Paying the Virgin's Price (Regency Silk & Scandal #2)

Then the sensation broke over her, and she was gasping for control, her body shuddering, her muscles clenching as though they wished to hang on to the feeling, to take it inside and keep it forever. Nathan gave another pull upon her breast, as though he knew how to prolong her reaction, until she had experienced the last drop of the pleasure, before letting it slowly fade, leaving her weak and in his power. When she could manage to speak, she whispered, 'What is happening to me?'

He lifted his head and smiled up at her. 'Nothing that should not happen. And nothing that will not happen again. It is the reason that I did not think it necessary to retain the coachman. I had no wish for a few minutes alone with you, while I took without giving.' He dropped to his knees in front of her, letting his hands trail down her body until they touched her ankles. And then they progressed slowly back up her leg, touching her stockings until they reached the top. 'I recognize the sacrifice you make by doing this, and I mean to be worthy of it.'

His fingers were undoing her garters, and occasionally, some part of his hand would brush the bare flesh of her leg. Each time, she felt a fresh shudder go through her, as though her body remembered the release she had experienced as he'd kissed her breasts. But now, his face was settled between her legs, and she could feel the heat of his breath, pooling there, stroking her as gently as his hands were touching her legs. He drew each stocking down to her ankle, with long smooth caresses. And then he lifted each foot to remove slipper and stocking, and as she off-balanced, her body pressed close to his face for a fleeting kiss through the lawn of her shift.

The trembling within her was almost continual now, a strange fluttering that was a precursor to her body's surrender. Before he could kiss her again, she reached for the linen of his shirt and pulled it over his head, distracting him and leaving his chest bare for her admiration. He was still kneeling before her. And for a moment, she imagined him helpless before her, as though she were in the seraglio he had described and he existed only for her pleasure. Experimentally, she lifted her bare foot and ran it up the inner seam of his trousers, feeling the muscle of his thigh jump at her touch. He cupped her ankle and drew her leg higher, until her knee rested against his chest and her foot at the apex of his legs.

He stroked her instep, making her laugh, letting her foot struggle to escape the tickling. She nuzzled it against his body, stroking it against his member. Feeling him grow as she touched him, and watching his face contort with the strain of control. He positioned her against him, holding her there, showering her knee with kisses, his breath coming as a moan of desire against her skin.

Suddenly, he pushed her leg down and rose. He bent and caught her easily behind the knees, scooping her up into his arms and striding across the room to the bed, tossing her in a heap onto the pillows piled there. The skirt of her chemise rode high on her legs, and he stared down at her--thighs sprawled open, breasts straining against the damp fabric. In a scant hour with the man, she had become a wanton.

And she enjoyed it. He was staring at her body. She reached for the hem of her shift to pull it higher in invitation.

He held out a hand to stop her, then leaned against the bedpost, pulling off boots and stockings, and reaching for the buttons on his trousers. 'Do you understand what you are doing to me, Miss Price? A little more play, and I will spill my seed without ever touching you. And we shall have to begin, all over again.'

Her body gave an answering shudder, welcoming an idea that would have been abhorrent to her this morning.

He was naked before her now, fully aroused. He knelt upon the bed, between her legs as she pulled the last garment over her head, casting it aside and settling back into the pillows to await what she knew must come.

But instead, he covered her with his body, kissing her mouth, her eyes, her chin, and then slowly down, lingering over her breasts until she was nearly mad with desire, and then moving lower, to kiss between her legs, massaging her thighs with his palms, opening her with his tongue until she had no defences left and her body was wracked with wave upon wave of ecstasy, desperate to be filled.

And after he had claimed her with his mouth, he took her, when she was too lost with need to feel the pain, plunging over and over, while she shook with joy, tightening against him, welcoming him in. He shook as well and moaned her name. And then his body went still against hers.

He pulled her close, and rolled to the side, never leaving her, caressing her back and kissing her face as they lay nestled in the pillows on his bed. He reached to draw a counterpane over them, and whispered, 'My love.'

And from there, it was too easy, just to fall asleep in his arms.





Chapter Sixteen





Where were her gloves?

On the floor, where he had dropped them? She fumbled over the carpet of the darkened sitting room. The candles had burned away and the fire as well, leaving her cold in the predawn light.

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