Page 31 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“A smaller wedding it is. I suppose the families will be disappointed with the lack of fanfare.”
The sigh he expelled, the telling anthem of a long-suffering male trying to please his woman, was enough to make her grit her teeth. “I think we should forget all about marrying one another. To become leg shackled to a man who can drive me insane with just a few words does not sound like marital bliss.”
“Only because your thinking is too linear, my sweet innocent.” He offered her the parasol. When she automatically reached for it, he tugged, pulling her out of her seat and into his lap. “There are many levels of driving one insane, and I would like to have the freedom to explore each arousing level with you.”
She struggled, feeling too vulnerable sitting in his lap. No man had ever been as bold. He did not use force to keep her in place. Instead, his mouth settled over hers, the shock of the electrifying contact stilled her attempts at escape. Sensing her surrender, Rayne pulled her so close she was certain he could feel the firm contours of her stays against his chest.
“Tilt your head to the side,” he mumbled as he nibbled her lower lip, then moved on to the right side of her jaw.
Her experience with kisses was limited, and it never involved the mind-numbing embraces that Rayne seemed to prefer. Frowning, Devona wondered how many women he had to kiss to achieve such a mouth-devouring talent. The thought was disturbing enough to have her start to pull back.
“Stop thinking.”
Using a light touch, he tilted her head himself. She looked up, noting his eyes had a pewter glow to them. His gaze followed his finger as it moved up her jaw, halting at the yellow ribbons that secured her bonnet. She saw the intent in that smoldering gaze before he acted. A quick tug and the bow under her chin unraveled. Her hands flew up to prevent him from removing her bonnet, but she was grabbing air.
“Rayne!”
The bonnet landed on the opposing bench. “Such delicate ears,” he marveled, using both hands to trace the intriguing contours. She shuddered at his touch. It was all the encouragement he needed. Threading his fingers into the intricate twist of her bound hair, he pulled her mouth to his, sinking them both into a deep kiss.
Such skill, she mused, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his warm lips on hers. Not certain of the proper etiquette when one was caught up in a torrid embrace, Devona clutched the light wool fabric of his coat. She dearly wished she were as daring as everyone credited. It would have been quite wonderful to have removed her gloves and touched his face, to test the firmness of his lips with her fingertips.
If Rayne had been aware of her thoughts, he would have heartily approved. It was enough that she was allowing him to cradle her on his lap. The fact that she was kissing him back with guileless enthusiasm made him want to show her all the pleasures the sharing of their bodies could provide.
Slow down. Nothing worth keeping should be taken carelessly.
Even as the warning flashed in his fevered brain, he could not stop himself from slipping his right hand from her arm to her knee. The carriage dipped a wheel into a rut, and his roaming hand boldly plunged under the yards of skirt to caress her dainty ankle. Another tug of a ribbon and her slipper dropped to the floor. She laughed, unexpected and hysterical when he stroked his fingertips from her silk-sheathed toes to her heel.
“No one touches my feet,” she declared in imperious tones, and then he ruined the effect by touching her feet and making her giggle again. “You brute. I would slay my brothers for less.” She squirmed to kick her foot free from his merciless attack.
He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. Her hair was disheveled, her lips puffy from his ravenous attention, and her eyes dewy and wide from their shocking exploration. It made him want her more. “It will not do for you to think of me as an irritating brother. Perhaps I can think of something else to discourage that line of thinking.”
Rayne kissed whatever argument was about to form on her lovely full lips. His hand moved from her ankle to her knee again, but this time the silk he stroked was her warm, enticing skin.
“This is not very proper,” Devona said, gasping when he inched higher to her thigh.
“What is proper for society and what is proper for us are entirely different matters.” His fingers slipped within the slit of her linen undergarments, persistent, seeking, until he touched the satin curls between her legs. “You like the feel of my mouth on yours, do you not, my heart?” To prove his point, he brushed a kiss against her pouting lips, which he was beginning to crave as much as his next breath. “There are other ways to give each other pleasure. For instance—” Rayne delved deeper in the small nest of curls and was rewarded with the sweet honey of her response.
Devona sucked in her breath; a small sound escaped her well-kissed lips. “I do not— This is not— Oh, Rayne!” Her hands reached up to his head, knocking his hat off with the gesture. Gloved fingers became tangled in the tied queue, and in her eagerness to explore she gave a handful of hair a hard tug.
