Kissed at Midnight (17 page)

He brought his lips down to
hers and tasted salt. Then he slipped his tongue into her mouth and it was pure
Ivy. Utter decadence. If there was anything that tasted better than Ivy, he’d
never had it.

August drew back briefly to
run his gaze over her features. While he studied the still damp curve of her
cheek and her spiked eyelashes, he waited for the usual heavy weight of guilt.
But nothing came. Only raw, fiery need pulsed through his veins. That, and a
burgeoning sense of protectiveness. An almost primal need to claim her and
shield her from all the hurts in the world.

Not that Ivy would let him.
She was no wilting flower. She belonged in the limelight, and he would have to
help her achieve that. His heart began to pound with greater intensity as he
noted the pure trust in her gaze. One might call her naive, but there was
something more to Ivy’s artlessness. It was not simply blind trust that drove her
on but an ability to see good in places where others could not. It was how she
had survived so long on her own, he suspected.

And she saw something in
him, whatever that was. She twined her fingers into his hair, urging him down
upon her. He stole one last glance at her exquisite features before sealing his
mouth across hers again. By all rights he should feel worn, jaded, even old
perhaps, after looking upon her youthful face with her wide, trusting eyes, but
instead he felt renewed, refreshed, as though she fed into him.

Any further foolish thoughts
that might have him checking himself into the nearest asylum were dampened by
the press of her breasts again his chest. She rubbed herself eagerly against
him. He imagined her tight nipples straining against her corset, pictured
closing his mouth about them.

Silk crinkled beneath him as
she worked on hooking a leg over him. Were it not for all her petticoats, he
would be able to feel the sweet warmth of her through the fabric of his
trousers. That thought urged his hand to her thigh and up over her stocking to
feel the small expanse of smooth skin hidden under all those layers.

And there he touched her, as
no other man had. That primitive heat rose in his chest again. No one else had
received this honour, only him. No other man had dug his fingers into the flesh
of her thighs and heard her gasp.

“Want you,” he said,
trailing his lips down her neck. “So badly.”

“Want you too. August, I... I
ache for you.”

Bloody hell, how her words
made his blood boil. He pushed her skirts higher and eased himself between her
legs only to remember this was Ivy—not some courtesan or experienced widow. The
slightest jolt of guilt hit him but was swiftly smothered when she hooked her arms
around his hips. She might not be experienced but she was doing a damn good job
of seeming it. Ivy rocked up into him and his vision went a little white. A
feral groan escaped him.

Nevertheless, he would
retain enough control to do it properly. She needed him, wanted him and,
Goddamn it, he couldn’t hold off any longer. He couldn’t let her go unfulfilled
nor push her away and have her thinking he did not ache for her every moment
they were together.

And even when they were apart
really. She was like a sunbeam of light into his life. He wanted to lose
himself in her and experience the pure radiance that was Ivy up close.

“Let me up, Ivy,” he said
against the column of her throat.

“No.” She gripped his neck
tighter. “You’ll leave me.”

“Never.”

The word came out more vehemently
than he meant it to and he couldn’t help but wonder what it meant. She would
leave him eventually, but would he ever leave her? He had strong suspicions
that if she let him, he’d keep her forever.

Her legs unhooked slowly
from around him and he drew back to gaze down at her. “I want to take you, Ivy.
Lord help me, I can’t resist you any longer. You understand what this means for
you?”

“Yes.” She reached for him
but he didn’t allow her to pull him back down. With the slight distance between
them he had an almost tangible hold on his senses. “August, please.”

August pressed back her
chocolate hair from her face and looked into her eyes to search for doubt.
There was none. And knowing Ivy, she wouldn’t regret this. He might, but she never
would. She didn’t waste time on regret or doubt, whereas he wasted too much.

Decision made, he drew her
up to sitting with his hands on her shoulders and urged her around on the bed.
He found the laces of the gown and set to work on them.

“Bugger it,” he cursed as
the complicated ties confounded him. His clumsy rough fingers caught on the
silk and reminded him of the differences between them. Age, upbringing,
character. Hell, even some noble blood ran through her veins. He might be
wealthy but he didn’t have a drop of noble blood in him.

But when he managed to push
the purple silk from her back and caught sight of the lacing of her corset—the
cream, textured fabric providing a stark contrast against her dusky skin—only a
pounding need thrummed through his mind.

August eased the top of the
gown down to her waist then set to work on the corset. More curse words abound,
he freed her from the contraption and drew it away, leaving her only in her
undergarments. She stood then to remove the rest and August forgot to breathe.
Forgot to do anything apart from sit and gape as a wave of uncertainty came
across her face.

“August?” A hand lingered on
the low-cut strap of her chemise and he stared at the hand for many moments,
willing it to move.
Come on, just a little lower.
Two silly little
straps gone and then he’d have a view of her perfect breasts.

He swallowed and dragged his
gaze back to hers as he realised she was waiting for a response. “Yes?”

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“Why are you staring?”

“Trust me, Ivy, you’re doing
nothing wrong.” Was that his voice? It sounded so low and dark and gritty, as
though he had swallowed coal dust. “You are doing everything so very, very
right. Now push down those straps.”

Her eyes widened briefly but
he couldn’t bring himself to care if he’d shocked her. He kept his gaze on
those gently vibrating swells of flesh, just waiting to be unleashed. Then she
placed one delicate finger under the first strap and slid it down. He watched,
transfixed. His heart thrashed in his chest.

When it was resting just
above her elbow, she lifted her other hand to the second strap. He clenched his
teeth and the crack reverberated through his head. Damn minx was toying with
him. And, God help him, he enjoyed every moment of sweet torture. He had to
bite his tongue to keep from shouting at her though.
Do it
, he wanted to
say.
Reveal yourself to me
. He hadn’t been this eager to see a naked
woman since he was a young man. 

