Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  “You must tell me to stop if you should feel the least bit … uncomfortable. Or, if you think you’re about to faint,” George spoke quietly, his lips barely touching the skin beneath her ear.

  Elizabeth started. “Faint?” she repeated, an inhalation of breath joining the word as his lips moved to her earlobe and bit gently on the flesh. She turned in his arms so she faced him again. “Why ever would I … faint?” One of her hands reached up to grip his shoulder, as if she needed it for support.

  George paused in his nibbling and straightened a bit. He couldn’t help but notice the hand on his shoulder stayed where it was. Elizabeth’s eyes found his, a hint of worry evident in their gaze. How should I answer? He could be blunt and simply tell her he expected to bring her to ecstasy at least a few times and she might be overcome by the excessive pleasure of it all.

  But to do so would be boastful of his newly learned skills.

  And what if she didn’t respond as his mistress had?

  Josie was experienced in matters of a carnal nature. As experienced as she was at giving pleasure, she also knew how to allow his touch and tongue and lips to bring her pleasure, how to open herself to the possibilities of further pleasure, even when she claimed to be sated. “The French call it la petit mort,” he finally stated quietly, his expression remaining impassive.

  Elizabeth’s French lessons slowly resolved the meaning of George’s words. The little death.

  Not the big tickle as her mother had said in an offhand manner a few days ago.

  Perhaps the little death came after the big tickle, when you were so out of breath from the incredible sensation you simply fainted. The mere thought of such pleasure sent a delightful shiver through Elizabeth’s belly. Her eyes widened suddenly in response, in understanding of what she’d just felt—arousal— and the cause of it—mere words spoken by a man that, until this moment, she’d considered a means to an end.

  Unbidden thoughts of Gabriel Wellingham surfaced just then. With his appreciative glances and flirty words, he had made her feel as if he desired her. But at no time had any of his words caused this kind of response in her. Never had she experienced arousal with him—even when she thought of him while she lay waiting for sleep to take her late at night.

  When her thoughts returned to George, her full atten­tion on the not-so-handsome visage just inches from her gaze, her body responded again, this time in such a way she couldn’t ignore the pleasant shivers, the exciting frissons that coursed through her entire being. He was looking at her as if he were memorizing every inch of her, as if he hoped to read her thoughts by studying every detail of her face. He must have known, somehow, that his mere suggestion of her pos­sibly fainting would cause these skitters of pleasure beneath her skin.

  Didn’t he? If so, it didn’t show on his face.

  How could he know?

  George noted her widened eyes and sought to allevi­ate any fears he might have caused with his comment. “And should you be so overcome by pleasure you do indeed faint, I promise I shall not take advantage of your situation. Other than to … hold you,” he added hesitantly. If she did faint, he had no intention of leaving her side. He could only hope that if she did faint, she would do so after he’d removed her gown and other clothing so he might use the time to memorize every inch of her body.

  The thought of her naked body in his arms sparked his own arousal, his hardening manhood suddenly uncomfort­able behind the placket of his breeches. He grimaced, annoyed his body would betray his desire so early in the assignation. Maintain control!

  Elizabeth nodded, her gaze still on him. A series of pleas­ant contractions skittered through her, causing her to inhale sharply. The mere thought of what George might do to her was in itself so pleasurable, she found herself realizing that what he described could truly happen. Mistaking the pained expres­sion etched on his face as concern for her, Elizabeth nodded. “I shall try my best to remain conscious. I shouldn’t want to miss anything, after all,” she said demurely, a nervous grin replacing her own expression of concern.

  George regarded her for a long moment, heartened she could exhibit a sense of humor at a time when he knew she must be at least as nervous as he was.

  And then his lips were on hers, claiming them in a gentle kiss very much like the one they had shared in Lady Worthing­ton’s library. Elizabeth leaned into the kiss, feeling a shock of excitement when her bosom lightly touched the front of his waistcoat. At the same moment, the tip of his tongue moved to separate her lips. Her gasp of surprise was swallowed by his tongue and his mouth, their movement over her lips and inside her mouth making her dizzy with excitement. Moving her hands to his shoulders, she first gripped his waistcoat and then used her palms to support herself; otherwise, her body would simply fall against the front of his, and wouldn’t that be too wanton?

