Page 49 of A Lady Most Wayward
Olivia’s snort of laughter broke some of the tension pulling tight between them. ‘My pleasure was never his concern.’
‘It is mine, tonight.’ The thrill of showing Olivia what her body could feel both humbled and aroused Philippa. ‘Your pleasure is my singular concern.’
Olivia froze with her skirts just cresting her thighs.
That won’t do.
Philippa held Olivia’s gaze. ‘Your skirts, I want them around your waist.’
‘So demanding, Duchess.’ But Olivia complied.
She couldn’t stop herself from tracing her fingers up Olivia’s shapely calf, toying with the ribbon before she rubbed her thumb in a rhythmic circle on the inside of Olivia’s knee. She kept her eyes on Olivia’s face, drawing out the moment before she let her gaze fall.
Olivia’s maidenhair was dark gold, hiding pink lips glistening with the evidence of her desire. Philippa’s mouth watered for a single taste. ‘Perfect everywhere. I can’t decide if I’m envious or enamoured.’
‘Would it be too bold of me to hope for both?’
The comment caught Philippa off guard. She smiled. Not a calculated stretch of her lips, nor a sharp curl of her mouth designed to expose her teeth like fangs, but a genuine expression of surprised mirth. ‘Are you not always bold? You swan onto any dance floor in the beau monde with as much confidence as the Queen.’
Olivia shrugged, the movement doing fascinating things to her breasts. She looked at Philippa’s eyebrows instead of meeting her gaze. ‘When it doesn’t matter, it’s easy to pretend.’
‘Ah.’
But this matters.
And that revelation was far too complicated to examine. Philippa had been grieving Liza for so long, she’d long ago accepted that the remainder of her life would be spent in solitude. The danger inherent in starting a love affair with another woman hardly seemed worth the effort when her heart would never be involved, and taking a new husband was never an option.
But then she met Olivia.
Somewhere along the way, mayhap it began on a storm-tossed cliff above the Cornish sea, her long-accepted future fate, which had been so clear, became opaque. It was a problem she couldn’t untangle now with the distraction of Olivia’s luscious body laid out before her. Philippa focused instead on discovering Olivia’s pleasure and spinning it out until they both shattered. Because that was something she could control.
Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss just above Olivia’s knee. ‘I remember the first time I saw you. At Lord Renquist’s ball. You wore a white gown with purple feathers.’
‘You remember that night?’
Philippa gently pulled Olivia’s legs further apart. Her thumb grazed higher on the delicate skin of Olivia’s inner thigh. The woman jerked, pulling her legs together and caging Philippa between them for a moment before she relaxed.
‘I remember everything about you. Your skin glowed. You were laughing at something someone said, and I nearly lost my breath.’
‘I thought you hated me from the start.’
Sliding both hands higher up Olivia’s legs, Philippa hunkered down between them and swiped her tongue where Olivia’s hip jutted out. She was a cat lapping cream. Olivia cried out, shifting her pelvis, making more space for Philippa’s body.
‘I hated how quickly I lost control of my desires. I hadn’t felt that way about another woman in too long to remember. But I’ve discovered the perfect revenge.’ Philippa sucked hard enough to leave a love bite high on Olivia’s inner thigh. The feeling of triumph, knowing Olivia would see evidence of what she did to her for days to come, shocked Philippa. But not enough to stop her as she turned her head to give equal attention to Olivia’s right leg.
‘Dare I ask?’ Olivia threw her head back, eyes closed as her breasts quivered with every laboured breath.
Accepting the unspoken invitation, Philippa reached up and squeezed the firm, hot flesh. When she pinched Olivia’s nipple and rolled it between her fingers, the woman’s body tightened like a sail in the wind. Olivia pressed a hand over her own mouth, muffling her cry.
Before she answered Olivia’s question, Philippa blew on her core, watching as pink petals parted like a flower opening for the sun. ‘Making you want me as much as I want you. When this is over, you’ll never feel pleasure without thinking of me.’ She nuzzled into Olivia’s maidenhair before swiping her tongue between Olivia’s lips. A rush of sweet liquid heat burst on her palate.
‘You are a tyrant, Philippa.’ Olivia gasped.
‘And you are a siren singing me into the depths.’ Philippa let her words vibrate over Olivia’s slick inner flesh before she licked again, savouring the salty tang. She nudged and nibbled, sucked and plunged, teased and tormented, toying with the tight bud of need as it swelled, but never lingering long enough to grant Olivia satisfaction. Each time she brought her close to the edge, she retreated.
But Olivia didn’t suffer alone. Philippa’s clitoris pulsed with every heartbeat, screaming for pressure and friction. Her nipples tingled, demanding the same attention Philippa had lavished on Olivia. Pressing her legs together tightly, she was tempted to slip her hand from where it kneaded Olivia’s luscious arse and rub herself to climax. But she couldn’t let Olivia go. Instead, she accepted the ache as she focused on her mission.
Slipping her hand down Olivia’s sweet hollows and soft curves, she slipped a finger into the tight channel, then another as her tongue danced circles over Olivia’s bud. Soft, hard, tight, sweet. When she pushed her third finger in and curled them upward, coaxing Olivia’s climax closer while sucking the sweet cluster of nerves at her centre, Olivia screamed again, her hand not able to contain the hoarse explosion. Satisfaction and something else filled Philippa. Something soft and warm and soothing, like honey on a ravaged throat.
