The touch of a strong male who wanted her had Bridget sighing into Stephen’s embrace. Just the chance to be held in a man’s arms and be given sexual release was far more than she had known for the past four years.
I need you. I want you. And I want you to need me.
He had said he only ever spent one night with a woman, but Bridget didn’t care. She would take whatever he offered. And in return, he could have her all.
Stephen was a master at kissing. He turned the simple act of two pairs of lips touching one another into something that only the poets could describe in a sonnet.
When he gently, teasingly, bit her bottom lip, Bridget almost swooned. She clung to the front of his jacket. It was all she could do to stop from falling to her knees.
He pulled back from the kiss and breathlessly whispered, “We need to slow this down. Let me take control. I have a feeling that if I give you the reins, there is every chance that this horse will bolt.”
He was right. She didn’t want to hold back. She wanted everything and now.
Whatever you ask, I am yours.
“What would you like me to do?” she asked.
His long, lingering gaze had her mind going to the most wicked of places. Of the things she hoped they would experience together.
“Are you comfortable with us being in this room or did you wish to retire to the bedroom?” he asked.
“I chose this room for a reason.” She pointed toward the chaise lounge. “I have been imagining you and me on that for the better part of a week. If I am only going to get one night with you, Stephen, I want to experience more than just the usual.”
She nodded at the leather sofa. “Or if your tastes run to something different, we could always use that. Perhaps even both.”
A grinning Stephen tugged on the laces of her gown. “Come with me.”
He led her over to the chaise lounge where he plonked himself in the middle of it, then arranged Bridget so that she was standing before him. A flush of heat coursed through her as his gaze ran up and down her body.
If this is the effect, he has on me while I am fully clothed, I might spontaneously combust the instant he sees me naked.
“I was going to command you to slowly strip for me, but something tells me neither of us has that amount of patience.” He took hold of the sides of her skirts and lifting them, bared her lower torso and legs to his sight. “Even better than I had imagined, and believe me, I have been doing a lot of imagining.”
This was utterly scandalous behavior. And she was loving it.
Stephen pushed himself off the chaise lounge and knelt on the floor. His face was level with her sex. “Just a taste before we rid you of these confounded garments,” he whispered.
With her skirts bunched in his hands, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on the outer folds of Bridget’s labia. She shivered with the thrill; with the anticipation of what was to come next.
“Oh,” she murmured as his tongue swept from the bottom of her sex to the tip of her sensitive bud. She lay a trembling hand on his shoulder, taking a firmer hold when he delved into her heated core.
Stephen, licked, sucked, and stroked her with his tongue. Pleasure she had forgotten even existed tore through her core. She stuffed a hand into her mouth to stop from crying out.
One long lick followed by him sucking on her nib sent Bridget close to the edge. Then Stephen drew back. “Can’t have you coming too soon. That would not do.”
He got to his feet, wiping his face with a handkerchief he produced from his jacket pocket. Half mute with lust, Bridget simply stared at him.
“Clothes. Off. Now,” he commanded.
Bridget stirred from her haze, fumbling with the openings of her gown. No sooner had she got them undone, then it was lifted over her head and tossed onto the floor. She blinked twice, unable to fathom how his coat, jacket, shirt, and trousers had all managed to magically disappear in the time it had taken her to loosen her bodice.
Stephen slowly shook his head and tutted. “You are wearing stays. They are the bane of every man’s existence. Now where is a knife when you need one?”
She held up a finger. “Just a minute.”
With no care for her state of semi-undress, Bridget scuttled across the floor before returning quickly with the knife Stephen had confiscated from Lionel Hosey. She held it out to him.
“It seems apt to use this to unwrap your victory prize,” she said.
He flicked the switchblade open and grinned at her. “Last chance to save the undergarment.”
“I am sure I can make an appointment for some new ones.”
The sharp edge of the blade cut through the ties like they were butter. Stephen closed up the knife and placed it on the nearby side table. Bridget held her breath as he took hold of both sides of her stays and wrenched them apart. The poor chemise underneath never stood a chance. He tore it in two.
Cool, air kissed her nipples, and they instantly peaked.
Touch me.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he murmured, the thick emotion in his voice overcoming her worry that this was something he said to every woman he bedded. Stephen made her feel special. Made her want to believe that there had never been and never would be another woman for him.
Tonight, that was all that mattered.
He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around him. Bridget clung to Stephen. When they reached the chaise lounge, he sat once more. His hard cock pressed against the opening of her sex as slowly, gently he lowered her onto him.
“Ride me,” he said.
With her hands placed on either side of his shoulders, Bridget rose up and then sunk down once more. By the third time she had done this, Stephen was seated fully within her.
Her eyelids drifted closed. This was beyond anything she had ever known before. Bridget rested her forehead against his. “Just give me a moment. You are not a small man.”
A rumble of laughter came from deep within his chest. “I should have mentioned that you might have difficulty walking in the morning.”
His fingers traced lightly over her thighs, up the sides of her waist, finally settling on her firm, hard nipples. He gave them both a gentle tweak.
Bridget needed no further encouragement; she began to ride the hard length of him. Every stroke was pure ecstasy against her sensitive flesh.
Her soft groans and sobs of pleasure were soon all that could be heard in the room.
Bridget lay sprawled on top of Stephen’s chest on the chaise lounge. He had never been one for these pieces of furniture, often finding them too small for him. But this one was wider and longer than any other he had seen. Almost custom-built for a man of his physical stature.
After draining the last of the wine from his glass, he set it on the floor. He picked up the bottle and chuckled. It was empty. “We finished that in the blink of an eye.”
He had brought her to completion twice now. The first time, she had ridden him. At the point when he’d sensed she was close to the edge, he had thrust hard and deep up into her, exalting when she cried out for more.
The second time had been a long, delicious encounter where Bridget lay over the mahogany leather sofa while Stephen took her firmly from behind.
With the wine gone, now came the time when a gentleman asked politely of a lady, “Are you finished with me for this evening? If you are, please say so, and I will take my leave.”
She lifted her head and met his gaze. The cat who had got the cream couldn’t look more satisfied. “I can still walk. And there is another bottle of wine waiting for us in my bedroom. So, Sir Stephen, I would say that your work is not yet done.”
Brushing her hair from her face, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Well then, I believe we should adjourn to your private boudoir, Lady Bridget. There is nectar of the gods to be drunk and more sexual peaks for you to conquer.”
Bridget rolled off Stephen and stood. He got to his feet and gave her a wicked grin. Bridget squealed as he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder.
As he marched out into the hallway, Stephen prayed there weren’t any servants lurking about. There would never be a good way to explain why the mistress of the house was draped face down over the back of a large, naked man.