  The sensation created by one of his fingers caressing her jawline had her arching back so her throat was full exposed to his touch. Wrapping an arm around the back of her waist to prevent her from falling, George pulled away from the kiss enough to move his lips down her neck and to the hollow of her throat. He was aware of her hands around his neck, hold­ing on as if her life depended on it. And when the fingertips that caressed her cheek moved down her neckline, pausing to trace the line of the fabric along the tops of her breasts, he felt the jolt that nearly knocked her out of his arms. He took the opportunity to turn her body around. Before she could utter a protest or ask what he was about to do, his lips were on the back of her neck, one arm wrapped around her waist, another undoing the hooks down the middle of her back. As the fabric spread apart, he moved his kisses lower, following the bones of her spine until he’d run out of hooks. Placing the palm of his hand very slightly against her inward curve of her back, he slid it up and out along the back of her shoulder, feeling her shivers beneath his fingers as the gown was freed from one shoulder. At that moment, he confirmed she wore no corset.

  And no shift.

  It was nearly his undoing.

  His cock sprang to life against the placket of his breeches, straining the fabric. He took a breath and steadied himself, forcing himself to concentrate on freeing the long sleeve of her gown from her arm. His finger drew down her skin, gently pulling silk past her elbow and over her hand. Her body felt almost boneless as it leaned against the front of the hard lines of his torso, her auburn curls tickling his jaw. He was sure she could feel his manhood pressing into the base of her spine as he shifted behind her to remove the other sleeve. As if in slow motion, Elizabeth raised her free hand to place it against the space just below her breasts, apparently to hold up the gown as her arm slipped out of the other sleeve.

  George drew his finger back up the outside of her arm, eliciting a sigh and a gasp from Elizabeth. Her head was rest­ing against his shoulder, and he used the opportunity to cap­ture her earlobe with his tongue and pull it between his teeth. The sudden inhalation of her breath brought the tops of her breasts into view, forcing George to close his eyes and concen­trate on suckling the soft skin of her ear and on undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. With that task completed, he moved his lips to follow her hairline to the nape of her neck while he shrugged out of one side of the waistcoat. That done, he moved his free arm to grasp her around her middle, where her arm held up the gown. He let go of her with his other arm. The waistcoat joined the tailcoat in the neat pile he’d created below. He wrapped his arm about her shoulders, sliding the tips of his fingers over the lines of her collarbone, around the hollow of her throat, and down the center of her bosom until they disap­peared in her cleavage.

  She was aware of the gown’s silk slipping from her breasts, of its cool slickness sliding down over her stomach, of his lips nipping at her shoulder and his hand cupping her breast. The sound of her gasp nearly brought her back to her senses, but then he’d captured a nipple between his thumb and middle fin­ger, held it gently while barely rubbing it with the pad of his forefinger. She was lost again as his ministrations sent
shivers of delight through her breast.

  Her other breast, suddenly heavy and tipped with a hard­ening nipple, filled his other hand as he slid it up from her waist and cradled it. A thumb passed over the engorged tip, once barely making contact, and the second time pressing it and then circling it until it was round and red. The jolt of elec­tricity that passed through her breast forced her back against the front of his body. The fabric of his shirt seemed to chafe the skin of her back, the wool of his breeches scratching through the thin fabric of her pantaloons.

  With her head still against his shoulder, his lips took purchase along her jaw and the skin just below it. There were sounds of whimpering, of gasps and mewling Elizabeth barely realized came from her. When one breast was suddenly released from his hand, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and watched as the hand slid down the front of her body and disappeared beneath the gown. The tapes of her pan­taloons suddenly loosened, and the fine lawn slid down her legs to pool at her feet. After another moment, the petticoat joined the pile, the swishing of the soft fabric over her legs and her sudden inhalations the only sounds in the room.

