Griff closed his eyes and breathed another prayer to the gods, thanking them for sending Alyssa Carrollton into his path. Still, Griff felt compelled to warn her that what she was about to do might be considered advanced lovemaking and not something one would ask of a bride. “I would prefer your assistance, Alyssa,” Griff answered honestly. “But, as this act is something I’m not quite sure a gentleman would ask of his bride right away, I’m quite capable of taking the problem in hand myself.”
“Is that why you stopped me before?” she asked. “Because you’re not certain it’s proper for us to do it on our wedding night?”
“In the coach on our wedding night,” he clarified wryly.
“Oh, well.” Alyssa became very logical and practical. “I’m not certain any of this”—She lifted her hand and gestured toward their pile of discarded clothing, indicating her nudity and his—“is proper in a coach where we might be discovered at any time. But I think, perhaps, that’s part of the allure of the game.”
“I think you may be right, my lady.”
“Is the act perverse? Or sinful?” she asked.
“Some will say so,” he admitted. “I prefer to think of it as natural. And pleasurable. Either way, I’m entering new territory. I’ve never asked such a thing of a lady before or performed it myself in front of one. It’s something I’ve only done in private or in the comp—”
Griff could have bitten out his tongue. He seemed to be violating quite a few tenets of gentlemanly behavior this evening. And now he’d gone and done it again. For a gentleman never spoke of Cyprians in the presence of his wife, much less the presence of his bride of less than a day. Unfortunately, Alyssa was very easy to talk to. She invited conversation and confidences with her wit and her intelligence and her questing nature.
“Only in the what?” she wondered.
“Only in the company of Cyprians,” he told her.
“Of course,” Alyssa replied thoughtfully. “Of course, a Cyprian can participate in intimate acts ladies consider improper. They aren’t bound by the same constraints that bind us. They have more freedom.”
“Not necessarily,” Griff said.
“Cyprians have less freedom than debutantes?”
“No, of course not. Only that the life of a Cyprian isn’t always pleasurable.”
“It is when she’s with you,” Alyssa told him.
Griffin’s mouth went dry. His heart began to pound, and his male member began an insistent throb. It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did, all he could manage was, “Alyssa?”
“We are still playing a game of seduction, aren’t we?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Then pretend I’m a Cyprian, instead of a lady,” Alyssa invited. “Because I intend to watch as you take matters into your hand.”
“You intend to watch, my lady?” Griff asked, shifting into a more comfortable position on the coach seat. “Or you want to watch?”
She looked him in the eye.
“I want very much to watch. And when we reach the manor, I want, very much, for you to teach me all the things a proper Cyprian should know about pleasuring you and about pleasuring herself.”
Griff leaned over, pulled her close, and kissed her, hard.
Alyssa closed her eyes and kissed him back. She used her tongue to tempt and tease him as they played the age-old game of seduction—of advance and retreat, of give and take, of mutual surrender. She followed his lead until he relinquished control and followed hers. They played the game over and over again, leading each other on a merry chase, deepening their kisses with every stroke of their tongues as they teased and tormented each other with kisses that were so hungry and hot and wet and deep that Griffin was finally forced to end them. “Are you certain?” he asked.
“Quite,” she answered. “Why should Cyprians have all the fun?”
“Why indeed?” He met her steady gaze, then reached down, took hold of his burgeoning erection, and began the familiar motion. “Watch and learn, my lady Cyprian, for you shall surely be tested later.”
Chapter Twenty
“For weeks, I’ve been counting the hours until I could join my regiment and fulfill my destiny! Now I count the hours for an entirely different reason. Now, I am willing to admit, that while I will go to take my commission in His Majesty’s Army, my destiny may lie much closer to home…
—Griffin, Viscount Abernathy, journal entry, 06 May 1810
Griff and Alyssa barely managed to don their clothing before the coach pulled up to the front door of Abernathy Manor. But they were entirely presentable, if a little flushed and wrinkled, by the time the coachman opened the door and pulled down the steps of the coach.