He cupped her bare breast and ran his thumb across the exposed skin. ‘Wearing powder, aren’t you?’ he whispered, close enough that his breath caressed her skin.
‘Yes—’
He bit her ear. She gasped, unable to continue her sentence or even think.
Her nipple budded against the warm centre of his palm as his fingers slid enticingly across her flesh. Her head fell back and she began to yield. After a week of flirtation she was almost surprised to finally be in his arms. Surprised and immensely grateful. If only they were somewhere more conducive to seduction than a garden.
The sudden sound of feet coming down the gravel path and a high-pitched, feminine giggle broke them apart. Dauntry pushed her deeper into the arbour, blocking any view of her with his back and shoulders. When the merry couple’s footsteps had receded into the dark, he pulled back slightly. In the dark she could just make out the wicked grin he was wearing.
A moment later he was straddling the marble bench that took up most of the space inside the arbour and she was straddling him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, searching for purchase. Her feet dangled alarmingly. One shoe slipped off as she tried to find the ground.
‘Eh-eh-eh,’ Dauntry chided, hands sliding from her waist to her hips, holding her immobile. He dipped his head and caught her nipple between his teeth, pulled on it, drew it into his mouth. Heat enveloped her. Pulsed through her. He sucked harder, rolling the flat of his tongue over the ruched tip of her breast. Bit down hard enough for her to feel all of his teeth, distinctly.
‘Stop it,’ she hissed. He was going to leave a bruise.
He took his mouth away from her breast, leaving her nipple tender and damp. It tightened painfully as the cool night air rushed over it.
‘Ever made love at a ball?’ His hands moved down her thighs, swept her petticoats up and to the side with a loud rustle of silk. She shivered, unable to help herself.
‘Ever wanted a man so much you didn’t need kisses? Petting? Preparation?’
She throbbed even as he spoke. Wanton. Hungry. Ready. ‘No…’
His hands fumbled between them. He gripped her hips, lifted her, brought her back down so that the head of his cock rode the already slick folds of her sex, lodged at the entrance of her body.
‘No, you never have?’
Her weight bore her down.
‘Or, no, you never will?’
The thick head pushed in, parted her, and the shaft followed, filling her. Her hands locked on his shoulders, fingers digging in.
He thrust up, the muscles of his thighs and back powerful enough to raise them both. She sank down another tantalizing inch, unable to control her descent. Unable to do anything but bite her lip and pray she didn’t cry out.
His hands slid back around to grip her bottom, kidskin soft and warm against her skin. She tried to grip with her knees, to gain some small bit of control. He chuckled, low and evil, and leaned back, rocking her, drawing her down.
The bullion trim and metallic embroidery that decorated his coat scraped the tender flesh of her inner thighs. The hilt of his dress sword dug coldly into the back of her leg.
She arched as he hit the mouth of her womb, running painfully aground. ‘Not there,’ she gasped.
‘No, not there,’ Dauntry agreed, straightening, lifting her, bringing her back down at a different angle. ‘There.’
Her body met his. He groaned, bringing his arms up and around her, wrapping his hands around the tops of her shoulders. Pulled down on her as he thrust up, entering her as fully as possible.
George gave up trying to control the situation and began to rock in time with his shallow thrusts. She was close. So close. Her feet and hands were tingling. She couldn’t catch her breath. So close…She tucked her head to his shoulder to keep from screaming.
Dauntry pulled her down hard and she felt the pulse of his climax deep inside her. His cock twitched. Once. Twice. And went still.
She made an incoherent whimpering sound of protest. She’d been so close.
‘Didn’t finish?’
He sounded pleased, the bastard.
‘You weren’t supposed to. That one was for me.’ He settled back, leaning away from her, his cock still hard inside her. ‘I’ve got all night to make it up to you.’ He kissed her breast and tugged at her bodice and stays until she slid decorously back inside them. ‘Promise.’
She rocked forward, taking every last bit of him into her, wanting to bite him, slap him, punish him. Wanting him to keep his promise that very moment, not at some distant point in the future.
‘I’ll make our excuses,’ she said. ‘Meet me on the front steps.’ She kissed him softly, just a brief meeting of lips, then bit his full lower lip hard enough to make him wince. She let go feeling wicked, wanton, and oddly powerful.
Dauntry lifted her off him and swung her to one side.
She fished about in the dark for her shoe. Found it, shoved her foot back in. She took a moment to shake out her gown, straighten her bodice, and let the hammering of her heart subside, then she slipped out of the arbour and hurried up the path.
My God.
Gravel crunched underfoot, loud as cannons in her ears. Giggles erupted out of dark corners. Moans and gasps joined them in a decadent chorus.
Dauntry had just tupped her in the gardens of Devonshire House and she’d enjoyed every moment of it, so much she half wished to turn about and ask him to do it again.
The first notes of a country dance washed over her as she stepped onto the veranda, lively and playful. She smiled and glanced out into the seemingly deserted garden before hurrying inside to find her friends