  George could feel her labored breathing, hear her soft moans, feel the entire weight of her body pressed against the front of his. Her legs seemed as if they were no longer able to hold her up; she would slide down to the floor if he didn’t get her onto the bed. He slowly pulled his hands away from her and caught her body in his arms. He carried her the few steps to the large bed—his bed. Elkins had pulled the cur­tains around the side of the bed facing the room and turned down the linens, leaving the expanse of white linen the perfect canvas onto which to place her. Although she still held her gown clutched to the front of her body, she had done noth­ing to recover her breasts. As for the rest of her body, George knew there was nothing beneath the silk but her bare skin. One of her arms lay splayed to one side. He reached down and wrapped his hand around hers, lifted it to his lips, and brushed his lips over the bare knuckles. Elizabeth’s quick inhalation of breath matched the frisson he felt shoot down her arm.

  She gazed up at him through long lashes that nearly hid her eyes. Finally able to catch her breath and allowing her vision to clear, Elizabeth sighed. “That was … amazing,” she murmured, noticing for the first time he now wore only his linen shirt and breeches. “Will you … stay with me while I rest?”

  George blinked and straightened, momentarily confused by her question. Then he was amused when he realized to what she referred. I shall see to it you are thoroughly pleasured by midnight and allow you to rest undisturbed until one. “My lady, I haven’t yet begun to pleasure you,” he responded with a devilish half-smile that made him look enticing, handsome even.

  Elizabeth stared back, her mouth forming one of those perfect ‘o’s that it seemed to do so well. And that made him want to cover it with his own lips and kiss it until the ‘o’ was in awe and begged for mercy. “Oh,” she breathed, her eyes widen­ing as she realized the implication of his statement.

  George nearly drowned in their aquamarine depths. Aware he was staring, he nodded and said, “I will be but a moment.” He forced his gaze away and moved back to the chair. He turned down the flame in the main lamp and then sat down to take off his shoes and stockings. Having no intention of being naked himself, he thought only to get himself comfortable enough to perform the ministrations he thought would prove his skill. He wondered at Elizabeth’s comfort. She hadn’t made a single protest as he’d removed her shoes and stockings, nor had she put up a fuss about his having unhooked her gown or about nearly removing the last vestige of covering she still held clutched to her bosom. Well, by the time he was done—he had over two hours before midnight would strike—she might yet remove the gown of her own accord. He had decided he would not take it from her unless she asked for him to do so.

  With any luck, she would beg him to remove it.

  Although the flames in the fireplace were dying just a bit, when he thought about adding another log, he decided against it—the extra light would counter his efforts to relax her enough for what was to come, and the room seemed espe­cially warm already.

  Or perhaps it is just me who is too warm.

  There was still a good deal of champagne in the bottle, although the ice around it had mostly melted. He refilled her glass and took it to her, noting that she supported herself on one elbow and let go of her gown to take the champagne. Refill­ing his own glass, he took a long drink of it and looked about the room, very aware her eyes followed him. He finally moved back to the bed, raising one leg so he could sit on the edge of it and support most of his weight on the foot that remained on the floor. Elizabeth’s gaze followed his movement, her body backing up into the middle of the bed as he did so, as if to give him room to join her there.

  “The first time I saw you dancing, you were waltzing,” he said in a very quiet voice, so husky he almost didn’t recog­nize it as his own. “Your gorgeous hair was all lit up with the light from the candles in the chandeliers, and you had a bril­liant smile on your face, as if you were having the best night of your life. And it was at that moment that I …” He looked away for a moment, leaving her hanging on his last word. She pushed herself up so that her arms were straight and slightly behind her, the gown barely perched on the tips of her breasts. “I wanted so badly to be a part of your … of your night.” He’d nearly said ‘life’ just then, but thought better of it.

  No need to frighten the woman just yet.

