The Secret Life of a Debutante (Determined Debutantes Book 1), page 10
He shut his eyes again. Best not to think about that.
There was still time for him to bound from the room. Perhaps she wouldn’t leave, but he could.
He could rush from the room and find his bedroom. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.
But Cornelius didn’t feel very gentlemanly now. Instead, he strode from her.
“Cornelius?” she asked.
His heart tightened. She shouldn’t say his name. And yet she’d always done so. Other men called him by his last name, just like they had at Eton. Still others called him Viscount. But Eloisa had always called him Cornelius.
Cornelius quickened his pace, then locked the door.
“Oh.” Eloisa’s lovely eyes widened, and happiness played over her beautiful face.
Cornelius kissed her succulent lips. She had none of the practiced ease of a courtesan or opera singer or widow, but her lips soon joined him in a rhythm.
His heart hammered in his chest as if fighting to get as close to her breasts as possible.
Well, clearly his heart was intelligent.
He deepened the kiss, pressing her against him. He felt the soft curves of her slender figure that seemed to fit perfectly against his body, as if they were statues a sculptor had always intended to be together.
Damnation.
He mustn’t think like this.
Naturally, their bodies weren’t supposed to fit together. Naturally, that was simply fanciful nonsense. And yet, somehow, they seemed to do so all the same.
He kissed her firmly, delving into her soft lips. He cupped her head with his hand, noting the glossiness of her silky strands. His cock thickened even more and pressed against his trousers. He was all rock. All mountain. All male.
Finally, he released his grasp of her reluctantly. Her lips were pinker than before, as were her cheeks. Her eyes had a stunned appearance, and, somehow, he’d managed to dismantle some of her perfect curls.
His legs suddenly felt far less sturdy. Timothy would kill him if he saw them together. He shouldn’t be alone with Eloisa.
He didn’t have to be coolly sophisticated with her, pronouncing other people’s outfits dull and tiresome. He could just be…himself.
And right now, all he wanted to do was bed her.
He wanted to sweep her into his arms, press her rose-scented body to his chest, feel her silky curls against his arms. He wanted to toss her onto the bed, and he wanted to explore every inch, every centimeter, of her delectable body.
He claimed her mouth with his. Heat jolted through him, and his cock once again swelled. This time, it didn’t matter.
Cornelius kissed and kissed and kissed Eloisa. He memorized the feel of her lips against his. He moved his hands over her back, noting the exact curve.
The room might be more modest than anything in Cornelius’s London town house, but it didn’t matter. He’d never been in a nicer place.
Eloisa wrapped her arms around his neck, and he carried her to the bed. She was so light, and he put her down gently. Her red hair splayed in all directions, contrasting against the bedspread color.
He smiled. “You could be the Lady of the Lake.”
“I just want to be happy.”
“I’ll make you happy.”
“I’m already happy.”
Cornelius grinned. “I assure you, I’ll make you very happy.”
Cornelius feathered kisses on her, sprinkling them over her cheeks and neck. His kisses deepened, and he savored the taste of her skin.
“You’re lovely,” he murmured, and his voice was husky. “You’re wonderful and perfect.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he assured her.
Then he continued to kiss and claim her.
*
Eloisa’s heart quickened. Heavens.
She still had her arms wrapped around his neck. Embarrassed, she moved back, conscious of the skin of her nape warming. It had felt good to be pressed against Cornelius in that manner. Too good.
If he leaned toward her slightly, he could kiss her. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and his eyes lingered on her lips. She wanted to ask him to kiss her again. But her chest tightened, and when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.
In the next moment, though, he swooped his large, muscular arms about her again, and in the moment after that, he kissed her.
She relaxed into his embrace, and her heart fluttered as if celebrating.
This was quite lovely.
This was far lovelier than the experience should be. She wasn’t supposed to be in a public house in Brighton, beside her knitting. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to be enjoying the experience.
But that was exactly what she was doing.
It was nice to be in his arms.
Nice to kiss him.
Nice to feel his body against hers.
Everything was nice.
Her core tightened again, and her nipples hardened. His gaze dropped to them.
“Oh my God.” His words rumbled against her. “May I touch you?”
She nodded uncertainly.
In the next moment, he ran a finger along the curve of one of her breasts. The action was small, and yet her body shook. Her core ached, seeming to yearn for something.
“Cornelius,” she murmured.
He smiled tenderly, then ran his fingers over her peaks. They pebbled beneath his touch. Eloisa’s mouth had barely dropped open before Cornelius had taken one of her breasts into his mouth.
She gazed at him. Was this what men did? His eyes fluttered closed, and he gave a contented moan. Eloisa smiled and ruffled his hair, feeling the coarse dark strands below her fingers.
He sucked her breast with more force. Though Eloisa had the odd sense this should be ridiculous—it wasn’t. It was utterly delightful. She curled her toes, and one of the glossy pillows tumbled onto the floor.
“The pillow.” Eloisa strained toward it.
