BECAUSE MISS "BRIDGERTON"
chapter 23
BILLIE IS NOT STUPID. While deciding to wait for George in his bedroom, he knew this might happen. But not because of this he did. It was not because of this that he crept silently towards the man's room, turning the door handle slowly and trained so that it shifted from the locking mechanism without making a sound. It was not because of this that he sat in the man's chair, listening to the voices as George walked back, and it was not because of this that he continued to be stunned looking at the man's bed, once aware that this was his bed, where George's body lay in his most fragile moment, where George would make love when he had a wife.
No, Billie said in her heart, she came to this room because she had to know where George was going, why he left her at Wintour House. And he's worried. He knew he would not sleep until the man came home.
But Billie knew this might happen.
And now after it happened…
Finally he could admit that he wanted it all this time.
George pulled her closer, and Billie did not show herself to be surprised, there was no feigned anger. They were too honest with each other; they were always like that, and he threw both arms around George, returning the man's kiss with each of his hot breaths.
It was like the first time George kissed her, but it was more than that. Both of George's hands were everywhere, and Billie's sleeping coat was so thin, the material was much finer and thinner than her daily dress. As George cupped his buttocks, Billie felt every finger, squeezing it with despair that made her heart sing.
George doesn't treat it like porcelain. He treats her like a woman, and Billie likes him.
George's body pressed down on his body, from head to toe, he felt the man's passion, urging. He caused this. Herself. Billie Bridgerton's. It drives George Rokesby crazy with passion, and it feels thrilling. And make him brave.
Billie wanted to bite the man's ear, licking the salt on his skin. He wanted to listen to how George's breath was getting faster as he curled his body, and wanted to know the exact shape of George's mouth, not by looking but feeling.
Billie wanted George, and she wanted him in every way possible.
“George,” erang Billie, liked the voice of the man's name on her lips. He uttered it again and again, using it to put emphasis on each kiss. How did he ever think this man was stiff and stubborn? The way George kissed her was a personification of the heat itself. As if to devour it, enjoy it.
Have it.
And Billie, who never let anyone in control, finds she wants the man to succeed.
“You are so. Justjust wonderful. Beautiful,” said George, unable to pronounce it in the correct sentence. His mouth was too busy with others so he could not string words together smoothly. “Your dress tonight. I can't believe you're wearing red.”.
Billie looked up, unable to resist the teasing smile on her lips. “I don't think white is right for me.” And after tonight will never be appropriate, he thought mischievously.
“You are like a goddess,” said George raucously. Then he stopped, just a little, and pulled away. “But do you know,” said, George's eyes burned with a naughty highlight. “I think I still like you the most in trousers.”
“George!” Billie couldn't help but laugh.
“Stttt...” The man gave a warning, and bit his earlobe slowly.
“It is difficult to keep silent.”
George looked down and looked at him like a pirate. “I know how to keep you quiet.”
“Oh, yes, kumo—” But Billie couldn't finish her sentence, not when George kissed her again, even stronger than before. He felt George's fingers on his waist, sliding down the silk rope that held his sleeping coat. His coat opened and slid down onto the floor, his silk material rustling on his skin as the coat fell.
The Roman fur on his arm rose when exposed to the night air, but Billie did not feel the cold, only awareness as the man stretched out his hand in reverence and stroked her, slowly, from the shoulder to the wrist.
“You have freckles,” murmured George. “Di” —dia bend and drop light kiss near inside elbow Billie—”sini.”
“You've seen it,” says Billie smooth. The spots were not in the disrespectful part; she had many short-sleeved dresses.
George laughed softly. “But I never paid the attention I should.”
“Really.”
“Mmm-hmm.” George raised Billie's arm, twisted it a little so that he could pretend to study the spots. “Clearly the most pleasant beauty sign in the whole UK.”
An amazing feeling of warmth and happiness spread through Billie's body. Even as his body burned for the man, he could not stop himself from encouraging the seductive conversation of the man. “Only England?”
“Well, I have not gone to many places abroad..”.
“Oh, really?”
“And you know..” George's voice turned into a hoarse growl. “Maybe there are other spots here. You can have it here.” She dropped a finger over the top of Billie's nightgown, then moved her other hand to Billie's hip. “Or here.”
“Maybe,” Billie approve.
“The back of your knee,” said George, those words felt warm in his ears. “You can have it here.”
Billie nodded. He wasn't sure he could still talk.
“One of your toes,” George proposes. “Or your back.”
“Maybe you better check,” he managed to pronounce it.
George took a deep breath trembling, and suddenly Billie realized how much the man was trying to hold back his passion. When happily he liberates passion, the man fights fiercely with his own passion. And Billie knew—somehow she knew the weaker—men would not have the strength to treat her so gently.
“Make me yours,” said Billie. He gave himself permission to free himself. Now he gave it to the man too.
He felt the man's muscles contract, and for a moment George looked as if he was in pain. “I better not...”
“Fine yes.”
