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The drum of her heart accelerated as he moved away a bit, and she felt his hands unfastening the tapes at the back of her gown. ‘Hurry!’ she urged, increasingly impatient, now that she’d envisioned it, to feel that intimate touch.
He worked the bodice free, and she helped him shrug it off, but the skirt still held shift and stays in place. ‘Females,’ he said, kissing the bit more of her back bared by the removal of the bodice, ‘wear entirely too many garments.’
Murmuring agreement, she wriggled on the bed, expecting him to unlace and remove the restricting skirt. Instead, he reached up to grab a pillow, dragged it down and leaned her back against it.
As she lay back, the stays beneath her breasts pulled the fine linen of her shift tight across her nipples. Before she could think what he was doing, Giles took nipple, fabric and all into his mouth and suckled.
The heat and wetness of his mouth, the friction of the fabric created a sensation both similar, and entirely different, from anything she’d experienced before, when loving had begun only after she’d been completely undressed. The friction sparked a tremor that seemed to go straight to her core, sparking there a similar reaction of warmth, wetness, and tightening the spiral of desire.
His mouth moved to her other breast, bringing the magic of moisture and friction to that nipple while his thumb circled over and rubbed the wet fabric. Tension coiled tighter as the fire within built and built, until she was straining towards the peak.
Her skin flushed with heat, she tossed her head restlessly, tilting her hips, instinctively trying to move in the familiar, rhythmic pattern. As she writhed beside him, he moved his mouth to claim hers, his lips demanding entry, his tongue sweeping in to lave and dominate. At the same time, he swept an arm down under her skirts.
She kissed him back just as fiercely, seeking out his tongue, darting with hers to explore and lave each corner of his mouth. Then gasped, as his hand beneath her skirts caressed and squeezed in a slow ascent…his whole hand surrounding her ankle…two fingers tracing the delicate skin behind her knee…a single finger tracing the top edge of her stocking, sliding under and out, under and out. And finally, finally, while she whimpered her need, he moved the hand up and cupped her.
She wiggled beneath it, wanting him to go further, but for a maddening few moments, he simply rubbed that mound with his whole hand. Finally, when she thought she would shatter if he delayed any longer, he slid two fingers down to caress the tiny bud at her centre.
After so many years of abstinence, it took only this single touch to send her spiralling into the abyss. Crying out, she tensed as pleasure ignited, sending sweet fulfilment rushing outward in waves from her centre through her body to the very tips of her fingers, her toes, her earlobes.
A few mindless moments later, as the tremors faded, she sagged back, replete. In the vastness of the ocean of contentment, one small worry floated forth as, finally conscious of his rapid breaths and the still-hard member pressed against her, she realised he had not yet had his satisfaction.
Before she had recovered enough for speech, he bent to kiss her again, this time light and tender. Murmuring, she opened her mouth to him. But after a minute of gentle caresses, his tongue grew bolder, laving hers, teasing the tip. A spark of arousal flamed up out of the ashes of fulfilment.
Within a few moments, her heartbeat accelerated and she felt the pulse begin to pound in her ears again. And then, he moved his fingers from her little nub and nudged them at the entrance to her passage.
She gasped, arousal building in one giant leap, and pushed against him, wanting the exquisite caress of those fingers to slide deeper, to the very core of her.
But he took his time, progressing deeper ever so slowly, each minute a new bit of flesh igniting as he touched it. When at least he’d penetrated to the depths of her and began a slow advance and withdrawal, advance and withdrawal, she was sobbing with arousal.
But he would not be hurried. Only gradually did he increase the rhythm, and when his thrusting fingers finally reached a rapid tempo, she shattered in a climax so intense, she lost all sense of who and where she was.
When the earth had settled, the stars realigned, and the ability to breathe and speak returned, Maggie gazed up to see Giles watching her, a slight smile on his lips.
She smiled back, tried to lift a finger to trace his lips, and couldn’t quite manage it. He caught her hand and kissed it.
‘That was—glorious,’ she told him. ‘Thank you.’
His smile widened and he made her a little bow. ‘Your humble servant is pleased to serve.’
She shook her head at him. ‘But it’s not right.’
His smile vanished. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That was the most erotic experience of my life—and you are still completely clothed.’
