Some Like to Shock (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 2) (17 page)

Her breath caught as Benedict slipped one of the ribbon straps of her camisole from her shoulder before she felt those warm and sensuous lips against her bared flesh, groaning low in her throat, her head falling back against his shoulder as his hands moved slowly up her abdomen, igniting a fire wherever he touched, before those same hands cupped beneath her breasts. ‘Benedict …!’ Her groan became a keening cry as he ran the soft pad of his thumbs across the aching tips, infusing her with a heat that travelled quickly down to between her thighs.

Just looking down at those golden-skinned hands as they cupped and kneaded her breasts, thumb and finger gently squeezing the engorged and rosy tips visible through the thin material of her camisole, made her ache with longing, with a need for the same overwhelming pleasure Benedict had shown her she was capable of feeling.

‘Benedict.’ She straightened her spine to move slightly forwards and away from Benedict before slowly turning to face him. ‘You are wearing far too many clothes,’ she explained
huskily at the question she could see in the jet of his eyes. ‘May I …?’ She reached up with the clear intention of removing his jacket.

‘Gods, yes!’ A nerve pulsed in Benedict’s tightly clenched jaw as he stood perfectly still in order to allow Genevieve to remove his jacket before unbuttoning his waistcoat, his hands clenching at his sides as she removed that before unfastening his neckcloth and disposing of that, too. He was able to feel the slight trembling of her fingers against his flesh as she unbuttoned his shirt before touching, caressing, the heated flesh beneath, his chest softly rising and falling as he found it difficult to breathe. ‘Take it off, Genevieve, please!’ Benedict longed to feel those caressing fingers against his bared chest.

Her gaze held his as she pulled the shirt from the waistband of his pantaloons, bending forwards slightly to place her lips against his hot and burning skin as she pulled the material slowly upwards, her little pink tongue a rasping caress against his sensitised flesh.

Benedict pulled the shirt up impatiently over his head before discarding it completely, his breathing becoming laboured as he felt the rasp of that little moist tongue against his
nipple, licking, at his now pebble-hard little nubbin. ‘Will you let down your hair for me, love?’ Several curling red-gold tendrils had already escaped the confines of their pins and now lay silkily against her nape, inducing a longing in Benedict to entangle his fingers in that silky softness as she continued to pleasure him with her lips and tongue.

Her eyes were a deep and hypnotic blue as she raised her head to look at him. ‘You may do it for me if you wish, Benedict …’ she invited softly. ‘There are but three pins at my crown,’ she added helpfully before returning to her sensual ministrations of his muscle-defined chest, her fingers a light caress against the heated skin of his back as she turned the attention of her tongue and teeth to his other nipple.

‘Dear Lord …!’ Benedict groaned low in his throat as he felt the nip of those little white teeth against his roused flesh, causing his cock to surge eagerly both up and forwards beneath his pantaloons and his fingers to fumble slightly as they sought the three pins that secured Genevieve’s hair.

She glanced up at him beneath long lashes. ‘Am I hurting you? Do you wish me to stop?’ There was no teasing or tormenting in her
tone, only that trepidation he could see in her eyes.

‘Gods, no!’ Benedict breathed harshly again as his hand cupped the back of her head to tug her close again. ‘I do not want you to ever stop, Genevieve!’ His fingers found the last of the pins securing her hair as he once again felt the soft rasp of her tongue against him, allowing those soft red-gold curls to cascade down on to her shoulders before falling halfway down the length of her slender spine. ‘Magnificent …!’ he breathed hoarsely as he at last tangled a long length of those silky curls about his fingers. ‘I have never seen such beautiful hair as yours,’ he assured gruffly as he looked down at her in wonder.

Genevieve’s lips curved against him as she smiled her pleasure at his compliment, her earlier feelings of nervousness beginning to ease. If not completely …

She knew there was still so much more to lovemaking than she had so far shared with Benedict. So very much more. And she so hoped, fervently prayed, that she would not lose her nerve before that should happen—

‘Genevieve …?’

She was very aware that another shuddering quiver had swept through her before she
could call a halt to her panicked thoughts, no doubt alerting Benedict to her predicament, although she hoped not the reason for it. She smiled tentatively as she looked up at him. ‘I am a little cold. Perhaps we should finish undressing quickly and get beneath the bedcovers?’

