Lessons in Indiscretion

by Karen Erickson

  “Oh.” Tremors moved through her, though they grew less intense as her climax eased, and a keen disappointment pierced her when she realized what she’d done. She’d wanted the night to last forever, wanted to draw it out till the last possible moment, and already she’d climaxed.

  “You sound disappointed.” Amusement laced his voice as he glanced up. His fingers remained inside her body, curling and dragging along her wet flesh, and she shivered at the sensations he managed to draw forth.

  “I…I climaxed.” She sank her teeth into her lower lip. In her past experiences, she’d been lucky to achieve one climax, usually none, and it took much longer than what she’d just experienced.

  Garrett smiled, and he looked rather pleased that he was the sole reason for her body’s easy capitulation. “I saw that.”

  “But I climaxed too early.”

  He furrowed his brow and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, that’s it. I usually only climax…once.” If ever.

  He laughed, a rich sound that slid down her spine and spread tingling warmth all over her. “Oh, sweetheart, do I have plenty to teach you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come here,” he encouraged, and she fell into his kiss so easily she should be ashamed. But she wasn’t. “I plan on making you come many times,” he whispered against her lips, licking at the corner of her mouth.

  “You can do that? I can do that?”

  “Men aren’t as fortunate as ladies, but yes, you can come multiple times in one night.” He kissed her hungrily, stealing her breath, her dazed thoughts at his delicious words. “And I vow that when this night is finished, you will have come so often your throat will be raw from your screams.”

  Garrett meant every damn word. God, the way she’d fallen apart in his arms so quickly, amazed him. His cock had turned to absolute stone at the sight of her, beautiful and lost in rapture, and how responsive she’d been to his touch.

  He’d planned on taking it slow and drawing it out, but he was too caught up in this…whatever it was. Incessant need, desperate want—it pounded in his veins, throbbed in his cock, and he reached for her hand and settled it over his tented breeches. He needed her to feel what she did to him.

  “Touch me.”

  Julia did as he asked, fully focused on sliding her hand up and down his covered cock. She traced his length with her index finger, as if memorizing the feel of him, and he growled, startling her.

  “Pull me out,” he commanded like a domineering ass, yet unable to control himself. “Do it, Julia.”

  She fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers until he came to her assistance, breathing a sigh of relief when she slipped her fingers inside and drew him out. He swore he was harder than he’d ever been in his life, his erect cock reaching nearly to his navel, and her eyes widened.

  “You’re huge.” Her voice rang with apprehension, and he placed his hand over hers, giving it a brief squeeze before releasing it.

  “It’ll fit, trust me.” The last word died on his lips when she curled her fingers about him and stroked. She circled her thumb around the crown, streaked across the top, smearing the drop of liquid all over the straining head.

  Driving him absolutely mad.

  “Do you like that?” She lifted her lids, her velvety brown gaze meeting his, and he nodded.

  “Yes,” he choked out.

  “Hard and soft,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Such a contrast.”

  “Slide your body over me.”

  “What?”

  “I want to be inside you, Julia. I need to be inside you.” He tightened his hands about her waist and lifted her so her body hovered above his erect cock. “Let me in, sweetheart.”

  He left it to her; it was all up to her. She sank her teeth into her plump lower lip again, hesitating. God, if he didn’t get inside her, he was going to embarrass himself by coming all over her pretty skirts.

  Rising onto her knees, she gripped him and slowly lowered her body. She guided him toward her welcoming passage until the head of his cock was just inside her, and he gripped her hips and slid her down his length with one quick tug until he was fully seated.

  She gasped, and he gentled his grip on her waist and stroked along her lush bottom. “Did I hurt you?”

  “N-no.” Her cheeks flushed, her forehead misted with sweat, Julia shook her head. “It’s been so long.”

  “I did hurt you.” Regret swamped him, and he smoothed his hands all over her body, wanting to make it better. “I apologize.”

  “Garrett.” She held his face between her palms and leaned down to drop the sweetest kiss on his lips, making them tingle. “It doesn’t hurt. I just feel so…full.”

  She was. Absolutely stuffed with him. Her tight, hot inner muscles clutched him in a firm grip, so firm he thought he might die from the pleasure. Her movements were slightly awkward as she rose and slid back down, trying to find her rhythm. He guided her, resting his hands on her slender waist and drawing her up and down. Faster and faster, not wasting any time, ready to explode inside her, fill her completely with his seed.

  Worry lingered within, but he pushed past it. He should pull out, not come inside her. Illegitimate brats were a liability, and he certainly didn’t want to be saddled down. Not now.

  Maybe not ever.

  “Garrett.” She whispered his name, and the sound of her sweet, rasping voice drove him on. He increased his thrusts, his climax creeping up on him until finally he came in a great, shuddering rush of pleasure. His seed splashed deep inside her, but he couldn’t regret it.

  Being with her was too damn good, despite the consequences.

  Chapter Three

  Lady Renwick’s townhome was modest and sparsely decorated. The furniture wasn’t grand, and neither were the few paintings that hung on the walls. The wallpaper was rather plain and nondescript. There were no fresh flowers in large vases, no servants rushing to greet them, though she did inform him she had both a cook and a lady’s maid who attended to her needs.

