The combination of his voice, the gentle pressure of his hands on her breasts, and the relentless tide of pleasure was enough to push her over the edge. White light burst from behind her eyelids, and her body arched off the bed. She had the dim impression that Charles continued touching her, murmuring encouragement and reassurance, but it was all she could do to keep her mouth clamped shut and the noises she so desperately wanted to make trapped inside. They were not alone in the house, and although she did not doubt the loyalty of her servants, their loyalty belonged to her father, not to her.
No one could know what agony of bliss she had experienced at Charles—no, her own hands.
She opened her eyes to find Charles watching her, desire and affection commingling in his expression. “And that,” he said, sliding a hand into her loose hair, “is why many ladies find this event more pleasurable than the lovemaking itself.”
Lovemaking. Perhaps it was silly, but she had not thought about it in such terms. She dropped her gaze to his erection, the tip wet with a bead of moisture. It looked so turgid as to be uncomfortable. “Is that what we are about to do next?”
“Next,” he said, “I am going to give you leave to explore a man’s body.”
Her eyes shot to his. “You will let me touch you?”
“Is that not what you wanted as part of our arrangement?” He smiled then, adding warmth to his words. “Though if it is a chore, I’m sure we can find something else to entertain us. We do not even have to progress further today if you do not wish it.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “But you do wish it.”
“I would not be a man if I did not, but I am also not an animal.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Today, in all of this, your pleasure comes first.”
She smiled, loose-limbed and emboldened, and reached for his face, drawing him closer for a kiss. “Teach me,” she whispered against his mouth. “Teach me what there is to know about a male body, and then ravish me thoroughly.”
“Words every man wishes to hear.” He gripped her tightly as he kissed her, then took her hand, the one that had so recently been between her own legs, and brought it to his manhood. She had felt the heat of it against her leg, and already knew it to be hard, but she was unprepared for the silky slide of hot skin against her palm, or the way it throbbed as she closed her fingers around it.
“Tell me what I am to do,” she said. “I’m a novice.”
He made a low sound of appreciation in his throat, then rolled a little onto his side so he faced her. She looked intothe face of her best friend turned lover, and wondered how she might protect her heart from shattering entirely when all this came to an end.
“Do not grip me too firmly,” he said, and smiled a little again, though the expression now seemed strained. “Every man will appreciate this differently. Do not be afraid to ask.”
She trailed her fingers up the length of him, and he kept his gaze on her, hot and heavy, as she did so. “I do not think I will be experiencing this with any other gentleman,” she said.
He inhaled sharply, throat moving as he tipped his head back. “I ought to tell you not to discount that option entirely, but in truth, I’m relieved to hear it.” His eyes found hers again, the possessiveness a balm to the knowledge that her heart would suffer their parting. “I dislike the thought of you with another.”
“Jealous, Charles?”
“What of it? You have always been special to me, Pidge. Never more so than now.” He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around the base of him. “Though I am a fool for confessing it,” he muttered, words stilted now. “That is right. Move your hand—yes. Like that.” His jaw clenched. “I rather suspect you will be the death of me.”
“Am I doing it right?”
“Yes. Yes. Very much so.” He gave a ragged, rueful laugh, and touched her breast again. “May I?”
“You already did.” She wanted to laugh, which was very unlike her. But this situation felt so surreal, as though some other person had stepped into her life. And truth be told, shewantedhim to touch her again. Seeing the effect she had on him, the flush that came to his cheeks and the darkness of lust in his eyes, made her ache all over again, the wet heat between her legs no longer a surprise. She understood that now, too. Arousal.
“Yes.” He sent his hand lower, closer to where hers had been, and she spread her legs for him without much thought. “Yes, but I want to be inside you, Evie. My God, I have wanted this for too long.”
She had no time for further questions, because his fingers slipped past where hers had been, and the tip of one pressed inside her. This sensation was new, and for a moment, her hand faltered.
“Too much?” he asked huskily. “Would you like to—”
She rolled her hips against his hand, and that single finger slid a little further inside her. Yes. There. That felt good—more than good. Wonderful. Delightful. Overwhelming in just howgoodit felt. As though there was no longer any space inside her for breath or thought.
“Oh,” she gasped. Her voice shook. “I had not known . . .”
“That was going to be our next lesson, but . . .” He cursed under his breath. “You feel incredible, Evie love.”
Finally, belatedly, she remembered what she had been doing—what she hadoughtto have been doing—and redoubled her efforts. Her concentration clouded, though, and she struggled to find the right motion with her hands while his fingers played her like the sweetest of violins. A master at his craft, while she . . .
And yet, despite her inexperience, his breath came shorter, and he rested his forehead against hers. “My climax is somewhat messier than yours,” he said against her hair. “You must decide now if you wish for more, or if you had rather finish here.”
“I, ah—” She broke off as his fingers found a wholly new place with another spike of pleasure. She contracted around him, and his eyes glazed as his hips pumped into her hand.
