The Regency Season Collection: Part One. Кэрол Мортимер

before sliding down to the base of the chaise to swing her feet on to the floor, before standing up and turning to face Zachary.

      His eyes widened in surprise as she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down on to his back on the chaise before sitting beside him; obviously Hawksmere was not a man used to a woman taking charge in the bedchamber. Or in this case, the blue salon of his London home.

      Georgianna was not a woman used to taking charge in lovemaking, either, but in this case it seemed completely desirable.

      Besides, she had not spent all of her time in the kitchen, or the storeroom, at Helene Rousseau’s tavern. She had occasionally ventured out to help serve behind the bar if they were especially busy; some of the surprising acts she had witnessed between the male and female customers when she did so had made her blush to the roots of her hair. There had been one act in particular that the gentlemen had seemed to enjoy very much.

      If Georgianna only had the courage to now put into practise all that she had witnessed.

      ‘I believe I should like to kiss you as you once kissed me.’ She licked her lips in anticipation.

      ‘Georgianna?’

      She glanced up enquiringly from where she had already unfastened the buttons on Zachary’s pantaloons and was now in the process of untying his drawers. The bulge beneath the linen, stretching and tightening that material, was making that task more difficult than it ought to be and was certainly causing a lack of sexual prowess on her part.

      ‘What are you doing?’ He looked pained as she at last managed to unfasten his drawers and reached inside to withdraw the pulsing and throbbing hard length beneath.

      Georgianna’s fingers stilled as she looked down at him uncertainly. ‘You do not like it?’

      ‘Oh, I most assuredly do like it, Georgianna!’ he breathed shakily. ‘I am just— Are you sure you wish— Do you know what you are doing?’

      Colour burned her cheeks. ‘I am sure I shall not be as experienced as some of your other ladies, but...’

      ‘That is not at all what I meant,’ he grated from between gritted teeth, his fingers having curled about the slenderness of her wrists to halt her movements. ‘And I have said there will be no talk between the two of us of any others. I merely wanted to know if you are sure this is what you want. What you would enjoy.’

      She glanced down at the thick length of his arousal as she slowly curled her fingers about it, the skin feeling surprisingly soft as velvet.

      Georgianna swiped her tongue over her lips. ‘It most certainly appears to be what a certain part of you wants,’ she murmured with satisfaction at Zachary’s obvious response to her touch.

      Zachary could not deny that. Had no desire to deny it. Indeed, just seconds ago he had feared he might spill at the first touch of the softness of Georgianna’s fingers closing about him.

      He had managed to hold, thank goodness, but he could not deny that his instinct was still to thrust into those encircling fingers, to bid her grip him tighter, stroke him faster, harder, as they worked together towards his release.

      ‘I merely want you to be sure—’ Zachary broke off with a strangled groan of pleasure as Georgianna lowered her head, her long hair falling in a soft caress against his thighs as she licked the silken tip. A long and rasping lick that caused him to arch up off the chaise.

      ‘You like that.’ She repeated that slow and agonisingly pleasurable rasp.

      Liked it? Zachary had thought of this woman constantly this past two weeks, had imagined time and time again making love to her again, pleasuring her again. And in none of those imaginings had he thought of Georgianna pleasuring him, as she was now doing with each slow and delicious swipe of her tongue, the pleasure so intense he could already feel the start of his climax in the tightening, drawing up of his balls.

      His gaze dropped to her bared breasts visible through the silky curtain of her hair as they jutted free of her unfastened gown as she bent over him. He wanted to hold them. To caress and squeeze them.

      As he came and came!

      ‘Come up here, Georgia,’ he groaned urgently even as he lifted her up and over him so that she now had a leg either side of his thighs on the chaise. He pushed her dress up to her hips before lowering her down on top of him, not penetrating her, but arching into her in a slow rhythm as her moist and heated folds rubbed caressingly along the sensitised length of his erection.

      ‘Zachary.’

      ‘Do not worry I shall put you at risk, Georgianna,’ he assured gruffly, eyes feeling hot and fevered. ‘I merely wish to feel your heat upon me. Oh, that feels so damned good!’ The hardness of his length moved easily against the slickness of her juices. ‘So, so good!’ He reached up to cup and squeeze her breasts, to caress and flick his fingernails against those jutting and sensitive nipples.

      Georgianna clutched on to Zachary’s chest for support, her head feeling dizzy with her own pleasure as Zachary continued to arch and thrust beneath her, even as he caressed and pinched her engorged and sensitive nipples to the exact same rhythm as the hard length of his erection rubbed against her folds and that sensitive nubbin above.

      ‘Harder, Georgia. Faster. Harder again,’ he urged, his eyes glittering, a flush to the hardness of his cheeks. ‘Come with me, Georgia. Now!’ he urged fiercely, sculptured lips parted as his hips surged up in the most powerful thrust of all.

      Georgianna had no time to think about what he meant by that as her own pleasure ripped through and over her as the heated jets of Zachary’s release pounded against her own sensitive nubbin, prolonging that pleasure until she screamed his name as he now hoarsely shouted hers.

       Chapter Twelve

      ‘Georgia?’ she questioned Zachary as she lay on the chaise in his arms in the aftermath of their lovemaking. She felt physically sated and still inwardly moved at the way in which Zachary had kissed that unsightly scar upon her chest.

      ‘You do not like it?’ He played absently with the long strands of her loosened ebony hair as he turned to look at her.

      No one had ever shortened her name in quite that way before now. Jeffrey often called her Georgie when they were alone together, in remembrance of their time together in the nursery. Her father, when he was alive, had occasionally addressed her affectionately as Anna, which had been her mother’s name. But she could not recall her name ever being shortened to Georgia before now, no.

      Before Zachary.

      And she did like it. Coming from this man, she found she liked that familiarity. A lot. That she liked, even loved, Zachary a lot, too.

      She had no idea when the liking, the admiration, for the strong and determined man that he was, had happened, let alone whether or not she loved all of him. Or how it could possibly have happened, if that was the case.

      Zachary had more or less kidnapped her, then kept her a prisoner in his home.

      He had ridiculed and insulted her.

      And then he had made love to her.

      Which was when the liking had begun, Georgianna now realised.

      Because when Zachary made love to her he forgot to insult and ridicule her. To dislike her. Most of all, he was a generous and fulfilling lover. Oh, that first time might have begun as a punishment for her, for daring to elope with another man when she was betrothed to him. But Zachary’s generosity of nature, his own physical enjoyment of her, had quickly overcome that emotion.

      And today, despite knowing of that disfiguring scar, he truly had made love to her, had kissed and caressed that scar as if it were something to admire rather than be disgusted by.

      As Georgianna had made love to him?

      She shied away from so much as