“But—”
“You did stupendously well, Phee. You spent for the first time. That is of enormous significance. It’s most important that you know about your own pleasure.” He found his trousers and started pulling them on. “So you can teach—” he could not prevent the grimace from the choking sensation of bile in the back of his throat, “—your husband about whatyouwant. That is the real lesson here.”
He managed to button his fall over his engorgement and now he looked at her. She had not moved. She was still up on her elbow, facing away from him since he had gone around the other side of the bed. Her dark-blonde hair was completely hanging down and her spine was in a beautiful curve he followed with his eyes down to the absolutely devastating bottom that was still on display. Those cheeks. He had not yet touched those naked cheeks. Now, he never would. He sighed.
“No!” She rolled over, scrambled off the bed, and stood facing him. “What you did to me was . . . it was a revelation and I will always be grateful to you, George, but that’s not what the wager was. The wager was that you would bed me.”
“But, Phee.” He couldn’t help reaching out and stroking her face even as he tried to keep his eyes off her beautiful, bare breasts. “Think about it. Thornwick will know you’re not a virgin.”
“I’m not worried about that.” She put her hand over his. “I’ll tell him you taught me to ride my pony astride when I was little. Which is the truth. He won’t expect blood.”
“I could get you with child.”
“You won’t. You’ll spill outside me, won’t you? Alice says that must be what you do with your mistresses since you have no bastards.”
Again, George cursed his wayward sister and her blabbing mouth.
And then, to his shock, Phoebe took his hand off her cheek and put his forefinger in her mouth. He felt her tongue swirling. Her round cheeks hollowed and she sucked even as she pulled the digit out of her pouting lips so there was a popping sound.
“I was pretending it was your organ. Did I do it right?” She smiled.
He groaned and shook his head. “I don’t think you will like coitus as much as you liked spending.”
She shook her head back at him. “Don’t you understand? This isn’t about what I like. This is about making my husband happy. And about—” she faltered, “about not being scared on my wedding night. I just knew if I did it with you first, I wouldn’t be scared.”
He melted. He gathered her to him. “Oh, Phee.” Her soft breasts pressed into his still naked torso. Oh. Danger. He kissed the top of her head. Like a brother might.
“Phee, I can’t couple with you.” His hands on the skin of her back. He felt a wild desperation to sweep his hands down to her buttocks for a squeeze. Oh, oh. More danger.
Her body became stiff against his. “You lost the wager. Maybe because you wanted to, you said. You said I was beautiful and magnificent. And your cock is hard.”
Yes, it was.
“And if you won’t do it, I’ll just go ask someone else.”
Now it was his turn to have his body go rigid with upset against hers. “Who?”
“Whom, George.” She shrugged in his arms. “Lord Longridge, maybe.”
“No!” He pulled her away from him and held her by the shoulders. “Not Edmund.”
Because he had also seen the organ of his friend Edmund Haskett, Earl of Longridge and the future Marquess of Sudbury, at Brighton and on other bathing occasions. Edmund’s phallus dwarfed other men’s phalli. Compared to Thornwick, even compared to George who thought himself fairly well-endowed, Edmund was a Goliath. There were rumors Edmund had difficulty finding lovers who allowed him entrance due to his unnatural size. George’s sweet, little Phoebe would definitely feel a great deal of pain accommodating Edmund.
She frowned. “Perhaps Sir Matthew Elliot. He’s very handsome.”
“Sir Matthew?” Sir Matthew might be handsome, but he was also the most priggish man in London. He made George look like a rake. What could she be thinking? The blond baronet was almost certainly a virgin and knew less about coupling than Phoebe did.
“Or the gorgeous Duke of Dunmore. He’s stuck at home, abed with his ankle. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a little company.”
“You are to go nowhere near Jack MacNaughton. And besides he only beds married women.” Or at least he used to. Jack was now pining for some bloodthirsty countess in Scotland.
“Then Phineas,” she said, stepping into him, pressing her body against his and looking up at him defiantly.
No, he did not approve of Phineas Edge, the Earl of Burchester, either. Not for Phoebe’s first time.
Now he knew what he was feeling was possessiveness, not protectiveness. The Earl of Burchester’s tackle was on a par with George’s. And Phineas was rumored to be an extremely tender and solicitous lover. At least that was the gossip among the female members of theton, gossip his sister Alice had repeated to him.
In truth, Phineas would likely be an ideal teacher for Phoebe.
