Page 86 of The Duelist for the Ton
“No…” she panted. “I-I’m… I mean…downthere… It’s…”
He lifted his head again and fixed his gaze on her.
“Forgive me,” she said, her cheeks warming with shame at the slickness between her thighs. “I-I didn’t mean to…”
He smiled, then licked his lips.
“Oh, Portia,” he breathed. “You have nothing to fear, and nothing to be ashamed of. Your body is only giving me a sign of your pleasure.”
“I-it’s a sign ofpleasure?”
He nodded. “Our bodies show nothing but honesty. There’s no need for words.”
“Stephen, I—”
“No, my love,” he said. “Say nothing—listen to your body. It speaks so prettily.”
He lowered his head once more then caressed her with his tongue, gently at first, then more insistently, until the tip reached that part of her where the first fizz of pleasure had ignited. As if he knew her body’s desires, he circled his tongue around it until a shock of pleasure ignited in her center, sending soft ripples through her body. She gritted her teeth, but could not temper the low groan in her throat.
He kissed her thigh once more, then lifted his head and sat up, a soft smile on his lips.
“Are you ready for me?” he whispered.
“Have we not just…”
“Oh no, my love,” he said, shaking his head. “That was the appetizer. Are you ready for the main course?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”
He fumbled at the buttons on his breeches, then his manhood sprang free. A pulse of fear threaded through her.
It’s so…sobig.
He smiled, took his length in his hand, and stroked it—almost as if in pride.
Sweet Lord. Had she just spoken aloud?
He slid his body against hers, and her stomach fluttered in delicious apprehension as she felt him, hard and hot, moving slickly against her flesh. His scent filled her senses—spicy and woody—and she drew in a sharp breath as its potency almost overwhelmed her.
“Yes, my love,” he whispered. “Can you not hear my body also, saying that he is ready for you?”
“He?”
His eyes glittered with desire. “He is here to serve you, worship you, if you’ll welcome him.”
“I…” She caught her breath, and the world shifted out of focus. “Wha… What’s happening?”
He grew still. “I have no desire for you do to anything unwillingly, Portia,” he said. “I can wait—a lifetime if I must—until you’re ready. For I fear it will hurt you.”
“H-hurt me?”
“The first time,” he said. “Only the first.”
“Did your first time hurt?”
He shook his head. “Only the woman feels pain the first time—but afterward, there will be no pain.”
She fought to dispel the images from her mind of his lying with other women. But had she really expected him to be different from other men?
