Miss Winthorpe's Elopement (Belston & Friends #1)(61)



Then she took another drink, casually dropped her hand below the table as though to adjust her napkin, and ran her fingers up her husband’s leg.

He choked on his water and gripped the edge of the table. When he had regained his breath, he whispered, ‘What the devil are you doing?’

‘What you suggested I do,’ she whispered back. ‘Where else would you wear a garter? You know where it was when you removed it.’ Her hand travelled farther up his thigh and his face went white as the blood left it.

‘But I do not feel anything.’ She gathered all her nerve and thought about last night at the inn. And then she sent her hand higher up his thigh, under his napkin, and undid two of the buttons on his trousers, slipping her hand into the gap. After a few seconds she said, ‘And while this is very interesting, I do not think it is a garter, either.’

‘Out!’

She sought to remove her hand, but he pressed down on it through the napkin, trapping it where it was.

He turned his head to the footmen at the door, ‘Go. All of you. We do not need you. Thank the cook. Wonderful meal. But no more. Do not bother to clear away, just go. And lock the door behind you.’

When he heard the click of the latch, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. Then he closed his eyes and said in a hoarse voice, ‘You may continue looking.’

She undid some more buttons, moved the napkin, and peeked beneath the table. When he caught her looking, she said, ‘Last night, it was very dark. And I was not wearing my glasses.’

‘Oh.’

His response to what she had said sounded quite like a moan, and she smiled in triumph. She looked again, as she felt him shuddering under her hand as she stroked him. ‘Shall we play hot and cold?’

‘Very hot,’ he murmured, and tore at the knot on his cravat.

‘I am still looking for the garter, silly. I do not think you have it hidden here at all.’

With one hand, he yanked at the buttons on his waistcoat, and the other cupped the back of her head, dragging her mouth to his for a desperate kiss. When his chest was bare, he pulled her empty hand to his heart, and she stroked the hair on his chest, and the nipples hidden in it. He broke the kiss and guided her mouth down to them, letting her bite and suck as he had done for her, while he fumbled at the closures on her gown, swearing as he fought to dispense with her clothes.

Had she unbalanced him to that degree? A feeling of power rushed through her, along with desire, and she could feel her body readying itself for what was to come. Her breasts ached to be touched, and as she stroked him she could feel the heat building inside her, where he would soon be.

She stopped what she was doing and enjoyed the moment, and then looked at her husband. She’d thought him a master of seduction. But tonight the tables were turned, and he could not undo the simple knot that held her stays in place. ‘Really, Adam. If you cannot manage, perhaps I shall go to my room and send for the maid.’

‘You will do no such thing.’ He grabbed her hands and placed them firmly on his knees, bending her over the arm of his chair. ‘Do not move.’ And then he seized a knife from the table in front of them, and slit the lacings of her corset from bottom to top.

She sat up and took a deep breath, which he stole with another kiss and then pulled the thing free of her, and threw it on to the floor. She stood up and let the gown follow it, and then he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her to sit on the table, kissing her face, her throat and her breasts. Between the kisses he undid the last button on his trousers. Pushing them out of the way, he panted, ‘Sorry, darling. Most undignified. And not as gentle as I should be. I cannot help myself.’

He could not help himself. And he was talking to her. She took a breath to calm her nerves, and then pulled up her chemise and spread her legs, leaning back to tip her hips up. ‘Stop talking and take me.’

‘Say that you love me,’ he whispered. ‘I want to hear you say the words.’

And it was surprisingly easy to tell him the truth. ‘I love you,’ she whispered back.

This time, he was the one to groan, ‘Soon.’ And he kissed her again, rough and insistent. So she reached out and put her hand to him again, and mimicked the strength of his kiss. She could feel herself losing the boundary between what she was feeling, and what he must be feeling as he found her with his fingers and thrust.

She rocked her hips against his hand, and let him fill her, as the feelings grew inside of her, and his sex grew slippery in her palm.

‘Very soon,’ he whispered. His hips thrust toward hers until the head of his sex rested against her, and she writhed against it, stroking so that it rubbed her body where it felt most right. She was trembling with excitement, balancing on the edge of something wonderful. He removed his fingers from her, clutching her hip with his hand to steady her, and bring her closer to him.

The emptiness frustrated her, and she stroked harder, feeling him tremble, and rubbed herself with him until his sex slipped against the opening to her body, making her gasp.

And he said, ‘Now,’ and drove into her.

There was a shock of pain, and he kissed her until it hardly mattered, and the tension grew in her again. He pushed her back to brace her hands on the table so that her hips stayed steady, put his hands on her breasts and thrust, over and over again, staring into her eyes.

She leaned back and wrapped her legs around him so that the friction of their bodies changed, driving her wild with touches that were never long enough. But they brought her close again, so very close. And when he shuddered against her and stopped, she moaned in protest until he stroked her with his thumb and took her over the edge.

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