He grinned again. ‘What would you have me remove?’
‘Nothing! Not yet. But if you will pour me some restorative wine—there should be a decanter on the table over there—I will endeavour to do the removing.’
‘I like the sound of that. But remember—the breeches stay on.’
She gave him a long, slow smile. ‘So did my shift.’
She saw him catch her meaning in the widening of his eyes and sharp intake of breath. Bounding up, he soon located decanter and glass, poured a generous amount, and offered it to her.
She sat up and took a long swallow, then handed him the glass. She could see the erection straining against his trouser flap as he carried the glass back to the table, and another spiral of anticipation and delight whirled through her.
She stood, unhooking her skirt, stepping out of it and tossing it away; she didn’t want its clinging length to get in the way of what she planned. When he came back to the bed, she motioned to the place she’d been seated and said, ‘Sit, please.’
He promptly complied, then looked up at her. She could see the rapid pulse beating at his temples and smiled, pleased at this evidence of his heightened desire.
She stood before him and began untying his cravat, slowly unwinding and removing the broad band of linen, then folding it neatly. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to heighten anticipation with delay. After flicking back the edges of his shirt, she moved her hands to massage his shoulders and bent to kiss his bared throat.
He sighed when her lips contacted the rough skin, then groaned as she licked her way to the hollow where the pulse beat strongly. Massaging still, she kissed up his throat to nibble his jaw, evading his mouth when he tried to meet her lips, and continuing to lick and nip from the jawline up to his ears, his cheekbones, across his closed eyes, to his brow and into the hairline.
Reaching down, she lifted his arms and pulled the shirt over his head. She stepped back a moment to admire him, all muscled shoulder and strong arms and broad chest, where the flat nipples puckered.
He hissed between his teeth as she slowly ran a fingernail over each one.
Lifting her skirts, she bared herself to the waist, watching his face as he watched her. He opened his lips, an inarticulate mumble, and she placed a finger over his mouth to forestall any protest. Then she sat down on his lap and straddled him, her naked torso pressed against his trousers.
She felt his member leap as she wound her legs around his back and rocked her hot, moist, naked centre against his fettered erection. With a gasp, he cupped her bare bottom and pulled her closer. Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed him hard, rubbing her breasts against his bare chest while he picked up the rhythm, thrusting against her.
He must have been as ready as she had been, for after half-a-dozen such thrusts, he turned rigid in her arms, gasping into her mouth as his completion swept over him. Kissing him still, she followed him down as he collapsed back on to the bed, his chest drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged.
Rolling over to cuddle beside him, she pushed the moist hair off his brow and stroked it, waiting for his breathing to steady and slow, aglow with more peace and contentment than she’d felt since… She pushed her mind back from the thought. This moment was for enjoying now, without tarnishing it with sadness from the past.
At length, with a groan, he pushed himself up on his elbows. ‘Thank you, my sweet. Although if we hadn’t made this…unusual bargain, I should have to apologise for…reaching the finish line so quickly.’
‘No matter. Shall we rub down the horse and prepare him to race again?’
His eyes lit. ‘Absolutely. Although for safety’s sake, I should do the “rubbing”.’
‘Absolutely not. When I serve, my service is complete.’
She walked over to the dressing table, poured water in the washbasin and returned with it and a soft rag. He stayed her hands when she attempted to unbutton the trouser flat.
‘It will be all right,’ she told him, going down before him. ‘I promise, my knees shall not leave the floor.’
‘If you’re certain.’
‘I am.’ Pushing his hands aside, she plucked open the buttons and pulled the flap free, exposing his spent member. Gently and carefully she washed it with the rag, then the upper part of his legs and his belly. Once he’d been cleansed, she began pulling the rag slowly over the exposed skin. She bent down and blew a breath over the dampness, watching as he shivered, the little hairs on his stomach standing on end.
Pleased, she moved the damp cloth back to his now-stirring member. Up and down she stroked, alternating the soft caress of the rag with a long exhale over the tightening skin, bending closer each time, until her lips were almost but not quite touching him.
She looked up, into blue eyes locked upon her. ‘Does this please you?’ she whispered.
‘Yes.’
