“I-I don’t—” she stammered, placing her hands on his to keep him from lifting her skirts all the more.
“I want to touch you,” he explained, his voice very low and soft and gentle. “Just touch you, Helena. Just give you pleasure because I want to see it. I want to feel it. But I’ll stop if you give the word.”
She could hardly breathe. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been in this position before. Oh, she had, but not like this. Not when it had been a pleasure rather than a terror. Not with a man she wanted. So she was tangled between harsh, horrible memories and an unexpected longing.
She shut her eyes. If her life was to be lived with an implied scandal trailing her wherever she went, if it was to be chasing after Charity and trying to avoid the wrath of her uncle, if it was to be acceptance…then being here with Baldwin, this was her last chance at having something just for herself. Something she longed for.
Something to erase the painful memories of the past. Or at least soften them slightly. With this man, she had no doubt she would be taken care of. Even a drink or two into his cups he didn’t force or push or demand. He was asking for her leave.
And in that moment, she found herself nodding as she pulled her hand away.
“Y-yes,” she choked out as she turned her face. “Yes.”
Chapter Twelve
“Someone hurt you,” Baldwin said.
Helena stiffened at the words. They were a statement, not a question. Something he could see even with his drink-addled mind. She didn’t look at him, but nodded.
For a moment he was still, and then she felt his finger touch her chin. He tugged and she was forced to look at him. He blinked a few times, like he was trying to clear his mind.
“Do you want this?” he repeated.
She swallowed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “When you touch me…it makes me forget those other things. But I don’t really know what you’ll do or what I’ll feel.”
His brow wrinkled and his face softened. “Pleasure,” he promised as he brushed his lips over hers again.
She sank into the kiss once more, loving how his tongue felt when it tangled with her own. It was heaven, it was heat, it was desire and pleasure. And somehow he was promising her more. She wanted more.
So when his hand tugged on her skirt again, she didn’t stop him. She just continued kissing him in the hopes that her fears would stop flaring and she could just enjoy this stolen, wicked moment that he offered.
He bunched her skirt at her hips and then pressed a hand on her now-exposed knee. Through her stockings, she felt the heat of his palm as he squeezed gently. Then his fingers glided upward, slowly, tracing the line of her legs.
She shivered, for she’d never realized just how sensitive her legs were. But it was like being jolted awake when he touched her like this.
His kiss deepened as he slid that same hand from the front of her thigh to the inside. Her legs fell open of their own accord, even as she sucked in a breath of surprise and fear.
He pulled away from the kiss and stared into her eyes. “No matter how far I go, no matter what, you can tell me no.”
She jerked out a nod as she looked down at the image of his hand on her leg. It looked so big there, so dark against the pale skin above her stocking, and it felt as warm as fire.
He held her gaze as he glided his fingers up higher, to the slit in her drawers. Gently he parted the fabric, and then his fingers wedged their way inside.
When he touched her sex, she jolted and he stopped moving, but just rested his palm there, flat and warm against her sensitive skin.
He leaned back in and his mouth found hers again. She was focused on his hand against her, that wicked hand covering the most private part of her. But as the kiss deepened once more, her focus softened, the fear lost its edge and she wrapped her arms around his neck with a sigh.
Only then did he begin to move his fingers again. He stroked along the outside of her folds, tracing her sex gently. Now that the shock had faded a fraction, the touch of his skin no longer felt so very frightening and foreign. It was nice, actually. Intimate. Warm.
Enticing.
He gently opened her, and she drew back with another gasp.
“Stop?” he asked, his gaze fully focused on her face.
She shook her head. “No, I-I was just surprised.”
“It won’t hurt,” he assured her. “I’m not going to penetrate. I just want to do…this…”
He began to swirl two fingers against her, gently at first, in some wonderful place she had never imagined existed in her body before. When he did, pleasure bolted through her, racing through her veins and her nerves and her skin and everything else. It was pleasure from every part in her body, and she shuddered as he increased the pressure ever so slightly.
“Baldwin,” she croaked out.
He nodded and pressed his lips to her neck as he continued to circle, circle. She felt how wet she was from that touch, and yet that wetness made the electric current of desire all the stronger. It built and built, blossoming like a flower as he expertly pleasured her with nothing but his two fingers.
She found herself lifting into him, meeting the stroke of his hand halfway as her breath came short and her legs started to shake. This was…wonderful, different than anything she’d ever felt before.
But it was arcing out of control. And that terrified her and exhilarated her all at once. She might have asked him about it. She might have pulled away from the intensity, but at that moment the sensations crested and suddenly she was falling, falling over an edge of something she’d never known. Her body quaked in long waves of pleasure that rocked her every fiber. She clung to him, moaning out his name as her back arched and her feet flexed in her slippers.
At last the crisis faded and she went weak against his chest. He held her there as her breathing returned to normal and her vision cleared. She had no idea how long, for everything in her world felt very slow and sweet and focused on the trembling warmth that remained between her legs.
But at last she sat up slightly and blushed as she realized her position, still curled up on his lap. She made a move to go back to her own chair, but he caught her hand and drew her down to kiss her once more.
“Don’t blush,” he said. “That was wonderful.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes. Wonderful.”
He moved to stand, but when he did he staggered ever so slightly, catching himself on the arm of the chair where he’d just done such wicked things to her. She jolted and moved to catch his arm, helping him balance as he blinked in surprise.
“I hardly ever drink,” he muttered. “Apparently I have little head for it anymore.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Leave it to Baldwin to remain in control even when he was in his cups. Enough control to pleasure her, and yet he hadn’t asked her for anything in return. Even though she could see the harsh outline of his body against his trousers in the faint firelight.