George's fingers stiffened above his skin. “I won't be able to stop.”
“I don't want you to stop.”
George pulled away, his breathing intermittent as he brought their faces closer. Both of his hands were on Billie's cheeks, holding Billie from moving, and his gaze seemed to burn into Billie's eyes.
“You will marry me,” her orders.
Billie nodded, the only thing she thought about was giving her consent as quickly as possible. “Say,” says the man wildly. “Say.”
“I'm ready,” whispered. “I'll marry you. I promise.”
A second George froze, then before Billie even had the thought to whisper the man's name, George picked him up and threw him on the bed.
“You're mine,” he growls.
Billie leaned on both elbows and stunned to look at George as the man walked over, his hands first pulling his shirt from his pants then pulling his clothes through his head. Billie's breath choked when George's body was seen. The man was so beautiful, although it was strange to say it for a man. Beautiful and perfectly made. He knew the man had not spent days installing roofs and plowing fields, but George must have been doing regular physical activity because there was no softness in his body. She was fatless and muscular, and with the light of the candles dancing around on her skin, Billie could see her muscles tensing behind it.
He rose to a sitting position and reached out, his fingers itching to touch the man, to see if George's skin was as smooth and hot as it seemed, but the man was out of reach, watching him with hungry eyes.
“You are so beautiful,” whispered George. He steps closer, but before Billie can touch him the man holds her hand and takes her to the lips. “When I saw you tonight I thought my heart would stop beating.”
“And is your heart currently stopping?” billie whisper.
George took Billie's hand and placed it in his heart. Billie could feel her heart beating behind the man's skin, could almost hear him resonating within her own body. George was so strong, and so sturdy, and so beautiful with his masculinity.
“You know what I want to do?” mumbling George.
Billie shook her head, too fascinated by the warmth of the man's voice that he was unable to make a sound.
“I want to turn you around and push you out the door before anyone sees you. I don't want to share you.” He ran a finger over Billie's lips. “I still don't want.”
The heat ignited in Billie, and she suddenly felt bolder, more like a woman. “I also don't want to share you.”
Slowly George smiled, and his fingers moved down Billie's neck, across the smooth hollows in her collarbone, stopping only when he reached the ribbon that tied the neck of her nightgown. Without taking her eyes off Billie's eyes, she pulled one of the straps, pulled it slowly from the knot that was connected to it becoming smaller and smaller and finally detached, and then Billie's nightgown opened.
Billie observed the man's fingers, awestruck, as they moved subtly over his skin, the edge of the now-loose dress clamped between the man's thumb and forefinger. The silk slid off Billie's shoulder, then slowly slid down her arm. His body was almost open to George, but he was not ashamed, not afraid. All he felt was passion, and the relentless need to pass it on.
He looked up, as did George, almost as if they were planning it. George looked into his eyes with a questioning look, and Billie nodded, knowing exactly what the man was asking. George took a breath, his rough voice expressing passion, then he pulled Billie's nightgown over her breast before letting gravity finish the rest. The pale peach-coloured silk rolled fancy around Billie's waist, but Billie didn't notice it. George looked at him with a reverent attitude that made him stop breathing.
With trembling hands, George reached out and cupped Billie's breasts, the top of which touched George's palm lightly. Sensation shot all over her body and Billie gasped, wondering inwardly how a touch could make her stomach tighten. He felt hungry, but not for food, and the secret place in his body stiffened with what he could only assume was passion.
Is it supposed to feel like this? Like he's not whole without that guy?
He watched as George stroked him. The man's hands were so big, so strong, and so masculine and thrilling on his pale skin. He moved slowly, in contrast to the hot kisses a few minutes earlier. George made it feel like a priceless work of art, and George was studying every curve of it.
Billie bit her lower lip, a small scrumptious moan coming off her mouth as George's hand slowly moved away, teasing her skin until their only connection was just the man's fingertips at the top of her breast.
“You love it,” says George.
Billie nodded.
But what he felt was far from cold.
George's touch stung. Billie's entire body stiffened, curving until she had to press both of her hands against the bed behind her just to hold on so as not to roll over and fall.
“George!” he squealed, and again the man told him to shut up.
“You didn't learn, huh?” george muttered in his skin.
“You made me scream.”
“It wasn't a scream,” said George with a haughty smile.
Billie watched him vigilantly. “I didn't mean to make it a challenge.”
George laughed loudly—though it was slower than Billie did last— when she heard it. “Only plan for the future, when sound is not an issue.”
“George, no waiter!”
“Yang works for me.”
“George!”
“When we are married, we will make as many or as few voices as we want,” George intertwine their fingers.
Billie felt her face flushed red.
George landed a teasing kiss on his cheek. “Did I make you blush?”
“You know you did it,” grumbled Billie.
George looked down with a haughty smile. “Maybe I shouldn't feel so proud to hear it.”
“But you're proud.”
George brought Billie's hand to his lips. “True.”
