Georgianna: The Last Real Duchess (The Real Duchesses of London)

by Lavinia Kent

  Had he pushed her too far? "I meant no offense, my dear?"

  "And do you call all women "my dear" when you hardly know them. I assure you I do not find such liberties inviting."

  She was playing with him. Her tone might be cold, but he recognized the glow in her eyes, although he had not seen it in years. "My lady, I assure you I meant no offense. Perhaps I could escort you inside to warm by the fire. I would hate for such a beautiful creature to take cold."

  "It is your grace. My husband, the duke, is quite fierce."

  There was one thing he needed her know. "Oh dear, your grace, I've never gone after a married woman."

  That clearly stumped her. He could see her thoughts stop and start as they tried to put that statement together with what had happened in their own marriage.

  "And is it a problem for you?" she asked, her voice slow and careful.

  "With any other woman, no – but with you it would be. It seems that I have come to take marriage very, very seriously."

  The play left her face. "So you would be faithful if you married?"

  "Forever and always."

  Her eyes shadowed for a moment despite the lack of clouds in the sky. And then she smiled, her lips spreading wide and her tongue darting out to wet the full lower one. "Well, if I am the only married woman you'll consider making an exception for then perhaps we should get on with it. You said something about escorting me in. I do find that I've become quite chilled."

  The fire was roaring as they entered the parlor. The servants must have slipped in to stoke it. He was glad they had departed, because Annie's dress was still loose about her and he would have hated for her to face embarrassment.

  Annie. When had it become so easy to think of her as Annie? He had resisted it for so long and yet from the moment he had given in it had become second nature. The girl of his past might have been Georgianna. The warm, sensual woman before him was Annie – his wife.

  He stepped briefly to the hall, giving directions for brandy and sweets to be fetched and then for the servants to make themselves scarce. There were definitely situations where too little service was better than too much.

  "Here, let me sit you by the fire so that you can warm up. I've always enjoyed sharing a little heat with a beautiful woman.” He led her to a chair before the hearth, making note of thick carpet before it. He pulled over a stool and set her feet upon it as he waited for the brandy to arrive. Looking her over, he leaned near and pulled her bodice a little higher, arranging it over her shoulders so that nobody would detect the loose laces.

  "Really, Sir. I must protest such familiarity.” She was back to teasing and play.

  "Do forgive me. I was more afraid of others taking such liberties.” Even as he spoke a footman entered with the brandy and a small tray of treats.

  Annie flushed deep as she realized how much she might have been showing. "Oh," was all she said.

  "And," he leaned in close, "I must tell you a secret. I am actually your grace, as well."

  Another "Oh."

  He hadn't done as good a job as he had thought at arranging her dress. From his vantage point, so close he might have kissed her, he could see everything. Despite his best intentions he found his gaze locked on a raspberry pink nipple. He swallowed. His body had been at a state of attention for hours now. The constant move between seduction and seriousness and anger and play was wearing on his best intentions.

  #

  Annie was not sure how to react to her husband's heated gaze. Her emotions had been all over the place this evening and she wasn't sure she was thinking straight. Granted, what woman would think straight when a man like Richard was staring at her in such a manner? It was quite amazing that she hadn't just melted into a heap of cinders.

  Still, she fought to regain some degree of reason, she needed to be sure she was doing the right thing – or did that even matter?

  Wasn't it time she took the leap?

  Leaning forward slightly, she watched his pupils grow large as her other nipple slipped into view. His breathing grew heavy and she could feel it caress her skin. She let her head fall back, exposing the long lines of her neck, sending an invitation. "I do declare it is getting quite warm in here. Do you think you could cool me?"

  "And I thought you wanted to be warmed up?"

  Annie grinned at the ceiling. Flirtation was easy. Perhaps that was the answer. Enjoy the moment and leave everything serious for later – because later always did come.

  But, it was not now. From this moment forward she would not think one thought about tomorrow.

