“I want to taste you, Clare.” His voice was deep and rough, and it made the tension twisting deep within her tighten even more. “Sit,” he said. His hand on her head guided her to the chair he’d pulled away from the table. He took hold of the chair’s arms and shifted it, and her, before kneeling in front of her. “Lift your gown.”
“Iain?” Instead of an answer, he reached for her hips and tugged her to the edge of the chair. He could not mean to...
“Lift your gown, Clare. Now.”
Though she could not explain why she obeyed, her trembling hands gathered the layers of petticoats and gown and slowly drew them up, exposing her legs to his sight. His hand encircled her ankles and slid higher, caressing her silk stockings as he followed the gown moving up her legs. Her breaths caught with every inch of her that he uncovered but she did not stop. For some reason, she dared not.
“Steady on,” he whispered, his eyes staring at her legs. “Higher.” She did not move, overwhelmed by how arousing this felt. He squeezed her thighs at the place where her garters lay. “Higher.”
Her thighs clenched, her core heated and grew damp as she could feel the air on her naked flesh. Clare let her head fall back against the chair as his hands spread her thighs open.
“Beautiful, Clare. So bloody beautiful.”
The admiration in his voice stunned her. No one had ever done anything like this to her before. No one, not even she, had ever looked on that private place. Suddenly embarrassed, she turned her face away.
“Do not look away, Clare. Watch me.”
Her gaze drawn back by the command of his voice, she watched as he leaned forward towards her intimate flesh. The heat of his breath on the sensitive folds shocked her, but the touch of his tongue made her body arch.
“Watch me!” he said sharply. Leaning up, she stared as he licked her the same way he’d licked the cream from his fingers.
Wave after wave of pleasure rushed through her body. She just wanted to fall back and feel every stroke, but his gaze would not allow her to escape. He lifted his face from between her thighs, but only long enough to guide her legs over his shoulders. The position made her thighs fall open to him even more. His gaze lit on the table, and he reached over and dipped his fingers into the creamy dessert once more. She gasped as he carried it to her body and spread it over the feminine flesh—the heat of his hand and the cold of the cream in such a place made her moan. A loud gasp escaped when he touched the bud hidden within the folds.
“I like the sound of that, Clare, but I want you silent. Hold onto the chair and do not make a sound.”
It was some kind of sensual game now—he ordered and she obeyed. Her body did not want her to risk that he would stop if she disobeyed him. She held onto the wooden arms tightly. Did he know how it excited her? Did he understand that these shocking caresses and kisses were surprising and new to her? She gasped when his tongue searched the flesh, seeking the place that ached so badly now.
“Hush.”
She waited for it now, believing she could control her body since she knew what passion felt like. She was wrong, for his tongue’s relentless stroking, slowly then quickly, lightly then with pressure, brought screams so very close to escaping. He paused with his tongue against her but not moving and her hips pressed down in response trying to make him continue. Using only the tip of his wicked tongue, he found it—the center of her arousal and need and he licked the spot and the flesh that surrounded it. Her body tightened and arched against such pleasure.
Clare clenched her jaws against the scream building within her as he used the sharp edges of his teeth on it, even nipping it again and again until it bordered on sensual pain. Then, as her body rocked itself against his mouth, he took it between his lips and suckled it and she exploded from the pleasure. Her body shuddered as she seemed to be weightless, flying, soaring into the air. Clutching the arms of the chair, her eyes focused on him, there between her legs as her throbbing flesh echoed with wave after wave of pleasure.
And he began again.
Grasping her thighs and pressing her legs up towards the chair, he set about removing every bit of the dessert he’d spread there. The only place he did not touch this time was that aching spot that throbbed in time with his strokes. Clare fought against the new rise of pleasure, knowing she would scream. When he plunged deeply inside of her with his tongue, she thought she might have fainted for a moment.
It was different for her, she’d never experienced such an act, but no less pleasurable than every other one of his caresses and touches as he thrust deep. His fingers slid over her slick folds holding her at the brink... of... something. The unrelenting pacing drove her wilder and wilder with a hunger for more until she could not breathe. The unexpected and shocking feel of his strong thumb pressing against her other tight opening as his mouth then took hold of the aching bud had her gasping. When his fingers slid inside her feminine channel, a torrent of sensations wracked her body with heat and need and desire.
“Scream for me, Clare. Scream my name.”
And she did, calling out his name and groaning at the peak of arousal he’d driven her to with mouth and fingers. Touching places she’d never dreamt of in ways she had never imagined. Shaking as she reached satisfaction, she was horrified to hear herself still screaming out his name. He slowed his attentions, easing away from her. His hand remained there between her legs until, with one last lingering stroke, he withdrew it. The scent of arousal filled the area around them, and she swore her screams yet echoed through the large chamber. Iain leaned away and lifted her legs off his shoulders, placing her feet on the floor. How she could even feel the soft caress as his hands slid down her stockings in her overwhelmed and replete state she did not know.
Spineless. Breathless. Shocked to her core. Would she be able to move again?
Would she be able to face him? After what he’d done to her? After what he’d seen and touched? After she had given over her control to him in a way she had never done with J—
Clare moved then, sitting up and tossing her gown down to cover herself. Reaching up, she found her hair a half-loosened mess. Her slippers lay on either side of the man kneeling at her feet, staring at her with an expression of disbelief in his blue eyes. She grabbed the shoes, pushed up and away from him. Standing, perhaps too quickly, she wobbled a bit but the need to escape—escape him, his touch, his all-too-knowing gaze and the need he kindled within her—overwhelmed any hesitation or unbalance. Ignoring whatever he said, she rushed towards the retiring room, needing just to straighten her clothing and appearance before getting out of this place.
“My lady,” he said softly. He was close behind her now and she moved faster towards the other room. “I will send the maid to you and have your coach summoned.”
Clare slammed the door behind her and collapsed against it, partly to keep him out and to keep herself upright when she wanted to melt and disappear. She stumbled over to one of the small couches and fell onto it. Sobs bubbled up from someplace deep within her and she pressed her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
How had she done this? How had she fallen for his temptation even knowing his plan? This was nothing to him but a play in his game of conquest. What did he hope to gain by this seduction? To destroy her sense of control and propriety by exposing her faults? To show her how shallow her love for Jonathan had been since he could lure her into passion with so little effort?
The maid entered silently and offered her help. Clare needed assistance at gathering her hair back into the arrangement that her maid Archer had created this evening. The young woman here seemed to have a talent for it and had Clare looking almost untouched when she’d finished.
Feeling rather shaken, Clare spent some time seeing to her personal needs before going back to the retiring room. The maid awaited her.
