Tutoring Lady Jane Read online

  He ran his hand down her side and along her hip to her thigh, his gaze moving with the motion of his hand as it trailed along her pale skin, assessing her like a slave at a bazaar. His lashes flickered, then lifted to meet her face while his hand skated over her rounded belly. "Very lovely, Jane. Soft and warm all over. You'll curve into me perfectly when you are lying satiated in my arms." And then he slowly lowered his lips to hers, softly, soothingly, enticing her to return his kiss. She opened her mouth to him, allowing him entrance and he pushed her back into the cushions, crushing her with his weight, reassuring her with his heat.

  She moaned when she felt the lace of his cuff tickle her chest, then whimpered as he caressed her breast with his smooth nails, all the while deepening the kiss, making her yearn for more of his lessons.

  "You're showing exuberance, Jane." He grinned as he stared down into her eyes. "I can see you'll pass this first lesson with ease."

  Unable to help herself, she raked her hands through his long hair as he bent over her, his tongue trailing a line from her navel to the valley of her breasts. Instead of licking her nipples as she expected and hoped he would, he nuzzled them with his lips, moistening them with his breath and then blowing gently against them until they were so tight and erect she moved restlessly against him. It was the most exquisite of tortures waiting for him to suckle her. Her breasts were very sensitive, and she had always wanted Archie to play with them--but he never had.

  Her hands continued to slide through his silky hair while he held himself above her, bracing his weight on his forearms. He was still teasing her and Jane opened her eyelids a fraction--just enough to watch his bottom lip toy with the very tip of her nipple. His eyes, now more turquoise than jade, met hers, and with deliberate intent he nuzzled her nipple, then pursed his lips and blew softly against her.

  Entranced by his mysterious eyes, Jane was helpless to do anything but watch as his tongue came out and gently, almost imperceptibly, flicked the very tip of her nipple. She groaned, needing more, yet wanting his torturous ministrations to continue. He continued to hold her gaze while his tongue crept out again. This time though, he circled the erect flesh in a slow, deliberate swirl.

  "You have very lovely breasts, Jane," he said against her nipple. "I could play with them for hours. Would you like me to?"

  She was panting beneath him, yet he didn't move. He maintained his position above her, caging her with his muscular arms while capturing her nipple between his lips and pulling, before letting it slip out of his mouth.

  He shifted his weight to his side in order to cup her breast and Jane watched as he studied it, the flesh more than filling his large hand. He squeezed softly, molding it to his palm, circling the nipple with his thumb. Then he brought it to his mouth, teasing her nipple with his lips until she begged for him to suckle her, and only then, when he heard her pleading whimpers did he take her into his mouth and suckle her. Soft and rhythmic, he pulled her breast into his mouth while he massaged her with his long fingers.

  Sinking further into the silk cushions, Jane let her fingers roam through his hair, clenching when arousal coiled and tightened in her belly. She watched him suck and lave her breasts, and whenever he looked up at her, he held her gaze while wickedly swirling his tongue around her nipple, sending sharp pains of desire deep within her.

  After long moments in which Jane thought there could be no greater pleasure than having him pay attention to her breasts, he released her, placing a kiss on her reddened nipple.

  "Now then, Jane," he murmured, his voice dark and husky. "Do you want to know the last two things that will keep a man coming back for more?"

  She nodded, feeling nervous and needy all at once. She watched as his gaze slowly lowered to where his linen shirt met her bared breasts. Lowered still to her belly. Lower ... until he reached the apex of her thighs and she raised her knee, unconsciously hiding her sex. She had been naked but twice before with a man, and that had been with Archie on their wedding night. Archie had not taken the time to look at her or woo her with words. He'd climbed atop her, spread her thighs and drove into her. He had released his seed in a matter of seconds and promptly rolled off, snoring within minutes. The second time was when he had cast criticism on her and left in a fit of disgust after seeing that her breasts and thighs, not to mention her bottom, had curved and filled out, replacing her childish figure.

