A crease appeared between her brows. “Would you like me to remove my dress?”
He considered. “Keep it on.”
She blinked, looking hurt. “Do you wish me to remain still as well?”
Still?“God, no.”
“Then why must I remain clothed?”
He assessed the picture she made—a lady, dressed for a country morn, if with skirts somewhat askew. “You needn’t, if that is your wish.” He forced a knee between her thighs, and straddled her leg. He made no attempt to hide either his admiration, or his arousal. Her nipples came to delicious points. “However, before you decide, may I show you my wish?”
She nodded.
He loosened her bodice, happy to discover her stays had a little give. He slipped his fingers beneath three layers of fabric and drew out her breasts, one by one, being sure to brush her skin as he tucked away the rumpled bits. At last, she was fully, beautifully exposed.
“Better,” he said.
Her cheeks turned a fetching pink. Pink that spilled like punch over her neck and shoulders.
“Are you wet yet?”
She swallowed. “I think so.”
He rolled her right nipple between his fingers. “Now?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
He teased the sensitive tips of both her nipples, savoring each hitch in her breath.
She whimpered again. “Please, Ash.Please.”
There it was—a rich chord of yearning, supplication and reverence. The resonance was, for the first time, flawless. The sound played in him as if he were an instrument, and she, a musician.
His cock shifted beneath his clothes, extending to his thigh. Her gaze fixed on his tented falls, eyes wide.
“May I?”
“If you wish.”
She unbuttoned his breeches. Then, she glanced up. He nodded.
Reaching inside, she cupped his balls, with heavenly fingers. She slid her palm down his length. Then, she moved one hand up his member, the other down, until both hands were gliding over his cock. He silenced his own, desperateplease.
“I’ll,” he said hoarsely, “never again be able to wear these breeches without getting hard.”
She smiled. “I like touching you.”
This was punishment, obviously. Soon, he’d be enfeebled. Prostrate at her feet.
He touched his knuckle to her chin, rubbing his thumb across her lower lip. She parted her lips. Instinctive. Unconscious. Not fully understanding the implied invitation.
He wouldn’t imagine her lips around his cock. If he did, he might spill into her hands—a surprise and a disappointment.
Summoning all his discipline, he caught her wrists in his hands, sunk to his knees between her thighs.
“Lift your skirts.”
She did.
