From the Viscount With Love

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  But no. He could not do that. Lavinia deserved better than that, and he had vowed that he would not be the man to take from her what she did not wish to give.

  "I want," she said, her hands reaching out to undo his cravat. "I want this more than you will ever know." Then the offending neck cloth was gone and she ran her inquisitive fingers down the strong column of his throat. "Do you know I have never truly touched a man before?" She bit her lip, uncertain of how much to reveal. "At least not like this. I have touched men's cocks but not their chests. Not even yours that first night, if you remember correctly. It is...odd, is it not?"

  Frost grinned, unwilling to allow this night to fall into a maudlin scene. "Then I believe we need to rectify that immediately."

  Without waiting for her to continue undressing him, he shrugged out of his topcoat, which was followed in short order by his waistcoat, his evening shirt and other bits of cloth until he was bare-chested before her and clad only in his breeches. He was uncertain as to when he lost his stockings, and shoes had disappeared at some point as well, but he was quite surprised to discover that only a single, thin layer of fabric lay between him and Lavinia's questing fingers.

  Frost stood before her bathed in little more than firelight and once more, Lavinia's heart felt as if it might crack inside of her chest. He was allowing her the leisure to explore him at her will, and it was among the most precious of gifts she had ever received. Even more precious than the diamonds that still hung at her throat and ears.

  He was giving her a gift that no other man, not even Lord Burfield, ever had or ever could. He was allowing her the gift of exploration at her own pace. And explore she did, from the hard planes of his chest to the dip and curve of his spine, there was no part of him that her fingers did not touch and her lips did not kiss. She watched him break out into a thin sheen of sweat as she trailed a line of kisses down over his chest to where the thin line of dark hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his breeches.

  She did that to him. Her. Lavinia. She could bring the Viscount Chillton to the verge of passion with just a touch. And that notion was something of a revelation. She had given men pleasure before, but never quite like this. In this, she was an active participant, venturing where she wished and pleasing him as she liked. She was not forced to her knees and commanded to part her lips so that the man might slide his erect cock into her mouth, grasping her head hard as he forced her to move, demanding pleasure rather than asking for it.

  This was nothing short of wondrous and magical. This was a gift no other man had ever even thought to give her. Or likely even wanted to. This was the gift of choice. Her choice. And she reveled in it.

  With unsteady fingers, she reached for the buttons on his breeches, but Frost's hand still her before she had undone more than one or two. "Lavinia. No. You need not do this." He looked down at her with slumberous, silver eyes and she could see an aching need deep within them. But he was keeping his promise. He would not press. He would not force her to do something she did not wish to.

  "But I want to." Her voice was soft, so soft that she wasn't even certain she had spoken the words aloud. She must have, however, for his face broke into a smile and he swallowed hard.

  "But you don't have to." He paused. "Just so you know." This was Frost laid bare, whether he knew it or not. But Lavinia knew. This was the man who loved his family and held the rules of Society sacred no matter how much he protested otherwise. This was the man at his core, behind the mask of cool indifference he showed the world. And she was honored that he would allow her of all people to see him this way.

  "I know." She smiled again and when he finally pulled his hands from hers, she finished what she had started and undid the rest of the buttons.

  Carefully, Frost stepped out of his breeches and Lavinia was delighted to see that he had not worn smalls that evening. On her knees before him, she did not feel weak or cowed or beaten. In this room and at this moment, she was not merely an instrument for his pleasure. Instead, she felt strong and powerful, a lady in charge. This man's desire for her made him weak. Vulnerable. Now that the roles were reversed, she could see, at least a little bit, the attraction of such an arrangement. For men like her mother's lover, this sort of power over someone, especially when they had no power elsewhere in their lives, would be very attractive indeed. She did not like it, but she understood.

  When Lavinia reached out to stroke Frost's hardened member, he let out a hiss that might have been mixed with a curse. She was not certain, for the words were garbled by lust and desire. Then, when she took him into her mouth and began to caress him, she was certain that he swore - this time a curse and a prayer mixed with her name. And it was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard.

  Using all of the skills she had acquired over the years, she pleasured Frost until she felt him shuddering beneath her. He used his hands to guide her and she did not resist, his touch one of reverence and urging rather than the harsh, demanding hands that she had known before. Ones that had treated her as if this sort of pleasure was their right to demand. Not hers to give freely.

  "Enough, pet," he finally ground out, "else I will spill before I am ready."

  "I would not mind." Lavinia had endured the experience before and she had, in a way, expected that their first encounter might end that way.

  "But I would." She had not been expecting that response, so she was unsteady when Frost reached down and pulled her to her feet. "My turn." His voice was low and seductive as he turned her around so that her back was to him.

  Lavinia felt his fingers fumble a few times on the row of tiny buttons that raced down the back of her gown, but Frost was determined and soon enough, the silk fell away to lie in a pool at her feet.

  "You are as exquisite as I remembered," he sighed with pleasure. "That first night, I wanted you so desperately."

  "Then why didn't you take me? You could have. It was expected." And she had been more than a little confused when he hadn't so much as done more than kiss and caress her back at Lycosura.

