Her gaze slid away from his as she watched his finger, slick with her wetness, slide in and out of her in a rhythm. No touch, external or internal had provoked such sensations, such ecstasy. Her skin was hot all over, and her hips twitched with every stroke. Where would this lead?
She keened, her nails scratching his scalp.
He grunted and sped up his thrusts, seeming to understand her silent request.
Her breath caught, her teeth clenching, and she shoved her wet flesh against him, holding his head there. She could hardly believe her aggressiveness, but he did not appear to mind.
Instead, his tongue firmed against her, and he did something with his finger inside her channel that raised goosebumps of pleasure all over her body.
She gasped, her back arching further. She wondered if she might explode. Her curled hand rose from his hair to her mouth, her teeth biting a knuckle, the edge of pain grounding her.
He flicked tongue and finger in tandem.
She imploded and flew simultaneously. Streaks of fire shot toward where he touched her and outward from that point all at once. Every part of her shuddered and contracted and quivered, an explosion unlike any she’d imagined, much less felt. A small shriek escaped from behind her knuckle as she bit down harder, her other hand still clutching his hair. Her walls squeezed his finger, her flesh pulsing against and around him, and her eyelids shuttered her unseeing gaze as her head lolled against the settee.
As the pulses slowed, Evan stilled his finger and his tongue, holding her in his mouth as her hips lowered to the settee and her hands fell beside her. She flinched in pleasure as his finger slid free of her body.
Her eyes fluttered open, awareness returning in slow degrees. Focusing on Evan, she found his digit in his mouth, his eyes hot with lust. His hair was tufted out from his head where she’d clutched it. Despite that or mayhap because of it, his glowing golden eyes and hair resembled an elegant, dangerous, beautiful lion more than ever.
With the next blink, she took in her inelegant sprawl at the edge of the divan, stocking-clad legs wide, skirts up, breasts out.
Gads, what have I done?
Unable to form words or even further coherent thought, she shoved back to sit upright and jerked her hands up then down. She couldn’t decide which to cover first.
Finally shoving her skirts down as far as they would go with him still between her legs, her hands were blocked by his as he gently pulled the top of her dress and chemise up, then her sleeves.
Leaning in, he kissed her, his taste suddenly salty with…her?
“Well, Althea? Do you feel as though you’ve been missing out?” he murmured against her lips, his curving into a smile.
Evading the question, she pushed him back, closed her legs, and sat up.Ack, and I return to prim and proper. She needed time to think, to assimilate.
He rose and sauntered to the sideboard to refill their drinks.
She shoved her feet into her slippers and stood, stockings balled in one hand. She cleared her throat. “You have my gratitude, Evan. That was…one of the most intense experiences I’ve ever had.”
“Intensely pleasurable, I hope?”
She shot him a glare. “You know it was. But I am done with games. I appreciate your time listening to my proposal. And…entertaining me. ’Tis late. I am for bed. Good night.” With a quick curtsy, she turned and fled the room before he could even put the glasses down.
Althea did not look for her cousin. She wasn’t sure she could bear finding Beth in someone’s arms enjoying the sensations that had just overwhelmed and excited and frightened her.
She knew her fear had been obvious in her abrupt departure, but she didn’t have it in her to care.
She was too busy evaluating the physical reaction Evan had coaxed from her body. Beth had tried to tell her how to strum that sensitive bundle of nerves. If she could ever manage to share the experience without dying of mortification, she’d gladly let her cousin say, “I told you so.”
But there was no way to describe the way his words, lips, tongue, and fingers had overtaken her and built such an explosion of pleasure.
If every orgasm is like that, ’tis a wonder Beth does not get into more trouble.
The difference between her experience with Evan and that with Thomas was like the difference between the finest of silks and the roughest of wools, the richness of cake and a stale crust of bread.
And Evan didn’t even remove his cravat.
The man really was an expert. The fact didn’t bother her. This was not about marriage, but it was about propriety. Her body’s desire to learn more, more, more, and Evan’s skill at enticing her into that education could cost her customers. With sparks still flickering along her nerves from the intensity of her conflagration, she wasn’t sure she cared. That bothered her most of all.
Lying in bed, she promised herself she’d worry about the store and expansion plan in the morning.
