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This was not a gentleman’s kiss. This was a feast. He used his mouth on her sex with a carnal expertise that spoke of wicked knowledge. His tongue was an insistent, clever stroke, circling the very core of her pleasure until she sobbed. He lapped at her, slow and languid, savoring her taste as she twisted against him, then fastened his mouth upon that aching nub and suckled with a rhythm that drove her to madness.

The world narrowed to sensation: the slick, rhythmic sounds of his devotion, the scrape of his evening stubble against her tender inner thighs, the iron grip of his hands holding her in place for his worship. She was unraveling, coming apart at the seams with each relentless, exquisite stroke.

Her first climax took her violently, a wave that crashed without warning. She convulsed against his mouth, a broken litany of “please, oh, please” spilling from her lips as pleasure, sharp and sweet, ripped through her.

George did not relent. He gentled his mouth, soothing her through the shudders, only to begin anew with a deeper, more focused hunger. The second peak built slower, a deep, coiling tension that he wound tighter and tighter with lips and tongue and the faint, promising pressure of a finger teasing her entrance. When it broke, it was a drowning, a flood of warmth that left her boneless and weeping.

Still, he continued. The third time, he slid a finger inside her as his tongue worked its sorcery. The unfamiliar fullness, coupled with the exquisite sensations of his mouth, threatened to unravel her completely.

He lifted his head, and their gazes met. Cordelia blushed beneath the intensity of his regard, yet found herself helpless to look away. His handsome features were taut with desire, his silver-gray eyes darkened by a hunger so unmistakable that it stole her breath. Yet beneath that carnal intensity lingered an unexpected tenderness, an almost reverent fascination that made her feel both cherished and desperately wanted.

“Your pussy is so damn tight,” he murmured as he continued his intimate caresses.

To her astonishment, a second finger joined the first, and a sharp pinch of pain shot through her. She whimpered, and his expression softened, his gaze searching hers with such attentiveness that she felt the tenderness of his concern even through her embarrassment.

“Do you want me to stop?”

She gasped, her eyes widening. Oh, how she wished he had not asked! By placing the decision in her hands, he had stripped away the comforting illusion that she was merely being swept along by his wickedness. If she asked him to continue, she would be admitting that she wanted this, that the desires awakening within her were her own and not simply the consequence of a practiced rogue’s seduction. He was giving her the freedom to refuse him, but with it came the rather terrifying freedom to choose him.

“I ask because I know it hurts,” he said, his expression grave despite the desire burning in his eyes.

She groaned, torn between her uncertainty and the longing she could no longer pretend did not exist.

“But I am stretching you because this is where I am going to put my cock, and it is much thicker than my fingers.”

“Make it sweeter,” she whispered, her heart thumping wildly as she wondered what it would feel like to welcome him so intimately.

God, she was terribly naive to be tangling with this man, who seemed to understand the mysteries of pleasure as naturally as she understood how to breathe.

His expression gentled, and there was something almost unbearably tender in the way he regarded her.

“This is your clitoris,” he murmured. “I am going to rub it until you break apart. You’ll grow wetter, and it will ease the ache inside your pussy. It will be sweeter…I promise.”

His thumb began to circle the sensitive place he had so carnally named her clitoris, and Cordelia’s breath escaped in a trembling sigh. Pleasure surged through her, fierce and bewilderingly sweet, sweeping away every shred of embarrassment at being so wantonly splayed before his eyes. The sensations in her sex were piercingly exquisite, yet almost agonizing in their intensity, leaving her caught between the desire to escape the overwhelming sensation and the far stronger wish that it might never end.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “Come undone for me. Fuck…you are so wet, but you can barely take my fingers.”

“George!” she wailed, her voice breaking beneath the intensity of the sensations overwhelming her.

His gaze remained upon hers, ardent and intent, his expression shifting with every helpless sound she made. Cordelia grew increasingly conscious of her body’s responses, and embarrassment warred with the astonishing pleasure of being desired so openly. Her belly ached with heat, and a powerful, tightening sensation gathered deep within her, leaving her trembling beneath the force of feelings she could scarcely comprehend.

Then he lowered his head and licked her pussy again. The dual invasion, the stretch, the fullness, and the relentless friction unmade her completely. Cordelia’s cries were raw, passionate, her fingers clawing at his hair, not to pull him away, but to anchor herself to this singular point of existence. The pleasure was endless, a series of blinding, white-hot sparks that seemed to ignite her very soul, leaving her shuddering, gasping, and utterly transformed in its aftermath.

Utterly shattered by the intensity of her release, Cordelia lay trembling, her limbs languid and boneless. George rose and gently drew the skirts of her gown back into place before leaning over her to press a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Oh.

In his silver-gray eyes, she glimpsed the reflection of her own ruinous pleasure, mingled with a tenderness that made her heart ache and the fierce, possessive satisfaction of a hunter who had finally brought his most coveted prize to ground.

“I…I must leave,” she whispered, suddenly terrified.

He stilled instantly and drew away, the shadows cloaking his expression. Cordelia hurriedly rose to her feet and stared at him, though she could scarcely make out his features in the dim light. She could not begin to understand the emotions surging through her with such terrifying fierceness, nor why the pleasure he had given her had left her feeling so desperately vulnerable. Before he could speak, she whirled around and fled, scarcely aware of her surroundings until she emerged into the cool night air and hurried into the carriage, where Katherine waited with evident anxiety.

“We must leave at once,” she whispered, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

Katherine immediately rapped upon the roof of the carriage, signaling the coachman to depart, then turned toward her sister with a worried frown.

“What happened? You look terribly out of sorts.”