  "I did, but I find that suddenly I am sweltering. Perhaps you could blow on me and cool me off.” She tilted her chin further.

  The first puff hit the point of her chin. The second the arch of her neck. The third the hollow at the base of her neck. Then he blew lower, causing the ruffled lace edge of her bodice to flutter. A shudder ran all through her body.

  "I've often heard that if you dampen things you cool them off, your grace. Should I try and see?"

  "I am sure a little experimentation never hurt anyone.” Was that her voice, so light and breathy?

  She felt him lift her feet from the stool and settle on it himself, and then instead of an answer, he blew across her chest, the warmth of his breath tickling her – and then he licked, licked and suckled his way across the creamy swells of her breasts, pushing her gown low again, teasing and delighting. And the next breath, long and slow. Her whole body shivered in delight. It was cooling, but she'd never been so hot. Her whole body felt as if it burned from within.

  Her fingers curled with the desire to touch him, to crush him to her. Clenching them tight she resisted, wanting to see where he would lead.

  His breath brushed over again, wisping over the tips of nipples, softer than a feather. And then his mouth was there, circling, licking, torturing. Her back arched up, striving to bring his mouth to the tender point that demanded his touch, demanded him.

  "Please." The word escaped her lips in a gasp.

  His chuckle rumbled against her belly. "Slow down. I am supposed to be seducing you. You know what those gasps do to me."

  And then his mouth was there, right where she wanted. His lips fastened about the tight peak, sucking it hard. His tongue played about the tip, sending darts of lightening and pleasure all through her. Curling his fingers about her other breast, he gave that nipple equal treatment.

  Squirming, Annie bit down on her lower lip, refusing to beg again. Her hands were still clenched by her sides, nails biting into palms. Her breath was speeding. It felt like her lungs might explode at any moment.

  Had it ever been like this before?

  She shifted, her legs falling open so that he could angle even closer. His mouth was moving from breast to breast now, his breath matching pace with hers, frantic and fast. One of his hands slid down her leg, slipping the slipper from her foot. And then it began a slow path back up, slipping beneath her skirts, running along her fine silk stockings. He caressed her ankle, rubbing at that oh so tender spot just above her heel, and then up higher, circling her calf, massaging, easing pains she had not been aware of while creating aches that felt as if they could never be eased.

  Her head swung back and forth, her eyes closed, as all she did was feel, feel and imagine.

  #

  She was more beautiful than he'd remembered. In his mind she was always perfect, but real was so much better than perfect. In her girlhood she'd been perfect innocence and then the perfect lady. She'd always had passion, but he'd always looked at her through the veil of wife. Something about their silly game tonight, pretending that it was their first time had freed him to see her through new eyes.

  She was glorious. Beautiful. Fun. Passionate. He'd never appreciated what he had. A shiver took him as he thought how close he'd come to losing her. And then another shiver took him, this one had nothing to do with loss and everything to do with the flush that rose on her chest, with the taste of her skin. He sucked her nipple
deep into his mouth, suckling, nipping, laving. No king had ever feasted so well – although he had ideas that his feasting was only just begun.

  God, he wanted her. Wanted her now.

  He could push up her skirts and be in her within seconds, moments. He could be buried to the hilt with her thrashing beneath him like a wild woman.

  No. He counted backwards in his brain. This was seduction, not ravishment – although in truth it might be a little of both.

  His mouth continued to pleasure her breasts, as first one hand and then the other slipped under her skirts, slipped up her legs, pushing her skirts along. He wanted to see her, to see the tender flesh he was laying bare beneath the candlelight, but he could not bear to leave her breasts, to leave the sweetest berries God had ever created.

  Sliding his hands higher, he played at the back of her knees. That tender spot of impossibly soft flesh had always been a favorite – and so full of nerves. Her calves tightened about him as he slipped his fingers back and forth along the sweet fold.

