Page 63 of A Much Maligned Miss

“I have plenty of covers down this end of the bed. I am going to duck under your nightgown now,” he warned her. “Let me know at any point if you change your mind about this.”

Under her nightgown? Caroline lay stupefied. Perhaps she had misunderstood him? Perhaps…? There was a rustle, and she felt the whisper of his lips run up her left leg. “Gervaise?”

He halted at once. “Changed your mind?” he asked carefully. She felt the brush of his glossy hair against her knee.

“No, no, not at all,” she said quickly. “I want you to do it.” She wanted whatever experience he wanted to share with her.

“You’re sure?” he asked, pressing kisses to the inside of her leg. It felt terribly sensitive the higher up he progressed.

“Quite sure,” she answered in a quavery voice, then cleared her throat to let him know her hoarseness was not from an excess of nerves.

“That’s good,” she thought he said, but his words were a little muffled against her thigh. She shivered and the next thing she knew, his warm breath was in a truly shocking place.

Caroline’s eyes grew wide as she stared into the darkened room. What was he doing? It wasn’t even as though he could see anything, so why would he hover there, breathing on her most private place like that?

She let out a startled exclamation when he suddenly surged forward, pressing his lips fervently to her, as though in an ardent kiss. She sucked in a shocked breath. He could not be! Her mind rebelled. He could not be kissing her mound! She must be mistaken. Such a thing would be…

Then she felt it then, the wetness of his mouth. She gasped, then clapped a hand over her own in case she made him stop again. He was working his way toward her cleft, she realized, feeling the dart of his tongue. How could he do such a thing? She was embarrassingly hairy there too. Would that not deter him? she wondered aghast, thinking of the patch of dark curls. Apparently not.

It was a kiss! One of his terribly wicked kisses and he was bestowing it between her legs! She dragged in another breath, even as her thighs tensed in anticipation. Oh dear, oh dear… However could she withstand such a thing? Her face grew so hot she feared she would burst into flame and set the pillows alight.

And then he was there, his licking tongue swiping between her cleft and making her gasp and twist. His arms came up to curl about her thighs, holding her in place as he pressed his face closer and groaned with apparent pleasure at her wetness there, lapping it up with enthusiastic swirls of his tongue.

She would never be able to look him in the face again, she thought faintly. A gently reared maiden should swoon with horror at such treatment. Not dig their heels in the bed and bite their lip to stop from whining. Oh God, what was he doing to her?

Gracie must have been right about the aristocracy having a taste for perversions. How could he? How…how…could…he? And so enthusiastically too! It was indecent. Suddenly, instead of licking, it felt like he was running the slope of his nose along her aching cleft. His nose was nudging something that made Caroline let out a stifled cry.

Then he sucked it into his mouth.

Caroline yelled until she was hoarse, her head thrashing about on the pillow, but Gervaise did not relent or show her any mercy. Instead, his firm grasp kept her exactly where he wanted her, his voracious mouth sucking and licking, until finally the storm broke over her and she lay limp and sated against the pillows, her heart pounding against her ribs.

What in heaven’s name had he done to her?

When he emerged from under her nightgown, he was breathing just as hard as she. “Ambrosia is rather a good name for you,” he said throatily, “though I am a little put out that Bailey should have thought of it.”

“Is it?” she uttered faintly.

“Yes, for you taste divine.”

She caught her breath at this outlandish compliment and then next thing she knew, he was on top of her again, grabbing the back of her knee and pulling it up, so she cradled his hips more securely.

“Your nightgown stays on,” he panted, giving her hem a tug so her leg was still decently covered. “But I need this.” She nodded, even though she had no clue what he was referring to. She felt entirely dazed and euphoric. “Yes?” he asked sharply.

“Yes, yes, whatever you want,” she assured him.

He lowered his brow to touch her own. “For fuck’s sake, don’t say things like that, Caroline,” he implored in a pained voice. “If you knew how tempted I am right now—” His throat seemed to close on his words, and she reached up to pat his head soothingly.

Abruptly, Gervaise dropped his weight on her, starting to grind his hips against hers at a brisk pace, his breathing ragged and uneven. “Fuck,” he wheezed, and Caroline gazed dreamily where she guessed his face must be.

The press of his manhood was insistent and his intent unmistakable even to someone as inexperienced as herself. She knew what act he was mimicking right now. One of Delia Pebmarsh’s spaniels was forever trying to hump the squire’s leg.

Suddenly, she wished she could see his face. He could not possibly look his urbane self in this moment, while he desperately rubbed his engorged manhood against her for relief. The guttural grunts his thrusts were punctuated by painted an altogether different picture and she desperately longed to see it.

After an invigorating bout of this rude treatment, he stiffened above her, letting out a low, shaken groan, then slumped atop of her. Caroline passed her arms about him, stroking his back and feeling serene, despite the damp spot spreading over her stomach. She was not sure how much time passed before he spoke.

“The nightgown’s going to have to come off after all,” he said regretfully. “I’ve made a mess of it.” She was a million miles away. “Caroline?” he prompted when she did not speak.

“Mmmm? Oh yes, I do not care.”