‘If that is what you wish …’ A frown creased Benedict’s brow at Genevieve calling this sudden and unexpected halt to their lovemaking. She did not feel cold to his touch, in fact the opposite; her skin was ablaze with heat, her cheeks flushed, a slight feverishness to the blue of her eyes.

‘I believe it is.’ She stepped back and away from him before walking over to the bedside, her back still turned towards him as she slid the remaining strap of her camisole quickly down her arm before allowing the garment to fall to the carpeted floor, giving Benedict a brief glimpse of the delicate arch of her naked spine and the firm curve of her bottom before she slid quickly beneath the bedcovers and that nakedness was completely hidden from him as she pulled those covers up to her chin.

Almost as if Genevieve were shy of revealing her nakedness in front of him …

Benedict shook his head at his own fanciful
thoughts. Of course Genevieve was not shy, she had been married for six years and a widow for one—a year during which he very much doubted she had spent all of her nights, or her days, completely alone in her bedchamber. No, Genevieve must, as she claimed, just be slightly chilled.

And he knew the way in which he intended to warm her. How they would warm each other …

G
enevieve clutched the bedcovers beneath her chin, watching Benedict as he slowly sat down on the end of the bed to remove his boots before standing up again to face her, the darkness of his gaze holding hers as he slowly removed the rest of clothes. Hose. Pantaloons. Drawers …

Her breath caught in her throat as he straightened after removing the latter, the darkness of his hair rakishly tousled, his naked flesh that same golden hue all over as he was bathed in the warmth of the sunlight shining in through the windows of her bedchamber. The width of his shoulders. His muscled chest covered with its light dusting of dark hair. The flatness of his abdomen. Down
the long length of his legs, and even his long and elegant feet.

Her gaze moved up slowly from those feet to his ankles, his calves, his knees, thighs, and finally to his—

Genevieve stopped breathing altogether as she finally looked at the long length of Benedict’s arousal, long and proud as it jutted upwards from the thick thatch of silky dark curls, and so wide she doubted she would be able to span it with her fingers.

She was allowing herself to think too much! Benedict had been kind and considerate during their lovemaking to date. There was no reason to suppose that would ever change.

‘Genevieve …?’

‘Yes …?’ She looked at Benedict now with wide and startled eyes, swallowing hard as she saw the questioning look on his harshly handsome face.

Benedict gave a frown. ‘You seem … nervous. As if you were unsure of me? Of this?’

The lightness of her laugh was supposed to sound dismissive, but even to her own ears it sounded strained. ‘You are being fanciful, Benedict. Come. Join me …’ She threw back the bedcovers beside her enticingly, at the same time as she kept the ones on her side
of the bed pulled tightly over her own nakedness, watching now as Benedict strolled slowly round to the other side of the bed, the darkness of his gaze never leaving hers.

As Genevieve’s gaze remained firmly fixed on his; she could not, dared not, look at the evidence of his arousal for a second time, knew that her control over her nerves was now stretched to such a point of breaking that it might snap altogether if she did so.

She could do this. She
must
do this, if she were ever to find any shred of normality in her personal life.

Normality …

What did she know of normality between a man and a woman? Married at eighteen, to a monster of a man who had raped her on their wedding night, and allowed—no, encouraged!—his own son to beat her during the miserable six years that had followed, whenever Josiah considered she had committed the merest infringement of his rules in regard to what he expected of her behaviour.

Just being in Benedict’s company this past two weeks had shown Genevieve that was not the normal behaviour of a gentleman towards a lady, even one newly met, let alone the woman to whom you were married. As for
their lovemaking! Benedict had thought only of Genevieve, of her pleasure, during their times of intimacy together.

As, she hoped, he would do so again today.

‘Are you going to release your death grip on the bedsheets and allow me to look at you, pet?’

She smiled tentatively as Benedict lay down on the bed beside her before turning on his side to look at her teasingly, having made no effort to pull the bedcovers up over his own nakedness, that nakedness so much more—more immediate, now that she could feel the actual heat of his body only inches away from her own. ‘It is only that it is the middle of the afternoon, and that I am feeling … a little shy.’

