like that.’ She repeated that slow and agonisingly pleasurable rasp.
Liked it? Zachary had thought of this woman constantly this past two weeks, had imagined time and time again making love to her again, pleasuring her again. And in none of those imaginings had he thought of Georgianna pleasuring him, as she was now doing with each slow and delicious swipe of her tongue, the pleasure so intense he could already feel the start of his climax in the tightening, drawing up of his balls.
His gaze dropped to her bared breasts visible through the silky curtain of her hair as they jutted free of her unfastened gown as she bent over him. He wanted to hold them. To caress and squeeze them.
As he came and came!
‘Come up here, Georgia,’ he groaned urgently even as he lifted her up and over him so that she now had a leg either side of his thighs on the chaise. He pushed her dress up to her hips before lowering her down on top of him, not penetrating her, but arching into her in a slow rhythm as her moist and heated folds rubbed caressingly along the sensitised length of his erection.
‘Zachary.’
‘Do not worry I shall put you at risk, Georgianna,’ he assured gruffly, eyes feeling hot and fevered. ‘I merely wish to feel your heat upon me. Oh, that feels so damned good!’ The hardness of his length moved easily against the slickness of her juices. ‘So, so good!’ He reached up to cup and squeeze her breasts, to caress and flick his fingernails against those jutting and sensitive nipples.
Georgianna clutched on to Zachary’s chest for support, her head feeling dizzy with her own pleasure as Zachary continued to arch and thrust beneath her, even as he caressed and pinched her engorged and sensitive nipples to the exact same rhythm as the hard length of his erection rubbed against her folds and that sensitive nubbin above.
‘Harder, Georgia. Faster. Harder again,’ he urged, his eyes glittering, a flush to the hardness of his cheeks. ‘Come with me, Georgia. Now!’ he urged fiercely, sculptured lips parted as his hips surged up in the most powerful thrust of all.
Georgianna had no time to think about what he meant by that as her own pleasure ripped through and over her as the heated jets of Zachary’s release pounded against her own sensitive nubbin, prolonging that pleasure until she screamed his name as he now hoarsely shouted hers.
‘Georgia?’ she questioned Zachary as she lay on the chaise in his arms in the aftermath of their lovemaking. She felt physically sated and still inwardly moved at the way in which Zachary had kissed that unsightly scar upon her chest.
‘You do not like it?’ He played absently with the long strands of her loosened ebony hair as he turned to look at her.
No one had ever shortened her name in quite that way before now. Jeffrey often called her Georgie when they were alone together, in remembrance of their time together in the nursery. Her father, when he was alive, had occasionally addressed her affectionately as Anna, which had been her mother’s name. But she could not recall her name ever being shortened to Georgia before now, no.
Before Zachary.
And she did like it. Coming from this man, she found she liked that familiarity. A lot. That she liked, even loved, Zachary a lot, too.
She had no idea when the liking, the admiration, for the strong and determined man that he was, had happened, let alone whether or not she loved all of him. Or how it could possibly have happened, if that was the case.
Zachary had more or less kidnapped her, then kept her a prisoner in his home.
He had ridiculed and insulted her.
And then he had made love to her.
Which was when the liking had begun, Georgianna now realised.
Because when Zachary made love to her he forgot to insult and ridicule her. To dislike her. Most of all, he was a generous and fulfilling lover. Oh, that first time might have begun as a punishment for her, for daring to elope with another man when she was betrothed to him. But Zachary’s generosity of nature, his own physical enjoyment of her, had quickly overcome that emotion.
And today, despite knowing of that disfiguring scar, he truly had made love to her, had kissed and caressed that scar as if it were something to admire rather than be disgusted by.
As Georgianna had made love to him?
She shied away from so much as thinking of that emotion in connection to Zachary Black, the Duke of Hawksmere—the very same man whom she had once shied away from marrying—knowing that to love him would lead to even more heartbreak than had her ill-fated and humiliating elopement with André Rousseau.
‘I do not dislike it,’ she answered Zachary noncommittally, only to look up at him quizzically as he began to chuckle softly. ‘What is it?’
‘I laugh because, as usual, your thoughts and emotions remain a mystery to me, Georgia.’ He gazed down at her indulgently.
She frowned her puzzlement. ‘I do not mean them to be.’
‘Any more than I believe just now to have been my finest hour.’ He had sobered slightly, a teasing smile now curving those sculptured lips.
‘I do not understand?’ Everything had seemed more than satisfactory to Georgianna. Very much so. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ she prompted anxiously.
‘Lord, no.’ He groaned his reassurance. ‘If you had done anything more right, then I believe I might now be lying here dead from a heart attack.’
She blushed at his effusive praise for her lovemaking. ‘Then I still do not understand.’
Zachary could see that she really had no idea what he was talking about. Had Rousseau been such a uninterested and unsatisfactory lover that even Zachary’s hasty lovemaking just now was preferable? Hasty, because his thoughts of Georgianna these past two weeks had caused him to hope, to anticipate, the worshipping of every inch of her delectable and responsive body. To kiss and caress her. To give her pleasure again and again.
Instead Georgianna had taken control of the situation, of him, and made love to him in a way that had surpassed all and any of his fantasies of being with her again.
He grimaced. ‘We might have expected our lovemaking to last for longer than a few minutes,’ he explained gruffly. ‘I had expected my own control to last for longer than a few minutes,’ he added ruefully. ‘I wanted it to be enjoyable for you, too.’
‘How could you ever imagine it was not enjoyable for me, too, when I cried out my pleasure?’ Her cheeks blushed a becoming rose.
‘Because I know it could have been better.’ He caressed that blush upon her cheeks. ‘I could have been better. Instead, I was as out of control as a callow youth being touched by a woman for the first time.’ Indeed, he had been lost the moment he had felt the soft fullness of Georgianna’s lips upon him, and the soft rasp of her tongue as she licked and tasted him; at that moment he’d had no more control than the night he had lost his virginity fifteen years ago.
‘What was your finest hour?’ Georgianna now prompted almost warily.
Zachary
