Some Like to Shock (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 2) (8 page)

‘Pooh,’ she dismissed irreverently. ‘You are surely only three or four years older than I?’

‘I believe it is six.’ He grimaced. ‘In years, at least. In experience …’ he shrugged ‘… that is quite another matter.’

She lifted a hand to gently touch the hard contours of his cheek with her fingertips as she looked at him searchingly. ‘You have known much sadness in your life, have you not? During your years in the army and—and in other ways?’

He frowned darkly. ‘You are referring to my parents’ deaths? Then no more so than you, I believe?’ he added at her nod of confirmation.

‘Maybe so.’ She grimaced, as she allowed her hand to drop away. ‘But I at least can draw comfort from knowing that my parents died
together in a carriage accident, and that—that my brother, Colin, chose to take his own life.’ A look of sadness now shadowed her face.

‘And your husband?’ Benedict prompted softly.

That sadness was instantly replaced by coldness. ‘Did not die soon enough in my estimation!’

‘Genevieve!’ Once again Benedict found himself shocked into laughter by her outrageous candidness.

‘I only state the truth, which is what you say you prefer.’ She gave another sigh as she turned to sit with her back towards Benedict, nor did she offer any resistance as Benedict moved forwards to gently pull her back so that she now rested against his chest. ‘I often imagined placing one of Josiah Forster’s own pillows over his face and suffocating him in his sleep and was only prevented from doing so because I was unsure whether or not the doctor, when he came to examine the body, would be able to tell the cause of death. Much as I disliked my husband, I did not consider the taking of his life to be worth relinquishing my own to the hangman’s noose!’

Benedict was too stunned by Genevieve’s honesty this time to even attempt a rebuke.
He was aroused by the way her bottom was now nestled against his erection, her thighs touching both of his, those red curls resting against his waistcoated chest, the full swell of her breasts visible to him above the long-sleeved, gold-coloured gown she had earlier revealed she wore beneath her cloak.

Just as he had been moved by the gentleness with which Genevieve had touched his cheek moments ago …

‘What a vengeful little minx you are …’ He twirled one of her red silky curls about his finger.

She glanced up at him. ‘I believe you are the one who is reputed to still be seeking vengeance for past wrongs?’

‘Perhaps.’ Not only was Benedict ‘reputed to still be seeking vengeance’ for the murder of his parents, but he had vowed that he
would
find the person, or persons responsible, before he even considered making any sort of life for himself. Hence the years he had spent in the army fighting for his king and country, and this past two years working for the Crown, neither of which allowed for the sort of settled personal life his two closest friends now seemed to be seeking.

Genevieve gave an inelegant snort. ‘And if I
were truly a vengeful person, then I am sure I would have saved myself much heartache and stabbed my husband through his black heart on our wedding night!’

And there, Benedict felt sure, was a tale that would be worth the knowing, but not one he wished to force Genevieve into revealing this evening. Not when this conversation had already caused her to lose so much of that happy glow which had lit her face only minutes ago. A happy glow which Benedict found he was very much enjoying being a part of.

He moved slightly, so that he was no longer sitting behind Genevieve, but at her side as he drew her down to lay slightly beneath him. ‘This, I believe, is the appropriate time in the evening for the gentleman to make indecent advances,’ he murmured throatily before his head lowered and his mouth claimed the parted pout of Genevieve’s.

Genevieve had wondered if she might have imagined the pleasure she had experienced as Benedict had kissed her earlier; she had certainly felt none of that pulse-pounding joy when the duke had kissed or touched her.

No! She would not think of her husband now, or the horror of their wedding night.
This, here and now, might be the only joy in a man’s arms she would ever know.

And, as Benedict kissed her, gently at first, and more deeply, hungrily, Genevieve knew she had not imagined a single thing about her response to his earlier kisses. That, despite the past, she actually enjoyed being kissed by a man as excitingly, disturbingly sensual as Benedict Lucas!

Her arms moved up tentatively to allow her fingers to caress the muscled width of his shoulders, as his hands cradled her cheeks. His tongue swept slowly, erotically across her lips, parting their softness as he groaned low in his throat before his hunger returned to deepen the kiss.

