How to Marry a Marble Marquis(18)
“Do you know, I have no bloody idea what I’m talking about most of the time?” he continued to laugh, attempting to stifle himself and failing miserably. Eleanor was wheezing with an unladylike lack of restraint, pressing her mouth into the crease of her arm. “I don’t know that I’ve ever even seen a butterfly. Pinned, of course, and in pictures, paintings . . . Ah,” he harrumphed triumphantly with a start, raising a finger to herald his reversal of fortune in the conversation as she shook with laughter. “If we were to reframe our earlier conversation with the use of moths instead, Miss Eastwick, I should be back on even footing with you.”
She had continued to laugh like a crystalline bell, and the words were out of his mouth before he could give it the thought it should’ve surely required.
“Have you ever been kissed, Miss Eastwick?”
She sputtered in the candlelight as soon as he asked the question, cheeks heating, giving her peaches-and-cream skin a berry flush. He wasn’t sure why he had initially thought the girl capable of the sort of tempestuous behavior expected of ladies of the stage. He could bring a blush to her cheeks with hardly any effort, so adorably na?ve she was the actual act of lovemaking. The act itself, he corrected, for she was certainly no stranger to the mechanics of it, ruefully admitting that she had seen her fair share of scandalous sights in her theater days.
“Not in the way I’m certain you’re thinking of, my lord,” she sniffed at last, tilting her nose in the air, attempting to reclaim the dignity his question had momentarily robbed.
This would be her first lesson, he decided, pushing to his feet. “There’s nothing complicated to it, my dear. You merely press your lips to the lips of another.” His eyes followed her lip, sucked between her teeth once more. He was going to give the plump little cushion the care it deserved after such shoddy treatment by its owner.
Eleanor laughed uneasily, hands fisting in her dress as she rose nervously. “I suspect it’s a bit more than that.” Her lip caught between her teeth again as he shrugged, taking a step closer.
“I suppose it is. But we all must start somewhere, and you can’t progress without mastering the basics.”
He was able to feel her soft intake of breath, a quick suck inward as he bent, just before his lips pressed to hers, learning their warmth and softness. He did nothing more than press his mouth to hers, as promised. At least for now. She was gasping when they parted, the consequence of not breathing for the duration.
“Am I correct in assuming that humans have functioning airways, Miss Eastwick?” he asked dryly with a roll of his eyes. “Breathing, I don’t feel like I should have to say, is essential. If you asphyxiate on your prospective mate before he has a chance to offer a proposal of marriage, what is even the point of all this?”
Her eyes had narrowed, shoulders straightening, and he had been forced to duck his head to hide his smile. She was a proud little thing, determined to do everything on her own, and he knew the family must be in dire straits if she had deigned to seek his help in the first place.
“Alright, let’s. . .” Glancing around the room, he snuffed several tallow candles, frowning at the two rushlights he’d not previously noticed. Eleanor’s grandmother was cast into deeper shadows, more comfortable for the older woman to sleep by, he told himself. When he turned, the sight of Miss Eastwick standing there, the decreased illumination making her eyes seem even more luminous, made his cock jump against his thigh and a repeat of that strange tightening in his chest. “Let’s sit,” he murmured, angling the chairs to sit at far-closer-than-proper proximity.
“My heart is racing,” she admitted with a small laugh in a strained voice, allowing him to pull her to a chair before seating himself beside her.
“There’s no cause to be nervous, Miss Eastwick. Far better to get over your trepidation now when you’re not vying for the attention of a suitor you’ve only just met. And look — technically, you’re not without a chaperone.”
He took advantage of her small laugh to lean in, pressing his lips gently to hers once more. For several long heartbeats, that’s all he did. A gentle press, pull back, another gentle press until he was confident she was breathing. “Not so challenging, is it?”
Her eyes were closed, but she shook her head, already leaning in, and the next press of his mouth to hers. He wanted to suck that plump little lip in between his own and lave it with his tongue, an apology for how often she gripped it between her teeth. He felt her gasp of surprise against his own breath when he did so, her fists gripping great handfuls of her skirt. Silas lost track of how long he spent softly kissing her in the near dark. All he knew was that every time he parted his lips ever so slightly, she would gasp, and his cock would jump. Finally, he decided they needed to progress.
“And now we deepen it a bit, Miss Eastwick.”
Her eyes were still tightly closed when he let his tongue move over that abused little lip. Stroking at the seam of her mouth until her lips parted in shock, inadvertently granting him entrance.
“Am I to be using my tongue in such a way as well, my lord?” she gasped, lifting her head to take a deep shuddering breath.
“Eventually. Eventually, you’ll want to. But it’s alright if you let me do the work for now, my dear.” At the first stroke of his tongue against hers, Silas was positive his cock had begun to vibrate. When he had his fill of her mouth and trailed down to nibble at her neck, her head dropped back with her mouth open in shock, and his cock began to throb. He wanted to lift her hand and place it on the solid bulge at the front of his breeches; wanted to let her feel how she inflamed him. Instead, he led her hand to his jaw, shivering against her when her nails scraped at the skin behind his long ear, her fingers pushing into his hair without needing to be led.