“Good, then that means I will be your first. And your most memorable.”
A thrill of lust coursed down her spine as he gripped the sides of her skirts and bunched them up, settling them on her lap. Cool night air kissed her heated sex.
“No one can see you. Just me. Now spread your legs, Bridget. Let me sample that honey pot I have been dying to taste since the moment we arrived.”
If she had thought to protest or to even say no, the words were beyond her. The second Stephen’s tongue touched her folds, Bridget lay back and surrendered. Her fingers gripped the sides of the chair as he unleashed his masterful skills of oral pleasure upon her sensitive flesh. He licked, sucked, and then shockingly nipped at her bud with his teeth. Bridget closed her mouth as tightly as she could, desperate to stop a groan from escaping. The people in the next box must surely be able to hear.
The torture he inflicted on her sex was exquisite.
“Stephen,” she whimpered.
He slipped one and then both of his thick thumbs into her. The stretch and slight burn was almost too much. Rising up on his knees, he began to stroke deep. “Tell me if you want me to stop. I want you to feel a little pain, but only if it is what you want. If it brings you to orgasm.”
She had never experienced anything like this before. Never thought the line between pain and pleasure could be so razor-thin. Every time she thought she wanted him to release her, the aching demand to find her climax held her at his command.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
“I need. I need to come. Oh, Stephen, please, I want you inside me,” she begged.
There was a flurry of movement, and the next thing he was settling her onto his hardened cock. He thrust hard and deep into her, and she sobbed.
“Stephen, yes.”
The people in the opera box on the opposite side of the theater would have a clear view of them, of what they were doing. She should be shamed by this behavior.
He speared his fingers into her hair. “Come for me, Bridget. Show your man what he means to you.”
Their lips met as she finally crashed through into a blinding orgasm. He pumped furiously then let out a long groan of satisfaction as he followed her with his own climax.
Her head dropped onto his shoulder and he wrapped her up in his arms. The music continued, the song distant and unheard. Her ears were filled with the loud thump of her heart.
I think I am falling in love with you.
The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she dared not give them voice. She was already smitten with Stephen, a man who was determined that no woman would ever hold his heart.
Their relationship had already taken her to the dizziest of sexual heights, but the only way for her to escape was to fall. There was nothing Bridget could do, except brace for the inevitable impact.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
They didn’t see out the rest of the opera performance. Within minutes of them both returning to earth and after adjusting their attire, Stephen called for an attendant to have their carriage brought around to the front of the theater.
As soon as they reached Bridget’s home, it was a race to the bedroom and the beginning of a second, long night of passionate lovemaking.
Bridget couldn’t remember how late or early it was when she finally fell asleep in Stephen’s arms, but the sun was well up in the sky when she awoke.
He was gone.
She lay on her back staring at the ceiling, while her mind and heart battled one another for supremacy.
I love him. Don’t be a fool. What if he feels the same as I do? This is Stephen Moore you are talking about; the man is a renowned rake.
Rolling over onto her side, she glanced at the door, praying that at any moment he would step through it and come back to bed. As the minutes ticked by, hope faded, and she eventually called for her maid.
There was no word from him that day, nor the next. When she finally summoned the courage to send him a note, she regretted having done so as soon as it had left the house.
Stephen had made his position clear; one night only. And if he had stuck to that, she might have been able to save her heart. But for her, he had broken his cardinal rule. He had spent two nights and one long afternoon in her bed. And there was the opera.
The longer she spent with him, the more times they made love, the deeper the hole she had dug for herself. She wanted him, but she wouldn’t beg. He had to be in this alongside her. Never again would she be a fool and suffer the indignity of unrequited love.
