He struggled for control as she squirmed on his lap and cried out his name.
Her rosy buttocks stirred his senses, and he delicately traced the marks of his hands on the hot skin. Then he leaned down and kissed them, licking his way over the firm round globes, stroking her thighs as he did so.
She melted, her muscles relaxing, her breath a whispered moan as he touched her again, sliding his hand down into the darkness between her legs.
Wet, so wet, and eager too, spreading herself as wide as she could, offering him the freedom to touch her as he wished.
“Jessie,” he murmured, finding the slick hot lips and pressing two fingers past them, smiling as she gasped and moaned, wriggling to get those fingers where she needed them.
There was another cry as he pulled them out, this time one of distress. “Hush now. We’re only just beginning…”
Sliding her off his knees and onto the bed, he pushed her to the centre and turned her onto her back. “Now, Jessie. It’s time to play…”
She nodded, her eyes wide, staring at him as he picked up his cravat.
“Lift your head.”
Obediently she did so, allowing him to blindfold her.
“Is that comfortable?” He tightened the knot a little and adjusted the fabric around her eyes and nose.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, Piers.”
“Good girl. Keep it on until I tell you otherwise, all right?”
“Yes, Piers,” she repeated, her voice low and breathy.
Clambering onto the bed, he settled between her legs and taking one in each hand, he spread them wide and then bent them, her knees rising as her feet balanced them. Completely open to his gaze, he drank his fill of the sight of her.
Every shade of pink, shadowed, shining—no longer hiding beneath the sweet soft curls—she was a delectable feast of colour and brilliance, and for a few moments he yearned for the ability to paint. For thus he would have painted her, a woman trembling, her secrets bared to her lover, her body rich with the knowledge of the release to come.
Her scent aroused him to almost painful hardness, but he pushed back, wanting to pleasure her before allowing himself his own satisfaction.
So he adjusted his position, lying between her parted thighs, his mouth where he wanted it, hovering over all that luscious flesh.
A quick dart of his tongue and she jumped, her hands scrabbling on the covers. She muttered his name.
“Shh,” he admonished. “You must not speak. Just feel.”
He did it again, then followed with long, languorous strokes, lapping at her soaked folds like a cat with a bowl of cream.
Immersed in her, he sensed her skin rippling with tremors, and daringly grazed her with his teeth.
A sharp gasp told him her response, and he bared his teeth again, finding the little pearl lurking just beneath its hood.
With care, he delicately nipped, noting how still she had become at his action. He held her like that, lost in the amazing sensations of controlling her in such a unique way.
One tiny whimper and he released her, rising above her and licking his way upward to her breasts. He repeated his action, taking a hard nub between his teeth, only this time he tugged gently, bringing more whimpers to her throat.
“Jessie,” he murmured, moving to the other breast. “Oh, Jessie…”
She mumbled something, then moaned again, arching up to meet his mouth, completely engaged in whatever he chose to do to her.
Rubbing his body against hers, he let her writhe blindly, knowing her physical sensations would be multiplied without her sight to rely on.
He glanced up and saw her shawl on the pillow.
Hmm…
