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on the sensitive skin between his balls and the
small puckered hole beyond.
    He was close, she could hear it is the sawing of his breath
around low moans, feel it in the pulse of his shaft in her mouth and the flex
of his hands in her hair.
    With a final downward stroke that seated him deep in her
mouth, she pushed her finger into the shadowy crevice between his arse cheeks
until she found his anus. She tapped the small quivering hole once, twice.
    “Holy mother of God!” His roaring shout reverberated around
the room, echoing off the ceiling and walls. He jism shot into her mouth,
filling the space around his spasming cock until she felt a trail of warm
liquid spilling from the corner of her lips.
    She swallowed and began a gentle suckling, slowly working
over his shaft, while small bursts of liquid sporadically shot from the head.
Curling her tongue around him, she gently milked the velvety smooth tip while
her fingers trailed lightly over his barely diminishing length.
    When he’d gotten his breath somewhat under control and his
hands relaxed their hold to drift over her listing coiffure, Georgie dropped
back on her haunches and peeked up at him.
    The Earl of Hastings had the look of a well-pleased
gentleman, all soft eyes and pouting lips, a deep flush on his cheeks.
    “That was amazing.” His voice was little more than a rough
croak which tickled Georgie no end.
    She laughed, slowly shaking her head. She’d quite wiped the
cocky arrogance from his handsome face. And put him in his place.
    “Truly, I’ve never…that is…I’ll be damned,” he continued,
smiling almost shyly.
    She’d pleased him.
    Oddly, the thought pleased her. Immensely.
    Foolish to care whether or not she’d brought him pleasure.
More foolish still to find that her body hummed with arousal. Her breasts were
heavy, her nipples tight buds against the confines of her lightweight summer
stays. A pulse beat between her legs and moisture gathered in anticipation.
    Most foolish of all, she wanted nothing more than to get to
her feet and remove every last stitch of her clothing, to lead him to the bed
and have her wicked way with the divinely beautiful and charmingly foolish
earl.
    Ah well, since when had she ever gotten what she truly
desired?

Chapter Four
     
    Henry took a long pull of the cheroot clamped between his
fingers before tossing it out the open window and turning away to pace across
the room.
    Georgiana Buchanan had given him a taste of heaven with her
avaricious mouth and nimble fingers only to disappear into the bathing room
attached to his chamber.
    Without allowing him to reciprocate, which most assuredly
did not sit well with him.
    He’d never in his life left a woman wanting and he’d be
damned if she would be the first.
    He had every intention of divesting her of her simple yellow
dress and whatever frilly underthings she wore beneath it. He would toss her on
the bed to worship her small breasts and diddle her quim a bit before pulling
her astride him and gifting her with the ride of her life.
    If she would only return from the bathing room so that he
might begin.
    “Georgiana?” He knocked softly on the door.
    The door swung open and a blazing whirlwind flew past him
only to halt in the center of the room, spinning about to face him with hands
on her hips.
    “I thought you would be asleep,” she declared.
    Henry gaped at the lady, unable to form a single coherent
thought beyond, “You’re hair is alive.”
    Her hair was outrageous, live flames of bright red and
brighter orange, tight corkscrews and looser spirals, each possessed of a mind
of its own, shooting this way and that, sweeping across her brow, curling
around her shoulders, falling past her breasts nearly to her waist.
    “Excuse me?”
    Henry felt heat crest his cheeks. What was it about this
woman? This skinny woman with her extraordinary eyes and interesting face had
him stammering and blushing like a boy.
    “Did you just say that my hair is alive?”
    He