He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, could feel the press of her thighs against the sides of his face. He kept to his rhythm.
He was rewarded with another frenzied cry, another jerking of her body up against his mouth.
She was right. He was foolish. He’d never been so foolish in his life. He’d never been this vulgar, in his actions if not his thoughts. He’d never dreamed of a woman as lovely and refined as her begging for him. He’d never dreamed of thrusting his prick between those two wonderful, shapely breasts.
Not until she’d taunted him in this very room with those very same tits.
Matthew sat back on his heels, his thoughts a muddle, his body aching with longing.
She lay back, her body heaving, a sleepy smile upon her lips. Those endearing dimples nearly did him in, nearly broke his heart.
“You called me Cressida,” she said, her eyes closed, still smiling.
“I did,” he admitted, his heart still pounding. Was this the moment? Would she send him off now? Would he ever see her again? “Ought I not have?”
“No,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “I liked it. Very much.”
Matthew was indeed foolish. He removed his spectacles and scrubbed his face with his hand before replacing them.
“Unlace your gown,” he said, his voice raspy and unfamiliar.
For a terrible moment she said nothing, did nothing. A pit formed in his stomach.
And then, still reclined, she began to move, slowly untying the giant black velvet bows that adorned her front.
Shestillwanted him. Even though she’d never marry him. Never birth him a child. Never live in his little home where his surgery was located. Even as he loved her with all his heart, fool that he was.
He unbuttoned his trousers and shucked them off before moving closer.
“I do know that person. The man who came to your kitchens.”
“Matthew,” she scolded, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. “Please do not. I told you I don’t wish to speak of this.”
His throat was thick, his thinking foggy.
“I feel…” He clenched a fist, then released it. “I feel I must tell you.”
“And I demand you cease any further conversation about it,” she said, overenunciating each word. “For the moment, at least.”
The black ribbons, released from their tight bows, looked as comfortable as she did, lying in a crumple against her chest,gently rising and falling with each breath. Matthew held his own breath and slid one finger underneath them, searching for the split in the bodice.
Then he slid his whole hand under. She felt warm. The linen of her chemise did nothing to dampen the effect, nothing to shield her hardened nipples as they brushed against his palm. Matthew bit back a moan.
“They’re quite lovely, are they not?” she said dreamily. “My finest feature, no doubt. Although my hair is rather lovely, too; I’m not humble on that account, either.”
Matthew shook his head at such a reductive analysis as he straddled her, his weight upon his knees.
“No. Every part of you is immaculate. All together,” he rumbled, his voice low, “every inch, every smile, every frown, every word, every thought… Cressida… you’re… you’re worth far more than the sum of your charms.”
When she did not respond, Matthew prayed he’d not misspoken. Still, he pushed the gown back, revealing the thin chemise, without a corset. And then, with anticipation so tight in his middle that he feared he might spill prematurely, he worked the chemise down over her shoulders, over the exquisite peaks of her breasts, to her waist and elbows, where it loosely bound her upper arms to her sides while exposing her chest completely.
“What’s this?” she said coyly, wriggling against the unintentional restraint.
The movement shook her breasts in the most enticing manner; a bolt of pure need struck him in his core.
“A… fancy, if you’ll allow,” he pleaded. “It’ll be… well. No prophylactic necessary, as a mark in its favor.”
She raised her brows. But then she grinned.