  He shook his head. "It was not right. Not proper. I was there to rescue you. Not debauch you."

  "I would not have minded." Though the nights in the brothel were dimming in her memory a bit, Lavinia still recalled the thrill that had shot through her the first time she had watched Frost stride through the door, all masculine grace and raw power. She had decided that if a man was to have her against her will, it should be this man. Never, though, had she imagined coming to him like this. As equals. And that thought ignited a new fire deep within her.

  "But I would have. Greatly. That is not how I do things." He placed an open-mouthed kiss at the nape of her neck. "I have slept with whores, Lavinia. I shan't hide that fact, and I do not think you would expect me to do so. But you are not a whore. Not to me. You never were. As I have said, you were always...more."

  Then his hands were peeling away her stays and her chemise until she was clad in nothing at all. No stockings or garters, not even a stitch of lace between them. For the first time in her life, Lavinia was completely and utterly naked with a man. An aroused man whose erection was pressing hard into her backside. And amazingly, she felt no fear.

  There was a part of her that had imagined she would. Even with Frost. And while it was true that the memories of her past lapped at the edges of her mind, they were not consuming her mind as she feared they might. Instead, it was just her and Frost. And it was perfect.

  Turning in the circle of his arms, she reached up to run her fingers through his close-cropped hair. "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  She smiled even though a small part of her heart was breaking at the same time, knowing she would have this night and no others. For he was not hers to keep and never could be. "For this night. For treating me as if I mattered. As if I am truly a lady with worth and value."

  "To me, you are all of those things. And more." Frost truly had meant to confront Lavinia earlier about her past so that she might realize that he k
new and that he didn't care. But at some point between the ball and the coach ride home, those words had become less and less important. So he hadn't spoken them. In fact, he hadn't let on that he knew anything more about her past than he had that morning. Now, it was too late. He would not risk spoiling this moment for anything in the world.

  Frost had desired Lavinia from the moment he saw her sitting on that stupid chair, her skirts hiked up as if she was some sort of common doxy. He wanted her in his bed, and each day that passed that he did not have her had bordered on torture. Now she was here with him. In his arms. Soon in his bed. He would not risk this moment for anything or anyone. Not even the truth.

  "I need you, Robert," Lavinia whispered as she kissed his chest, her arms now looped around his neck. "Please."

  He wasn't certain whether it was the "please" or her use of his Christian name that did it, but the last of Frost's restraint broke like water over a damn. Then he was kissing her everywhere his mouth could reach - her shoulders and her breasts. The tips of her nipples where he suckled and nipped until she squirmed and cried out in his arms.

  When her knees went weak, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bed, laying her down gently, half afraid that she might break and shatter the moment he came over her, his heavy body possibly too much for her to bear.

  But she did not break and instead, she gave as good as she got, including passionate, open-mouthed kisses where tongues tangled and begged for complete surrender. She was stronger than he imagined she could be, matching his passion with a fierce need of her own, one that both shocked and delighted him at the same time.

  This was his Lavinia. And she was magnificent. Just as he had known she would be.

  Frost traced a line of kisses down the column of her delicate throat, nipping at the tender skin as she used her fingers to define the line of his spine, exploring the sinew and muscle of his back with eager, questing fingers once more. There was no hesitation. She wanted this and had for some time. It was evident in her every touch. She might yet be chaste but she was not an innocent, and there was a part of Frost that rejoiced in the knowledge. He did not know how he would react if she shied away from him. If her need was not as great as his own. She was truly perfect for him in every way.

  Just as quickly as the thought rose in his mind, he shoved it back down into a dark corner of his heart and locked the proverbial door. This was physical. No emotion. No love. That was a line he would not cross. Not even for Lavinia. She was leaving. She was not his family. Nor would she ever be. But she could be...if he took the next step. Once more, Frost slammed the door shut on those thoughts. They had no place in this bed tonight. Only pleasure did. He was a man who did not love and to say otherwise would be to lie.

  "I need you, Lea," Frost growled, nipping at her skin. "Now." He ran a hand down over her backside and squeezed, letting her know precisely what it was that he desired.

  "Yes," she agreed, breathless herself, her body arching into his, her breasts pressed hard against his chest. "Yes, Robert. Yes."

  Then he was there, settling himself between her legs, the hard tip of his erection pressing into her. He tested her wetness, sliding a finger through her slick curls and finding her anxious and eager. When he touched the hidden bundle of nerves at her center, she came apart in his arms, crying out his name so that he was forced to silence her with a kiss, lest she wake the entire house.

  As she arched against him once more, still riding the last throes of her release, Frost flexed his hips and pushed inside of her. He felt her stiffen as he passed through her maidenly barrier, letting him know for certain that she was truly as chaste as she had always claimed. When he was fully seated within her, he stilled, though it nearly killed him to wait, his body's desperate need to pump and thrust almost more than he could tame. But tame his body he would - for Lavinia's sake and no other's.

  "Are you hurt, pet?" he asked through gritted teeth, knowing that she likely was and hating himself a little for it. This was precisely why he did not dabble with virgins. He did not like to cause a woman pain. Especially not one as special as Lavinia. But it had to be done. There was no other way.

