She propped herself on her elbows and surveyed him with a question in her heavy-lidded eyes. “This seems…wicked.”
Her shyness filled his heart with tenderness. “I hope so.”
“You can…see me.”
Deliberately he looked down at the slick pink folds between her slender legs. His determination to claim that secret part of her pounded in his veins. “You’re lovely everywhere.”
She shifted again, more with self-consciousness than any need to escape, he was sure. “Nobody has ever…”
“You’ll like it.”
She frowned. “I’d better.”
Her sudden imperiousness amused him. “Later, you can return the favor.”
He waited to appreciate her dawning comprehension of his meaning. Then he bent to kiss her sex. A torrent of intoxicating impressions flooded his senses. The silky slide of his tongue against her most intimate place. The rich, humid scent. The hot, salty taste. The soft friction of curls against his face as he discovered every luscious dip and rise.
He licked her slowly, basking in her liquid response. Then he drew hard on the center of her pleasure. She cried out sharply. Pulling his hair, she wriggled against his invading mouth. The faint pain intensified his enjoyment, like a hint of tartness in an apple. Spreading her legs to give him greater access, he pressed further. Ruthlessly he speared his tongue into her, tasting more deeply. She released a long shuddering moan that sounded like the music of heaven.
He returned to teasing that sensitive little pearl of flesh, until she writhed like a mad creature. When he took her in his mouth, her broken cry rang out and her thighs clamped around his shoulders. He lapped at her, relishing her unabashed pleasure.
After an eon of quaking delight, her hands fell away from his hair to lie loose and open on the sheets at her sides. Her legs relaxed and she stretched panting upon the bed.
At last he looked up from her delicious mysteries. Her face was pale and transfigured. Her reddened lips curved in a faint reminiscent smile. Humbled by what she gave him so freely, he softly kissed each quivering thigh. Her beauty etched itself into his heart.
For months he’d imagined having her at his command, but the power of the emotion throbbing beneath his raging desire surprised him. It was mostly gratitude, spiced with unconditional love. He looked along Caro’s graceful body to her unforgettable face, and recognized that she gave his life a center the way nothing else ever had.
Gently he untied her slippers and drew away her stockings. Impatience thundering in his blood, he arranged her across the sheets, pliant and rosy and warm. She made a sleepy protest as he rolled her into the middle of the bed, then opened her eyes when he rose above her on his arms.
“That was lovely,” she murmured, eyes dark and weighted with satisfaction—and surprise.
“Not as lovely as you,” he whispered fervently. He lowered into a kiss, rubbing his cock on her stomach, letting her know without words that he was ready. Desire vibrated around them like beating wings, demanding satisfaction. She curled soft arms around his bare back. Her legs parted so sweetly to frame his hips.
When he lifted his head, she met his eyes and her smile held no trace of shadow, only sensual welcome. “I want a lover, Lord Stone. I believe you might be suitable. Do you feel yourself up to the position?”
He pressed down more purposefully. The world shrank to a translucent sphere containing Caro Beaumont and him in a bed on a windy night. Extending these last seconds before his body slid into hers only built anticipation. “That’s a terrible joke.”
“If you require wit in a mistress, I’m afraid you must look elsewhere.”
He laughed softly, delighted at her humor. More delighted that she admitted she was his mistress. She’d consent to more, once he’d answered all her doubts. If convincing her involved heady interludes like this, he couldn’t begrudge the delay.
“Thank you, but I’ll make do with the mistress I have. After all, if she’s using her tongue to pleasure me, I can’t complain if she’s not using it to dazzle me with humor.”
“Sensible,” she said faintly. The opaque shine of her eyes hinted she approached a point where talking was no longer enough.
Silas kissed her lips, then bent to suckle her nipple. Her breath emerged in a voluptuous sigh. He nuzzled at her neck and slipped one hand between her legs. She was still wet and his finger slid smoothly inside her. Her muscles clenched against the incursion.
He stroked her gently, watching her expression change as she became accustomed to his touch. He withdrew at a leisurely pace, relishing the tantalizing glide. Then he slid two fingers into her, moving in and out until her eyes widened with heightening arousal.
She dragged him down for another kiss, clumsy and eager, then framed his face with unsteady hands. “Take me, Silas.”
He shook his head and poured every ounce of the love he felt into his smile. “No, take me, Caro.”
***
Before Caroline could question that response, Silas shifted and she felt a seeking pressure between her legs. Spreading her thighs wider, she tilted her hips. She burned to feel him inside her. Only he could answer her frantic longing.
He moved deeper. To her surprise, his entry stretched her to the point of discomfort. A soft whimper escaped her and he stopped, looking down at her with the familiar care. “Caro?”