Page 33 of The Baron’s Halo

All thoughts of sleep flew out of her head as that sensual voice filled it instead. “Yes, that would be wonderful, Sandy.”

He slipped his hands under her breasts and lifted her until she stood so her back pressed against his chest. He slid his lips down the length of her neck, scattering tiny kisses as he went. The hairs on her arms rose straight up as she quivered and moaned. His mouth on her skin made her forget everything except the delicious shivers that raced down her spine.

Slowly, gently, he slipped his hands up over her breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, making them ache with a longing she didn’t understand. Even through all the layers of her clothing, she could feel his fingers stroking her nipples. Her moans increased.

“More?” he whispered.

“Oh, yes.” Voice low and breathy, she wasn’t sure what that more would be, only that she wanted it without question.

Nimble fingers unbuttoned the bodice of her gown, laying open to view her corset and corset cover. Sandy slipped his hands into it and pulled gently until her breasts popped free, sitting atop the edge of her corset, completely exposed to his avid gaze.

Not knowing where to look, Isabelle closed her eyes, then gasped as he stroked her breasts, circling the nipples until they hardened and ached. Breathing faster, she leaned back against Sandy’s hard chest, straining into his hands as he teased and fondled her aching flesh.

Deep down in her core, a fire came to life—a peculiar sensation she’d never felt before that began to grow inside her, making her want his hands all over her naked body.

“Do you like that, my love?” Sandy continued stroking the tips of her nipples, each stroke plucking a chord deep within her.

“Yes, yes.” Moans deepening, Isabelle writhed against him. She’d never dreamed his touch could feel so wonderful.

Then his lips descended her neck again, kisses light as errant thistledown, his tongue gliding over the surface of her skin. He turned her slightly toward him until his tongue touched the very tip of her nipple.

Isabelle shuddered, her knees going weak. The ache at her core grew stronger, and she twisted against him, caught up in a frenzy she couldn’t fathom. “What…what…”

“Shhh…”

She couldn’t speak, could scarcely breathe.

Without warning, he engulfed her nipple.

Isabelle’s breath stopped.

Sandy sucked on her breast, laving her nipple, then ever so gently scraping it with his teeth.

The ache in Isabelle’s core exploded. She gasped as she shattered deep within herself, strained back against Sandy, and knew no more.

*

When her eyes fluttered open, Isabelle lay in the huge four-poster bed looking up at a canopy of dark blue damask, underneath the matching coverlet. Naked.

Sandy sat on the side of the bed, his worried face clearing. “Are you feeling better?”

Isabelle frowned. “What happened?”

“We had begun to make love and you fainted.”

Heat spiked in her cheeks as the image of his mouth on her breasts came back to her. She recalled that growing ache at her core, then the utterly rapturous release, but nothing else.

“Can you tell me what happened?” That apprehensive look had returned. “Did I do something to hurt you?”

“No, no, my love.” Shaking her head vehemently, she sat up and grasped his hand. “You were kissing me…kissing my…” She couldn’t say it, not while she was looking at him. Turning her head, she whispered, “My breasts.” Would he know what had happened to her? Why her core had ached, but not with a pain she could describe? “I felt so strange inside. Just here.” She laid her hand on her abdomen. “But deep inside.” Isabelle frowned. “It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it grew and grew until you—” She looked away again, unable to meet his darkening eyes. “—did…that last thing… it was like something burst inside me all of a sudden.”

“Did it hurt when you felt this ‘bursting’ sensation?” Sandy’s voice sounded peculiar, as though he wanted to laugh.

But he wouldn’t laugh at her, would he? Not if something was wrong with her. “No, it didn’t hurt.” She risked a look at him, to find he was smiling. “It was the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt.” Which made no sense. She frowned. “But you say I fainted. One does not faint from pleasure.”

Gently, Sandy cupped her cheek, his eyes a darker blue than she’d ever seen them. “Apparently some people do, my love. I’ve heard of this happening, but not to me or to anyone I have ever known. It’s called ‘la petite mort.’”

“The little death?” Isabelle pulled the covers up close to her chin. This didn’t sound good at all. “I didn’t really die, did I?”