Page 49 of A Woman of Passion

Her eyes dropped to the bulge between his legs. “You devil!”

He held her fast as she struggled to escape. “I'm teasing you, sweetheart. It's right here.” He reached inside his shirt and placed a small velvet box in her hand.

Bess lifted the lid and gasped with delight. It was a ring set with a large amethyst surrounded by diamonds. “Oh, it's the most precious thing I've ever owned. William, I don't know what to say.”

He slipped the ring onto her middle finger. “Then say it with kisses.” He eased her back against the cushions and came over her in the dominant position. Bess offered up her mouth to him, letting him take what he wanted, what she wanted. She had no idea that his kisses would arouse an insatiable hunger in herself that must be quenched.

He unfastened the tiny busk she wore to cup and mold her breasts, and they spilled into his hands like ripe little melons. “Tell me these belong to me and no other man!” he demanded. His hot mouth laved the upper curves with kisses, then his tongue came out to lick and tease the rose-pink tips until they grew erect.

Bess loved the strange but deeply pleasurable sensations that suffused her body. His powerful hands and mouth made her wild with desire. Her passion began to mount so quickly, it alarmed her. As his fingers went to her waist to undo the tapes of her petticoat, she clutched at his hands to stay them before he stripped her naked. “I don't want to be nude!”

Her gasps told him that indeed she did, so long as he took all the responsibility. “You won't be nude; I'll let you keep on your stockings for propriety's sake.”

Bess couldn't contain her mirth at the absurdity of his words, but when she lay before him clad only in heliotrope lace stockings that bared her creamy thighs and exposed her high mons topped with red-gold curls, the intense anticipation of what he would do to her banished her laughter.

His dark eyes licked over her flesh like a candle flame. “You have no idea how many times I've pictured you like this, but you are even lovelier than I dreamed.” He looked at her with such adoration, he knew it would make her feel both beautiful and highly excited. When he finally reached out to touch the red curls, Bess gasped, “No!”

His fingers paused above her mons. “Yes!” he insisted, though his hand was not yet touching her. “Nature gave you a voluptuous body, Bess. I want you to enjoy it.” His hand descended upon her and he held it there, giving her a chance to get used to his touch. Then he slowly pressed a fingertip against her woman's center.

Bess cried out, arching her back, inviting yet denying his bold advances.

He encouraged her, “Cry out your passion, sweetheart; it will give us both pleasure. I'm going to stroke you until your bud unfurls its petals. I'm going to make you bloom like a flower drenched with dew.”

His words lured her in to taking the first tentative steps that would initiate her into the mystical, sensual rites of womanhood. His fingertip made slow circles around her sensitive flesh until it became moist. “I feel it pouting like a sulky child demanding more,” he whispered.

Bess made little inarticulate cries as her pleasure mounted. Heat leapt from his fingertip, scalding her with a brand of excitement she'd never experienced before. Sensations like threads of fire spread up into her belly, and her breasts tingled deliciously.

“Hold your bud tightly closed until it's ready to burst open,” he instructed, leaning forward and putting his mouth close to her ear.

The intimacy of his touching her on such a forbidden part of her body made her feel most wanton, yet incredibly she didn't want him to stop. Reclining before him with her legs apart rendered her completely vulnerable to his demands, yet she felt wickedly insatiable. Bess moaned and writhed as the threads of fire tightened. She gripped his free hand and brought it to her mouth, kissing then sucking on his fingers.

Suddenly, she felt her taut bud erupt, and then she felt herself bloom, unfurling hotly, darkly. Her woman's center felt as exotic as an orchid, drenched with diamond drops of dew. Bess cried out and bit his hand in a little frenzy of passion.

When his fingers felt her wetness, he gently slid one up inside her and, unbelievably, he encountered the barrier of her hymen. “My darling girl, you were telling me the truth!” William was stunned, then joy rose up in him, filling his heart with the fiercest love he had ever known.

Bess was enthralled with the erotic reaction of her body. It seemed inconceivable that a man's touch could bring such exquisite pleasure. “I was woefully ignorant,” she murmured in wonder.

Cavendish enfolded her in his arms. “I want you to learn all your carnal knowledge from me.” He'd never wanted to possess anyone or anything as much as he wanted Bess, but his craving was tempered by an overwhelming desire to protect her. He knew that she had crossed a vitally important threshold by allowing him to touch her intimately and bring her sexual pleasure. It showed that she was willing to put her trust in him. Not completely, of course, not yet, but enough to allow her strong sex drive to overcome her natural caution.

Shrewdly, he knew he must not abuse that trust. He could not unleash the savage desire that had ridden him so long. He must exercise an iron self-control over his fierce hunger to ravish her and instead concentrate on giving her the pleasure without risk that he had promised.

He cupped her face in his hands and brought her mouth up to his. “You are so lovely, you stop the breath in my throat and slow the blood in my veins.” He kissed her with great reverence, showing her how precious she was to him. Then he deepened the kiss and began to arouse her with his tongue.

Bess couldn't get enough of his kisses. His mouth was by turns soft and coaxing, then hard and demanding. She gave him back kiss for kiss, matching his ardor, yielding to his ravishing, which unleashed a ferocity that was both wild and sensual.

His powerful hands stroked down the length of her back, then up again, slipping around to caress her full, luscious breasts. “Let me show you what you look like in your amethysts and lace stockings.”

Bess had forgotten she was still wearing them, and when he carried her to the mirror and placed her before it, she was shocked at her reflection. Her flaming hair was wildly disheveled, and she had never seen her naked breasts adorned with amethysts as if they belonged to some pagan goddess. The heliotrope stockings contrasted so vividly with her pale thighs and blazing mons that Bess blushed at the erotic vision staring back at her from the mirror.

She gasped as he went down on his knees before her, cupped her bare bottom with his hands, and brought her close to his mouth. He covered her creamy thighs with kisses, then blew softly upon her curls to separate them. The tip of his tongue unerringly found the bud at the top of her cleft, and he began to make love to her with his mouth.

Before Bess could protest, she became highly aroused and stared mesmerized into the mirror. She watched her fingers thread through his hair to hold his head to her hot center and saw her body arch with the unbelievable pleasure he gave her. A deep, sultry laugh escaped from her lips as she remembered what Frances had said. Unbelievably, Rogue's head was between her legs!

Bess cried his name over and over when she reached climax. She was unable to stand and slid down on her knees, sagged into his arms, and buried her face against his chest. When the room stopped spinning, she drew back and looked into his eyes.

“Am I very wicked?” she whispered.

“Bess, my darling, you are the most innocent yet the most passionate woman I have ever known.”

A shocking thought suddenly struck her: This is what the princess was talking about. My God, this is what the admiral is doing with Elizabeth!

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