“No,” she said definitely. “I would not like.”
He untied the ribbon at the top of her chemise and tugged it loose. The chemise went the way of her dress and stays, off her shoulders, puddling around her waist.
And oh God, the sight of her—he could look down and see her bared breasts, his own hands against her ribs.
He meant to go slowly. He meant to discover her inch by inch, with the pad of his finger and the tip of his tongue. But her head tipped back against him, baring her elegant throat. Her lips parted on one trembling breath, and her chest lifted, her stiff swollen nipples rising, and his hands were on her skin, and he had to—he had to—
He lost his head. He dragged her up to standing, letting her dress and undergarments fall to the ground so she was naked before him, naked except for those goddamned stockings. He pulled her back to his chest and filled his hands with her breasts.
She made more lovely, greedy sounds, and rolled her hips back against his groin. Her fingers wrapped themselves in his trousers, scrambling for purchase, pulling him close.
He kissed her neck and caught her nipples between his fingers, rolling and pulling and pinching—ohfuckshe liked that, liked it just this side of too-hard.
He let go—she gave a helpless, unhappy sound that had his sanity fraying—and untangled her right hand from his trousers. He transferred her fingers to her breast.
“Touch yourself,” he rasped. “How you like it. I want to watch.”
And then he moved his own right hand between her thighs.
Her legs parted, making space for him. She was slick with arousal, and she groaned as he touched her, groaned and rubbed herself against his fingers. Her thighs clamped down as if to keep his hand in place.
He wasn’t going anywhere. God, he was going to die like this, watching Winnie’s fingers work her own nipple, his aching cock pressed to her backside, and her gloriously hot, gloriously wet quim on his hand.
“Fuck,” he said, “oh fuck—”
He had no sense of finesse. She was gasping and whimpering with every breath, touching herself, riding his hand. Her fingers on her breast weren’t gentle, so he wasn’t gentle either as he worked the swollen bud of her sex.
She tossed her head and her voice broke. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
She was frantic and wild and desperate, and so was he—goddamneddesperateto make her come.
She did. She came hard on a sob, and her body shook against his, her eyes squeezed shut and their bodies pressed so hard together that if he could’ve fallen into her, he would’ve.
When she stopped shaking, he let her slide down to the bed and then he followed her, stretching himself out beside her not-quite-naked body. She lay still, breathing hard, eyes closed, and he let himself take her in.
She was in his bed. Her skin was lovely in all its shades—more tanned on her face, paler on her neck and paler still on her chest and belly. Her breasts were high and small and pert, and her nipples were reddened. Her legs were long—so, so long, he wanted to see them around his waist—and the lace at one of her stockings had somehow torn, revealing a handspan of perfect gilded calf.
He felt briefly—ludicrously—almostvexedby how damned beautiful she was. It was absurd to want her as much as he did—dangerous. But he could not stop.
Her eyes came open and she turned toward him. Their faces were very close now; he would need only lean into her to get his mouth back on hers. He wanted it. He wanted to kiss her hard.
“I should like to return the favor,” she said. Her voice was just on the edge of raw, and the sound of it sent a taut spiral of desire all the way through him. “If you’ll let me.”
“It’s not a trade,” he said, “nor a barter.” And then he came up on his arm, came over her, and pressed her down into the mattress.
She made a surprised sound, and he caught it with his mouth. He kissed her, open-mouthed and lingering, and then moved to her neck and her breasts and her belly.
“It’s definitely”—his tongue swirled around her navel, and she groaned—“not a bloodyfavor.”
And when he made her come again, it was with her leg hooked around his shoulder, and his fingers deep inside her body, and his tongue working over her. He felt her climax around his hand, tasted it, and stopped thinking about danger, about wanting too much. He stopped thinking anything exceptfuckandWinandyes.
And when she asked if he would take off his bloody clothes, for heaven’s sake, he did. When her fingers circled him, and her mouth sucked hot and wet against his neck, he let her. He ground himself against her calloused hand, and she made more soft wanting sounds, and when his release came, it was the sweetest pleasure he had ever, ever known.
And when he pulled her half onto his chest, she slept, and he slept with her.
Chapter 11
“I could drop it into his brandy decanter,” Winnie suggested.