Billie raised her gaze to the man's face, finding despite the insistence from her body that she was already happy to take this moment just to stare at the man. He stroked George's cheek, tickling his fingertips with a sideburn that began to grow. Billie went down the man's eyebrows, fascinated by how firm and straight lines could curve so haughtily if she wanted to. And he touched George's lips, which he couldn't believe were smooth. How many times has he observed the man's mouth while talking, without knowing that the lips can provide such great pleasure?
“What are you doing?” george asked, his voice hoarse with a comforting tone.
Billie's eyelashes swept upwards as she met the man's eyes, and it was only as she spoke that she learned the answer. “Considering you.”
George's breath choked, then the man kissed him again, the lightness of the moment once again turned into passion. George's mouth moved to his neck, flirting along one side, leaving a trail of fire behind. Billie felt herself moving down, lying on the bed, then suddenly the man was on top of her, skin meeting hot skin. Her nightgown slid past her feet, then disengaged completely. He wore nothing in George's arms, without a thread, though somehow it didn't feel clumsy. This is George, and he believes it.
This is George, and he loves her.
Billie felt both of George's hands move into the man's trouser ties, then cussed softly as he was forced to roll over from Billie to (according to her words), “releasing this damn thing.” Billie couldn't help but laugh at the man's curse; it seemed that George had more trouble than Billie had ever imagined.
“You laughing?” both of George's eyebrows curved defiantly.
“You should be glad I'm out of my dress,” she told me. “Three-ten-six-button-wrap on the back.”
George looked at her with a frightened expression. “That dress will not survive.”
While Billie was laughing, one of George's buttons floated, and his clothes fell to the floor.
Billie's jaw is open.
George's smile almost seemed savage as he climbed back onto the bed, and Billie felt the man accept his look of amazement as a compliment.
Which he thinks is true. With a healthy dose of anxiety.
“George,” he said be careful, “I know this will work, because, geez, this has worked for centuries, but I have to say, this does not look comfortable.” He swallowed. “Toku.”
George kissed the corner of his mouth. “Trust me.”
“I believe,” Billie assured. “I just don't believe in it.” He thought about what he had seen in the stables for many years. None of the mares looked like they were having fun.
George laughed as he slid over Billie's body. “Trust me,” he said again. “We just have to make sure you're ready.”
Billie wasn't sure what that meant, but she had a hard time even thinking about it because George was doing things that were troubling her mind with the man's fingers. “You've done this,” he said.
“Multiple times, but this is different,” George muttered.
Billie looked up, letting her eyes ask.
“People are different,” he said. George kissed her again while her hand squeezed Billie's thigh. “You are so strong,” he said gently. “I like that from you.”
Billie sighed tremblingly.
“Trust me,” whispered George.
“You keep saying it.”
The man's forehead was propped up on his forehead, and Billie felt the man was trying not to laugh. “I keep earnestly saying it.” She kissed Billie's neck again as she moved down. “Rilex.”
Billie wasn't sure how it was possible, but then, just before George kissed her breast crest again, she said, “Stop thinking,” and it's a not hard order for her to follow.
Just like before. When George teases her like this, Billie loses her mind. His body takes control, and Billie forgets whatever it is she thinks she's afraid of. And George puts himself in position, and then gosh, the guy touches her. George touched it there and it felt so naughty and so beautiful, and made him want more.
He was hungry in a way he never felt. Billie wanted to draw the man closer; she wanted to enjoy it. He grabbed George's shoulder, pulled him down. “George,” he gasps, “I want—”
“What do you want?” muttered the man.
Billie almost jumped out of bed. “I want—I want—I just want.”
“I was told it would hurt,” said George regretfully, “but not for long.”
Billie nodded, and she definitely stiffened, because once again the man persuaded, “Rileks.”
And somehow he managed to do it. Slowly George united their bodies. And even as Billie felt a slight stab of pain, the sense covered her need to hold George close, then closer.
“Are you okay?” George asked.
Billie nodded.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded again.
“Luckily,” the man growled, and moved forward.
But Billie knows George is still holding back.
The man gritted his teeth and restrained himself with all his might, and Billie dared to swear she looked like she was in pain. But at the same time George groaned calling her name as if Billie was a goddess, and the things that George did to her—with her limbs and fingers, with lips and words— lit the fire that devoured Billie.
“George,” he gasps, when the feeling of tightness inside like gripping him from inside. “Tree.”
The man's movements grew even more crazed, and Billie pushed back, the need to move towards the man was too overwhelming to ignore. “Billie,” George groaning. “Jeez, what are you doing to me.”
Then, when Billie was convinced she couldn't accept more, the strangest thing happened. His body stiffened, and trembled, then when he realized he could not even catch his breath, his body shattered into pieces.
Undescribable. Perfect.
George's movements became more and more crazed, then he buried his face into the curve of Billie's neck, dampening his hoarse screams on Billie's skin for the last time.
“I go home,” she said on Billie's skin, and Billie realizes it's the truth.
“I also.”
