“Oh,” she said on a gasp, and fell back onto her elbows on the bed. “I… That’s—unexpectedly—”
He took off her other shoe. He kissed her there too, then moved his mouth up her calf. He could see the defined curve of muscle right through the lace. He tasted her skin—could have sworn he tasted citrus beneath her sweetness.
He dragged his mouth higher, licking the back of her knee. Christ, it was intoxicating—the flashes of skin against frail white lace. Her taste. The little sounds she was making in the bed above him, sweet surprised sounds, tiny gasps and whimpers.
“I love these stockings.” His tongue found its way into a gap in the lace near the top of the stockings, halfway up her thigh. “I was going to take them off you, but I don’t think I can.” His mind was besieged by visions of Winnie in nothing but her stockings: bent over for him, his hands full of her arse, her fingers locked on the bedpost. “I want to buy you a hundred pairs.”
His tongue traced the edge of the stocking, where the garter ribbon held it up. Somehow his hand was pursuing a similar course on her other leg, his fingers dipping in and under the lace, working from the outside of her thigh to the tender inner curve. He loved the hot silky feeling of her skin beneath his fingers, loved the way she twisted into him. She seemed desperate—uncertain whether she wanted his hands or his mouth at her center. Each shudder and lift of her hips was a throb directly to his groin—he wanted to shove her skirts the rest of the way up and bury himself inside her.
God. God. He still hadn’t undressed her, and he’d meant to. He kept losing himself in her, in the sight and taste of her. He could undress her later, he thought dizzily, after he licked her cunny until she screamed.
“Win,” he murmured, shifting her skirts, licking the crease of her pelvis, “can I kiss you here?”
Her gloved fingers were clenched in the sheets at her side, her breath coming in short gasps. “I…” she managed. “I haven’t ever…”
That got his attention. He let her skirts fall back a bit and raised his head to look at her. “You haven’t—no one’s done this to you before?”
She struggled back up onto her elbows. Christ, the sight of her face had his mind reeling again—she was flushed and glassy-eyed, her hair falling down around her shoulders. She looked like the goddess of debauchery, like sugar-sweet pleasure come to life.
“No,” she said. “I’ve never done precisely this before.”
“Have you”—he hesitated on the words, but he needed to ask—“have you doneanyof this before?”
“A little,” she said. “Very seldom. And never… relations.”
He took a deep, shaky breath.
“Have you?” She lifted one brow in challenge. “Done this before?”
“Ah—” He told her the truth. “Yes. But—not so very often either.” And then more truth, his fingers still clasping her thigh. “It feels different. With you.”
The pink in her face, which had faded as they spoke, billowed gloriously back. “For me, too.”
He lifted his hand from her leg and took her gloved fingers between his own. With careful, precise tugs, he worked at each fingertip to loosen the glove. Then he slid it off, inch by inch, letting the cool satin caress her skin. When her arm was bare, he turned her hand over and kissed the place where her pulse beat in her wrist.
Her breath shuddered out.
He licked her there, then sucked, hard, at her skin.
“Spencer,” she gasped, “I would very much like for you to do what you said before.”
“What?” he said, and took the tip of her finger into his mouth. He sucked there too, and she whimpered. Her hips worked restlessly on the edge of the bed, squirming against nothing.
“Kiss me,” she said.
“Mm.” He relinquished her finger and slid the glove from her other hand. He set his mouth to the bare skin at the inside of her elbow. “Here?”
He kissed her then, teasing her with little nips and quick light suction.
“Notthere,” she gasped. “Are you certain you’ve done this before?”
He laughed. “Are you in a rush?”
“Yes!”
God, he loved that she was. He loved the way her knees were pressing into him on either side, the way her feet flexed and pointed, the urgent movements of her body drawing him closer, pulling him in.
“But,” she said suddenly, “we cannot… we cannot…” She struggled for words and then managed, in a rush, “copulate.”
