Page 31 of Unmasking the Silver Heiress
She did not stand, for he was still seated and holding her hand. Instead, she pulled herself in a little crawl around the table and came to kneel next to him with her knees brushing his own. She was trembling slightly, her cheeks pink with anticipation.
He couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips, and rather than her mistake him for laughing at her, he leaned forward and put those lips to better use, slanting over hers as gently and carefully as he could manage.
She gave the loveliest little sound of pleasure and placed her hands tentatively on his shoulders, attempting to return the kiss by mirroring the ways he used his lips.
He chuckled, helplessly charmed by her innocent enthusiasm, and darted his tongue out to taste the sweet curve of her bottom lip. He cupped her cheek and dragged his thumb down the line of her jaw, urging her to open that willing little mouth a bit so that he might taste her tongue as well.
She seemed to enjoy this, her hands slipping forward, tracing the back of his neck. She again mimicked his own motions, curious to meet his tongue with her own. She was obviously a devoted student with a gift for quick learning.
She shifted forward, just one tug away from being in his lap, her fingers exploring the muscles of his neck and shoulders as she tested different angles for kissing and finding a new delight in each one.
He groaned, unsure how much more of this he could take, and pulled slightly back, dropping a kiss on her chin and meeting her eyes with his own.
"Nell," he said, stroking the side of her face and allowing his fingers to twine into her loose hair. "What do you know of the wedding bed?"
"I understand the mechanics, in theory," she said in a breathy voice. "And am becoming more versed on its appeal by the moment."
"I wish to bed you," he told her, aware that his voice had dropped deeper, more urgent. "Would you like that?"
She bit down on her bottom lip, the way he was finding she was wont to do when excited, and gave a quick, jerky nod. It was enough.
He pushed himself to standing and offered her his hand to draw her up as well. It was no great challenge to sweep her petite little frame from the floor, and unfathomably satisfying to hear the way she squeaked in surprise.
He knew he was going to have to keep his head. Unchecked, he imagined that he would brutalize the poor girl for a minute or less and then collapse into a relieved heap of unconsciousness for the next several days. That could not happen. She deserved so much more.
Besides, he reasoned that she would be more likely to allow him to repeat the activity if he took pains to make it bearable.
He set her gently onto the bed and trailed his fingers down the column of her throat, between her breasts, and down to the knot she had tied at her waist with the dressing gown's sash. He watched her face as he tugged the knot free, holding her eyes until he could peel the robe open, exposing her delicious little body in the fine weave of muslin and lace that he'd chosen for her.
He leaned forward to press his lips into the curve of her throat, tasting the pale flesh there while his hands explored the texture of the nightgown, dipping into the curve of her waist, enjoying the swell of her thighs and the softness of her middle. He was slow and gradual to cup her breast, wanting to draw out the anticipation, to feel he had earned its softness and weight in his hand.
She gave little gasps, some of pleasure, others of surprise. When he leaned back and peeled his shirt off over his head, she had a moment to catch her breath and perhaps to enjoy some of the anticipation he himself was feeling.
She pushed herself up to sitting, pulling her arms out of the dressing gown and tossing it onto the bedpost, her eyes wide and bright, framed by such a lovely dark fringe of lashes. She stared unabashedly at his exposed chest, at the spray of curling hair over his heart and the plane of hard muscle that led to the line of his trousers.
She extended a hand tentatively, pressing the pads of her fingers into the warm flesh beneath his collarbone, tracing her nails lightly over it, seemingly fascinated with the sensation. "I have never touched a man before," she whispered, seemingly to herself. "I have often wondered if your skin would feel like mine: soft and warm and smooth."
"And?" he asked, allowing her to explore as he stroked the strands of her hair that fell over her shoulders.
"It is lovely, but different." She spread both hands over his chest, stretching her fingers apart, tracing them back over his shoulders and down again over his ribs.
He twitched, reaching down instinctively to grasp her wrist before it could trail any farther, but not quick enough to stop his involuntary recoil.
She raised her eyes to look disbelieving into his eyes. "You are ticklish," she realized, a grin spreading over her face. "Mr. Atlas is ticklish."
"Nonsense," he whispered, unable to suppress a little smile. "I simply want your hands elsewhere."
"Oh?" she whispered, her eyes dropping to where he was leading her touch and widening as she realized his intention. "Oh!"
He released a hiss of breath, his vision seeming to darken as she allowed her sweet little hand to be pressed into his arousal. She did not flinch nor shy away, instead inching herself forward on her knees and taking it upon herself to stroke his length through the soft leather of his trousers, seemingly fascinated by this part of him.
He wrapped her hair around his hand and dragged her lips back to his, kissing her hard this time, demanding entry to her mouth rather than requesting it. With his other hand he returned to her breasts, shaping them into his palm and dragging his thumb over the tightening peaks of her nipples, delighted with the way she fed him little moans between her kisses.
He pushed the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, tasting his way down the column of her throat and into the recess between her breasts, nudging down the sagging fabric until her pert, rosy nipples sprang free, tightening into erect points as gooseflesh spread over the milky expanse of her chest.
She followed his example, yet again. If he could remove her clothing, then why not the other way around? Her fingers were nimble and efficient, jerking free the ties at his waist and pushing the unbound leather down around his hips so that she could draw him fully out into the firelight.
The sensation of her hands on his bare cock was the thing that pushed him fully into primal need. There was no waiting anymore, not until he was sated. He flicked his tongue over one of her nipples and stepped backward off the bed just long enough to peel off the last of his clothing, all the while watching her kneeling in the middle of his bed with her chest exposed, her breath coming heavy and exiting through her swollen lips.