“Ow.”
“Sorry,” she murmured automatically, not particularly aware of the action for which she was actually apologizing. She was too caught up in the sensations his mouth and hands were creating.
Rayne did not know how long he could endure the torment. The longer he held her, touched her, kissed her senseless, the more he desired her. His erect cock pressing against the confines of his tight breeches was a constant reminder of how much he wanted to remove his hand from beneath her skirts and bury himself deep into her welcoming warmth. Using his thumb, he caressed the blooming bud of her arousal. The small circular motions made her squirm on his lap. He was not sure if she was attempting to draw closer or evade until she moaned. The low, begging sound of unfulfilled desire had him teetering over the edge of self-control more than anything before this.
“This is just a taste of what we could explore together.” He kissed her closed eyelids before pulling her tighter to him so that his mouth was close to her ear. “I could replace my hands with my mouth.” He noticed his breath was synchronized with hers, quick pants leading them to the razor edge of culmination. “After I have tasted the sweet dew of your passion with my tongue… m-my teeth.” Inspired, she sank her teeth into his earlobe. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from abruptly releasing his seed.
Whatever he was about to say faded at the look of wonder on Devona’s face. “I feel so strange. Stop. No, wait! Oh, my God!” He kissed her deeply to muffle the scream that would have certainly been heard in a half-mile radius. She bucked against the unbridled tempest of her release. Locked in a tight embrace, he held her, the knowledge that he was the first man to ever show her such pleasures giving him a fierce satisfaction.
Devona buried her face into the fabric of his coat. She looked sleepy and exhilarated all in the same moment. “So that is what married couples do,” she murmured. Rayne placed a comforting kiss on the side of her head. “I do not see what the big fuss is about. I found the entire affair quite thrilling.” She frowned, her brows drawing up in a manner he thought adorable. “Maybe that is the problem. If all ladies knew how wonderful this was, then we all would spend our times dallying out in the gardens and carriages instead of sipping warm lemonade at a ball.”
The vibration of his silent laughter had her drawing back in question. She was so good for him. He had been feeling battered after his last meeting with Brogden. Cutting off a man’s leg tended to make him not inclined to feel friendly, even if he had once considered you a friend. Devona’s joy of life was like fresh water sinking into the barren dryness of his soul. “Before you start your own enlightenment movement for young ladies, I must confess there is more to the marriage bed than what you have just experienced.”
“You jest!”
“A humble prelude,” he said, trying to swallow the smile that threatened at her disbelief. He did not want her to think he was mocking her. It was just the opposite. His heart and a major part of his pride swelled at her notion that there could be no more beyond their initial pleasuring.
“Oh.” She paused. “Then there is no fear of me breeding?”
He did not even want to dwell on the emotions that surged at the thought of her becoming plump with their child. In his present, unsatisfied condition, he would have sold his soul to make the possibility an absolute fact. He took her small hand into his own, accepting the simple comfort her closeness offered. “You need to take me inside you to make a child. Has no one ever explained this to you?” He realized at her blush what a dolt he was. Of course not! Gently reared ladies did not sip tea and nibble on biscuits while they discussed their lustful rendezvous. What was more amazing was that she had allowed him to touch her at all!
“N-no. Not exactly.” She appeared to be shamed by the admission.
“Don’t. You slice me in two with that expression.” Rayne held her face between his rough palms. “I have spent so much time in rough company that I have forgotten how to act like a gentleman. Devona, I treasure the combination of spirit and sweet innocence. It shapes what you are. Forgive me for my crudeness?” He would never beg forgiveness for touching her. If he had his way, he would be doing more than that soon.
She leaned forward to kiss him on the lips. The carriage dipped to one side and her lips landed on his chin. “You have been rude, stubborn, and high-handed.” She kissed the insult away when he opened his mouth to protest. “You have also been kindhearted, generous, and have saved my life. A crude man? Never, my lord.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. The quiet action was telling. It meant that she trusted him. At least Rayne hoped his assessment was more than wishful thinking. In more ways than she could guess, Devona needed him. He was willing to save her childhood love, ignore Brock’s challenges and her calculating father’s disapproval. He would even endure the title of Viscount Tipton and all the burdens the rank implied, if it meant that he could keep her willingly by his side. Then again, he was just greedy enough to keep her even if she was unwilling. A determined man was a formidable one.
