Page 48 of Again, Scoundrel

“As I thought,” he murmured and continued his exploration of her jawline and neck. She opened her thighs wider so he could nestle in between them, and she kissed him again until there was nothing in her consciousness but warm, wet tongues and hot breath and the smell of him that seemed to eradicate all of her other senses.

He ran his fingers across her breast as best he could, searching for the nipples encased in the thick woolen fabric. He grunted and gave up when he couldn’t find them, moving further down to reach under the hem of her dress to grasp her slippered foot.

She gasped as he traced the small, rounded bone of her ankle and then slid one large finger up the inside of her leg. Her skin tingled, alive beneath his touch as his hand climbed higher and higher. He massaged her calf and then tickled the crook of her knee. He caressed the smooth, plump skin of her thigh.

“May I,” he asked as he began to lift up the hem of her gown further.

“You may,” Violet said, her hands reaching down to tangle his chestnut locks.

“Hold it up for me, Violet.”

He took one of her hands from his head and placed it on her skirt. She nodded, the joining between her legs throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

And then his hands were sliding along her inner thigh, making playful little circles on the soft skin above her garters until she made a whimpering noise and thrust her hips up against him.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered. “You want my fingers here?”

“Yes.” She was panting now, breathless.

She could think of nothing else in the world but having his fingers fill her where she was empty, of them taking away the ache she’d felt there since the Waverly Ball.

“Please,” she whispered.

“At your service, my dear. Or would you like them a little further up?”

His wicked fingers moved further, discovering, exploring, until they found the seam in her drawers and opened them.

Alistair groaned when he found her wet, ready curls. They were honey-colored too, exuberant like the tresses that had fallen out of her severe bun and attached themselves to the perspiration on her neck.

“Open for me, Violet,” he said, nudging her thighs further apart.

He wanted to see and taste and feel her. He wanted her bare to his gaze, wet to his touch. He wanted to rip that terrible dress right off her, but on that point he stayed his hand and brushed his fingers along the opening of her drawers instead.

Soon she was making delightful noises of surprise and pleasure that made his cock ache. His fingers breached her soft folds and caressed her wetness.

“There,” she whispered, and he groaned into her neck. Kissing and caressing her lips while he slid one finger up inside her. She pressed up against him, her entire body trembling.

“There.” She moved her hips against his fingers. “There.”

“Is that what you want?’ he murmured into her ear as he held her close to his chest. “I’ll always give you what you want. Everything you want.”

He crooked his finger upward into her channel so that he could massage the sensitive place within her, and she moaned and pressed herself closer.

He watched her excitement mount and felt as if he too might explode. All he could think about was replacing that finger with his cock and how tight and wet and sweet she’d be around him.

He took his thumb and rubbed it lightly across her hard knob of pleasure. She moaned again and he knew her desperation: to be touched, held, possessed. He felt the same, but he wouldn’t take his pleasure. This was for her. It was the apology for Pembrooke’s he hadn’t been able to give. It was an anatomy lesson she’d never learn in a book. It was his pleasure to watch her take hers.

He pressed his mouth to hers to swallow her sounds. His own arousal climbed higher and higher as he caressed her, as if their two bodies really were one. Her pleasure, his. And his, hers. His hips were thrusting against her soft thigh, all the layers of clothing between them be damned.

“Oh,” she whispered, and she churned her hips against his hand. He pressed his cock into her leg in answer. Rutting as if he were a teenager and not caring one bit.

“Oh… I… I…” He held her close to him, one finger still wickedly inside her as she circled her hips. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t think,” he whispered into her ear. “Enjoy. There is nothing wrong with pleasure, Violet.” He brushed his thumb against her knob once more. “Let me feel you enjoy it. Let me feel you let go.”

And Violet was gone.

Her body trembled harder and harder as he caressed her, and then he felt her deep shudder from the burst of exhilaration that shot through her. He held her in his arms as she shook from one wave of gratification after another.