Page 25

S ince it seemed Marcus was not suffering from the arrangement, Lucretia sent a messenger to Felix to arrange a date a few days later.

In the intervening days, her mind ran rampant with all of the things she could teach him.

Playing this role with him thrilled her.

She had never thought of herself as much of a temptress, her experience being confined to the marital bed, but somehow Felix made her feel as powerful as a siren.

She arrived at Felix’s house in late afternoon on their appointed day, and joined him in the stylish, understated dining room.

Once again, the table was laid with an obscene variety of foods.

“You needn’t go to such trouble,” she chided him as she sat beside him on the couch. “Marcus is the glutton, not me.”

“All boys his age are gluttons,” Felix said. “And you’re worth the trouble.”

His gaze met hers as he said that, and her stomach fluttered. She pushed aside the sensation and looked over the spread. She pointed to a few platters which appeared to house dishes containing onions and garlic. “I advise avoiding those.”

He frowned. “You don’t like them?”

“I fear they will impede our lesson today.” At his questioning glance, she clarified: “Kissing.”

“Ah.” Was it the low light, or was there a flush coloring his cheeks? “I see.”

“Or perhaps we could undertake our lesson before eating.”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

His eagerness made her smile. She rose to her feet and beckoned him to stand also. A standing kiss was safer; if she let him kiss her on the couch, she had no doubt they’d end up much too entangled in each other.

She stood with an arm’s length of space between them. “Now,” she murmured. “Show me how you would kiss me. I’ll correct you as needed.”

He stepped closer to her, surveying her mouth as if it were an arithmetic sum he needed to solve. She moistened her lips.

A kiss should be nothing after what they’d shared, and they had kissed that one time at the tavern. But kissing was for lovers, and theirs was a more mercenary arrangement.

He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, as if to anchor her in place. Then he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers in a quick, hard push before withdrawing.

She couldn’t help being relieved that he wasn’t as naturally skilled at kissing as he had been at making her come.

“Was that good?” He already looked smug.

“Mediocre.” She delighted in the outrage that filled his face at her assessment.

“Mediocre?” he demanded. “I kissed you, didn’t I? It was a success.”

Lucretia rolled her eyes. “Kissing is more than a binary of success or failure.”

He crossed his arms, shoulders rising in affront. He looked like a cat that had unexpectedly gotten wet, vexed and indignant. “So what am I meant to do?”

“Firstly, you don’t need to pin me down as if I’m a chicken you’re trying to catch. Embrace me, don’t restrain me.”

“Embrace,” he murmured, as if taking mental notes.

“Secondly, a kiss should be a brush of lips at first. Let the pressure build naturally. And go slower. You kissed as if you were trying to win some sort of prize for speed.”

He shot her an offended glare, but nodded. “I am ready for a second attempt.”

“Proceed.”

This time, he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. “Does this classify as a suitable embrace?”

His body was warm and lean. Her curves pressed into him in all the right places, kindling heat between her legs. “Yes,” she breathed.

“Good.” He trailed one finger up her neck, tipping her chin toward him. The brush of his finger on her sensitive throat made her shiver convulsively. A trace of smugness returned to his face at the movement. Then he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, the barest touch before retreating.

“Yes,” she whispered. “That, again.”

He did it once more, then moved his lips to her cheek. She felt him exhale in a warm rush against her skin as he dragged his mouth over her jaw to tickle her earlobe.

Another round of shivers ran over her, shooting from her ear to settle in a throbbing cluster between her legs. “I didn’t instruct you to involve the ear,” she managed.

“But you like it.” His voice was low and rough in her ear.

She gave a sigh of admission, and he returned his mouth to hers. He kept the kiss feather-light, teasing, and she couldn’t help seeking more from him. She pressed her mouth harder against his, allowing their lips to tangle. He let out a harsh groan when she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth.

His arms tightened around her, and they stumbled several steps until a wall against Lucretia’s back stopped them. Now, she delighted in feeling pinned by him, trapped between his body and the wall with no escape.

She broke off from their kiss with a gasp, struggling to catch her breath. “Here,” she panted, bringing a hand to her neck. “Kiss me here.”

He obliged, grazing his lips along her throat. When she shuddered, he paused in that spot and kissed harder.