But apparently he was a sap
for torture as he relished each tiny movement of her fingers. Then the strap
was down and the tight fabric of her chemise hung about her breasts. He let out
a long hiss of air through his teeth and gripped the bedding beside him.

Dark curls spilling over her
bare shoulders and with one nearly covering one eye, she cocked her head to one
side, a tiny smile teasing her lips. Then she allowed a finger to skim across
the tops of her breasts along the line of the fabric.

That was it. He couldn’t do
it any longer. In one swift movement he was on his feet and standing in front
of her. In another, he had her in his arms and was kissing her like a man possessed.

Hooking his fingers over the
top of her undergarments, he pulled them down with a flourish. August didn’t even
take the time to admire her. He needed more first. Both hands to the waist of
her drawers, he had them down and pooling around her feet with her dress and petticoats
within moments.

Ivy gasped and her hands
came about herself—an attempt to shield herself from his gaze. He pried her
hands away from her and looked his fill.

“Don’t hide yourself from
me.”

He took in those full
breasts with their tight dark nipples, down to her waist which was beautifully
indented and curved but soft. Her hips were generous and begged for his hands.
White stockings elongated her legs and seemed to draw his attention directly to
the most intimate part of her.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed.

Dropping to his knees, he
began to peel down her stockings. He took the time to skim his fingers over the
sensitive skin at the back of her knee. Her thighs trembled and the scent of
arousal imbued the air. Christ, if he had realised quite what she was hiding
beneath those garish gowns, he wasn’t sure he would have held out for so long.

August pushed aside all her
garments and removed her stockings completely. Now she was bare to him. She
trembled all over, perhaps in apprehension but he knew he’d banish that soon
enough. He just had to take one long look and perhaps a taste.

Hands to her rear, he
groaned and was gratified to hear a moan from her in response. He let his
breath whisper over the dark curls at the apex of her thighs.

“August...” His name was but
a tremulous sound from her lips.

Before she could offer any
protest, he laved his tongue over her folds, tasting her on his tongue. It was
all he could do not to explode then and there. Her hands came to his head,
unsure at first, then when he repeated the movement, her fingers gripped his
hair. He pressed deeper, harder, searching for that tight nub that would bring
her exquisite pleasure. When he found his treasure and nibbled, her legs quaked
and she tugged sharply on his hair.

She could rip his hair out
by the roots and leave him completely bald for all he cared. He would not relinquish
his prize. Keeping his grip firm on her, he licked, nibbled and kissed until
her sweet noises grew into great cries. He only hoped Mrs Cartwright mistook
them for Elsie’s cries.

The grip on his hair
tightened further and her knees near buckled when her orgasm overtook her. He
tasted it and felt it ripple through her body. Fearing she might collapse, he
came quickly to his feet and gripped her to him. She panted against his neck,
her body still quaking with the after-effects.

“Oh, August...”

He scooped her up quickly
and laid her out on the bed. She remained languid, a tiny smile on her lips.
Hands relaxed at either side of her head, her hair had almost come completely
out of its pins and ribbons and dark curls surrounded her like a wild halo.
Even with her dark skin colour, he saw a flush high on her cheeks and the top
of her lip sheened slightly.  He didn’t think he could get any harder.

Tugging his necktie
completely away, he set to work on his waistcoat buttons. They seem to have
shrunk in size and were now the smallest buttons known to man. Not only that
but his fingers were now like that of a giant’s and he had all the grace of a
donkey.

After interminable hours of
fighting with his waistcoat, he turned his attention to his shirt. He hissed
and cursed and grumbled, eliciting laughs from Ivy as he pulled off his
cufflinks and set to work on the pearl buttons on his shirt.

“Let me,” she said, pushing
up from the bed but he motioned her back down. He wanted her bare to him, laid
out against the sheets like that for as long as he could have her. For too many
nights he’d been imagining as much.

“I can manage.”

Gripping the fabric, he
wrenched his shirt apart. Ivy gasped and buttons pinged everywhere, even bouncing
onto her body and landing on her stomach. August wasted no time removing his
trousers and socks before coming onto the bed next to her.

Her gaze roved over him, a
gleam in her eyes. She reached out to touch his chest, the movement
inquisitive. Her cool fingers winnowed through his chest hair and he closed his
eyes to savour the touch before desire carried him away again.

And it would. Only Ivy
seemed to break through his control. He skimmed his finger down her body,
tracing the rise of her breasts and the indent of her waist until he came upon
the tiny pearl button that had landed on her. He picked it up and she laughed.

“How are we to explain away
all these buttons in the room?”

“I suppose we shall have to
hunt high and low for them.” He kissed her shoulder. “I must warn you, Ivy. I
can’t seem to control myself around you.”

“I like it,” she said. “But
I must warn you. I have little idea what I’m doing.”

“Just do what feels right.”

He took the button and drew
the smooth edge over her belly, placing it into her bellybutton and admiring
the sight. “You look like a woman from some exotic country.”

“I feel exotic,” she replied
on a sigh, glancing down. “Especially when you... when you kissed me
there
.”

August lifted the pearl out
of the indent of her navel and brought it up over her nipples, playing around
and around them. “What about when I touch you here?”

“Oh yes. More,” she said.

More. She wanted more. And
bloody hell would he give it to her. He couldn’t deny her a thing, not even his
control. He let the button roll down her breast and flicked it aside. This time
he used his finger to tease her nipples before leaning over and drawing the
tight nub into his mouth. She rose up to meet him and he used the opportunity
to hook an arm beneath her.