Like Evan did in the library.
Althea’s panting breath caught. Evan’s temple nudged hers sideways so he could peek before drawing her back to the viewing aperture.
His hands drifted down her arms and around to her waist. One hand rose to cup a breast while his other played at the crease of her thigh over her skirt. Her nipple peaked, begging for his attention, and moisture seeped from her folds. Would he bare her? She should worry, given their stance in a hall half full of party-goers, but she did not. Her pulse throbbed between her legs, craving his fingers, his mouth, or his cock.
She leaned back, tilting her bottom out to search for his cock.Ohh. Relief was short-lived when she felt his size. Desire flamed higher. That would feel so much different, so much more, than his finger had.
His hips canted forward, and his lips brushed against her ear, breath feathering over her cheek.
“Do you remember? How it felt when I touched you?” His voice was rougher even than in the library. “Your breasts, their rosy pointed tips? Your lips…the ones where his hand is now. They were even darker than your nipples. All swollen and wet for me.”
His fingers slid under the neck of her dress to play with her breast, flicking the hardened nub. His other hand flattened against her swollen folds right through her dress and petticoats. He thrust the heel of his hand against her mound in a rhythm that mimicked sex, his fingers pressing more gently, teasing her sensitive bud. Her hands rose to grip his wrists. She pulled him into her, his front to her back, loathe to leave the peephole even as her body cried for full-length contact.
Feeling his hardness pulse into her bottom, she wiggled against it, adding stimulation that shot forward to meet his fingers.
He grunted, squeezing her breast. “You do remember. I do as well.”
Althea was lost to memories fueled by the couple in front of her.
I don’t even know their names, but I know the shape of his cock and the color of her nipples, and they arouse me. Well, they…and Evan.
Apparently, spying on intimate acts was indeed a shameful secret interest of hers, but the titillation was heightened by Evan behind her. The hands touching her were pleasurable by themselves, but ’twas the memory of his hands on her bare flesh as well as his skill that ratcheted her excitement ever higher.
The woman moaned and writhed on the bed. Althea undulated against the stiff rod digging into her bottom, then forward into his hand. She arched to nudge her breast more into Evan’s hand.
He accommodated her movements, grinding his hand against her swollen, hot, damp center in time with her mini thrusts.
“Do you remember my mouth on you? My finger in you? Pistoning like his cock is in her?”
Althea could barely hear him over the rasp of her breath, but suddenly, they heard the couple in the room give a series of short shouts as they reached their pinnacles. The woman’s last shout rose to a scream.
Althea’s hips shoved back at a furious pace.
Evan pushed her fully up against the door, his fingers pinching her nipple, his teeth latching onto her earlobe. His hand searched for and found the slit in the side seam of her dress to access the pocket of her petticoat. Ignoring the pocket, he dragged the petticoat up, up, up, until his hand was on her flesh, branding her with its heat.
“Yes. Yes, I remember. Yes, please, Evan.” Need tore the pleas out of her in a lust-roughened whisper. If only there was another pocket so she could help. If only she hadn’t worn a petticoat. She might collapse if his fingers did not reach her core to hold her up with the sweetest and darkest of touches.
His fingers slid over her outer lips, swollen and most likely the color he suggested, slipping on the moisture leaking from her.
She sighed, her relief countered by her body’s immediate demand for more. Lud, her knees might give out even with his hand under her.
He unerringly found the perfect spot, the perfect pressure on her nub, and began to pat it.
Her back arched in pleasure, lightning jagging from his fingers on her nipple to those on her pleasure point. Her mouth dried as she gasped for air, lost to his touch.
There was no hall, no risk. There was only him surrounding her.
Unable to widen her stance, she leaned against the door, the unyielding wood a relief to her balance.
His cock was a hot poker riding between her buttocks, and his forearms were anchors she clung to.
His hips and hand had taken over her gyrations, driving into her and back, his pace so rapid fire it felt almost like smacks against her sensitive nether lips and protruding nub, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure.
Twice more and everything tightened in her abdomen. She managed to mostly stifle her hoarse cry. Ecstasy coursed through her, and her swollen folds pulsed as one against his hand. Her own slid over her skirt to squeeze his hand harder between her legs.
He held his hand still and drove his middle finger in against the contracting flesh.
Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears as she shuddered over and over again before sagging against the door, leaving only his hands and the press of his body supporting her. His cock pressed against her bottom one last time before he carefully withdrew his body and hands, helping her regain her balance.
