Page 38 of Empowered By the Earl (Second Sons of London 3)

“He would want to raise your hem. Skim his hand along your leg. Move to your core. Push his fingers inside you.”

She looked utterly confused. Shaking her head back and forth, she asked, “What?”

His blood heated.

“I’ll show you,” he growled.

He dropped to the settee, his mouth slamming against hers, kissing her hard and deep. He kissed her until she had to be senseless and then he let his lips trail down her throat to the sweet, tempting curve he had longed to taste. Owen allowed his tongue to travel along the curve of her breast, hearing her sharp intake of breath. Then his fingers pushed down her gown and slipped inside her corset, cupping her breast and freeing it. He licked the nipple and then blew on it, feeling her shiver. His mouth went to her, sucking hard, drawing as much of her breast into his mouth as he could.

Her fingers pushed into his hair, holding him against her as he sucked and laved. She began to squirm beneath him and he flicked his tongue back and forth over her nipple before softly capturing its tip between his teeth.

“Owen!” she cried.

He lifted his head and slipped her breast back into the prison of her corset. His gaze held hers as his fingers reached the bottom of her hem and slid up her stockinged leg. They went higher and higher until they brushed against the seam of her sex.

Louisa gasped, her eyes widening.

“This is where a man desires to put his fingers,” he said, his eyes steady on hers as he moved his hand back and forth. She was already wet and he knew she wanted him without even knowing it.

He parted her folds and gradually pushed a finger inside her. Her eyes loomed large as she bit her bottom lip and whimpered as he began to intimately stroke her.

“If you were seen with a man doing this, you would be ruined,” he said softly.

She nodded, trembling, and he slipped a second finger inside her. She began to move her hips, meeting him, her eyes still captive to his. Owen increased the speed and pushed deeper, stroking her as she began to whimper.

“You feel a pressure building now, don’t you” he asked.

She nodded, her eyes now glassy.

“Soon, it will crest and spill over. You will let it, do you hear me?”

She nodded again, words apparently beyond her.

Owen continued to touch her intimately, enjoying the catch in her throat, the little noises of submission, the frantic look in her eyes. Then he sensed her on the brink of orgasm and stroked her a final time.

Suddenly, a cry erupted from her and she moved violently against his fingers, spasming and bucking, tears streaming down her face.

“Ride it, Louisa,” he ordered. “Wring all the pleasure you can from it.”

She did as he said and finally calmed, collapsing, gulping air. He slipped his fingers from her and licked them, watching the surprise in her eyes.

He took hold of her shoulders and pulled her close. “That is what too much kissing can lead to.”

“What was that?” she asked in wonder.

“It is called an orgasm. The French call itla petite mort—the little death.”

“It is incredible,” she exclaimed.

“It can also occur when you couple with a man,” he explained. “When he uses his cock to thrust in and out of you. Or his tongue.”

“His tongue?” she squeaked.

Owen stroked her cheek. “There are many mysteries between a man and a woman. You will discover these when you wed. But take care, Louisa. You don’t want to kiss a man the way you kissed me before you are wed because it can lead to you losing your virginity before your vows are spoken.”

Panic filled her face. “Am I no longer a virgin? Because we did that?”

He laughed. “You still are, my sweet. But you never want anyone to catch you doing that or it will certainly mean a ring on your finger and marriage to the man you are doing it with.”

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