is wrong,” he muttered against her throat as he kissed down to her clavicle.
Her fingers slid through his soft, golden hair.Imagine!This proper, staid man had come to her chamber of his own accord. He was in her bed. Plucking her nipple between forefinger and thumb. Neville was not just a skilled kisser. He was also quite excellent at seduction.
She rubbed her cheek over his silky hair and used a free hand to pull some of her buttons free. Thankfully, beneath her dressing gown, she was not wearing anything. Not even a chemise. She had bathed a few hours earlier and had not bothered to dress in anything but her robe, on account of her plans to hide in her chamber for the day.
Her gown parted and gaped. He followed the progress with his lips.
And then he answered her question by kissing his way down the curve of her breast. He reached her nipple, rubbing his lips over it first in taunting, teasing sweeps. Not enough. She needed more.
As if he had heard her unspoken plea, he flicked his tongue over the engorged tip. The breath hissed from her. Her back arched. It was good. Too good. How was it possible? An invisible cord seemed to connect her breast to the place between her thighs where the ache only intensified. He sucked her nipple.
She moaned.
His handsome face was tucked against her bare breast, and the knowledge that she had this effect upon the proper Viscount Wilton made her feel infinitely powerful. Like a Venus in her own right. She never could have supposed he would allow himself to engage in such shocking carnality. And yet, he was.
He seemed as lost to the sensations and the thrill of the moment as she was.
His hand had slipped between their bodies, finding its way inside her dressing gown. Long, masculine fingers traveled over her knee, skimmed her upper thigh, and then went to her center. He traced the seam of her, parting her folds. Finding the aching bud at her core.
Her pearl.
She had dared to touch herself before, but Neville’s caresses were different. There was something so potently decadent about a man bringing her pleasure. Not just any man, but this one. This golden-haired lord who was not at all what he seemed.
“Oh, dear God.” A groan of abandon and approval slid from her lips as she gave herself up to his exploration.
He released her nipple, pressed a kiss to the side of her breast, and glanced at her wickedly as his finger toyed with the bundle of nerves hidden within her sex. “As I said, my dear, you must call me Neville.”
She could not contain her surprised giggle. He was funny and charming and he knew how to make her feel…all these wondrous things. These forbidden, decadent,deliciousthings. How impossible it seemed. She never would have expected it. Not in her wildest fancies had she supposed Lord Wilton would seek her out in her chamber, fall into her bed, and devour her with his wicked lips and tongue and fingers and…
Well, heaven knew what else.
His cock? She knew the rude name for the rigid length she had stroked. Knew also a host of other words for it, silly words from the books she had read. Jewel of pleasure, pego, rod, instrument of…
Oh!
He slipped a finger inside her, quite putting an end to her catalog of synonyms for the long, thick, masculine hardness she had so recently caressed. The penetration was shallow. Just the tip of his finger. It left her feeling as if she needed more. If the stories she had read were any indication, he would need to fill her with more than a mere digit.
On a low groan, he peeled back the other half of her dressing gown until both her breasts were exposed. The nipple he had neglected was taut and hard, an offering for him. Should she beg him for more of what he had done to the other? Ought she to demand? Plead nicely?
Charity’s worries no longer mattered when he lowered his head and sucked the peak of that breast into his mouth as well. His thumb stroked over her pearl, where she was throbbing and achy. The combination of his hot, wet mouth sucking on her nipple and his fingers toying with the sensitive flesh between her thighs was too much. She thrust into his hand, seeking, knowing she was very near to coming undone.
Neville released her breast, then pressed a kiss to the inner curve. “I should not be here.”
No, he should not.
“But yet, you are here,” she pointed out.