He dropped her breast for a moment and gazed behind him. He turned, his lips tipped up into a decided grin. “Are you making a mess, Eloisa?”
Her cheeks warmed. “I-I’m sorry.”
He held a finger to her lips. “You can make all the mess you want.”
Her eyes widened, and she was conscious of his finger pressed against her lips. She had an odd urge to kiss it.
Kissing had to be a part of lovemaking. She couldn’t be wrong to kiss him, even if she was certain fingers were not traditionally part of the anatomy that poets spoke about kissing.
She did so.
Then she nibbled on his skin.
His eyes enlarged.
Experimentally, she sucked his finger into her mouth, just as he’d been doing with her breast.
“Eloisa.”
She stopped and withdrew her mouth from his finger. “Was that—”
“That was good. I want to see you,” he said, his voice rough in her ear. His warm breath sent shivers throttling through her body. He removed her dress and flung it to the armchair. It sailed over her knitting, remnants of respectability.
Her heart thudded.
She was in her shift. She was still…covered, but no man had seen her like this.
She shivered, conscious suddenly of the utter impropriety. She gazed at him.
His pupils were wider and his face curiously flushed. His gaze was fixated on her as if he was imbibing the curve of her bosom, of her waist, of her hips, as if he wanted to memorize them to keep with him forever. “You look beautiful.”
Her cheeks warmed. “N-No…”
He gazed up at her suddenly, meeting her eyes. “You are.”
His voice was curiously firm as if it was very, very important to him that she knew this.
He stretched out his hands and took hers in his, pulling her closer to him. “You are utterly magnificent. A goddess. An angel. I-I shouldn’t be seeing you like this.”
“I want you to,” she said.
His eyes widened, but she realized the statement was true.
She wanted to see him take pleasure in her form. She wanted to see that she brought him off-center. She wanted all that.
This was Cornelius.
“What would you like next?” she asked.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said, but she ignored his statement. She was fairly certain she knew what should be next. Her breasts were still covered by her shift.
She loosened her stays. The action was difficult, and she turned to him. “Can you assist?”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes.”
His hands shook, but he moved faster than any lady’s maid.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”
“Er—no.” Cornelius’s voice was hoarse. “Do you mind?”
Eloisa banished images of him with another woman and raised her chin. “It means you’re more likely to be able to do other things.”
“You mean remove your shift?”
“That wasn’t precisely what I was thinking. Though that is a useful ability.”
His eyes glimmered with humor. “I suppose, then, that you meant I might be able to remove your drawers?”
“Well—”
“The trick to removing a woman’s shift is lifting it over her head,” Cornelius declared.
“Or having it fall to the floor to step out of.”
“Perhaps,” Cornelius assented. He removed her drawers and stays methodically, then lifted her shift over her head.
She shivered, conscious she was almost nude.
“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice rumbling in her ear.
“No. There’s just one problem.”
“Oh?”
“You’re not undressed.”
“And that’s essential?”
“It’s fair.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to not be fair. Perhaps you can assist me?” Cornelius whispered in her ear. His hot breath sent another shiver through her body.
Cornelius looked around. “I really should tell the publican that this room seems to be uncharacteristically cold.”
“Don’t do that.”
“No?” He raised an eyebrow but gazed into her eyes. His were striking, and she’d often found herself looking for them. They were large and dark and wide-set, framed by thick eyelashes and heavy, respectable brows.
“No.”
How odd she was so near.
She didn’t need to lean back and examine his handsome visage. Besides, she knew it already. She knew his chiseled face, his high cheekbones, and his sturdy jaw that managed neither to recede nor to jut out. She knew the width of his broad shoulders, and she knew the manner in which his hair curled. She could recognize him easily, even if she did not see his face. She knew how he walked, and she knew how he laughed.
His eyes sparkled with pleasure, and he had a sudden boyish look to him. A carefree energy that would have made her smile even if he weren’t doing such things to her.
He continued to trail kisses toward her core, veering closer and closer, exploring every curve of her thighs.
Surely he didn’t mean to kiss her…there?
But in the next moment, that was precisely what he was doing. His lips met her center. He kissed and sucked and nibbled, darting up a glance to ascertain that she was enjoying this.
He didn’t need to worry about that.
Her heart raced, and her skin warmed, as if he was setting her on fire. Perhaps he was. Her mind didn’t feel very clear. Life had given way to sensations, and all of them were extraordinary.
Then air rushed through her. The world expanded, and she found herself breaking. She shuddered, and joy surged through her. She clutched hold of the bedding and arched her back.
Finally, the sensation passed, and she collapsed onto the bed. Cornelius moved beside her, a triumphant look on his face. He drew her into his large sturdy arms and held her. His chest rose and fell, as though he was equally exhausted, and his brow had a silky sheen to it.
He kissed her lips tenderly, and contentment fell over Eloisa.
