A Dash of Scandal(92)
He gently laid her into the softness of the rug and stretched his warm body beside her. He rose on his elbow and slowly inched the skirt of her dress and chemise up to her waist again. He looked into her eyes for a long moment before his gaze drifted down her face, lingered over her breasts, before going on to the junction of her thighs, and looking down the length of her legs.
“I love the way you look, the way you’re shaped, and the richness of your satiny skin,” he whispered huskily. “You’re beautiful, perfect.”
Millicent felt hot, flushed, urgent as his gaze continued to roam freely over her.
With an open palm, Chandler cupped her cheek, caressed it. He slid his hand down her neck, over her chest and shoulders with a gliding touch of his fingertips that thrilled her. He let his open palm drift over to her breasts. He lifted first one and then the other, gently squeezing their fullness, feeling their weight, seeming to memorize their shape.
Millicent closed her eyes and savored his gentle touch. She was sensitive to his every move, his every breath. He rubbed each nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she thought she would explode with sweeping, ecstatic sensations that she had never felt before.
She didn’t want him to stop, ever, but he moved his hand down to the curve of her waist, over her hip to let his hand rest possessively low on her abdomen. When his hand slipped farther she jerked with surprise, with pleasure. His fingers were still for a moment, letting her get used to the touch of his hand so intimately on her before starting a gentle, slow stroking with his fingers.
Millicent moaned from somewhere deep inside herself but could form no real words. All she knew was that she wanted more and more of what he was doing.
“I love the way you feel,” he whispered. “Silky, warm, moist. Beautiful.”
Chandler continued to stroke her up and down in her most womanly place as he bent his head and lightly rubbed her cheek with his nose, then he moved on to her chin, down the sweep of her neck, before snuggling his face into the velvety skin at the curve of her shoulder. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, loudly.
“I love the fresh, womanly scent of you,” he whispered and inhaled deeply once again.
Millicent felt as if she was about to go over the edge of something and she couldn’t stop herself. Without conscious thought, she moved her lower body in rhythm with the motion of his fingers.
Chandler started with her eyes and kissed his way down her cheeks to her lips. She opened her mouth wanting to taste more of him, wanting to be a part of him again. He lingered over her mouth, kissing her, letting his tongue play with hers, occasionally nipping her bottom lip between his teeth.
Slowly he moved to her breasts and covered each rosy peak with his mouth and suckled first one and then the other and back again. Millicent was pliant and dazed with an indescribable pleasure that kept mounting low in her abdomen. All these things he did were so new to her she could hardly catch her breath or stop the contractions of wanting that wracked her muscles.
“I love the way you taste,” he murmured against the swell of her breasts. With his tongue he sampled her heated skin. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Millicent entwined her arms around his neck and pressed her body closer to his. His touch, his words were delicious, but she knew she needed—wanted—more. She ached to feel him inside her again.
Breathlessly she said, “I feel the same way, Lord Dunraven. I fear you are teasing me.”
“Teasing you?” he questioned between brief kisses that made her body rise up and meet his hand. “I thought I was loving you with words and caresses.”
“I don’t think I can take many more of your words and caresses. I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t thoroughly kiss me and—” She stopped. And what?
“And fill you?” he finished for her.
She knew he expected her to want the treasured touches and sweet words and, as a lady, she should have been satisfied with that, but she wanted more. She wanted Chandler inside her, filling her, taking her. She didn’t want the gentleman. She wanted Chandler the man, big and powerful, making her his as he had on the settee.
“Yes, yes, my lord, fill me.”
Suddenly Millicent gasped and arched into his hand with a jerking motion. She buried her face into his shoulder as waves of explosive sensations tore through her with gripping speed before fading into pleasant ripples.
“Chandler.” She whispered his name softly before collapsing back down onto the rug with no breath left in her lungs, no strength in her muscles.