Would she or would she not give in to her urges?
Could he or could he not continue to play the gentleman with her sexual need so blatant?
Then, fortunately for his peace of mind and aching cock, she moved forward an infinitesimal distance, and clenching his fists he stood immobile-waiting.
Slowly raising her gloved hands, she placed them gingerly on his white satin waistcoat.
And he waited still-breath-held.
The sweet scent of her overwhelmed his senses as she rose on tiptoe and leaned into him. Her soft breasts pressed into his chest, her thighs brushed against his, and then, more pertinently, her lower body came into contact with his hard, pulsing erection.
Only with the utmost restraint did he remain motionless.
Provocatively aware of the rigid length of his penis prodding her stomach, the tantalizing proximity further fanned her already fevered desires and, wild with longing, Claire abruptly jettisoned reason and logic. Overwhelmed by lust, she gave into the more powerful, corrupting force.
Ormond might have told her as much before time.
But perhaps for virgin maidens, experience was the better teacher.
Her last fears and trepidation cast aside, she shut her eyes, gave herself up, and kissed him.
As her lips finally made contact with his, he felt a wild excitement out of all proportion to the simple act. Cynic that he was, he immediately attributed his feelings to the prolonged delay in gaining the lady’s favors.
Less cynical, or not cynical at all, further buoyed by a heated rush of incredible pleasure melting through her senses, Claire opened her eyes and kissed Ormond again-gladly and willingly. With the euphoria of having tasted the sweetest of forbidden fruit.
Dropping back on her heels a moment later, newly liberated and giddy with joy, she smiled up at him. “I couldn’t resist you. I couldn’t no matter what. I expect you hear that often.”
“No, of course not,” he urbanely replied.
“How polite you are, but never fear-I am content to be added to your list of conquests. The gossip sheets are right; you are irresistible. And now, since the die is cast,” she quickly added, as though any deliberation might cause her to falter in her course, “if you’d be so kind as to unbutton me, I won’t have to worry about wrinkling my gown.” Pulling off her kid gloves, she swung around so her back was to him.
Her swift volte-face from apprehension to this unvarnished candor was unexpected, but never one to reflect overlong when offered sex, Ormond quickly set about doing her bidding.
“You’re sure the door is locked?” She could have been speaking to her greengrocer, so prosaic her tone.
“Yes.” His fingers flew over the buttons.
“And you promise we’ll have no interruptions.” She carefully set her gloves on the chair arm.
He laughed, charmed by her engaging frankness. “At the moment, darling, I would quite willingly offer you anything at all.”
She flashed him a smile over her shoulder. “I dare say if I were the mercenary type, this would be my opportunity to strike an excellent bargain.”
“No doubt about it,” he said with a grin, slipping her dress from her shoulders, speaking from experience.
“Although I suppose that window of opportunity is fast closing,” she teased, pushing the gown down her hips, and stepping out of it. Feeling suddenly as though she were on French leave from the dull monotony of her life, she turned back to him with the sweetest of smiles.
“I assure you, I will not be ungrateful at any stage,” he murmured, winking at her as he stripped off his coat.
As she carefully spread her gown over the back of a chair, he kicked off his shoes and dropped his coat on the floor.
“Now you’re going to be wrinkled.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He unfastened his waistcoat.
“But I do.”
It was her schoolmistress tone-so sensitive to her precarious feelings he readily complied, picking up his coat and placing it on a nearby table. “Better?” he queried, sliding off his waistcoat. “Would you like someone to press our clothes later?” he teased.
“Very funny, I’m sure. While you may not be concerned about-”
Tossing his waistcoat at the table, he picked her up, curtailing any further comments she might be tempted to make by moving forward with all speed. “We’ll fix whatever you need fixing afterward,” he generously offered, carrying her to a large leather sofa set in the center of the room, sitting down with her on his lap. “If I proceed too fast or too slow, speak up. I am not averse to instructions,” he murmured, conscious he had a virgin on his hands.
The prospect gave him pause.
He’d never been with a virgin.
Tonight would be a first for each of them.
“I confess you’ve been rather constantly on my mind,” Claire whispered, intoxicated by his touch, his nearness, his compelling size and beauty.
Ormond touched her cheek lightly. “I have been thoroughly obsessed with you since you first burst into my house. You were a ferocious little tiger-bewitching and bedeviling me. Leading me into temptation.”
“And me,” she whispered. “Because of you, I am undone.”
More aroused by her delicate vulnerability than the most adroit courtesan practicing her craft, he found himself inclined to mount her on the spot. Drawing in a breath, he cautioned himself to restraint. “We are both undone-and I for one am unaccustomed to the feeling.”
“You don’t mean to-that is…you aren’t changing your mind?” she said with unseemly panic.
“No, no, indeed not.”
“Oh, good. Should I take this off then?” She plucked at her shift. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I worry our absence might be remarked upon.”
Could he ask for more? “Rush me all you want,” he murmured, reaching for the buttons on her shift, gratified that her timidity no longer deterred her.
She didn’t wear a corset, although her gown was boned to define the narrow waistline that was fashionable once again. He was thankful for one less garment to remove.
“May I unbutton your shirt?”
The hesitancy in her voice struck some primal nerve, reminding him afresh that there was a world outside the brittle façade of the ton. A place where women weren’t all experienced at pleasing a man, where innocence wasn’t unknown. “Please do,” he said, gently, feeling as though he was about to enter uncharted territory.
As she freed the diamond studs on his shirt front, he slipped her shift from her shoulders, taking note of the unadorned cambric fabric much the worse for wear. He would take pleasure in giving her a new wardrobe. She dressed austerely-like a governess-part of her resolve not to be beholden to her aunt, no doubt.
She needn’t worry about being beholden to him.
He was generous with his lovers.
And breasts like hers should be covered with the finest silk.
Slipping his palms under her opulent breasts, he gently weighed them in his hands. “You hide these.” He smiled. “Now that you’re mine, I’m grateful.”
“I’m not yours.” But her voice was hushed, her fingers arrested on his shirt front.
“Really.” He tightened his fingers slightly, leaving an indentation on her soft plump breasts. “I thought we had a bargain.”
She shut her eyes against the fevered ecstasy streaking downward from his hands to the throbbing ache between her legs.
“Tell me,” he whispered, taking her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently. “Tell me you’re mine.”
She shuddered as a jolt of desire rippled through her vagina. “Yes, yes.”
“Yes, what?” For a man who had always avoided female entanglements, that he required her submission should have been a warning or disquieting at least.
“Yes, yes,” she breathed, as he gently massaged her nipples, as her body opened in lustful welcome, as long-suppressed desires overwhelmed all else. “I’m yours. I’m yours…”