Enticing the Earl (8 page)

“Would you tease me, my dear? I must have the same privilege.” And he, too, ran his hands lightly over her shoulders, but as the thin fabric of the shift was in his way, he moved swiftly to lift it over her head and, as she gasped, pulled it off to toss casually aside. Before she could protest he pulled her closer and allowed her naked upper body to meet his own.

The shock of bare skin touching bare skin sent waves of sensation through her as her softer malleable breasts pressed against the firmness of his chest. For a moment Lauryn stared wide-eyed at him. She didn't know whether to protest or—no, how could she protest? This is why you are here, you ninny, she told herself.

And anyhow, it felt so delicious. She shut her eyes for a moment and delighted in the touch of his solid body against her own, then opened them again when yet another incredible sensation shot spasms of delight through her. He had bent to kiss the tender skin of her neck, just where it met her shoulder, and she trembled from the joy of it.

“Oh, it's heaven,” she whispered. She shook from the intensity of the feelings until he had to hold her steady, his hands on both her shoulders. He kissed her again, his lips warm against the sensitive skin, while she stroked his shoulders and back, pulling him as close to her as she could, not wanting to lose any contact, any moment of this wonderful closeness. Already, she was longing for more, for anything, for everything that they could possibly share.

“Do you really want all these damned clothes?” he paused long enough to mutter into her ear. She shook her head. Otherwise, only an incoherent sound answered him—words were fleeing rapidly from her mind, only sensations and raw hunger seemed to be left.

It had been so long….

She reached down to untie the drawstring at her waist and pushed down the cotton drawers, letting them fall to the floor and kicking them out of the way.

To her relief, as she really didn't know how they fastened, she saw that while she did so, he had slipped out of his pantaloons and now was drawing off the rest of his garments. She looked about her for a chair so that she could take off her stockings, the only bit of her clothing that remained.

“No, no, allow me,” he said, flashing a roguish grin.

He led her to a chaise longue and she sat, then put up one leg, and he ran his fingers along the calf until she shivered from the light touch. Then he untied the blue garter and unrolled the stocking, inch by inch, kissing each square of skin as it was revealed. It was an exquisite sort of torture, and Lauryn caught her breath, sitting still with great difficulty. She wanted to move as he kissed her legs, and now she did want to moan, genuine heartfelt moans, and she had to bite her lip to hold them back. When he reached her toes, taking each one between his lips to tease it with his tongue, she didn't know whether to giggle or moan—such amazing feelings he could induce! It had never occurred to her that one's feet could have sensitive feelings.

Already she was ripe for lovemaking—
hell
, Lauryn thought. How long had it been—how many months had it been since she had had a man in her bed?

The earl could have swung a dead cat at her, and she would have been ready!

He was starting the same routine on her other leg, and this time Lauryn knew she was hardly going to be able to maintain any sort of ladylike pretense. Of course, he did not think her a lady, so did it matter?

“Oh, my lord,” she murmured, as he kissed her calf, hardly halfway down. “I must have you!”

“Patience, my lamb,” he murmured back. “We have so many delightful games to play. I would not cheat you out of your delights by rushing you into bed.”

“You are not cheating me!” she assured him. It hardly helped that he was now naked, and she could observe what a fine specimen of manhood he was, and that he was plainly ready for the main event, himself. He had remarkable patience, she thought. Well, just now, she had not!

The fact that she ached, longed, pined for him, that she had waited so long for completion that she was almost mad with longing was something she could not explain, so how—

She couldn't bear it!

With an ache inside her so intense it was like a pain, Lauryn watched as the earl slipped off her second stocking and lifted her foot to his mouth. No, toes were not enough. She pulled her foot back, and saw his look of surprise.

“It's my turn, my lord,” she told him.

Taking his hand—as well as advantage of his moment of surprise—she pulled him toward her and put her arm around his neck, drawing his mouth to hers. She kissed him as hard and as long as she could, all the while dragging him toward her and twisting both their bodies back against the chaise lounge.

Using his heavier weight to her advantage, they fell backwards together. Since they were both naked, she was able to push herself against his torso until she found the right position and could slide down upon his firm, erect shaft.

Gasping at the new/old feeling, she felt his whole body stiffen for a moment, then his hands gripped her shoulders once more and he pulled her even closer.

“You little vixen!” he said against her mouth, and then they were pounding flesh to flesh, and the glorious rhythm that she had been so long absent from encompassed her. He was a large man, and he filled her so wonderfully, gloriously. And he knew what to do with what he had. He shifted position just slightly, put his hands on her hips and allowed her to sit up a bit. And he rubbed her tender folds just in front of where he entered her, and the resulting wave of pleasure startled her so with its intensity that she almost lost her grip. Good heavens!

She had never felt such delight!

He paused for a moment.

“Should I stop?”

“No, no,” she said, her voice wobbling. “No, indeed.”

Dark eyes twinkling, he grinned. She rolled her hips and eased again into the pounding rhythm of the greatest game of all, slowly at first, and then, as waves of pleasure swept through her—and judging by the expression of his face, also through the earl—more rapidly. The joy was so strong—how had she forgotten how good it could be?

She and her husband—no, don't think of Robert just now! But she had never made love in this position before, and she was astonished at how deep he could go when she sat atop him. The pleasure was so deep and so real. He seemed to reach so far inside her that with each pounding stroke he went farther and farther into her deepest core, and each stroke brought a greater pleasure, an ecstacy so deep and so high it was almost pain, yet at the same time never painful. It was joy at its highest and most pure, and she had never felt this before in her life.