He kissed her long and druggingly now, causing the pleasure to course hotly through Genevieve’s body, radiating outwards, until every part of her felt as if she were on fire with an aching need that caused her to arch up against Benedict, her breasts swollen and aching against the hard friction of his chest, the softness of her thighs moving sinuously, pleadingly, against the hard and throbbing length of his hard arousal.

‘Oh, yes, Benedict …!’ She wrenched her mouth from his, groaning her need for him
to never stop as his lips moved to the sensitive column of her throat and his hand moved slowly along the flatness of her abdomen before cupping the fullness of her breast and squeezing gently through the soft material of her gown. ‘Benedict!’ She gasped as that pleasure now radiated fiercely from her breasts down to between her thighs, heating them and making her long for so much more. ‘Benedict, please …!’

He groaned. ‘We should stop before this goes any further.’

‘No!’ Genevieve’s lids flew wide, her eyes feverish as she surged up with surprising strength before turning, so that Benedict was now the one who lay upon the blanket, looking up at her as she lay half across him. ‘We will not stop, Benedict.’ Her eyes glittered down at him heatedly. ‘Can you not see that I need this? That I need you?’

Benedict had been taken by surprise by her sudden refusal to end their encounter. He saw the determined glitter in her eyes and could only watch in mute fascination as she reached behind her to unfasten the buttons at the back of her gown before allowing the material to fall away from her breasts, revealing that she
wore only a thin chemise beneath, her breasts showing firm and plump.

He licked his lips in anticipation of experiencing the succulent taste and feel of them. Even so … ‘Have I not warned that you are in danger of finding your wings well and truly singed in a situation such as this one?’

‘I already burn, Benedict,’ she assured him huskily, holding the darkness of his gaze with her own as she pulled that last covering away from her breasts before leaning forwards to place those breasts enticingly close to his parted lips. ‘I burn, Benedict!’ She sounded both distressed and fascinated that this should be so.

Her words and her bared breasts were an enticement, a veritable feast—Benedict had no willpower left with which to resist!

Genevieve gave a low and keening moan at the first touch of Benedict’s parted lips against the heated tip of her breast, followed by yet more groans as he lathed her swollen nipple with the soft, moist rasp of his tongue before opening his lips wider and drawing the ripe and aching tip deep into the heat of his mouth.

Eyes closed to absorb and enjoy every particle of this, the first pleasure she had known in a man’s arms, Genevieve’s fingers became
entangled in the heavy thickness of Benedict’s black hair as she held him to her, shivering, quivering and burning with need. She felt his hand move beneath the hem of her gown to push the material aside, allowing those caressing fingers to travel along the length of her leg to the opening of her drawers between her thighs. ‘Do not stop …!’ she pleaded as those long and sensitive fingers came to a halt at the opening. ‘Touch me there too, Benedict? Give me the pleasure,
all
the pleasure, I have only ever dreamed existed until tonight, here with you!’

Benedict could not resist or deny a woman as beautiful and responsive as Genevieve, when she asked. And so utterly revealingly …

Benedict had no doubts left and no longer just suspected, but
knew
that whatever her marriage to Josiah Forster had been, it had held very little in the way of happiness or pleasure for Genevieve. The sort of pleasure Benedict now dearly wished to share with her …

He claimed Genevieve’s other nipple into the heat of his mouth, to the rasp of his tongue, as his fingers moved assuredly through the slit in her drawers, seeking out the heated folds as he caressed her there, his fingers moving higher and seeking out the hard and throbbing
little nubbin above as he touched her with a slow and sensuous rhythm.

She was so deliciously responsive there, her neck arching, her groans becoming more rapid and uneven, and she cried out her pleasure as Benedict continued to caress her with the soft pad of his thumb, entering her with one finger, and then two, thrusting slowly, deeply, into that hot and moist channel.

‘Benedict …? What is happening?’ She gasped suddenly, her eyes wide when he glanced up at her. ‘Oh.’ Her eyes widened even further, her body tensing even as Benedict felt the first contractions of the muscles as she began to climax.

Genevieve felt consumed with heat as a pleasure unlike anything else she had ever known—could ever have imagined!—pulsed through her hotly, sweeping everything but Benedict from existence, as those waves of pleasure took her even higher as an intensity of pleasure that was almost pain ripped fiercely through her.

