Submitting to the Baron

An avid admirer of that composer, she looked a little incredulous, but he was up to the task of proving his assertion.

He lowered his head to claim her mouth. She gave a muffled protest, but then her lips parted beneath his, permitting him to taste her fully. The heat in his veins flared. Her resistance had not completely dissipated, but he was glad for it, because it enabled him to apply greater pressure. With his hand upon her chin, he manipulated her so that he could sample her mouth at a variety of angles.

She inhaled sharply when he delved his tongue into her.

Despite the newness and perhaps the strangeness of having her orifice assaulted in such a manner, she sighed, barely protesting when he smothered her mouth more fully. Consumed by his kiss, she seemed not to notice his hand slipping beneath the hems of her skirts and sliding to her knee. But when his hand touched the bareness of her thigh, she yelped against his lips. She squirmed.

“I mean only to pleasure you,” he murmured.

“But—”

He took her lips into his mouth, quelling her protests. Surprised to find her mouth so intoxicating, he was content to stay his hand while he kissed her long and hard. Only when he had felt her yield significantly did he move his hand to the inside of her thigh.

“Hmph,” she mumbled when his hand had reached the apex and then the outset of her folds.

The devil. She was not merely damp. She was near sodden. When he nudged the flesh, she became frantic, and tried to wriggle away as if she meant

to clamber over the back of the settee. He stayed her with a hand upon her shoulder.

“Calm yourself. I promise it shall not hurt.”

“I am not—I am not prepared for this,” she gasped.

“Prepared? My dear, this is not a concert. You have but to lie back and enjoy what I am to do.”

He pressed his thumb at the nub of flesh between her folds. She cried out at the contact, her body bowing off the settee.

“We must not…”

Her words turned into a moan as he circled his thumb against her, slowly coaxing sensations both exquisite and torturous. Her eyes rolled toward the back of her head, and she grasped the settee as if in immense pain. He marveled at how strongly her body reacted, and when their gazes met through their masks, he glimpsed the fear he had seen in her on their wedding night. He had been too bewildered by it then to do much about it. But tonight would be different. This time he would show her the proper conclusion.

Her lips moved, but her words were lost. She squeezed her eyes shut, and it almost seemed as if she were not enjoying his fondling, but her wetness continued to flow. Her breaths grew haggard. His forefinger took a turn next, stroking that sensitive bud.

“Surrender yourself to the pleasure,” he encouraged, sensing that she still fought the delicious tension. “Naught but ecstasy awaits.”

His touch was still gentle. If he had been with his mistress, he would have been agitating his entire hand against her as she ground herself into him.

“Oh my, oh my,” Trudie pleaded between clenched teeth.

With his fingers, he continued to build that beautiful tension from which one desired to topple. He hoped it would be so for Trudie. Her brow furrowed, and her groans and grunts increased. He sensed her arousal, but still she seemed to oppose the bliss that awaited her. He considered if his tongue might prove more effective, but such wantonness might startle her too much.

He intensified his fondling, making her legs quake. Her groans sounded slightly of sobs. Alarmed, he ceased his ministrations, but instead of looking relieved, she appeared vexed and even more distraught. She whimpered. He resumed his caresses. He would show her the end was well worth the present agitation.

Eventually, something inside her seemed to shatter, and her body went into violent paroxysm. Her cries pierced his ears as she bucked beneath him, her limbs jerking and flailing. He had never seen her spend, and was in some wonder of it. He had never seen any woman spend in such fashion, with such vigor. Desire pumped through him to the tip of his cock. The prospect of all that he could do with her filled him with excitement.

Chapter Five

WITH HER CHEEKS FLUSHED and her brow smoothed from satisfaction, Trudie looked beautiful. Her lashes fluttered, and when she opened her eyes, she gazed at him as if from a blur—but then he seemed to come into focus and she started. When Leopold bent to kiss her again, she put up her hands and tried to push him away.

"I must go," she blurted.

"We have only begun," he replied, still leaning toward her.

She pressed her hands against his chest. "No—I must."

She sounded more insistent this time, but her reservations had melted easily enough before. The swelling at his crotch grew tight at the thought of making her spend once more and in finer fashion.

"There is more pleasure, greater pleasure, to come."