Page 45 of My Best Friend’s Earl (Bluestocking Booksellers #2)
Drive him mad
Regret nothing
T he few times she’d been with Walter, Constance had loved the thrill of skulking about with a man.
The possibility of her parents catching her in a lie, or Walter’s landlady opening her door and finding them sneaking down the hall to his flat, had sent her pulse racing.
However, when it came down to the act itself, she’d struggled to rein in her mind.
Not that Walter noticed. Sure, it had felt nice.
If it didn’t make a body sing in such a way, sexual intercourse would likely have gone out of style eons ago, and the human race would be extinct.
Even as her body enjoyed the experience, Constance’s mind wandered.
For example, there were fuzzy memories of him on top of her, but she had a vivid recollection of the water stain on his ceiling that looked exactly like the outline of a duck.
Yet something magical happened when Oliver kissed her.
Those random thoughts, reminders of things she needed to write down, but would ultimately forget—all of it disappeared, like a snuffed candle.
Instead, images of things she wanted to do with him flooded her brain, The smell, sound, taste, and feel of him engulfed the rest of her.
But then Oliver pulled back and narrowed his eyes comically. “What was in the package from your cousin?”
Grinning, she pulled the two items from her pocket.
There’d been no note, not that she needed one.
A sea sponge with a length of thread attached, and a small vial of vinegar.
At his look of confusion, she explained.
“Pregnancy prevention. Since she assumed you wouldn’t have reason to carry a French letter on your person. ”
Constance made a mental note to thank Caro the next time she saw her. And that was a reminder she knew she wouldn’t forget. No writing it on her list needed.
Oliver paled. “Damn, I hadn’t considered that.”
Of course he hadn’t. After all, he’d abstained for this long. Fearing by-blows was simply not within his sphere of experience.
“Now, didn’t I promise to show you how to give me pleasure?”
His smile bordered on feral. “I believe the exact promise was teaching me how to make you beg and scream my name.”
Under her skirts, slick heat dampened her inner thighs. “First step.” She nipped the hard point of his chin, breathing in the sharp citrus scent of his cologne, and pressed her body against his. “Strip. Let me see you.” One hand brushed against the hardness tenting his breeches.
Urgent noises escaped his throat as he threw his coat to the floor, followed by his cravat. During the spare seconds it took for Oliver to whip the linen shirt over his head, he acted as if it caused physical pain to not touch her.
But oh, the glorious relief of having all that skin at her fingertips. Constance nearly purred at the feel of him. Smooth and warm, with the occasional abrasion of wiry hair interrupting the gentle curves of muscle and bone. Oliver’s build was lean like a greyhound, all tightly coiled power.
When her fingers traced a line low across his belly, dipping into the waistband of his breeches, the muscles in his abdomen rippled in her wake.
Oliver gasped and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “I was not exaggerating when I warned I’d finish quickly. I’d rather not do so inside my clothing.”
Fevered ideas of ways to explore him, of teaching him how to please her, turned Connie’s core molten.
She’d never thought of a man finding his pleasure as an exceptionally arousing image.
Given how that confession affected her pulse, the idea of Oliver in the throes of passion was enough to make her lightheaded.
“We should accept that you’ll finish quickly this first time.
As long as we both know that, there’s no embarrassment.
I’m feeling rather smug that a brush of my fingertips is enough to make you warn me.
” Constance tugged her hand free and backed away.
“Do you think watching me will have the same effect as my touch?”
The way his chest heaved with each labored inhale was its own answer. That breathing stopped altogether when she stepped out of her gown, then unfastened her short stays.
“Oliver, if I take off my chemise and you faint from lack of air, I will tease you about it forever. Do I make myself clear?”
His gasp for air sounded especially loud and they both laughed. With quick, clumsy movements, he braced himself on the door and attempted to remove his boots, muttering curses when the impressive tent of his erection got in his way as he bent.
Knowing Oliver wanted her as desperately as she wanted him gave her a euphoric feeling. When he finally approached her, wearing a look hot enough to set fire to her last piece of clothing, Constance was amazed her chemise didn’t turn to a pile of ash.
