Nando lowered his head and pressed a reverent kiss to the top of her left breast. “Trust me, what is about to happen between us won’t be horrid at all.”
“Notthat,” she protested, sounding breathless. “Bleeding to death. It has scarcely been any time since you were wounded, and the man who shot you is still out there somewhere in London. You could be in danger. Even Mr. Tierney said so.”
“I’m not concerned about him, nor should you be.” Nando cupped her cheek, running the pad of his thumb along the elegant architecture of her cheekbone. How was it that every part of her could entrance him, from the bridge of her nose to the curve of her shoulder, from the shell of her ear to the hollow at the base of her throat, or the slight dimple in her stubborn chin?
“Why are you not concerned?” she pressed.
“Because he surprised me once, and he shan’t surprise me a second time,” he reassured her, watching his thumb travel along her jaw and down her neck to where her pulse beat fast. “And because I now have more guards at my disposal than a king.”
He also hoped that, now that he had taken his shot at Nando, Levering’s bloodlust had been satiated. Besides, Nando was a married man now. He expected alarm to settle over him at the reminder. But instead, all he felt was a calm, peaceful sense within, a rightness he hadn’t known in…
Well, ever.
“I am not sure I find that as reassuring as you do.” Eleanora was frowning at him, her gloved hands resting lightly on his chest.
“All will be well, my love.” He traced slowly down the soft cord of her throat, then traced the gold and diamonds of her necklace to the large Ceylon sapphire situated in its middle. “Trust me.”
She said nothing for a moment, so he settled his lips on her neck and kissed her there, hot and openmouthed, feeling as if he could devour her.
“Nando.”
“Mmm,” he murmured against her skin, his hand dipping lower, to slide into her bodice, between her stays and chemise and her bare breast.
Her nipple was hungry and pointed, and he could not wait to suck on it. He would have done so now, were he not persuaded that they had nearly arrived at his town house.
She gasped, arching into his touch, as responsive as he had remembered. “In the carriage? Should we not at least wait until we are inside?”
This would not do. The proper spinster in her would not be permitted to emerge.
He tugged down her bodice with one fast motion, leaving her breast bare, her stays and gown lifting it high, her nipple like an erotic offering for him alone.
“I’ve been made to wait for five endless days.” He lowered his head and sucked on the pretty pink nipple he had revealed, gratified when she moaned and arched her back, her fingers gliding through his hair in wordless encouragement.
He suckled her, astounded at how the simple action could heighten his own need to such a shocking crescendo that he felt the slight wetness seeping from his cock and into his smalls. He was so ready for her. Would she be similarly ready?
He had to know.
Ignoring the tightness in his arm, he found the hem of her gown and slipped his hand under her skirts. He found the heart of her, soft and hot and so very wet, and teased her swollen pearl. There was his answer as her hips moved, lifting, chasing his touch, demanding more.
He released her nipple, wanting to see the sight she presented, rosy-cheeked, bonnet half off her head, her eyes stormy with desire, lips darkened from his kisses, one breast freed from her gown, her skirts gathered around her waist. Stocking-clad legs on display to the tops of her thighs where pink garters met more bare skin.
“Nando.” His name was a restless moan on her lips now.
And he knew that he had pushed her beyond her proper façade. That she wanted him so badly that she would writhe in his lap, seeking more of the friction she craved to find her completion.
“You are so wet for me,” he said, stroking her harder, his fingers finding the seam of her sex and parting her folds to slick her wetness up and down, all over her, swirling around and around that demanding bundle of flesh that made her jerk and pant. “So ready, aren’t you?”
She didn’t acknowledge his question, her ragged breaths falling from her parted lips. Of course she wouldn’t admit something so vulgar, even if she loved every moment of what he was doing to her. But she didn’t need to say anything at all. Her body spoke for her as she thrust her hips against him, wordlessly begging to be fucked. He would give her what she wanted soon. He would give her everything she wanted and everything she had never even dreamed possible.
“Say it,” he urged. “Tell me, Eleanora mine.”
“I… I can’t.” She tipped her head back, her bonnet hanging precariously now, and there was her glorious golden hair, still confined in its customary chignon but glinting from the sunlight streaming through the carriage windows.
He hadn’t seen fit to close the Venetian blinds when they had entered, and he was glad of the lack of circumspection now, for it meant he could see her better. Admire her more fully.
He worked her pearl with his thumb and then moved his fingers lower, through that satiny, welcoming heat, needing to be inside her however he could. He found her entrance with his forefinger, probing gently. Her thighs parted in invitation he gladly accepted, sinking his finger deep. Her cunt gripped him deliciously.
He took a moment to collect himself, gathering his control. And then he returned to her nipple, sucking hard, nipping herwith his teeth as he began fucking her with more deliberate intent, a second finger joining the first.
