Page 51 of An Enchanting Dare

Though he did not want to stop, he broke the kiss, turning her around to undo the fastenings on her gown.

“Hurry,” she pleaded, the word breathless.

Sylvester laughed and then cursed as his clumsy fingers fumbled over the ridiculous fastenings. There were too many of them, and the dim light in the room wasn’t helping.

“Oh, do get on with it!” she pleaded, jittery with impatience.

“Well, if you’d hold still!” he complained, and then sighed with relief as the gown sagged and she wriggled it to the floor. She fidgeted some more while he undid her six—six—petticoats until there was an immense pile of white flounces at her feet. She turned back to him, grabbing hold of him about the neck, demanding he kiss her again. “So… impatient,” he murmured against her mouth.

Breaking free, he swept her up into his arms before she could complain again and carried her to the settee. He sat down with her in his lap and encouraged her to move, so she sat straddling him. With relief he noted her corset fastened in the front, which made life easier, and he set to work, loosening the strings until she could cast it aside, leaving her in her shift, drawers and stockings.

Excitement thrummed beneath his skin, but he reminded himself of what was possible, how far he would go. He would not simply take as that vile creature had, the bastard. With his heart thudding a mad tattoo in his ears, Sylvester reached up and pushed the wide neck of the shift so it fell from one shoulder. She withdrew her arm and then did the same on the other side. Even in the dim light, he could tell she was blushing as she exposed her breasts to his hungry gaze. Tenderness swelled in his chest, and he wanted for her never to feel uncertain or ashamed or anything but loved and cherished ever again.

“You are so lovely, Aisling,” he whispered, daring to stroke the impossibly soft skin with the back of his fingers. She shivered and closed her eyes. Gently, he eased her closer to him, aware of her sharp intake of breath as she settled against the hard ridge of his arousal.

“Nothing you don’t want,” he promised her, though his voice sounded cracked and uneven.

She nodded, bracing her arms on the back of the settee, leaning over him so that her splendid breasts were tantalisingly close to his mouth. He groaned and cupped the soft mounds, caressing and squeezing a little, toying with the delicate pink nubs at the tips which were making his mouth water with the need to taste them. Sylvester leaned in and caught one in his mouth, sucking delicately. Aisling jolted in his lap, inadvertently pressing her sex hard against his cock and sending a bolt of pure lust firing through his blood. He moaned and thrust his hips against her again, seeking more, and her breath caught. She clutched at his shoulders as he did it again, still suckling at her breast, grazing the tender bud with his teeth. Her hands moved to his hair, her fingers tangling there, holding him against her, as if he was fool enough to want to move.

She caught on quickly and was soon writhing in his lap, chasing her own pleasure as she drove him to the edge of sanity. If she kept this up, he was going to explode in his small clothes and he did not relish the idea of spending the rest of the evening damp and sticky. Removing them was an even worse idea, for his gentlemanly notions of what he could give her were fraying, and other, more urgent desires demanded he take control, take her and make her his own.

“Wait,” he rasped, shifting her in his arms and laying her down on the settee. He moved over her, sliding his hand between her thighs and finding the slit in her drawers. She gasped as he discovered the soft nest of curls and delved deeper, parting her folds until he found the tenderest part of her and stroked. She cried out and arched beneath him, grabbing at his arms and staring up at him with wide eyes.

He grinned down at her, so happy something inside him shifted, settling into a new place, making room for the only woman who would ever fit in the space she had carved for herself in his heart.

“My, you look pleased with yourself,” she murmured, breathless and a little indignant, though her mouth kicked up at the corners.

“With good reason,” he said, staring down at her. “I am the luckiest man in the whole damned world.”

She laughed then, her eyes shining with happiness, and his heart threatened to burst knowing that he had made her feel that way.

“Do you trust me?” he asked her, wanting to taste her so badly he was trembling with the need for it.

“You know I do,” she said, those simple words breaking him when he knew what it cost her to put her trust in anyone. Those words were a gift beyond value, and he would treasure them always.

He leaned down and kissed her mouth tenderly, putting everything he felt into it. “Thank you,” he whispered as he lifted his head, pleased by the dazed, unfocused look in her eyes. Moving down her body, he paused at points of interest, to lavish more attention upon her lovely breasts, the soft curve of her belly. He kissed and licked and gave tiny nips with his teeth until she was squirming beneath him. As he nuzzled into the soft skin at the apex of her thighs, her breath caught and held.

“Sylvester?” she murmured.

He smiled against her skin, the scent of her fogging his brain with lust. “Trust me,” he murmured, before pressing his mouth to her dark curls. She gasped, and then squealed as his tongue traced the seam of that private place, easing inside to find the delicate spot that would make her moan and writhe and call out his name.

“Oh,” she said, a note of surprise in her voice as he found the tender bud and teased it gently. “Oh. Oh!”

He licked her in one long sweep of his tongue, pleased by the shivering ripple of pleasure he sensed roll over her. So he did it again, and again, until she was wild beneath him, clutching at his hair, at the cushions of the settee, making soft sounds of pleasure, whimpering with need, until Sylvester was ready to come apart too without even touching himself or being touched. Finally she went still, holding her breath for a long, tense moment until she tumbled over the edge. She cried out, a desperate sound of delight as the climax rocked her. Sylvester held her hips still, gentling his movements as the crescendo ebbed, determined she should wring every last ounce of joy from this moment.

Finally she subsided, her breathing erratic, her gaze hazy and unfocused as she reached for him.

Sylvester shook his head. “Just… give me a moment,” he rasped, trying to concentrate on not losing his mind.

“No,” she said, her hands circling his arms, pulling him closer. “You didn’t… You haven’t….”

She blushed scarlet and Sylvester smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her mouth.

“That doesn’t matter. This was for you, love.”

“It matters to me,” she said, stubborn to the last. Before he could protest, her nimble fingers were undoing the fall on his trousers, and he watched with his heart thudding dully as she freed him. His cock sprang forward, eager and demanding, and he damn near whimpered with gratitude as she curled her fingers around him.

“Show me,” she said, staring up at him. “I want to do it right. You made me feel so… so lovely, Sylvester. Let me do this for you, please.”