The First Proposal - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,39
before her. He kissed the inside of one thigh gently, then followed it up with a scrape of his teeth that made her shudder.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Something I’ve been dreaming of since I saw your bare bottom hanging over my garden wall,” he teased. But he didn’t say anything further. It wasn’t words she needed, after all. Instead, he placed his hands on the inside of her thighs, pressing them further apart. He bent over her, placing another tender kiss against those soft curls, before sweeping his tongue along her sensitive flesh. She let out a startled cry, followed by a moan of pleasure as he parted her gently, lapping at those delicate folds and the nectar he found there.
Another soft cry sounded in the dimly lit room as she shuddered beneath him. Whatever maidenly shyness she might have initially felt had been banished by pleasure. Her hands were in his hair, holding him to her, as her hips arched upward. Increasing the rhythm, the intensity of his touch, he had ceased to be gentle. As much as he desired her, as much as he wanted to do nothing more than sink into the lush and welcoming heat of her body, he wanted her pleasure. He was greedy for it. And when, at last, she tensed beneath him, every muscle in her body taut and quivering as the spasms of her release wracked her, he withdrew slightly, his touches now more soothing than inflaming. He eased her down from those soaring heights.
“I do believe that you have made me an unrepentant sinner,” she finally said breathlessly.
Algernon didn’t laugh. He was in an agony of desire. “It won’t be a sin after tomorrow.”
“I think anything that amazing will always be a sin,” Persephone replied. “But it feels very one-sided. You’ve given me incredible pleasure and taken none for yourself. I may be somewhat ignorant in these matters, but even I know that it should be a mutual exchange.”
Christ, she would be the death of him. “We will have all the time in the world for mutual pleasure. Tonight was for you… and tomorrow morning, you will be at St. Paul’s at nine o’clock sharp. No wedding breakfast, no celebration. We will be married, then I will take you home, take you to my bed, and no power on earth will stop me,” he warned.
She shivered then. “Making such promises will hardly dissuade me. I want to please you as you have pleased me… It’s only fair, isn’t it?”
He was saved from replying by a knock at the door.
It was Burke who called out from beyond it, “Dunne, your sister is demanding I fetch you before all of London is speculating about the disappearance of Miss Blake!”
“Another time,” Algernon promised her. He carefully smoothed her hair, replacing pins that had come loose. “You’ll want to go to the ladies’ withdrawing room and fix that. I’ll be in the ballroom again as soon as I can manage it without maiming myself or scandalizing all in attendance.”
Reluctantly, she rose, shaking out her skirts which were ridiculously crumpled. She paused for just a moment and stared down at the ornate ring on her finger. “I should thank Richard for being a disobedient wretch and forcing me to retrieve his kite.”
“We both should,” he said. “I won’t because he’s horrid. I’ll just be quietly grateful and say an extra prayer for him on occasion.”
Persephone was still giggling at that as she exited the room.
When she was gone, Algernon let out a pained groan and wondered if a man could actually die of unquenched lust.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They did, in fact, have a wedding breakfast, much to Algernon’s dismay. Burke and Olivia had escorted Persephone to the church in a borrowed gown, courtesy of his sister, and then served as their witnesses. Afterward, they were feted at the couple’s home with a meal that was far too elaborate for such simple, even if highly scandalous, nuptials. It had taken hours to get through it all, but finally, they were in his carriage and only moments from the house on Park Lane.
Persephone sat beside him, her head on his shoulder and one of her hands splayed across his chest. It was arousing, yes. Her nearness always sparked that response in him. But it was strangely comforting, as well. Uttering their vows in the church, signing the register, it had only cemented that sense of rightness he’d felt from their very first encounter.
“Tell me, Mrs. Dunne, what is the