The Complete Regency Bestsellers And One Winters Collection. Rebecca Winters
her shoulders. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“It was rather arousing, I must admit.”
The curl of his lips was wolfish. “Good. Because I have no regrets.” His gaze roamed her exposed breasts, making her tender flesh ripple and quiver. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Instead of stretching alongside her, this time he lowered himself atop her. He weaved his legs with hers, pressing a broad, muscled thigh directly against her sex. As pleasure jolted through her, Alex gasped.
Suddenly, he was everywhere. Licking and suckling her breasts, drawing a hand down her body to gather the hem of her chemise, rubbing his thigh against her cleft in an exquisitely maddening rhythm. Desire raced through her body like a pack of wild, hungry beasts. No part of her was safe. She had nowhere to hide.
It occurred to her, rather belatedly, that perhaps she ought to be doing something, too. She slid her hands to his shoulders, clutching him tight.
Then he slowed, easing his weight from atop her body and sliding one hand under her shift. His fingers climbed the trembling slope of her inner thigh, dragging the frail linen with them.
As he moved his hand to her center, his gaze held hers. His fingertips brushed—lightly, gently—along her cleft.
Oh, sweet heaven above.
He explored her with that same light, gentle touch. Not invading her body, but waiting for its soft, wet invitations. His thumb covered the swollen bud that was the center of her pleasure, and she felt his fingertip ease inside her.
Alex tensed and made a faint, whimpering sound of bliss.
He paused. “Still a yes?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes.”
Yes.
He watched her responses so intently, she grew self-conscious and had to close her eyes. In the dark, her awareness narrowed to that sweet, pulsing pleasure between her thighs. It flickered, expanded, glowed blindingly bright . . . until—
Yes.
And yes and yes and yes.
He caressed her as she came floating back down to earth, running his fingers through her unbound hair and murmuring words that she couldn’t quite catch—but they sounded warm and approving.
When she opened her eyes, he kissed her forehead. “That was magnificent.”
“I think I’m supposed to be the one saying that.”
“Well, you can say it, too, if you like.” His mouth widened into a lopsided, cocky grin. “I’m not stopping you.”
Alex rolled onto her side and gave him a coy smile of her own. “You are magnificently arrogant. But apparently the arrogance is well deserved.”
She reached for him, skimming her fingertips down the expanse of his chest and hooking her fingers under the waistband of his trousers.
He put his hand over hers, halting her progress.
“Don’t you want . . . ?” She darted a gaze at the pronounced tenting of his trousers. “I mean to say, it would seem you need some relief of your own.”
“Pleasuring you was pleasure for me. I don’t want you to feel you must reciprocate out of obligation. Lovemaking isn’t a market trade. Not the way I go about it, anyhow.”
“I don’t feel any obligation. I feel curious. You promised me a lesson. But I know my own body already. I don’t know yours.” She placed her hand over the bulge in his trousers, cupping his hardness and tracing the shape of him through the thick wool. “May I?”
He groaned. “Do with me what you will. I’ve no strength left to protest.”
She found the buttons of his trouser falls and undid them one by one. Once the last button slipped loose, however, her courage faltered.
What came next?
Was she meant to push his trousers down, or pull his erection out? Did she grasp it by the tip or by the root? How was she supposed to react on introduction? Ought she compliment its noble shape, or ooh and ah over its size?
Alex was totally unaware of lovers’ etiquette. She feared she’d do it all wrong.
Sensing her hesitation—or perhaps simply too impatient to indulge her dithering—he took her hand and guided it inside his trouser falls, introducing her by touch rather than sight.
Oh, this was so much better.
Her first impression was the softness. She hadn’t been expecting such a silky, smooth quality to meet her touch. As she ran her fingertips along his length, lightly tracing him from root to tip, he drew a shaky breath. Then she curled her fingers around his shaft, squeezing tight and letting his hardness fill her grip.
He lifted his hips, pushing his trousers down to his thighs. His cock sprang free, jutting into plain view. She continued her explorations, fascinated by the ruddy hue of the tip, and the veins that wound around his shaft and shivered under his skin. Even when his breathing grew harsh and fast, he allowed her to stroke and touch him as softly and slowly as she pleased.
She looked up to find him watching her, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight.
She bit her lip, feeling unsure. “Is it . . . ?”
He nodded curtly. “It is.”
“Am I . . . ?”
“Oh, yes. You are.” He reached to caress her cheek, and his thumb traced the shape of her lips. “You are perfect.”
Her chest swelled with relief, and not a little bit of pride.
A drop of moisture welled at the tip of his cock, and she covered it with her thumb, spreading it in circles around the broad, smooth crown. His cock jumped in her hand, and the muscles of his abdomen went hard as cobblestones.
He squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a curse. As she touched him again, his hips bucked and his shaft pumped into her hand.
Alex had never felt more powerful. Even in her ignorance, she could reduce this powerful man to a single raw, quivering nerve. She had him, quite literally, in the palm of her hand.
“Teach me,” she whispered. “Teach me what to do. What you like.”
He reached down and covered her hand with his own, guiding her into a rhythm of tight, swift strokes. Pumping faster and faster, until their linked hands were a blur. She watched his face contort, flashing back and forth between pleasure and pain. His head was thrown back, and his eyes closed tight.
He seemed to have gone somewhere else, somewhere inside himself. She wondered where his mind had traveled. Whether he was with her, or with someone else. Or perhaps he’d been transported to a place where there were no names, no faces—only sensation.
A low, primal growl forced its way through his clenched teeth. His body shuddered with release. Warmth spilled over her fingers. He released his grip on her hand, and she caressed him—equally fascinated by the softening of his cock as she had been by the hardness.
“Alexandra,” came the hoarse whisper. His hand drifted to her hair, and he tangled his fingers in her unbound locks, drawing her down for a kiss.
Wherever it was he’d journeyed to, he’d returned. He was back in the here and now, with her.
As his breathing returned to normal, she considered her options. Mutter a word of thanks and flee to her room? Pretend to fall asleep and sneak out in the middle of the night? Both of those seemed beneath her dignity.
Instead, she rolled onto her side to face him. If she avoided him now, it would only grow more and more awkward. What had just happened between them would need to be confronted, discussed.
He stared at the ceiling. “That was . . . unbelievable.”