Page 17 of The Wager of a Lady
“I’m merely fulfilling my obligation,” she whispered. “I wagered and lost. It isn’t necessary for you to seduce me. Had you truly wanted to, Leo, you could have accomplished it some time ago.”
“This isn’t about a bloody wager, Georgie.” His hands moved to grasp the edge of her dress. One sharp tug and she was left standing in only her chemise and petticoats, the wool falling to crumple around her knees.
He tugged at her waist, plucking at the strings of her petticoats until those too fell to the floor. Pausing, he nuzzled the side of her neck, his hands trailing up and down her arms.
“Step out.” The words were rough.
She lifted her foot over the pile of her clothing clad only in chemise, stockings, and a pair of slippers.
His hands brushed across the back of her shoulders to her chemise, fingers grazing along the thin material as he pulled it from her body. Big hands stretched over her stomach, the callouses on his palm rasping against her skin before returning again to her breasts. His thumbs brushed with agonizing slowness over each nipple, teasing with a light touch until the peaks were aching and sensitive. Her breath caught as he rolled and squeezed one nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“I think you’re wet, Georgie. Ready to take me. Because of howtawdrythis entire seduction is.”
Her knees buckled, struck by the snapping of his words against her ear.
One hand continued to toy with her breast as the other— dear god the other—moved lower, those graceful fingers tangling in the nest of curls between her thighs. One finger eased along her slit, exploring her folds lazily, purposefully avoiding the one place craving his touch. Georgina tried to push away, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“Do you ever make yourself climax, Georgie? I confess I’m curious, given you’re married to Masterson. Alone in bed at night, after a trying day spent walking in the park or shopping. I expect you no longer bother to pay calls.” His finger circled her entrance before finding its way back through her folds.
She had. After Winbow, after some of the things he’d made her feel. After he’d caressed her through her underthings, making her want something more. Georgina had tried to recreate the sensation herself but had failed.
“I hate you for this.” A small sound escaped from between her lips.
His grip on her tightened. “No, you don’t.” He kissed her cheek. “Tawdry though it may be.”
Despite forcing the issue, Leo Murphy didn’t care to be described as tawdry. And he was also correct in assuming she didn’t hate him. Shedidwant to kiss his wide mouth. Feel his naked skin against hers. She’d thought of him so often, teasing her own nipples into peaks as her fingers wandered between her thighs. What harm was there in admitting it to him?
“Yes.”
“Yes what?” He came around her, leaning over to take one of her breasts into his mouth, sucking and laving the nipple until her hands threaded into his hair.
“I have touched myself.” The words hiccupped out of her. “But nothing happened.”
The reward for her honesty was for him to get on his knees before her, one big hand stretching across her hip, holding her firmly in place. The other toyed with the ribbon of her garter, but he made no effort to discard her hose. Fingers traversed the length of one leg, drawing circles on the inside of her thigh while Georgina forced herself to stay still. The briefest of touches, like the stroke of a small brush, came closer to the spot aching for his touch.
“Like this, Georgina?” His thumb stroked around the swollen nub. “Does that feel right?”
Her hand fell on top of his, their fingers lacing together as he held her hip. “Yes.”
“Is it tawdry enough for you?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to one plump thigh.
“It was an unfortunate choice of words, Leo. I meant to say sordid.”
A soft sound came from him as his finger slid up into her folds. “I can smell your arousal, Georgina. Taste it in the air. I want it on my tongue.”
Oh God. Please.
He stood abruptly and took her chin in his big hands, kissing her slow and deep as she sagged helplessly against him.
Georgina was in a dream, her poor mind firing in so many different directions, conscious only of pleasure, shut down, entirely intoxicated with the feel of his mouth on hers. He pushed her back to the settee where she landed awkwardly, her legs splayed open.
Without any preamble, he kneeled before her, hooking her legs over his broad shoulders. She was completely exposed, her legs trembling. Her slippers were still on her feet. Should she kick them off?
“Your waistcoat is ghastly,” she murmured, falling back against the cushion.
“You aren’t afraid.” Leo’s mouth tilted into a half-smile, showing his dimple.
“No. I’m...curious,” she said honestly, jerking as he stroked gently along her slit once more with his thumb. The feather-light touch had her tightening her legs, pulling him closer to her. Her entire body, sensitive to the slightest pressure, twisted as the slow burn of pleasure traveled up her limbs. She remembered this feeling, this jagged run up a hill, but there had been nothing once she reached the top, only a vague sensation that something lingered over the horizon. And a great deal of frustration. No resolution to the building pleasure. No—