Vague memories of shyly disrobing in front of Walter felt like recollections from another woman. In the face of Oliver’s blatant admiration, Connie knew she could dance naked before him and never doubt his appreciation for what he saw.
And wasn’t that a lovely thing. The realization felt both deliciously scandalous and absolutely safe at the same time.
“May I?” he asked, fingering the ribbon securing the neckline of her undergarment.
“You may do whatever you wish, milord.” At his disgruntled expression, she dimpled up at him. “I mean, Oliver. You may do whatever you wish, Oliver.”
“I wish… to finally see you naked.” He pulled the bow loose, shifting the fabric until the chemise gaped over her shoulders.
“I’ve dreamed of you for weeks now, only to wake hard and aching.
That’s when I knew I wanted you. You’ve haunted my bedchamber every morning.
I’m scared I’ll wake up and discover this is all an exceptionally vivid dream. ”
Constance pressed her thighs together, trying to alleviate the building ache at her center.
When he finally touched her there, he’d find a slick and warm welcome.
“Not a dream. I’m curious about the accuracy of your imagination, though.
” A shrug of her shoulders, and the thin chemise drifted to the ground.
“Jesus holy fuck,” he breathed.
She couldn’t help it. Constance laughed, even though it sent all her wobbly bits jiggling with abandon. Still giggling, she looped her hands behind his neck and relished the hot press of his torso against hers. “Do you know when I realized I was attracted to you?”
Oliver’s eyes were a bit unfocused as his hands explored her back, then down her bum, not missing an inch. The noise he made was vague, but agreeable, so Connie continued.
“When you swore at your kitten that first day in your study. You were unwashed and exhausted, and your language was atrocious. That’s when I knew I wanted you.”
At that he gave her a disbelieving grin. “You’re a strange woman, Constance Martin.”
Yes, but I’m yours, for as long as I can keep you. “Then you’ve a predilection for strange women.”
“I’ve a predilection for you. Specifically, your breasts.”
She grinned, then gasped when he weighed them in his hands, squeezing her nipples between his fingers. Goodness, he gazed at her as if she were a dessert fit for the king’s table.
“When we kissed that first time, I wanted to tear that seam on your gown the rest of the way and finally see these beauties. I didn’t, because I knew if I did, that would be it for me.
I’d have fucked you against those shelves and never come up for air.
The hostess would have found us the next day with my cock inside you and my face buried in your cleavage. ”
A snort escaped and Constance slapped a palm over her mouth. “What a picture you paint.”
“And now you know how I anticipate greeting the morning.” He kissed her dimple, then the side of her neck.
More intimate than a waltz, they danced backward one step at a time toward the bedroom, murmuring and laughing softly.
The quilt was cool on her skin when he laid her down on the bed, then crawled over her, and rested on his elbows. Face abruptly serious after their playful banter, Oliver said, “I’m glad it’s you.”
Constance bit back declarations and promises of forever.
Instead, she cradled his cheek and said, “There’s no place I’d rather be.
” Tingles skittered up her arm when he kissed her palm and held her gaze.
“Now please, for the love of all that’s holy, take off your breeches.
Otherwise, I won’t be responsible for the condition of your clothing. ”
He laughed deep and low, and she felt it like a brush between her legs.
When a fully naked Oliver rejoined her on the bed, Constance reached for him with greedy arms.
“Swear to everything, if I wake up in the next few seconds, I’m going to tear my bed apart with my bare hands.”
Constance pushed him onto his back, then nipped and licked down his neck, to his chest, and lower, where a line of dark hair pointed directly toward his stiff cock.
After a single lick from base to tip, he bellowed. When she continued, his raspy growl repeated, “Fuck, Connie. Oh God. Fuck.”
Everything disappeared from her mind except Oliver.
The taste of him. The delighted look he gave her when she slipped his wet length through her cleavage and held her breasts tightly around him, creating a channel with her flicking tongue at the end.
He shouted her name when he finished quickly, as predicted.
The dazed way he watched her while he caught his breath made Connie feel like the most accomplished lover in history. Which, given the many erotic novels she’d read over the years, she might be, she thought smugly.
“Now, show me how to make you come. I’ll be hard and ready again in short order,” Oliver said.
Her belly quivered at his wickedly intent expression. “Let the lessons begin.”