  Before they stepped out of the carriage, she divulged that her butler was a crotchety old sort who had come back to her when he realized he didn’t particularly enjoy working for the new Viscount Renwick. He was most likely asleep, which surprised him, since most people demanded their butlers remain on duty until they arrived home, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  Garrett found that fact rather revealing. Of what, though, he wasn’t quite sure.

  He was thankful she was no longer embarrassed over what they’d shared in the carriage. His body still vibrated from his earlier orgasm, and he was anxious to escort her to her room, take off that damnable gown and make love to her properly. Show her what she’d been missing all these years.

  Her husband had been most remiss to not share with her all the earthly delights a man and woman could enjoy, not that the old man would have known how to pleasure a sensuous woman such as Julia. Garrett couldn’t wait to be the one to show her. Teach her. From her earlier performance, he believed she would be a most apt pupil.

  “Where is your bedchamber?” He didn’t wish to be coy, much preferring bluntness. They’d come this far. He’d already had his fingers, his cock inside her responsive body. If she balked, his disappointment would be acute.

  “Upstairs.” She nodded toward the stairway, and her gaze met his briefly before it dropped. As shy and uncertain as she was, he wanted to reassure her. He stepped closer and took her hand in his.

  “Shall we go to your bedchamber?” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, trailing his lips across her skin. She curled her fingers tightly about his and offered a jerky nod.

  Garrett trailed after her, admiring the gentle sway of her hips, the shift of the silk fabric of her dress. Her waist was nipped in, her back straight and firm, her shoulders balanced. Her posture was perfect, her neck as elegant as a swan’s, though her coiffure was a mess. All because he’d had his hands in her hair during their illicit encounter
in the carriage, tangling his fingers in the elaborate curls and tugging pins out without a care.

  An encounter he wouldn’t soon forget, if ever.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, as if making sure he was there, and he smiled. She looked away, hurried her steps, and he followed suit. Rushed after her until she paused at a door and threw it open with a quick twist of her wrist.

  “This is my bedchamber.” He didn’t pay attention to the interior besides a flickering glance toward the bed. It was large, beautifully made, but he didn’t care.

  All he cared about was her. Making sure she was comfortable, as eager as he was for them to be together once more. He went to her, gathered her in his arms and yanked her close. She gasped, rested her hands against his chest like she might stop him but slowly relaxed, fairly melting in his embrace.

  “You want me again? So soon?” No doubt she felt his burgeoning erection. It was damn insistent where she was concerned.

  He laughed, trailing his hand down her back, along her rounded buttocks. “Yes.”

  “Oh.” She grasped his lapels and pushed them back. He allowed her to take off his jacket, remaining still with the exception of a subtle shrug. She pushed the black jacket down his arms, and he shook it off until it fell to the floor.

  She went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat next, nimbly undoing them. Excitement built within him, and he was impressed with her boldness, her lack of hesitation. Her daring behavior surprised him. Pleased him.

  “I have never undressed a man before.” Lifting her lids, she revealed her unsure gaze. “Do you mind that I’m doing so?”

  “I encourage it.” She removed his waistcoat, let it fall in a heap on top of his jacket, then attacked his cravat, her fingers fumbling over the intricate knots. “Allow me.”

  She dropped her hands, and he made haste with undoing the knots. The cravat finally unraveled, and she reached for it. The fabric’s slow drag across his neck was arousing in its simplicity. Pursing her lips, she studied him. Her gaze lingered upon the base of his throat, then drifted down his chest. What could she be thinking?

  He was a decent-looking sort. Plenty of debutantes chased after him, but he often wondered if their pursuit had to do more with his fortune and title than his personality or looks. This particular woman had known him since he was just a boy of fourteen. He’d met her just after she married Renwick.

  Memories assailed him of the first time he’d seen her, met her, heard her laugh. She’d been completely enamored of her husband, and Garrett had thought him most undeserving. Her husband had hardly paid attention to her, more concerned with drinking and gambling with Garrett’s father, talking of the whores they had sampled in their younger days. Whores they had most likely continued to sample.

  Garrett had spied on them then, curious as to what the two grown men did when they spent time alone in his father’s study.

  Julia trailed her fingers down his chest, bringing his focus back to her, and he watched silently. One by one she slipped the pearl buttons of his shirt free and parted the linen, exposing his bare chest. After releasing the last button, she slid her hands up his chest.

  He closed his eyes and sighed at her gentle touch upon his scorching flesh. She stroked his chest hair. He opened his eyes to watch her once more, his cock rising at her wondrous expression. Leaning toward him, she pressed her lips against the center of his chest, and he swore he felt the teasing glide of her tongue.

  A shudder moved through him, and he curled his hand about her neck before diving into her hair. She tilted her head back, her heavy-lidded gaze meeting his, and he marveled at the change from shy woman to wanton goddess.

  She was a mystery. One he wanted to investigate further.

  “You’re very muscular.” She played with the waistband of his trousers. “And hard.” She slipped her hand down to cup his straining cock.

  He chuckled, though it ended with a groan when she gripped him tight. “And you’re a tease.”