‘You have no reason to be.’ One of Benedict’s hands moved to cup the side of her face. ‘You are very beautiful, Genevieve,’ he assured gruffly, his breath a warm caress against her throat as he lowered his head to kiss her there, his lips a silky caress against her flesh. ‘Every part of you that I have been privileged to see is deliciously feminine and desirable.’

She thankfully felt some of her icy fear melt under the warmth of Benedict’s approval.
‘Perhaps we should not talk further but just—just—’

‘Just …?’ Benedict prompted lightly as his lips now travelled the length of her creamy throat down to the hollows beneath.

‘Cease teasing and kiss me, Benedict!’

Benedict enjoyed teasing this beautiful and unexpectedly shy woman, found that shyness entirely adorable after the years of bedding women who were usually as experienced and cynical as he in regard to their own physical gratification. Genevieve, in contrast, held an air of mystery for him, the feeling of caressing and making love to and with a woman who held hidden depths of passion not yet explored.

Which was indeed fanciful of him when Genevieve had been married for six years …

Nevertheless, Benedict could feel the tension in her as he took Genevieve fully into his arms to claim her lips with his own, deepening, lengthening that kiss as his own desire for her soared higher at the first touch of those full and sensuous lips beneath his own.

As usually happened when Benedict kissed her, Genevieve’s misgivings began to dissipate. The dark hair on his head feeling soft and silky to the touch as her fingers became entangled in its long length, her breasts
crushed against the hardness of his chest, the softness of hair there a pleasurable abrasion against her sensitised breasts. The heat and overwhelming feelings of desire and trust she had for this man once again taking precedence over everything else as she parted her lips to allow for the thrusting possession of his tongue into the heat of her mouth.

One of his hands, those warm and sensual hands, roamed freely across her naked curves—her back, the arch of her spine, the globes of her bottom—before moving up to cup her breast, squeezing, kneading that soft orb before rolling the nipple between finger and thumb. Genevieve was at once engulfed in that now-familiar heated pleasure that coursed through her hotly, warming and dampening between her restlessly parted thighs and causing the tiny nubbin there to throb and ache.

An ache Benedict immediately satisfied as his hand travelled down the curve of her waist and hips before moving surely between her thighs, caressing, stroking that heat to a fire that blazed out of control almost at his first touch. That
did
blaze out of control as he continued to caress her whilst at the same time one long finger penetrated her sheath and began to thrust into that moist heat.

The pleasure that ripped through Genevieve was almost painful in its intensity, Benedict continuing to thrust and caress her as her inner muscles convulsed in a lengthy and pleasurable climax.

‘You are beautiful, Genevieve!’ Benedict wrenched his mouth from hers to move down her body and suckle deeply, strongly, on her engorged nipple, prolonging her pleasure, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as her hips bucked and surged instinctively. ‘So very beautiful …!’ Benedict lifted his lips from her breast, moving down the bed as he kissed his way slowly over the dip of her abdomen, the curve of her hip, before settling between her parted thighs, lowering his head and gently claiming that most sensitive spot with the slow rasp of his tongue.

‘Benedict …!’

‘Shh, love,’ he soothed as he looked up to see that Genevieve had shot up into a sitting position and now looked down at him with alarm.

‘But—but—That is—I have never—Is it quite correct for you to—to—?’

‘Nothing is forbidden between lovers, Genevieve,’ he assured soothingly even as he felt a surge of satisfaction in hearing that no other
man had ever kissed Genevieve with such intimacy.

What an old stick in the mud old Josiah Forster must have been not to have introduced Genevieve, his young and beautiful wife, to this particular sensual delight. As for her other lovers …! Genevieve had obviously not chosen well there, either, if they had never loved her in this highly satisfying fashion.

‘Nothing, love.’ He held her gaze with his as he once again rasped his tongue across her sensitive and swollen nubbin and heard her gasp even as her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. ‘No part of you is forbidden to me, as no part of me is forbidden to you. You may touch and caress any part of me that you choose. As I will touch you …’ He allowed the tips of his fingers to graze her swollen folds before moving lower still, caressing, stroking, and able to feel Genevieve’s response to those caresses as she shuddered and trembled with renewed arousal. ‘You are beautiful here too, Genevieve. Utterly. Erotically. Beautiful.’ He lowered his head again.