‘Tell me. Tell me what you like.’
He smiled slightly, picking up the game. ‘I like having you stroke me. I like feeling your warm breath on my cock.’
At the words, she felt her own nipples tighten and the moist heat build between her legs. She bent and licked the hard velvet tip, which jerked under her ministrations. He gasped, his hands clutching the bedclothes, his arms rigid.
‘Do you like that?’
‘Yes. I love having your tongue on my cock.’
‘Good.’ She bent forward again and grasped him with one hand, holding him steady as she took him in her mouth, slid him in and back out.
‘Do you like that?’
‘Devil’s breath, yes! I could live for ever inside your mouth.’
She leaned forward to suckle him again. Oh, what a wonder he was, all hardness and sinew, silky tip and satin shaft. She loved the taste and feel of him, loved the groans she elicited as she licked and suckled, laved and stroked. After a few moments, he dropped the bedclothes and clutched her shoulders, thrusting with her as she took him to completion.
As he fell back on to the bed, limp, she returned the basin and refreshed the wine glass. She was sitting beside him, sipping from it, marvelling at the power and beauty of sensual pleasure, when he stirred and opened those incredible blue eyes.
And smiled at her.
Her foolish heart expanded and she smiled back, a smile of pure joy and contentment. Oh, how easily she could become accustomed to this loving—and this man!
‘That was beyond words glorious,’ he told her, sitting up to accept the wine glass and take a long sip. ‘But it wasn’t right.’
‘No?’ she said with a chuckle. ‘You didn’t seem to complain at the time.’
‘Ah, but that’s because I knew I would insist on having my turn.’
Her simmering senses sparked as the meaning of those words penetrated. Before she could respond, though, he continued. ‘I believe a little more undressing is called for, once we finish this wine.’
‘If you wish.’
He gave her a long, slow, heated scrutiny. Her skin prickled as his gaze passed over it, as if she could literally feel his touch as his eyes inspected her. ‘Oh, I wish—to touch everything.’
They shared the glass, then Hadley returned it to the table and came back to the bed. She looked up at him, little eddies of excitement swirling in her stomach, and all her nerves once again primed for his touch.
‘First, this.’ he said, and began raking the pins from her hair, until the heavy mass fell to her shoulders and down her back.
‘If you only knew how often I dreamed of doing this,’ he murmured as he continued to comb his fingers through her hair until he’d winnowed out all the pins. Then he arranged the waves over her shoulders, down her back, and around her breasts. Hands on her shoulders, he took a step back, once again studying her.
‘Glorious,’ he pronounced, and kissed her.
She murmured in protest when he broke the kiss, and he chuckled. ‘Do not fret, my sweet. There will be more of that, soon enough.’ Urging her to stand, he unlaced her underskirt, pulled it down, and helped her step out of it. He stood up and drew her close, kissing her again, light and gentle, then deeper and penetrating. While he drugged her with his mouth, he slowly raised the hem of her shift, until he could reach her garters. After unhooking her stocking, he urged her to sit.
He knelt before her, slowly rolling down the stocking, and kissing the skin of her leg as he bared it: inner thigh, knee and the soft skin behind it, along the shin, around the fullness of calf, across the smooth arch of the foot, until he pulled it free from her foot and suckled each toe in turn.
Glad she was seated, for she would have been too dizzy to stand, she braced herself on the bed as he started on the remaining garter and leg. Once he had her bare-legged, he stood her up, unlaced and tossed away her stays, then pulled the shift over her head.
She stood before him completely naked now, but so sensitised by his touch that she felt no embarrassment. Only an exuberant confidence, from seeing the need blazing in his gaze, that he found her desirable, and anticipation for what he would do next.
In answer, he eased her on to the bed and against the pillows. ‘Close your eyes, my sweet, and just feel,’ he murmured.
And so she did. He began at her temples, kissing and stroking lightly, over her cheeks and lips, her ears and chin. He fisted his hands in her hair, then brushed the silky strands against her shoulders, her arms before he nibbled and kissed them. Slowly he progressed lower, teasing with the satin brush of her hair, tantalising with the soft pressure of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue.
She was breathing hard again, feeling the climax building, by the time he reached her waist, her hipbones, the round of belly. But to her dismay, he bypassed her aching centre, instead moving down her legs, her knees, her ankles and toes.