  "There are two things a man truly desires, Jane," he said, drawing her out of her memories. His fingers stroked her thigh before they moved to her knee where they continued to graze her sensitized skin. With little encouragement, she let her leg drop so that her mound was exposed to his gaze. "What a man wants, Jane, is a lady to keep his house and converse with. She should be a paragon of devotion to show to his friends at balls and the opera. But his other desire, Jane, is a whore. An accomplished courtesan who will succumb to his every desire. Who will join him in bed and match his enthusiasm for sex. Can you be that, Jane? Can you play the whore as well you play the lady?"

  Jane lay beneath him, frozen. Could she do that? Could she pretend she was a lady by day and a Cyprian by night? Could she let loose her tightly held inhibitions and pleasure the viscount in any way he asked? Could she shed her insecurities about her body and pretend she was beautiful and desirable?

  "Let us see, shall we, Jane?" he said, lifting himself off of her and pulling his shirttails from his breeches. He flung his shirt beside them and loosened the flap of his breeches. She met his gaze, then leisurely let her eyes roam the expanse of his chest which was broad and heavily sculpted. The muscles of his belly were taut and chiseled. A silky line of black hair swirled around his navel only to disappear below the waist of his breeches. He was beautiful and handsome, with light brown skin that was shiny in the candlelight. He was everything she had ever dreamed about, and she was very willing to play the part of the whore if only for a chance to make this man see her as more than just a pupil.

  "You are very handsome, my lord," she said, noticing how his erection thickened and swelled behind the fabric. "And I can see that the rumors about your size are not exaggerated."

  A small grin passed his lips, and he cocked one brow. "Why do you not see for yourself, Lady Westbury? It is always prudent to examine a tutor's credentials before taking him into service."

  She had never done anything like this with Archie. Once or twice she had inadvertently brushed against his manhood, but it had been flaccid and lifeless. But Lord Grayson's manhood seemed to be stretching with a life all its own. She reached out and stroked her fingers down the front of his breeches. He was large and thick and she had the uncontrollable urge to tear open the flap.

  "I think all your credentials are in order. I'm ready for my first lesson."

  He smiled then and slowly pushed aside the fabric. Grasping his erection in his hand, he stroked it before her. Jane felt her eyes widen at the size of him, but also at the way he intimately and shamelessly stroked himself. Impossible to believe, his shaft actually thickened and widened, and Jane looked up to his face and saw that his gaze was riveted on her.

  "Watch me, Jane. Study the way I hold and stroke it. Learn the way to arouse and entice a man's desire with only your hand."

  With a deep breath she lowered her eyes, watching as his erection slid between the space between his thumb and index finger. Slowly at first, he stroked, up and down, reaching only as far as the pink tip. His grip was loose and slow, his hips moving in time with his hand. But soon his breathing increased, as did his hold. Soon he was gripping his engorged shaft, working it hard and assuredly, watching her as she studied him.

  Suddenly he stopped and stood, removed his breeches and stood naked before her, his shaft thick and throbbing between his thighs.

  "Sit up," he commanded before walking behind her. When he was seated on his knees, he whispered against her hair. "Now, my shundori, you will show me how you like to be touched."

  He brought her knees up so that her feet were resting flat on the cushion.
With his palms on her knees, he spread her thighs wide and placed their entwined hands on her sex, sliding their joined hands along her flesh. She gasped and pressed her legs together.

  "No. You will not hide from me. Show me what I want to see."

  "I-I can't," she blurted, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to be exposed before the viscount.

  "What are you ashamed of?" he asked, kissing the hollow below her ear. "Are you ashamed because you are here with me? Do I shame you, Jane?"

  She was mortified by the very thought and she moved her head on his shoulder so that she could look up into his face. "I would never be ashamed of you."

  "Then tell me why you are afraid, Jane. What do wish to hide from?"

  "Myself," she whispered, looking away from his far too knowing gaze.

