Page 73 of A Foolish Flirtation

“You have the most gorgeous belly in all the world,” he sighed with what she could only deduce was pleasure.

“I’ve always thought that it was my worst feature,” she admitted. “It’s strange, hearing it so praised.”

He looked incredulous. “Your worst?” He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m guessing no one has really seen it before,” he pointed out. “So, I’m not sure where you got such an idea.”

“Well, no, but it sticks out to a distressing degree when I do not wear a corset to correct it.”

“It has no need of correction,” he said firmly. “It is perfect the way it is. When your room is redone, I want you to have a chaise longue in here,” he said seemingly changing the subject.

“A chaise longue?” she repeated.

“Yes. I want you to recline on it for me, naked,” he said, shifting down her body. Emmie’s eyes widened. His hand was sliding up her leg now until it lodged between her plump thighs. Emmie shivered with anticipation.

For a moment, words appeared to hover on his lips, but then he seemed to catch himself. For a horrible instant it occurred to her that he had been about to reference the Hawfords’ ball again. But that was absurd, she told herself uneasily. In what possible context could that come up in this moment?

“Why do you suddenly look nervous, Emmeline?” he asked, stilling his hand at once. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” she blurted, “I don’t want you to stop. I was just…just wondering why you felt the need for a chaise longue,” she lied weakly.

“Ah.” He smiled. “That’s because I want to worship you on it, like the goddess you are,” he said, his fingers slipping inside her cleft to lightly trace her wet folds. “To pay homage to this divine body.”

Emmie shifted against his fingers, she could not help it, or the little cry that burst out when his fingers slid right against that spot that was so sensitive. “Like…like that lute player in your painting. The one in the library,” she asked breathily.

A sudden wicked grin lit up his face. “I’m not going sit at your feet and play you a tune, Ballentine, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well, what are you going to do, then?” she huffed when his fingers refused to play the tune he had plucked so well before. Instead, this time they performed a dance that frustrated as much as it stimulated. She could only conclude it was on purpose, from how carefully he watched her face for her every reaction.

“This,” he said, lowering himself onto the bed until she could feel his breath against her patch of intimate hair. “Could you open your legs a little wider, perhaps raise your knees?” he suggested politely.

Emmie gazed down at him in mingled surprise and astonishment. What on earth…? Wordlessly, she lowered her legs, and he resettled a little closer still, gently brushing the reddish-gold curls as his thumb parted her nether lips with a familiarity that made her gasp.

“Do you know, some people call this the mound of Venus?” he asked conversationally. Before she could even think of a reply, his mouth was pressed against her so scandalously that Emmie forgot to even draw breath. It was only when his tongue started to give a slow exploratory lick that she remembered the necessity to breathe.

“My lord!” she squeaked, all dignity flying out of the window. “Oh!”

Before long she was panting and squirming against his mouth, so much so that he had to adjust his hold of her, gripping her firmly around her thighs to pin her in place. Lifting his head, he said “Hold still, Ballentine” in an amused voice. “You wriggle like an eel.”

Seeing his lips shiny from her wetness, she felt something inside her coil even tighter. With a faint moan, Emmie collapsed back onto her pillow, struggling to catch her breath.

“Look at me, Emmeline,” he requested silkily. Emmie struggled up onto her elbows. “Are enjoying this?” he asked solicitously, only the faintest gleam in his eye suggesting he must already know the answer to this question.

Emmie struggled with words. “Y-yes!” she managed to splutter out. Oh my God, were ladies supposed to admit to such a thing? She was not sure. It seemed her education was woefully inadequate in lots of areas, not just mythology.

His smile flashed out. “That’s alright, then,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t want to think I was the only one enjoying myself here.” He sucked on his bottom lip. “You taste delicious, by the way,” he told her softly. “Any requests?” Emmie regarded him speechlessly. Requests? “No? I’ll just have to improvise, then.”

Was he still joking about playing her a tune? she wondered incredulously. Then he doubled his efforts, plying his cunning tongue in such ways that Emmie had no time for thinking. He supped and sucked and licked at her as though she was the most delicious treat, and soon she was mindless and aching with need, while he feasted so unhurriedly on her. Her legs shook, she was so wet, and then the pleasure finally took her, and she cried out as it spread throughout her limbs, leaving her limp and breathless.

As she recovered, breathing shakily, he crawled back up the bed and took her in his arms, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek. “My God, you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever beheld,” he said thickly. “And I’m such an undeserving wretch too.” He sighed gustily and then kissed her lips lingeringly, as though it did not matter where they had just been.

“The loveliest thing?” Emmie repeated uncertainly when he drew back. “Even more than your paintings?”

“So much more,” he assured her. “Instead of canvas, you are made of flesh and blood, and such lovely flesh too.” His hands wandered downward to skim over her hips and buttocks, and he let out a groan. “I can’t really delay much longer, or I will spend against your lovely belly, Ballentine.”

“If you like it so much, I am surprised you think that would be a bad thing.”

He gave a breathless laugh. “It would not be a bad thing at all,” he admitted, “but I would rather be inside you right now, if you have no objection, of course.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

Instead of answering, she let her legs fall open and his eyes lit up as he stared at her. “Fuck, you look so…”