She pulled at his hands, trying to urge him higher, but he would not be hurried. Gently detaching himself, he returned to his slow transit up and around her legs, setting off delicious vibrations in nerves she didn’t know she possessed.
And then, finally, his mouth moved to the tender skin of her inner thighs. At his urging, she let her legs fall open, giving him full access to the most intimate part of her. When she thought she could stand the wait no longer, he at last moved his mouth to her.
He parted the nether lips and licked delicately at the little bud within. Frantic, she twisted her head from side to side, lifting her hips to bring him closer. Then, with tongue and fingers, he traced the path into her slick passage.
So near to the precipice was she that only a few strokes would have been enough to send her spinning into the free fall of climax. But this time, she wanted them to reach that pinnacle together. Rolling away from him, she sat up, then pulled him to lie down beside her, his head towards the bottom of the bed, then lay back down with her own head on the pillow.
Understanding her intent, he eagerly returned to tasting her, while she slid her hand under the waistband of his breeches to clasp the erection now within her reach. Stroking him while he laved her, the two of them mingled their cries as they reached the summit together.
For a long, sweet time, they lay panting, spent. Recovering more quickly than Maggie, Giles crawled up to lay on the pillow, then repositioned her with her head resting on his shoulder, her arm across his bare chest, and her leg wrapped around his. After tossing the rumpled blanket over her nakedness, he kissed the tip of her nose and promptly fell asleep.
Lying in his arms watching him, content, replete, Maggie realised she was feeling…happy. Something she hadn’t experienced in so long, she’d almost forgotten what it was like.
That realisation should have terrified her, and maybe it would, later. But for this glorious moment, in the wondrous present, she would simply enjoy it as a gift.
All too soon, Giles stirred. She held her breath as his sleepy eyes opened—would he shatter this magic by tossing back the covers, throwing on his clothes and bidding her a cheery goodbye as he hustled out to his meetings?
She saw that moment recognition of time, place—and his companion—register in those bright blue eyes. Which then widened, as a smile warmed a face alight with what she didn’t dare call tenderness.
‘My sweet lady,’ he murmured. ‘My very dear Lady Margaret.’
Despite her efforts to restrain it, her own heart swelled with an answering emotion. ‘After this morning, I think it should be “Maggie”, don’t you?’
‘My very dear Maggie,’ he repeated, and pulled her head down for a kiss—gentle, caressing almost—cherishing. As he released her, he said, ‘I wish we’d awakened in the Outer Hebrides.’
Puzzled, she angled her head at him. ‘You have a fondness for cold Scottish islands?’
He chuckled. ‘No, my love! But if we were in the Hebrides, I could resume the delightful business that has occupied us this morning. Since we are unfortunately in London, I suppose I must finally bow to my responsibilities and get back to work. I can only hope Davie hasn’t already sent out a search party, certain he’s going to discover my cold, dead body in some dark alley somewhere.’
‘You seldom miss meetings?’ she guessed.
‘I’m normally the first to arrive and the last to leave. But this morning I had a more pressing engagement. Although, to make up, I probably will be the last to leave.’
Reluctantly, she slid away and off the bed. Now that the loving was over, she should feel awkward, standing completely naked before a man she knew so slightly.
But he had loved her so well and so tenderly, all she felt was warmth and gratitude.
Tracking down his shirt, she brought it over to the bed, while he moved to sit up and lifted his arms for her to slip it back over his head. ‘The cravat is probably hopeless,’ he advised as she brought that over. ‘I’ll have to stop by my rooms to change out of riding gear anyway, before I go to Parliament. Though I heartily approve of my valet’s current uniform,’ he said, leaning forward to press a quick kiss on each bare nipple. ‘Can I help you, or would you rather call your maid?’
‘I’d appreciate the help. I’m sure the staff already has an accurate notion of how we spent the morning, but I’d rather be dressed when I face them. My lady’s maid, who’s been with me for years, would probably freeze any gossip, were she here, but unfortunately she’s at my father’s house. And incidentally, since I left to ride at dawn, she’s probably wondering if she should send out a search party to look for my cold, dead body.’