‘Oh, yes, again,’ Benedict encouraged gruffly, his face now bearing the fierceness of a conqueror as he looked down at her. ‘And again …!’ he insisted as those ripples of pleasure
surged from deep inside her to take her over that edge to a third, shattering climax.

Aphrodite. Venus. Diana.

As Benedict held Genevieve cradled against his side, her head resting on his shoulder, her gown still gaping open and revealing breasts once again covered by the thinness of her chemise, he very much doubted that even one of those beautiful and sensual goddesses had ever been as responsive to a man’s caresses as Genevieve had just been to his. So open, so honest, in her pleasure that Benedict now felt humbled, privileged, to be the man with whom Genevieve had chosen to share such an uninhibited response.

Although, as she lay silent and still in his arms, her body still racked by the occasional aftermath of trembling sensation, he was unsure if she now felt as comforted in that knowledge.

‘Genevieve …?’ he finally prompted gruffly when he could stand her silence no longer. ‘I did not hurt you? Or your sore arm?’

She breathed out a shaky breath. ‘Not in the least. And I was so lost to—to pleasure, that I completely forgot my arm was sore,’
she added self-consciously. ‘That was—it was perfectly, utterly, delicious. But—’

‘But?’

‘But you did not find your own release.’

‘No.’

‘Do you now wish me to—?’

‘No.’ Benedict held her still at his side as she would have moved up on to her knees.

‘No …?’ She sounded surprised, even slightly startled. ‘But are you not in some discomfort? Do you not wish me to—?’

‘No,’ Benedict assured again ruefully as he turned so that he might once again look down at her as he gently cupped one of her cheeks. ‘I am content, Genevieve, completely satisfied, in the knowledge that you found pleasure.’

‘Oh …’

‘Does it surprise you to know that a man may enjoy giving you pleasure so much that he feels no need for that release himself?’ Benedict looked at her searchingly.

Everything about Benedict was a surprise to Genevieve. Before she had met him, spoken with him, she had heard such tales whispered of Lucifer’s cold aloofness amongst the
ton
, and especially so in regard to women and his relationships with them; anyone less aloof than Benedict a few minutes ago, as he caressed
and gave her such pleasure, Genevieve could not imagine!

‘Yes,’ she answered him with that honesty she knew he now expected from her.

He smiled quizzically. ‘You have not found the other gentlemen you have … known … to be so easily satisfied, I think?’

‘Other gentlemen?’

Benedict gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘Your previous lovers.’

‘Oh. Oh, yes.’ Genevieve turned her gaze away from meeting that coal-black one. ‘No, I do not believe that they were.’

Other gentlemen? Genevieve might have spoken so casually a week ago, to her friends Sophia and Pandora, as to the benefits of them all taking a lover, but there had been no man intimately in Genevieve’s life, other than the hateful Josiah Forster, and now the man now lying beside her. But she did not need to have known any other lovers to realise that Benedict was both an experienced and generous one.

She faced him bravely. ‘If you really do not require me to see to your own needs—’

‘I do not,’ Benedict drawled ruefully.

Her cheeks warmed. ‘Then perhaps it is time for us to leave?’

‘If that is what you wish.’

She avoided his gaze, her throat moving as she swallowed. ‘I think it would be for the best.’

He looked down at her intently. ‘Genevieve, you are not regretting what just happened?’

‘Not for a moment!’ Her eyes were wide with sincerity as she turned back to him. ‘You must believe me when I tell you it was—your lovemaking was the most pleasurable thing I have ever known in my life.’

Benedict laughed softly at the earnestness of her expression. ‘My ego is not so fragile, love, that you need ever feel you must flatter and pet me—’

‘But I assure you it is not flattery, Benedict.’ She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘Indeed, this evening has been a revelation—I have enjoyed your lovemaking so much that I fear you may have ruined me completely in regard to—to lovemaking with anyone else,’ she added huskily.

A frown darkened Benedict’s brow at the thoughts of Genevieve making love with other men. A perfectly natural reaction, he immediately assured himself, when Genevieve lay still half-undressed and satiated beside him. Tonight, making love to a woman as responsive
as Genevieve had been extremely satisfying, but he must not allow that satisfaction to cloud other issues in his life; he still had his work to do for the Crown, and he was no closer in his search for his parents’ murderer now than he had been when he left the army two years ago.