What an Earl Wants by Kasey Michaels Page B

breath when his mouth left hers to
traverse new ground, exploring her ear, the sensitive skin behind that ear, the
length of her throat as she tilted her head to allow these further inroads on
her sanity, let alone her common sense.
    Never. She’d never experienced anything like this sudden fierce
onset of desire, this curious tightening between her legs that had nothing to do
with hoping to hold off an inevitable cruel invasion.
    Gideon was cupping her breast now, rubbing his thumb across the
stiff material of her gown. She gritted her teeth, wishing away the fabric,
feeling her nipple straining for a more intimate touch. Perhaps his touch would
be different. Perhaps his mouth more knowing, less harsh, taking this budding
physical arousal her body seemed to understand and nurturing it, not turning it
to pain and humiliation and tears.
    There has to be something more, her
mind promised her, or else women like Mildred wouldn’t be
so eager to partake in it, time and time again. Perhaps it wasn’t me but
James who was the sad failure.
    Jessica felt herself being lifted off the floor and high
against Gideon’s chest. She buried her head in his shoulder as his long strides
took them across the room. He turned to his left.
    “That’s...that’s the stairs to the kitchens,” she managed, and
his short, pithy curse brought a tremulous smile to her lips as he turned
abruptly and headed, this time, toward her small, spinsterish bedchamber. Now
she noticed his breathing had become nearly as ragged as her own, and the first
stirrings of fear dragged at her arousal, slowing it to a near stop.
    She’d been selfishly thinking of herself, only herself. She’d
forgotten the effect of passion on a man.
    Hers had been a virginal bed for more than four years, since
James’s death, and she’d been glad of the respite, the sanctuary it held for
her. How could she be doing this? Willingly doing this? What on earth did she
think it could possibly prove? She was unnatural, James had told her so, time
and time again. She wasn’t a real woman.
    Gideon would know, and he’d either turn away in disgust, or
he’d slake himself, anyway, pounding hurtfully inside her until he was done.
    Either way, she lost.
    “I don’t... I can’t...” she said as he stood her on her feet
beside the bed, turned her around and began expertly working open the line of
buttons from her neck to her waist, as he had done the previous evening. Only
tonight his mouth followed after his hands, his tongue licking at her skin,
sending shivers of what had to be pleasure rippling through her.
    It was as if he hadn’t heard her. He took hold of her shoulders
and turned her back to him. In the light of the small candelabra burning at her
bedside, he locked his eyes with hers as he touched his hands to her long,
unbound hair, smoothing it back over her shoulders.
    She was naked to the waist now, her gown snagging at her hips.
He lowered his head, taking her in his mouth, teasing her with his fingers,
destroying her now silent warnings of his imminent disappointment, her ultimate
disgrace. No matter how hopeful the beginning, when her own body tried to
believe this time it might somehow be different, there was always that same bad
ending.
    Somehow, the coverlet had been stripped back, and she was on
the cool sheet. Somehow, her gown was gone, her only undergarment was gone; she
was lying there, eyes closed to reality, listening to the whisper of fabric as
Gideon rid himself of his evening clothes.
    She’d been here before, in this position, brought low by the
mere fact of being female.
    She had no maidenly shame about her naked body, experienced no
wild urge to try to cover herself. James had stripped her of that years ago. She
knew what her body was for—a man’s pleasure. The man wanted what the man wanted,
and now was as good a time as any to get it over with, so that they could move
on. Resistance only brought pain. She’d simply have to pretend, go along.