  “So are you. You teased me considerably in your carriage.” She undid his trousers and reached in to touch his bare cock. He sucked in a harsh breath.

  “You liked it,” he choked out, shocked yet again at her boldness. Afraid he would spill all over her hand if she didn’t quit, and soon.

  “I did,” she admitted with a gleam in her eyes. “And you’re enjoying this too.”

  “Far too much.” He jerked away from her touch. She frowned, the disappointment etched on her lovely face, but he couldn’t endure much more. He was already on the edge.

  “It’s your turn for me to undress you,” he said, gripping her about the shoulders and twirling her around so her back was to him. Stepping closer, he rubbed against her backside, and she quivered. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, her soft hair brushing his face, and he inhaled her fragrant scent. Distinctly Julia, she smelled sweet and womanly. He streaked his fingers down her nape, then bent and brushed a chaste kiss there. He couldn’t wait to undress her.

  He was as eager as a child at Christmas, ready to unwrap this most coveted gift he’d been given.

  He could hardly stand it.

  Julia’s entire body shook as she waited for Garrett to undress her. He rested his heavy hands on her shoulders, squeezing her as if in reassurance. With quick fingers, he worked each button down the length of her back. The fabric parted, and the brush of cool air hit her exposed skin. He divested her of her gown and petticoats with ruthless efficiency, and she stepped out of the pile of fabric, kicking it aside, but still she waited.

  She needed him to undo her stays, which he did without her even asking. She admired his skill, though she was loath to think of how he earned it. She frowned, nibbled her lower lip, wishing her nervousness hadn’t risen again. She was a grown woman of thirty-one, a widow, a woman of experience. She should behave as a woman of the world, and instead she was a trembling fool.

  First her family and then her husband had sheltered her. And slowly, one by one, they’d abandoned her through death, though it was never their fault. But she couldn’t help feeling as if they indeed had left her. Alone and scared and without anyone to cling to.

  This man, this strong, desirable, handsome man, he tempted her to cling. To grasp hold of him and never let him go. A foolish thought, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed his touch, craved the closeness. Even if it was only for one night, one week, one month, she would take it. Savor their time together, enjoy it and hold the memories close in her mind when he was gone.

  For surely soon he would be gone. He had no true interest in her beyond seeing her as a conquest, a challenge, and she’d given in so easily in the carriage. Allowing him to touch her, slip inside her, fuck her.

  She smiled and shivered when his fingers brushed the bare skin of her back as he loosened her stays. She liked that word. Fucking. It was indecent. Wicked and deliciously wrong.

  Her stays fell forward, and she caught them and slipped them off so she was only in her thin shift. He grasped her shoulders once again and slid his hands down, his palms so wide they nearly covered the entire expanse of her back. He was big, tall and so powerful. He could take her with an ease she wouldn’t be able to fight, yet he was gentle, allowing her the lead, and she appreciated that.

  Appreciated it as well when he was demanding and pushy and said such scandalous things.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered close to her ear, nipping at her lobe.

  She shivered, sucked in a breath when he slid his arm around her and settled his hand on her stomach, then moved it down to cup her between the legs. “Touch me,” she urged, completely letting go of her inhibitions. She needed him that much.

  He did as she asked, tugging on the length of her shift so it bunched at her waist. He slipped his hand beneath her drawers, touching her where she was soaked for him, and she moaned. The creamy sounds as his fingers worked should’ve made her want to die of embarrassment, but she didn’t care. She was beyond caring. He’d promised he
could make her come many times. She wanted to experience that, wanted to come against his hand, with him buried inside her. She wanted to come so much that her body grew weak and her heart was ready to burst.

  Whirling her around, he removed her shift, and she kicked off her drawers until she was naked. His eyes flared with heat, drinking her in languidly. He lifted his head, and those hot eyes met hers as he curled his hands around her shoulders and walked her backward. With one push, she fell onto the bed with a surprised cry.

  His gaze focused on the spot between her legs, and despite her recent boldness, she covered herself with her hand. He shook his head and dropped to his knees, gripping her about the waist and drawing her close so she hung on the edge of the mattress with his face directly in front of her hot center.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” He removed her hand and spread her thighs wide, putting her on display. Her cheeks heated. Had her husband ever looked at her in such a manner? Certainly not. She felt so completely exposed that she became increasingly uncomfortable with every second that passed.

  “Looking at you.” His voice was rough. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes for the briefest moment before reopening them to pin her where she lay. “I can smell you.”

  She turned her head, fighting the mortification that wanted to take over. She shouldn’t be embarrassed by her body’s reaction to him. She should embrace it, revel in it and, most of all, learn from it. Their affair would be short, and what if she wanted to take another lover upon his departure?

  No. She couldn’t imagine taking another lover. Bedingfield was the only one she desired. One tryst in the carriage and he mastered her body. She quivered in anticipation of what he would do next.

  Tilting her head back, she sniffed. The heady scent of her arousal hung heavy in the air, mixing with a muskier, more masculine smell. Their combined aroma intoxicated her, and her limbs grew weak. The dampness between her legs increased, tickling the very insides of her thighs. She’d never reacted to her husband like this.