  "I see." He parted her thighs and pressed his fingers into her plump flesh. "That is something we shall have to work very diligently against, Jane, for I do not wish to be denied a glimpse of your delectable body."

  She stiffened, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had before. She was naked in his arms, and she could feel his gaze scouring every inch of her. It made her wish to cover up with anything she could find, to hide her imperfections from him, to prevent him from thinking ill of her.

  "I will see you, Jane," he commanded, pressing her thighs further apart. "You will not hide when you are with me. I want all of you, Jane, and I will not compromise on that."

  With that, he slid his fingers along her sex and parted her. She felt his hot gaze there and she fought the urge to press her thighs together. He must have known what she was thinking for he slid his finger up the length of her and said very softly, "The most beautiful pink silk I've ever touched. Can you feel me growing harder against you as I watch my fingers stroking the honey from you?"

  His words made her squirm for more, but he deprived her of that wickedness when he brought his finger to his mouth and licked it.

  "The scent and flavor of a woman, there is no other taste on earth like it. A man craves it during sex, Jane. He wants to run his tongue along her lips, her nipples, the very rim of her body that trembles for his cock." She moved her bottom restlessly against the cushion. He pressed his chest against her back and cupped her breasts, pushing them together then parting them, all the while rubbing her nipples with his thumbs.

  "Tell me your secret fantasies, Jane. What is it you crave?"

  "To be desired."

  "At whose hands, Jane? Any man's?"

  "Yours," she couldn't help moaning and arching her back as her body tightened.

  "Do you want to know what I desire, Jane?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "I want to watch you as I make you come. You've never climaxed, have you, Jane?"

  "No," she whimpered.

  "Then I shall be the first. That is my desire."

  Before she knew what he was about, he was lying on his back and urging her on top of him. When he kept pushing her hips higher onto his chest, she protested, confused as to what he wanted her to do.

  "Lower yourself onto my mouth, Jane, and let me taste you."

  "Oh, I couldn't."

  "A man wants to feel his lady's sex against his mouth, Jane. Replace the lady with the wanton. Let yourself go and see what it is like to be sinful."

  And then she did. With shaking fingers she clutched onto his shoulders, his hands anchored her hips, tilting them until her mound was angled toward his mouth. Then the sensation of his hot tongue brushing the length of her made her moan long and deep.

  "That is it, my shundori, show me that you want this."

  And then he stopped whispering to her and instead moved his tongue in enticing, erotic, not to mention almost painfully slow circles around her sex. The light dusting of whiskers on his cheeks and chin abraded and sensitized her skin, making the sensation so much more consuming. Soon her fingers were pressing into his shoulders as she moved atop him, showing him with her hips the direction she wanted his tongue to move. The pressure was building deep within her when suddenly she cried out and pressed her sex to his mouth, trembling as he sucked--drinking in all of the wetness she felt seep out of her body.

  "Gavin!" she cried, not caring that she was using his Christian name. She rocked shamelessly against him and moaned a deep, guttural sound from her chest. Good lord, she shouldn't be doing this; it was shameful and wanton to be doing this, but she couldn't stop it--her body had a mind of its own and it would not allow her to curb its pleasure.

  When at last she stilled, she pulled away from him, sliding down his body and burying her face in his hard chest.

  "Jane," his voice was soft and soothing, much like his fingers as they raked through her tousled hair. "Do not be ashamed, Jane. You were beautiful and passionate, and you have given me a gift that no other shall ever have."

  She looked up at him through a veil of hair and smiled uneasily. "I am afraid I am more wanton than you thought."

  "No, Jane. I knew what your response would be. You only needed the encouragement to let yourself experience it. You might have lain still beneath your husband, but you will not do so for me. Now go to sleep, Jane. You will need your rest for the next lesson."