  “So, you can imagine my delight when you were thrown into my arms and danced the rest of the waltz with me. You dance beautifully, by the way” he said before drinking the last of his champagne. “And then you agreed to attend the supper with me. I thought I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

  At some point in his confession, Elizabeth had raised a hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into it and closed his eyes, covered her hand with his own and then pulled her hand away so he could kiss the palm. His tongue trailed up to her wrist and his lips took purchase there, forcing Elizabeth to take a sharp breath when the unexpected sensation of pleasure shot up through her arm. His other hand had moved to support her elbow, where his lips fluttered like butterfly wings over the del­icate skin. George heard her whimpers, felt the ripples under her skin and carefully repositioned his body so that he could reach her lips with his own.

  The kiss was ever so gentle at first—barely a whisper of a touch before he pressed the tip of his tongue against her teeth. She moaned and slowly lowered her upper body back down to the pillows, the strength in her arm suddenly gone. As George deepened the kiss, he moved a hand to stroke her other arm, his fingertip trailing up the inside of her wrist to her elbow and on to the soft, silken skin under her arm.

  When his thumb brushed against the side of her breast, she jerked, the reaction causing George to pause a moment and finish the kiss. His lips worked their way down her jaw to her neck and then to her throat, where his tongue found the round hollow and seemed to take delight in feeling the source of her light moans and whimpering. He brushed his thumb against the side of her breast again, teasing and testing to determine if she would deny him. When her chest lifted just a bit from the bed, he slid his hand higher, using his thumb to brush over the nipple. The ruched bud was already erect, already aroused and ready for his lips to take purchase and suckle it. He wanted to hear his name spoken in her velvet soft voice as he took her to her first level of ecstasy.

  Her eyes, if not already closed, were nearly so, the lashes seeming to rest on the tops of those beautiful cheekbones. His lips finished the work his tongue had started on her throat, moving ever so slowly down the front of her body. When his lips reached her collarbone, he let his tongue lave across it as his chin caught the edge of her bodice. As he moved lower, the upper edge of the fabric caught on her erect peaks, chafing them so Elizabeth’s body nearly came off the bed, her arms struggling to take purchase in the soft mattress. His mouth covered her nipple, sucking it until it was between his teeth an
d then gently biting it—not too hard, for fear she would deny him any more of her body. Her cries were louder, no longer whimpers, her breaths short, quick gasps as his mouth lifted and let go of the nipple. Reaching out with his tongue, he laved it across the hardened bud. Elizabeth’s chest came up from the mattress, as did her hands, and her fingers buried themselves in his hair.

  “Ge … orge!” she cried out, drawing out his name as she writhed beneath him. Her hands had moved down to the sides of his body, clutching at the linen of his shirt, pulling it out of his breeches in handfuls as he moved his mouth to the other nipple. He cupped the breast in one warm hand and lifted it up, his lips kissing and suckling as he did so, barely aware she had managed to get his shirt up along his back. And then he felt her warm hands, her fingers, her nails taking purchase into the skin of his back, scraping and gripping and leaving little half-moon brands in his skin. He let go of her nipple and groaned, suddenly aware of his own body’s reaction to her arousal. With her writhing, her gown had moved down to her hips. Gasping for his own breath, George lowered his head against her belly, the tip of his tongue circling her naval and the soft flesh around it while the hair on the top of his head tickled the underside of her breasts.

  “Take it off,” he heard from somewhere above. His tongue slowed its descent and he wondered at the words. “Get it off, please,” she was whispering, begging as her fingers fumbled and clutched at her gown. Suddenly understanding, George moved a hand beneath her bottom and lifted her hips as he gently pulled on the fabric. He wanted to jerk the gown free, tear it from her body in a fit of lust, but the litany of maintain control echoed in his mind.

  Chapter 33

  The Reverence in Pleasure

  She should have felt chilled. Should have felt vulnerable. She should have felt embarrassed at her nakedness.

  I should be feeling ashamed of myself!

  But Elizabeth felt none of those as George’s gentle touches pushed her gown down past her hips, exposing her most inti­mate places, his fingers barely making contact with her flushed skin as he complied with her request.