  And then he could wait no longer. Releasing her breasts, he slid down her body until he knelt before her. With one swift motion he pushed her skirts to her waist, revealing her fully to his eager gaze.

  "What are you . . ?"

  "Hush, my sweet. Don't you want to see what a man can do in just one night?"

  But, it can't be proper." Her voice shook but she did not push her skirts back down.

  "I wish you could see how you look to me." He leaned back, taking her in. "I don't think I've ever seen a sight more glorious.” And it was true. Her dark waves of hair lay mussed about her pale face, the lips ruby from his kisses. Her breasts stood high and full and tempting. The tips red and swollen and crying out for further attention. Her legs hugged him. Their long, shapely length inviting him upward to that spot of which all men dreamed.

  Dark curls partially obscured her from his view, but her sweet crease glistened with moisture, with want, with need – need for him. He pressed her thighs wider, revealing her more fully.

  "Are you hot there? Is that why your dear cuny cries for me?"

  Annie turned her head, her embarrassment clear – but she did not move or back away.

  "Should I cool you?" he asked, leaning forward until only inches separated him from her folds, from that which he desired. And then he blew – softly at first and then with increasing force. The dark curls shimmied and danced beneath the breeze. He leaned closer inhaling her scent deeply as he breathed in – before sending another puff along her heated flesh.

  Her thighs tightened about his shoulders, a low moan escaping her lips. "You shouldn't."

  "I most definitely should." He leaned forward and placed the lightest butterfly of a kiss upon the spot that he knew must hide her delicate core of nerves, his tongue filling her crevasses. Her whole body jerked in response.

  Another kiss. Another jerk.

  This time he opened his lips, sucking her into him so that her sweet flavor filled him.

  His entire body tightened, demanded he do more – but he held firm. This was for her – and for him. Prolonging it all would only make the eventual pleasure greater. He shifted, trying to find a position that granted him more ease.

  And then he feasted, lowering his head he licked and nibbled, tasting all of her. He ran his tongue along her full length, coming back again and again to that one sweet bundle. Her soft cries music to his ears.

  This was heaven.

  #

  This was heaven. She'd never known such a thing was possible – or that Richard would want to do it, but . . . thought faded as his tongue darted and danced across parts of her flesh for which she had no name. Her whole body vibrated with pleasure, her legs clenching tight about his shoulders. Her fingers tangled in his hair, released from the prison she'd held them at along her sides. She couldn’t not touch him. Her hips bucked up as he sucked her tight into his mouth while his tongue, my God, his tongue. It should not be possible to feel this – his hands ran up her thighs and joined his mouth – one finger slipped inside her, filling her as she needed to be filled – only she need more, his fingers were not enough. She wanted him.

  She was about to say so, to ask, demand – when with great force, he sucked he into his mouth, his teeth nipping at that most tender of spots as his fingers dug deep – and the world exploded.

  Black. A kaleidoscope of color. Silence and symphony.

  Her body clenched and then again.

  He laughed in triumph, but all she heard was the crescendo of her own heart racing.

  And just as she thought there could be no more, he nipped again, causing another wave to race through her, causing her to thrash and . . .

  Gads, it was over.

  That was the single thought that echoed through her mind as sanity returned.

  She had never felt anything like that – and she'd thought she'd fully known what a woman's pleasure was.

  Her whole body softened, sinking back into the chair. She wanted to open her eyes, to look at him, to thank him, but it all seemed too much effort.

  Just to lie there, as the last slender threads of pleasure wafted though her core, was all she could do.

  #

  He'd never seen his wife look so satisfied, so replete. Richard felt his own levels of satisfaction rise as he stared across her damp skin. And also his levels of frustration. Was there any sight so designed to excite a man as that of a satisfied woman.

  "You're still dressed?" Her voice sounded sleepy as she peered through her lowered lashes. "We should do something about that."

  "It's really not necessary." He wished he sounded more sincere.