And that brought a shadow with it she could not examine now—she pushed it aside so that the moment was not darkened and tried to focus only on feeling, not thinking, never thinking. The feelings were so deep, so joyous, and it went on and on and, dear God, if they could only do this forever.

The sensations were everything, reaching inside her to her deepest core, then turning her inside out and spiraling up and up into spinning circles of pure joy, lifting her outward, spilling them both into rising fountains of pleasure, dropping them when she spasmed with him into an ocean of delight. Surely he must feel it, too.

And at last she spun into breathless completion, making wordless sounds that she did not recognize, as she had not recognized so much about this journey, this shocking journey into new and uncharted territory, all of which she had been so complacently sure she would know.

Still sitting atop the earl, Lauryn wavered and might have fallen if he had not pulled her down into his arms. She lay for a moment with her eyes shut. She was exhausted, and also a little abashed to look him in the eyes—was he angry at her most unladylike performance?

She was both surprised and relieved when she felt a light kiss on her forehead. She blinked and opened her eyes to see him regarding her with a smile.

“Shall I always expect to be attacked on the chaise longue?” His tone was mild.

She could not keep from blushing. “No, no indeed, my lord. It was just—”

“Yes?” He watched her, and she could not think of anything that would serve, except perhaps the truth.

“It had been a long time,” she said simply, then thought belatedly to add, “and you are a most handsome man.”

He laughed aloud, and she wished she had said the last part first. But when he looked back at her, his dark eyes were still merry.

“I have no complaints, my dear. You may attack me, anytime.”

She smiled back, although she suspected her color was still high.

He put one hand gently to cup her cheek, and she felt a sudden strong sense of déjà vu. A searing wave of guilt and betrayal cut through her, as painful as a rusty sword.

Without any warning, she sat up.

He looked at her in surprise. “Is anything wrong?”

She shook her head, but she could not meet his eyes. “No, not at all—it was all most wonderful.” But she heard the formality of her tone. “But I think–I think I will go back to my own room, now, if you do not mind.”

His smile had faded, and he gazed up at her with a penetrating gaze. “Did I offend you in some way, Mrs. Smith?”

“Of course not, it was a most felicitous encounter,” she said, but still she could not meet his too candid stare. “But it has been a long day, and I am most fatigued.”

“A few minutes ago, I would never have guessed,” he said, his tone dry. “But I will not keep you if you wish to retire.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said, hearing the formal words come out of her mouth as if she were some other person, some prim governess, and she herself, the real Lauryn, were far away, in a distant corner, weeping away the pain.

Why had her brief intense happiness flown? She could not think about it here, or she would weep for real, and he would see—

She pulled her wildly spinning thoughts back to the moment so that she could stand up, pull her shift over her head, try to get into her gown, and achieve enough of a respectable appearance to get down the hall in case any of the servants, or—worse, one of the other guests—should see her.

The earl rose and helped her dress hastily and then she dropped him a brief curtsy, gave a murmured good-night, the formalities absurd after their tumultuous love scene, and then hurried from the room.

To her intense gratitude, she saw no one in the hallway. She almost ran to her own chamber, which also, mercifully, revealed no maidservant waiting—perhaps they had not expected her to return here tonight? At any rate, she was only partially done up, and she would manage to undress herself, though she had to pull loose a couple of buttons to do it, and she had not bothered to put her corset back on just to traverse the hallway.

When she had shed her lovely new dress and pulled on a nightgown, she snuffed the candles and crawled into bed, wanting the darkness to hide her so that at last she could allow the tears to fall unchecked.

What kind of awful person was she?

She had made love to a virtual stranger.

She had known, of course, that this would be a big part of the deal she had made when she decided to pose as a courtesan. It was to redeem the squire's lost land, she reminded herself—that virtuous goal seemed made long long ago. And she had thought, then, that allowing herself to be wild and wicked for a time would not be so awful, when she had been virtuous and proper all her life. But still—

She had not expected to enjoy it so
much
!

Love with the Earl of Sutton had been joyous, had been heaven, had been beyond–beyond anything she had known before with her sweet, boyish, dead husband.

And admitting that made her feel so very guilty…so very disloyal.

So the tears came, as she wondered why—how she could be such a dreadful person—and Lauryn beat the linen counter-pane and the down pillows with her fist and wept even harder.

She slept little that night. The next morning, she woke to
hear a light tap on the door. She opened one eye and found she had a pounding headache.

“Who is it?” she called, her voice hoarse.

“I have your 'ot water, ma'am, with tea and some breakfast, if ye do't wish to come down.”

“I'm not hungry, go away,” Lauryn said, and shut her eyes again.

She dozed again, but presently through her sleepy stupor intruded the sound of louder knocking, more determined this time. Lauryn groaned. The thumping did not help her painful headache.

“I said to go away!”

“It is
moi
, not the servants, and I do not go the vay, so you may as vell open ze door,” came a voice unmistakably the contessa's.

Oh, hell.
She would probably stand there and make noise all day, Lauryn thought. What in heaven did she want?

With immense reluctance, Lauryn pushed herself up from the bed, blinked against the sunlight slipping past the drawn curtains, and stumbled over to the door, turning the lock and allowing the woman to come in.