  Lavinia was silent for a moment, and Frost feared she might tell him to remove himself. It would be sheer torture but he would do so if she asked. However, to his immense relief, she smiled a little and flexed her hips, nearly causing him to spill himself inside of her. "No. I...Robert...it is...wonderful." And she reached up to tangle her tongue with his once more. "It is more perfect than I had even imagined."

  That was all it took.

  Frost allowed his body free reign, driving Lavinia to the brink of pleasure before pulling her back again. Over and over, he gave to her, teaching her what it meant for a man and a woman to share their bodies, to discover pleasure together rather than one partner only taking while the other received nothing in return. He would do this for her as often as she liked, as often as she would allow it, if for no other reason than to begin to erase at least some of the horrors she had suffered at the hands of other men.

  For her part, Lavinia was a quick study and it did not take her long to learn what pleased him and what did not. With each thrust, she spread her legs wide until she finally gave up and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper within her and eliciting a groan that he could only describe as one of pure delight.

  Then, just when he feared that he had reached his limit for restraint, Frost felt Lavinia clench tightly around his aching cock, her next release still just out of her reach. With a skilled hand, he traced the line of her nether lips as he continued to pump, his hips rocking against hers in a rhythm designed to drive them both to the edge. He pressed his thumb to that secret pearl just as his finger traced the edge of where their bodies joined.

  In an instant, Lavinia shattered around him, her body clenching hard as she rode this new wave of passion with an intensity that amazed even the most jaded side of his nature. He thought he had witnessed it all when it came to passion. But then, he had never bedded Lady Lavinia, so indeed he had not witnessed everything.

  "Robert!" she cried out and that single word pushed his own release to the edge. He had planned to pull out of her in time and release onto his sheets, but he could not, instead spilling himself inside of her. He had promised to protect her from the possibility of a child and he wanted to damn himself to Hell and back. Never had he lost control in this manner. Never! Not even with the most brazen and inventive of the Cyprians.

  Except that when Lavinia clung to him, her body holding tight to his and receiving his seed willingly, he found that he did not feel as wretched as he had first imagined. Instead, as his mind began to drift on a pleasant, passion-induced haze, he decided that if this night bore consequences, they would deal with them. It need not be the end of the world if they did not wish it. And when Lavinia sighed in utter contentment and pressed her delectable body against his, Frost found that he cared even less about unintended consequences than he had even a minute before.

  They rested and then awoke several more times throughout the night, reaching for each other in unspoken mutual agreement. The flames in the hearth died down low and at one point, Frost rose to close the curtains when the clatter of hooves on the street outside floated up to them mutely, indicating that the last of the balls were likely ending for the evening. Eventually, they heard the slamming of doors and the light fall of slippered feet on the stairs as his mother and sisters returned. Together, they lay quietly in his bed, waiting until the house settled once again for the night, the shadows and silence deepening around them until it was possible to believe that they were in their own world where no one else could tread.

  Once unleashed to the idea of pleasure, Frost discovered that Lavinia was insatiable. She kissed him everywhere and used her teeth to nip at his flesh as he took her repeatedly throughout the night, each time introducing her to newer and ever more delightful pleasures of the flesh. If she objected to anything that he did, she did not utt
er a word of protest. Instead, she opened to him each time he came to her, even riding him when he rolled her over to sit astride him for a moment before lowering her onto his erection with a low growl that forced her to smother a laugh.

  Finally, in the last hour before dawn, she took him into her mouth once more, her on her knees and he seated on the edge of the bed, and she gave him the same sort of pleasure she had given other men before him. But this time, for Lavinia at least, it was different. Frost could see it in her eyes, in the way she gazed up at him softly as she suckled him. She was doing this because she chose to. Not because he was forcing her. And when she held him still as he spent himself again, he did not protest or pull away. This, he knew, was her gift to him. Her gift for allowing her the time to explore and proceed at her own pace rather than forcing his wishes on her.

  And when he was done, his body limp and sated, Frost did the only thing he could - the one thing he had never done with a woman before. Not even the ones he had installed in the love nest or taken as mistresses.

  Frost pulled Lavinia into bed next to him and they slept. For the first time in his life, Robert Tillsbury, Viscount Chillton, slept beside a woman. And he felt no fear in doing so. He only felt peace.

  Chapter Fifteen

  For the next two days, Lavinia floated in her own little dream world, not truly seeing much of what went on around her, or at least not very clearly. She was too wrapped up in the sheer delight she had found in Frost's arms and the way she felt when he was inside of her. This was happiness and she had known so little of that emotion in her life that she hung on tightly, no matter how much her mind cautioned her otherwise.

  As she had expected, Lavinia had awoken the next morning sore in places she did not know she could be and a little embarrassed at how wanton and reckless she had been. But a quick kiss on the lips from Frost as he secreted her back to her own room before the rest of the house awoke cured her of that fear. He had enjoyed himself as much as she and showed no hint that he regretted his actions - including spilling his seed inside of her each time they coupled.