  "Nonsense." Her eyes opened wider and she pushed herself upright.

  "It's not nonsense.” Her eyes focused on that part of his anatomy that completely agreed with her. His cock was straining against his trousers and there was no mistaking the state of his body even in his kneeling position.

  "Really. It is not necessary. Tonight was about you."

  "I want it to be about us.” She slid forward on the chair. "Should we switch places or is that too forward a suggestion from a married lady you've only just met?” Her smile was back, full and easy, with an air of complete relaxation.

  Did she even know what she suggested? She'd never done that for him. He would have guessed that she didn't even understand the possibilities. "Is that what you want? His body cried, "Yes, yes, yes."

  A slight hesitation entered her eyes. "I am really not quite sure. You'd have to explain things. I am a trifle innocent in such things. My husband has never seen fit to instruct me."

  "Very remiss of the man."

  Slowly Annie rose to her feet. Her skirts fell about her, covering her legs from his view. Her breast jutted, rose-tipped cream.

  He swallowed as she gestured for him to take her place in the chair. "You really don't . . ."

  "If tonight is about what I want then this is what I want."

  "Yes, your grace." Obediently he took his seat.

  She stood before him, appraised. "Take off your jacket and shirt."

  His mouth felt like he'd swallowed cotton. His fingers wrestled with his loose cravat and the buttons of his shirt. She did not offer to help as he struggled out of the jacket. Her heated gaze swept over him, but her expression remained cool.

  "Now the rest," she said.

  "You'll have to help with the boots. Unless you want me to call my valet?"

  "I think I can manage. Sit."

  He did, and raised a leg, offering her his foot. She wrapped her hands around the soft leather, placing the sole against her bare flesh.

  The sight almost did him in. He had to close his eyes to hold back, but still the image of white flesh and dark leather stayed. It should not have been erotic, but . . . He felt her strong pull and the boot slid loose. Her warm fingers glided over his calves, easing his stocking down. He was going to burn up, to embarrass himself right here and now.

  "Undo your trousers, ease them off.” She was
enjoying her power, her voice rang with it. "I want to see all of you."

  "Only if I get to see all of you, too."

  Her lips pursed. "You already have. And besides it is my turn to be in charge, to do what I want."

  "And don't you want to make me happy?” He loved her when she played with command – but then he just loved her, had for years. He'd simply been slow to realize how great the power of that love was.

  "Hmm. Is that what you think I want? To make you happy?” Her gaze flicked over him. "Take them off."

  "You've already made me very happy and you've indicated a desire to make me even happier. He focused on her lips. As if sensing his glance, she licked them slowly, leaving the lower one shining.

  In a simple movement he unfastened his buttons, lifted his hips and slid his trousers below his knees, and then kicked out of them.

  "Very good, your grace.” She let his title fall from her lips with deliberate care. "Perhaps you do deserve a reward. Her hands went to the remaining ties of her dress, letting it fall to the floor.

  Chapter Eleven

  Annie didn't know where she was finding the courage – or was it foolishness? Would she ever reach a stage in life where her nerves weren't always questioning? Sucking in her belly, she allowed a slow smile to spread across her face. This was her moment and she wasn't going to let any doubts mar it.

  And why should she worry when one look at her husband's face spoke a story of desire and . . . was that caring? Was it truly possible that his words were true? That he was ready for a real marriage? A true family?

  Stop thinking. This was a moment for actions not thoughts.

  She let her eyes wander over him. The broad, high brow. Eyes she could get lost in. The straight nose. Those lips, so firm and yet so inviting. Her gaze lingered there for a moment, remembering just what he had done with those lips. Then, lower – wide, well muscled shoulders. Chest, so broad and strong – small brown nipples that had always been so sensitive to her touch.

  Her fingers rose to her own breasts, caressing and squeezing. His eyes followed her movements, his desire clear. He liked watching her, enjoyed her pleasure.