“Oh!” The hard pull of his lips made her think of his mouth between her legs, tongue working her into a frenzy. That would have to be another lesson at some point.

She hooked her leg around his, drawing their bodies even closer together. His arousal pressed against her, tempting and insistent. It would be so easy to draw up her skirt, pull aside his tunic, and let him slide deep inside her.

She took a deep breath, fighting to keep her head amid the tingly kisses and nibbles he was giving her neck. A hasty coupling against a wall wasn’t what he deserved for his first time. She would approach that with more patience and finesse at a much later date.

But for now, she needed something , or else she’d dissolve in a pool of unfulfilled lust. “Perhaps a review of our last lesson is in order,” she gasped.

He lifted his head from her neck and gave her a crooked grin, eyes lighting with avidity. “Indeed.” He slid his hand between her legs, his other arm still wrapped tight around her waist.

Her knees almost gave out at the first heady touch, even dulled by the fabric of her dress and not quite in the right spot, and she had to grasp his shoulders to steady herself. “A little further down.”

He adjusted his position, watching her face carefully. “There,” he said in satisfaction when her eyes fell shut in pleasure.

She nodded. He stroked her slowly, moving in wide circles with the flat of two fingers. The slow movement, coupled with the barrier of her dress, quickly became more frustrating than pleasurable, and she shifted against him. “Lift my dress,” she said, impatience sharpening her words.

He gave a low, dark chuckle. “Only if you let me remove it entirely. I want to see your tits. And touch them.”

The thought of his hands on her bare breasts sent a shock of pleasure through her, making her quim twitch. Last time, she had refused, finding it fun to toy with him.

But this time, she wanted it too badly to deny herself.

He gave her another slow, teasing stroke. “Take off your dress, Lucretia.”

“Fine,” she hissed.

Triumph filled his face, and he stepped back to give her room. She untied the sash at her waist, then shrugged out of the loose dress, kicking it aside.

“Should have brought more lamps,” Felix murmured as he surveyed her top to bottom. His hungry gaze lingered on her breasts, the nipples rapidly hardening.

“Touch me,” she demanded.

He slid his palms over the undersides of her breasts, feeling their weight in his hands. Then he squeezed gently, allowing his fingers to sink into her flesh. His hands were warm, so warm, and her back arched, pushing more of her against him.

His fingers circled her nipples, then brushed over the stiff pink peaks. She drew in a sharp breath as tingles of pleasure raced through her. He paused, as if evaluating her reaction, then did it again.

“You like this almost as much as the other place,” he said, continuing to toy with her nipples.

“Almost,” she agreed, voice unsteady.

“What about both at the same time?” One hand left her breast and found its place between her legs. The touch of his fingers on her bare flesh, coupled with his other hand teasing her nipple, made her shudder and bow against him, head braced against the wall behind her.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered roughly in her ear. “I can only assume that’s a good thing. Is it, Lucretia?”

The sound of her name rasping on his lips as he pleasured her almost undid her. “It’s—it’s a good thing.” The words were mangled and barely intelligible.

“What does it mean?”

She sensed he knew exactly what it meant, but he wanted to toy with her. To make her admit that she wanted him. “It means—”

She broke off in a gasp as he slid one finger gently inside her.

“Tell me what it means.” His voice deepened to a growl.

“It means I want you,” she confessed. “It means I like the way you touch me.”

He let out a sigh of satisfaction and rocked his finger inside her. “Would you climax from this alone?”

At that moment, she felt as if she could climax from the touch of a feather, but even so, she shook her head. “It’s pleasurable—very much so—but not enough on its own.”

“I see.” His words somehow managed to have both the carnality of a man with his finger deep inside her as well as the attentiveness of a scholar learning from a sage.

“So I should focus here, then—” He withdrew his finger and found the throbbing spot at the apex of her quim. “If my goal is to make you climax.”

“You should,” she breathed.

In response, he resumed the same rhythm she had shown him last time—quick, tight circles. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, letting him support her as the pleasure built.

“Oh,” she moaned. “Oh, Felix, I’m going to—” The wave crashed over her, and she became senseless to everything but the flames of pleasure consuming her.

“Yes,” he growled as her body rippled and writhed against him.

As it left her, she sagged, legs no longer capable of supporting herself. “I can’t—”