Even as he kissed her, Ned crooked the finger within her, moving it slowly at first but then more decidedly, tightening all her nerves until Cecilia was certain she would not survive the pleasure of it. He added another finger, pressing in deeper as his tongue worked faster. The raw intimacy, after days of watching him out of the corner of her eye and dreaming of how he might feel in her arms, became overwhelming. Suddenly her nerves broke apart, shooting sparks of ecstasy through her, from her curling toes to the cry leaping out of her throat. Her entire being felt like one great pulsing heart.
Ned moved up to kiss her open mouth. He tasted wicked, and she would have blushed were she not already vehemently doing so. Hisfingers remained inside her, holding her to his calm as she shuddered down into softness.
“Oh, I say,” she murmured, looking at him rather unfocusedly.
“Are you all right?” His smile was tender, as if he knew the answer perfectly well but wanted to hear her say it. His fingers slid out, and she sighed.
“Yes, I think so. I beg your pardon for my indecorous behavior.”
“Cecilia. Don’t apologize for orgasming.”
She frowned. “I suspect that is a rude word and you should not say it to me.”
“Fine, I promise never to say it again.” His smile became roguish. “But I shall do it to you as often as I can manage.”
“Oh. Er, well, I suppose that is in the bounds of good manners.”
“The best manners, I should think.” He began kissing her again along her jawline, stopping only to take her earlobe gently between his teeth. She turned her head wantonly to encourage him. She’d wondered sometimes what it would be like to fly without the protection of a house—a witch, boundless; a dream of herself. Now she suspected it would feel like this, here in his arms, under his gorgeous smile. The thought of gathering herself together into a stiff, careful posture for the world again was almost a physical pain, scouring her heart and making her want to weep. But she knew it must be done. This was only ever meant to be one beautiful moment.
“Thank you,” she said rather formally. “I hope that was also pleasant for you.”
“More than I can express,” he murmured against her cheek.
“It went quicker than I supposed; we should not be missed at all.”
Ned lifted his head, blinking at her through the fall of his hair; he frowned in bemusement. “Er, sweetheart, you do realize we haven’t finished yet?”
“We haven’t?” Her eyes widened.
Ned’s grin returned, even more wicked than before. “We’re not even halfway through.” Taking her hand, he held it against the hard swelling in his trousers. “Do you see?”
Cecilia blushed. His fingers were damp against hers; his eyes were growing dark in the most heart-stirring way. “I did wonder—that is, I wondered if—er, the gentleman’s accoutrement was involved in proceedings—”
He laughed. “You are too perfect,” he said, and as she took a deep breath to argue the semantics of that, he lowered himself to kiss her into a hot, urgent silence.
She felt anxiety rising again as she imagined what might happen next. But he kissed her face and whispered silliness and soon she was giggling, squirming with delight beneath him, forgetting everything but the loveliness of him and the rightness of their being together. Then he straightened so he was kneeling between her legs, drawing them wider with firm hands, pushing up her knees, and Cecilia caught her breath. Her bunched dress protected her from an immodest view, buthecould see everything.
Egads. Really, they ought to address this sort of thing in etiquette class. Cecilia had to restrain herself from pulling down her dress and begging his pardon again. Her sense of vulnerability, and his clear mastery of the situation, presented an affront to all her piratic sensibilities—and yet were at the same time utterly arousing. She had never guessed being unshielded to another person would thrill her so. If only he wouldnot actually look.
He did not look. He held her gaze with a cool serenity while he began to unbutton his trousers. As the last fastening came free and he slipped the garment down his hips, Cecilia closed her eyes and thought of England.
Lush, flowering England laid open to the gasping, caressing winds.
And then he was moving into her once more, not his fingers this time, and she could have wept for the feeling of it—so right, so perfect, as if all her life she’d suffered an emptiness only this man could fill. It ached a little, stretching her despite the earlier work of his fingers, but somehow that was part of the wondrousness. Ned hooked his hands around her thighs, lifting them over his hips and moving in deeper as he lowered himself onto his elbows. Her eyes flung open at a shock of sensation. He caught her gaze, and they stared at each other entranced as their bodies came together, their spirits already there.
“You’re fully ruined now,” he murmured, smiling wryly.
“No,” she breathed. “I was ruined the moment I laid eyes on you. Utterly ruined for everything else, evermore.”
“Told you so.”
“Fiend.” She frowned with mocking severity.
“Rake?” he suggested.
“Oh, yes, please.”
His smile tumbled. He moved back, then slid in slow and deep again, and they disappeared together into their own secret universe.
