“Perhaps I’m not a lady after all.” And she wound her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
His tongue was in her mouth, and she met it, her body clinging to his. His hands were caressing her beneath her gown, and she gasped as his finger slid inside her. “Please,” she whispered, moving against him. “Sebastian, please.”
He was inside her, sliding easily int
o the core of her, filling her. She made a little sound of frustration as she tried to move against him and failed. She wriggled about so that she was able to rest her feet on the bench either side of him, gaining purchase, and then she smiled.
“That’s better,” she whispered, pushing herself upward on his shaft, and then sinking back again. Her body tingled, urging her on. She shifted slightly, so that he rubbed against the swollen nub that was demanding she be so selfish. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Use me, Francesca. I am here for you. I am yours.”
He held her thighs, steadying her, but otherwise he let her do as she willed, giving her the permission she needed to chase after her own pleasure.
It came soon enough, wave after wave, her body clenching around him as she gasped wordlessly. And while she was half conscious and dizzy with joy, he drove himself into her again and again, until she thought her bones had turned to water and her heart could never belong to anyone else but him.
Chapter 27
Francesca’s heartbeat was gradually slowing beneath the palm of his hand. Sebastian smiled. He felt he had a right to smile. She’d screamed. He’d had to kiss her to muffle the sound. He didn’t think he’d ever made a woman scream before during lovemaking.
It was Aphrodite who had told him to dare her, to make it a matter of pride, so that she could pretend she was not simply giving in to her desire. Not that he was about to share that information with Francesca. But the courtesan had known exactly how he needed to act in order to persuade her to let go of her inhibitions and begin to inhabit her deepest needs and fantasies. No polite speeches and gentle courting for his Francesca.
She was a child of the storm.
He could imagine her at ramshackle Worthorne Manor, bathing naked in the lake. Or lying naked in his bed. His grandmother, he decided, would smile with approval upon the new lady of the manor. A woman after her own heart.
He felt himself grow hard again, and bent to kiss her cheek, her neck, murmuring words that had no meaning. “Francesca. So beautiful. Let me…”
She seemed more than content to let him.
Sebastian slipped the narrow sleeves farther down her arms, exposing her shoulders and, with exquisite slowness, the pink tips of her breasts. They were hard little peaks, and he couldn’t resist putting his tongue to them.
She arched her neck and groaned softly, clasping his head to her, her fingers mussing his dark hair. He could feel her body still enclosing him, as he began to move within her once more. There was no urgency this time, and he made it last, watching her face as she slipped from passion to ecstasy to boneless joy.
When it was over, she seemed almost too sated to open her eyes.
“Francesca,” he whispered, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “We must return. There will be talk.”
“Hmm.”
He rearranged her dress, covering her breasts, adjusting her sleeves. The acres of red rose satin surrounding them rippled and rustled as he lifted her gently from him, and placed her on the bench beside him. She watched him with sleepy eyes as he dampened his handkerchief in the water from the fountain.
The cloth was cold against her skin as he cleaned her, and she gasped. He took his time, wiping away the evidence of their lovemaking.
When he was done, he tugged her gently to her feet, rearranging her skirts, smoothing them down, until she stood before him once more in a respectable state.
“There,” he said, looking up at her with a smile as he bent to twitch out a kink at her hem. “As beautiful and proper as you were before.”
She was watching him, and there were tears in her eyes. “I didn’t know,” she whispered.
Sebastian’s brow creased as he tried to understand. “Didn’t know what?”
“That it could be so wonderful between a man and a woman.”
But there was no time to answer her. Someone was approaching, his steps quick and very close. Startled, she put her hand up to her hair, smoothing her ringlets, straightening her encircling wreath.
“Damn and blast it!” Sebastian muttered, and stood up, hastily brushing at his knees, and tugging his own clothing back into order.
“It could have been worse,” she said levelly. “They could have come by five minutes earlier.”