Page 91 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
“Shhh. I’m going to take care of you, Georgiana,” he rasped before leaning down again to torment her breasts with slow, wicked strokes of his tongue. Her taut nipples strained for his lips and the pleasure swelled until it all blurred together into a throbbing ache inside her. Benedict was merciless, pinning her hips to the bed and stroking her, his fingers quickening until the pleasure built to a sharp edge, pushing her higher and higher until at last the tight heat unfurled in long pulses of bliss. They seemed to go on and on until at last she collapsed against the sheets, damp and tremblingand breathless.
Long, quiet moments passed, their panting breaths the only sound until at last Georgiana opened her eyes.
Benedict was kneeling between her legs, his chest heaving. His lips were red and swollen, his hair mussed and falling over his forehead as he stared down at her with wild dark eyes.
“Benedict.” She reached for him, a drowsy smile curving her lips.
He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, his lips grazing her knuckles. “I’ve never seen anything more breathtaking than you taking your pleasure, Georgiana. Nothing is more beautiful to me than you.”
A spasm of pain twisted his face, and Georgiana knew he was thinking of their parting tomorrow. For an instant her own heart felt heavy, but she made herself push the sadness away. These were the last hours she had with Benedict, and she wouldn’t waste them wishing for something that could never be. She’d love him now, and be grateful for the brief time they had together.
“You know, I wasn’t done teasing you before.” She traced a pattern over his thighs with her fingertips, her gaze fixed on the hard ridge straining against his breeches. Her eyes met his as she toyed with the buttons on his falls.
Benedict caught his breath, but he didn’t move as she twisted the buttons loose and pushed the fabric aside. “Oh.” Her eyes widened when his long, stiff length sprang free from the tight confines of his clothing.
She gazed at his erection, curious and baffled at once. It seemed impossible such a large thing could fit…well, where Sophia and Cecilia insisted it was meant to go, but Benedict had reduced her to a quivering, moaning heap of flesh with just the touch of his mouth and fingers alone, so perhaps this was likethat had been.
Inexplicable, but wondrous.
It didn’t occur to her she’d been staring for quite a long time until she noticed Benedict had gone strangely still. Her eyes flicked to his face, and her heart clenched at his anxious expression.
He thinksI’m frightened.
She wasn’t. Not of it, and not ofhim—especially not of him, and she wouldn’t let him think otherwise. So, before he could say a word or draw away from her, she reached out her hand and touched him.
“Warm,” she murmured. “And your skin here is so soft.”
There was nothing else soft about him, though. Under the smooth, sleek skin he was as rigid as an ebony walking stick. She slid her hand experimentally over him, marveling at the smooth slide of that impossibly delicate skin over the hardness beneath, and the bead of moisture that rose onthe blunt head.
She ran her thumb gently over the tip and a low moan broke from Benedict’s chest. Her gaze snapped to his face to find his eyes closed and his jaw clenched. She snatched her hand away at once, afraid she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry, Benedict. I didn’t mean to—”
“No. Touch me.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it against himself, letting out another desperate groan when she wrapped her fingers around him.
“It sounds as if I’mtorturing you.”
A hoarse laugh broke from his lips. “You are. The only thing worse than your teasing strokes is not having your hand on me.”
Georgiana touched her tongue to her bottomlip. “Show me.”
He covered her hand with his and closed her fingers around his length. He gripped himself much more tightly than she ever would have dared, but any anxiety she might have felt about hurting him fled when his mouth went slack, and his eyelids fluttered closed.
“Yes, sweetheart. Just like that. Now stroke me, like…ah,yes.” His head fell back as he guided her hand up and down his shaft. Georgiana stared, fascinated as the rigid length in her hand grew impossibly harder. The swollen head flushed and wept, turning the tip a dark, glossy red.
“So good, Georgiana. Harder, sweetheart, please…please, ah,ah…” He seemed to grow more desperate with every caress, broken pleas breaking from his lips and his hips jerking as he thrust his hot, straining lengthinto her fist.
Georgiana bit her lip, an intoxicating sense of triumph sweeping through her as her gaze darted from his face to the twitching length in her palm.Shewas giving him this pleasure—shewho’d always thought of herself as the perennial virgin spinster—was making this beautiful man shudder and moan andplead for her.
It was…heady, touching him like this, so much so she wanted to get closer, touch him everywhere. Georgiana rose to her knees, her hand still moving up and down his length, and pressed her open mouth to his.
He let out a helpless groan as she darted her tongue out to lick at his bottom lip, and a hard, muscular arm wrapped around her waist, his hand settling low on her back to press her harder against him. “Are you teasingme, princess?”
Was she? All Georgiana knew was that she wanted to wring more of those delicious pleas from him. “Perhaps Iam, a little.”
“Teasing a rake?” His hand slid lower to cup her bottom. “Do you think that’s wise, Miss Harley?”
Georgiana’s lips curled against his. “Well, it’s been delightful so far.”
He nuzzled her neck before catching her earlobe in his teeth, his tiny bite making her shiver. “Oh, princess. We haven’t even begun.”
