Page 7 of In a Rake’s Embrace (Sins & Sensibilities #3)
CHAPTER 7
A gatha almost reached out to touch the thick bulge in his trousers, but thankfully, a bit of good sense reasserted itself just in time.
“A man and a woman can come together in different positions,” Thomas continued, his voice low and steady. “You could be on your back while he mounts you, spreading your legs and taking you.”
“Taking me means putting his cock inside … to mate.”
“Yes.”
Silence fell as she looked at the thick bulge at the front of his trousers, wondering at the possibility of something like that actually entering her body. Anxiety seared her, and she now understood why it must hurt. Agatha thought about the stirring of need inside her body, deducing that beyond the hurt, there is this feeling that people chased. “Go on,” she murmured.
“As I said, a man can climb atop your body to claim you. Or, as you are now, sitting on my lap, I could position you to straddle my thighs like one would a horse. You can take the lead and clasp his cock, tuck it at your pussy and sink down, controlling the depth and force of his entry. Or he can be the one to sheath you on his length. He can do it in a slow glide, or he could he rough and hard. You ride him to fulfillment once he is fully inside you. Or you can start before that.”
Agatha’s cheeks went hot, then her throat and belly. The provocative images swirled inside her thoughts.
“I’ve never ridden a horse,” she blurted out, her voice a little too high-pitched.
Good humor gleamed in the earl’s eyes. “I can teach you to ride a horse ... or let you practice riding me.”
Her throat tightened, and she cleared it quickly before responding.
“Both, please,” she said, as casually as if they were discussing a stroll through Hyde Park.
“You can also go onto your knees and elbows for a lover,” he continued, his tone never faltering, “arching your hips and derriere into the air while he takes you from behind. You can lay on your side, and your lover molds his body behind yours, and either lifts your legs to enter you or keeps them closed for a tighter fit. There are many varied positions.”
“How many?”
“Dozens. There is a book that says there are over sixty variations.”
“Goodness.”
His mouth quirked. “Whatever the position, the act is often referred to as fucking, tupping, swiving, or making love.”
“What do you prefer?” The question leaped from her lips before she had the presence of mind to contain it.
A decidedly devilish gleam entered Lord Radbourne’s gaze.
“Fucking,” he drawled, his finger teasingly moving over the crotch of her drawers.
At that moment, she acknowledged how intense her curiosity about him had grown. It was a struggle to drag her attention away from the heat of his touch, from the simmering tension that seemed to fill the space between them.
He shifted, leaning forward as if he wanted to smell her skin. His breath warmed her throat.
“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be kissed?”
Agatha’s breath caught. She nodded almost imperceptibly, unable to find her voice.
He lifted his head and allowed his gaze to drop to her lips, then back to her eyes, something dangerous flickering in his.
“A lady must know how to receive a kiss, as well as how to give one,” he said softly, his finger tracing a delicate path along her jawline.
“And ... how does one do that?” she asked, her pulse quickening.
A slow, seductive smile curled his lips. He leaned closer. “The art of kissing,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “is knowing how to use it. A kiss can be a tender invitation, a fiery passion, or a promise of raw need for a hot fucking.”
That wretched heat flared across her cheeks again, and she gave up entirely on trying to control her blushes.
I must look like a boiled prawn , she thought miserably.
“Do my provocative words make you feel restless,” he asked, his voice a dark caress, “or is it only mortification at having your sensibilities assaulted by such crudeness?”
“I ...” she began, but her words faltered.
He pressed a soft, wicked lick to the corner of her mouth, making her gasp. “Only honesty,” he urged. “That way, I’ll know how to tutor you.”
“I feel something,” she admitted, her voice shaky. “But I don’t know if it’s good or not.”
“Where do you feel it?”
“Low in my belly,” she said, her cheeks burning hotter. “And even lower ... to my sex.”
His gaze darkened. “When did you feel it? When I spoke of tender kisses?”
“I ... I’m not sure.”
“Or,” he continued, his tone deepening, “when I said some kisses promise the need to fuck?”
A whimper escaped her throat, and a sharp pulse of heat bloomed between her legs. She shifted restlessly, trying to escape the confusing sensations, but only succeeded in brushing more against him. His lips twitched into a knowing smile, and for the first time, Agatha felt like she was under the scrutinizing gaze of a rake—a man who knew exactly how to make her unravel.
The tension between them grew taut, like a string ready to snap. Thomas closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a gentle yet insistent caress. Agatha’s heart raced, her breath shallow as her eyes fluttered closed, lips parting slightly in anticipation. At first, her response felt awkward—tentative, uncertain. Agatha’s instinct was to pull away, but something in the way his mouth moved over hers, so sure and commanding, kept her rooted in place.
Then, slowly, the kiss began to change. What had started as gentle and restrained began to heat, his lips coaxing hers to respond. A rush of warmth filled her, and her hesitation melted away as the kiss deepened. Her mouth moved against his, learning the rhythm, appreciating the feel of his lips.
She gasped as he gently nipped at her bottom lip, and the soft moan that escaped her shocked her. He took advantage of her parted lips, his tongue slipping inside to explore, to taste. Hot sparks of want seemed to dance over her skin. He sucked her tongue, and her moan vibrated into his mouth. It felt scandalous and intoxicating, and Agatha leaned into him, her hands clutching at his arms for support as a wave of unfamiliar need washed over her.
Her senses were overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth, his scent, and the heat of his body so close to hers. Every touch, every movement of his lips seemed to ignite something deep inside her, and before she knew it, the kiss had flamed into something raw and all-consuming—a simmering passion that left her trembling.
Their tongues tangled wildly, and another long, low moan broke from her lips. When he finally pulled back, her breath came in ragged gasps, her body humming with a new, unfamiliar awareness. She began to tremble as his hand settled against her cheek. Her breath faltered as he tenderly traced the line of her jaw. The pad of his thumb nudged up her chin. She opened her eyes, meeting his darkened gaze, and for the first time, she understood the power of a kiss—and how wickedly alluring it could be.
His other hand, which had stayed frozen between her legs, twitched. “Is your pussy aching?”
“Yes,” she said shakily.
“I want to fuck you.”
It felt as if the breath had been snatched from her body. He laughed, the sound low and almost cynical.
“I won’t,” he said, “but my kiss communicated that, and your body answered. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
He traced the back of his fingers along her cheek, down to her throat, and across her collarbone, barely brushing the edge of her bodice. His touch was so achingly tender it sent warmth spiraling through her. Slowly, he leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss at the corner of her mouth, lingering there just long enough for her breath to catch. The gentleness in that kiss brought a sudden lump to her throat, and her heart seemed to quiver in response.
“This is my way of telling you I desire you … but with no expectation of taking you to my bed. I want to touch you, to taste you. Do you understand?”
She lifted trembling fingers to his mouth, her lips tingling with the memory of his kiss. Agatha hadn’t known kisses could be so varied—so exquisitely tender and pleasurable. “Yes … I want more.”
His low, rich laugh felt like a heated caress over her skin. Agatha drew a steadying breath, willing herself to calm the wild pounding of her heart and the unfamiliar hunger stirring deep within. She wasn’t entirely sure what more she wanted to know, but some instinct warned her to tread carefully with the Earl of Radbourne.