He stared at her. “You mean to bring me tosatisfaction?”
The way he said it was curiously blank. Was he mocking her? Was he disinterested? Or had she stunned him speechless? Surely not the latter. This was Lucian Deverell, the devil himself! Nothing she could say could have the power to surprise him.
She made to rise from his lap. “Well, Iwasintending to try, but if you are disinterested?—”
Strong hands clamped about her waist, pulling her back down. “I never said I was disinterested,” he growled. “Your first lesson is thatthis”—he thrust his hips forward, pressing his swollen man-part against her hip—“means that I amextremelyinterested.”
“I see. I suspected as much,” Rosalie added hastily.
Lucian brought a hand up to palm her breast, which was still exposed. “Then you have some idea what’s about to happen?”
“In a scientific sense only,” she explained. “I know that the act culminates in the man releasing his seed, which would go inside me if we were going to, er…” She cleared her throat. “But we’re not.”
“We’re not,” he agreed. “But never fear, there are plenty of other things we can do that will be very, very enjoyable for me.”
“Good.” Rosalie nodded, as if to convince herself. “Good. Er—how shall we proceed?”
Lucian lifted her from his lap. “Let’s start by getting off the ground.”
He settled her on the bench, then stood himself. He did not take her into his arms, as she had thought he might do, but sat facing her, leaning back and propping himself up with his arms.
He nodded toward his groin, which was displayed rather prominently in his current position. “Unbutton me.”
Rosalie swallowed. This was precisely what she had offered to do. It felt a bit awkward, now that the time had come to actually do it. But there was no point in turning missish now.
She felt unaccountably clumsy as she tried to push one of the brass buttons through its hole. She tried to confine her fingers to the buttons only, but she fumbled and wound up brushing the bulge tenting his trousers.
Lucian groaned, and Rosalie froze. She was about to apologize when she caught sight of his expression in the moonlight.
His eyes were closed, and his face was suffused with a mixture of longing and bliss.
Tentatively, Rosalie stroked him through the fabric with her thumb. “Does that feel good, then?”
He opened his eyes. They were glassy with pleasure. “So fucking good.”
Encouraged, she began petting him through his trousers. Gracious—he was so thick! And to think, that part of him was meant to fit inside her!
Thank goodness they were never going to do that bit. Rosalie was not convinced it was physically possible.
She continued stroking Lucian, enjoying both his moans of pleasure and muttered curses. He seemed particularly sensitivenear the top of his member. She was massaging him there when a hand clamped around her wrist.
“Damn it, woman!” His breath was coming in pants.
His expression was stormy, but that didn’t dim Rosalie’s satisfaction. “Is there a problem?” she asked sweetly.
“Do you mean other than the fact that you’re about to make me spend in my trousers like a thirteen-year-old?” He yanked at the buttons on his placket and Rosalie heard fabric rending.
Lucian didn’t seem to care. He spread his trousers open, jerked his shirt out of the way, and suddenly there was his member, jutting out into the cool night air.
It was long and thick, as she had discerned from her earlier explorations, with a cap at its tip and a nest of black hair at its base. Rosalie reached out her hand before she had time to grow nervous, touching the tip. A bead of moisture formed beneath her fingers.
She glanced at Lucian’s face. His eyes were hooded with pleasure. “Show me how?” she asked.
His gaze never left hers as he covered her hand with his own. “Stroke me up and down.God, your hand is soft. A little bit harder.Fuck, that feels good…”
Much to Rosalie’s astonishment, his eyes grew hazy, and his breath grew harsh. Was it possible that she, an inexperienced, shrewish society miss, had enraptured one of London’s most notorious scoundrels? It certainly seemed that way.
Suddenly, she remembered his words—I’m going to use my mouth on you. I want your first time to be beautiful. Well, it certainly wasn’t his first time, but she did want to make it beautiful for him. She knew that even though a rake like Lucian would almost certainly forget her within a week, if not by this time tomorrow, she would always remember tonight as magical. And she wanted this to be magical for him, too, or at least, as magical as she could make it.