Chapter Seventeen
Light streamed from the windows, undaunted by the thin lace the publican had placed there. Eloisa opened her eyes languidly, still lulled by the sound of Cornelius’s steady breathing against her neck. He clutched her in his arms, as if he planned to protect her from some intruder, even in his sleep. Eloisa’s lips twitched. No doubt Cornelius would be quite successful at protecting her. He was successful in everything.
Reluctantly, she wriggled from his grasp, taking care not to wake him. She needed to dress, and they needed to finish their journey to Brighton.
She turned toward him, staring at his handsome features. She sympathized with the trolls in Northern fairy tales who were turned to stone by the sun, immobilized forever by its beauty.
He blinked, then smiled. “You’re awake.”
She nodded, and her heart squeezed.
“We should leave.”
“Yes.” Eloisa was suddenly shy.
His lips spread into a wide grin, and he pulled her toward him, wrapping her in his muscular arms.
The moment after that, he kissed her, a kiss every bit as wonderful as all those she had received yesterday. “We could always just stay here all day.”
She giggled. “That would be mad.”
“It would be wonderful.”
Eloisa couldn’t disagree, and for a moment she stayed in his arms, content to feel his heart against hers.
Finally, she unwrapped herself from him again. “We’re going to get the painting.”
His face sobered. “Very well.”
He rose from the bed matter-of-factly and assisted her in pulling her dress over her shift and tightening it. She fought to succumb to the urge to lean against him.
Cornelius had discovered the painting was going to be displayed tonight. And though it was all very well to pretend everything was fine, nothing was.
What would happen after they retrieved the painting? Would he call on her? Or would he consider his gentlemanly duties finished? Perhaps the only time she would see him would be when he visited Timothy.
The memory of his lips against her core inundated her, and she closed her eyes.
“Perhaps we don’t need to leave quite yet,” she said.
“No?” he asked.
She shook her head, then curled beside him.
He smiled and wrapped her in his arms. He kissed her neck and cheeks. “I think you might be right.”
“We wouldn’t want to leave too early, after all,” she said. “It might draw suspicion.”
He snorted. “That would be terrible.”
She smiled as she kissed him. Her core ached again, but she didn’t mind. Cornelius drew his hands lazily about her, as if to memorize her exact shape. His hardness poked out, and she touched it against its fabric.
He let out a groan, and she smiled. She liked that she could make him sound so disconcerted, so stunned.
“May I see it?” she asked.
Then he lifted his torso and quickly undid his flaps. His manhood flopped out.
Eloisa stared.
Cornelius stroked his manhood rapidly, and his eyes fluttered shut again. He dropped his hand, revealing his rod.
It was large and throbbing. Liquid pooled at the top.
“May I touch it?”
He nodded solemnly.
She reached out and ran her finger against it. It was hot and hard. The skin felt like velvet. “What would you like me to do?”
His eyes widened. “You want to remain?”
She nodded rapidly.
“In that case…” He bit his lip.
She sensed there was something he wanted. Something he craved. Something she could give him.
“Shall I put it in my mouth?” she asked.
His eyes darted open.
“Or would you prefer to insert in into me?”
He coughed. “E-Excuse me?”
“My mother explained to me that men want to insert their manhood into a woman’s folds.”
Cornelius had a most curious look on his face.
“It’s not true?” she asked.
“It’s true,” he said hoarsely.
“Perhaps I should just put it in my mouth. I wouldn’t want to get undressed again. Imagine what the chambermaid might say if she entered!”
His cock jutted out, and she touched it.
She turned to him. “It’s very hard.”
His cock swelled against her hand still further.
“And silky,” she observed, trying to describe the feel of the skin.
Eloisa licked it experimentally. The action caused him to groan.
“May I hold it as well?” she asked.
“Yes. Yes, you may. That’s a question you never need to ask. You can always hold it.”
She took his manhood in her hands, feeling the ridges in it. He shuddered, and his eyes had a strange, far-off look to them.
Eloisa leaned closer to him, then she put his rod in her mouth.
“Eloisa!” His eyes widened, and she grinned.
Apparently this was good.
She kept kissing and sucking his hard shaft, and he continued to moan. She liked doing this. She enjoyed feeling that she had his most precious part in her mouth. She appreciated how his hardness jumped and leaped as she sucked.
And when he frantically pulled his shaft out of her mouth and hot white liquid erupted from it, she delighted in that too.
“I suppose we can go now,” Eloisa said.
“Right.” A stunned look roamed Cornelius’s face.
Eloisa turned her gaze away to hide her smile.
She shouldn’t feel so confident, yet Cornelius made her so. This was the first time she hadn’t been in a room filled with other women, the first time she could be herself.
Cornelius buttoned his flaps and smoothed his trousers, and the day proceeded.
*
Happiness coursed through Cornelius as the carriage approached Brighton. The distance between the houses narrowed, and holiday makers were abundant. Eloisa stared out the window, and he smiled, watching her excitement.
He’d been to Brighton before, of course, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever appreciated it as much as today.
Glossy white town houses, still unstained from the salty sea, loomed over the road. Finally, the coach stopped before one of them.