  Chapter Five

  Looking out the window, Gavin marvelled at the sunrise and wondered why he'd spent so many mornings of his life tucked in bed suffering from the ill effects of whatever overindulgence had consumed him the night before. How many dawns just as spectacular had passed him by with no thought or care? And why the hell was he musing about it now? Because he'd experienced something earth shattering with Jane? Many women had cried out his name during the peak of their passion. It was only ever his title, but it was his name nonetheless. He'd pleasured legions of women, all of them succumbing to his ministrations just as easily as Jane had last night. So what the bloody hell was wrong with him this morning? Why was he up at the crack of dawn, listening to birds chirping and watching the brilliant, orange sun rise above white fluffy clouds? Because, fool, you experienced something like never before--something that has always evaded you. Last night, he had felt more than a physical connection to Jane, and the very idea that he was admitting it to himself scared the hell out of him.

  It wasn't that her breasts were the loveliest he had ever seen, or the fact that she responded to the faintest touch of his hands--it was something more, something simpler. When he had looked at her, her dark eyes staring vulnerably up at him, he had felt like giving a piece of himself to her. As his eyes locked with hers, he'd felt the overwhelming need to tell her that he wanted what was going to happen between them to be much more than an empty mating of bodies. In that moment, their eyes locked, their breaths mingling, he'd wanted to tell her that he needed someone like her in his life.

  Bloody ass! Who the devil was he fooling? He was a tutor--nothing more. A means for m'lady to perfect her skills in order to dazzle the more palatable men of the ton. She didn't want the half-breed, not in any permanent sense, she only wanted his skills, and even that would be short-lived. Damn it to hell, he hadn't been thinking straight when he'd agreed to tutor her. No--that wasn't true. He had been thinking--thinking of himself between her ivory thighs. What hadn't occurred to him was the possibility that his way of life, his very heart, might be in jeopardy.

  "Good morning, my lord."

  Gavin glanced over his shoulder to find Prakash carrying a washbasin and towels as he sauntered into his chamber.

  "I trust you slept well?"

  "Not a wink," Gavin grunted before returning his gaze back out the window. "I've been up all bloody night." And, he silently added, he didn't even come during the long night. Instead, he had carried Jane to a chamber, tucked her in bed and left her alone. He hadn't trusted himself with her. Not after she had fallen asleep on his chest and he started thinking of how very nice it was to lie beside a woman and do nothing but feel her breath against his neck and her soft skin beneath his fingers. It was when he decided that Jane had the sweetest face whe
n sleeping that he knew he was treading treacherous waters and thought it far safer to be rid of her.

  "Your mind is troubled."

  "I'll thank you to stay out of my mind, Prakash."

  "Your lady, she did not please you?"

  "That is none of your affair."

  "I see. She pleased you too much."

  "Bloody hell," he roared, swinging away from the window. "Will you cease your meddling?"

  The damnable man had the nerve to grin and bow mockingly to him. "You think you hide what you feel, but I know better. I saw your face when you first saw her last night. Your feelings are engaged."

  "Just my usual feelings, Prakash, the ones that involve getting between a pair of plump thighs and having my way." But then he thought of Jane's lovely thighs and the taste of her arousal on his lips and he knew then that these were not just ordinary feelings of desire. The way he had pleasured Jane last night was far more intimate than the way he had pleasured any of his other conquests. With them they had pleasured him, stroking his cock and fulfilling his yearnings. Last night he had barely thought of his own needs--instead he'd thrust aside the desire to have her mouth around him and instead thought of nothing other than pleasuring Jane as she never had been before.

  "Maya is with her now," Prakash muttered as he set the basin onto the commode. "Where do you wish to meet your lady?"

  Forcing away the image of Jane naked and atop him, Gavin strolled over to the commode and pulled his shirt over his shoulders, baring his chest. Bending over, he splashed his face, running his hands through his hair. "The terrace, I think," he said at last, drying his face with a towel. "You may serve breakfast there."

  Prakash bowed. "I shall tell cook."

  Gavin flung the towel aside and soaped his arms. "Inform cook that I shall require a basket be packed for a midday meal."