She wedged a hand between them and stroked his length with her palm. “We should have done this last night,” she whispered against his lips.
He pulled back a fraction and looked down into her eyes. “We did exactly what we should have done last night.”
She smiled, but it wobbled a fraction. Then she grasped his shoulders and turned him. His eyes widened as she did. Against the back wall of the dressing room was the famous tub she’d been telling him about. It was huge, definitely large enough for two to share comfortably. The inside was brass shined to a gleam and it was currently filled with steaming water with rose petals sprinkled along the surface.
“Well,thisis what I want to do this morning.”
As an answer, he unfastened his trousers and tugged them off. He was already half-hard just from touching her and she gave a satisfied smile as she caught him in hand again and stroked once, twice. Fully hard now. It was just that easy with her.
“Get in,” she ordered.
He did so without argument. He wanted to share that tub with her for one, but he also could see the edginess to her. He wasn’t going to steal her control.
Not this way, at any rate.
He sank into the perfectly warm water and dunked his head under, slicking back his hair when he resurfaced. She had remained where she was and now she untied her robe and let it fall away to reveal all those gorgeous curves a man could lose himself in forever.
She sashayed forward, putting a little more twitch in her hips as she did so. Then she dipped one foot into the bath, then the other and sank in, facing him in his lap. She caught up the soap and lathered it between her hands. As she did so he cupped her backside and massaged it, rocking her against him without making any effort to take her. He could have. But they had all morning for that.
She let out a little gasp that told him he was loosening her control just like she was loosening his, but she kept eye contact with him as she set her soap away and began to glide the bubbles over his chest.
“It won’t work,” he whispered as she let her hands go under the water and stroke his stomach muscles, then up his sides. The soap made the slide of them slicker and easier.
“What won’t work?”
“I’ll never be clean, not really,” he said. “My thoughts of you alone are entirely filthy.”
She laughed then and it was real, not something put on like a mask to cover herself. He couldn’t help but grin at coaxing that from her.
“Well, then we’ll be dirty together,” she said. “Because I certainly have some very dirty thoughts about you, too.”
He let his fingers play along her backside, against the rosette of her bottom and then lower, between her legs where she was hot and ready for him. “I can tell.”
She lifted up, taking him inside of her slowly, almost gently. When he was fully seated in her satiny heat, she went back to washing him. He took the soap as she did so and lathered his own hands. They worked together then, teasing in the guise of cleaning, a blur of clenching fingers and heated flesh. And she never looked away. Not once as he memorized her curves and lines.
At last, she cupped his cheeks in her soapy fingers and then her mouth found his. That was when she moved, rocking over him, grinding against him as her breath got shorter and heavier in the quiet of the dressing room. He lifted beneath her, creating waves in the deep tub that sloshed over the edge occasionally.
The grip of her was so good. It didn’t matter how many times they did this, every time he was always stunned by how good she felt. Like a homecoming. Her legs were starting to shake and her lips broke from his with a soft moan of pleasure.
“That’s not enough,” he whispered, and reached between them to circle his thumb around her clitoris as she rode him. “I want more than that.”
Her soft sounds became louder and she rode him faster. She arched her back, grinding over him, using him and pleasuring him in the same heavy strokes. When she came, it was volcanic, a sudden rush of gripping heat and pleasure that shot up the length of him. He grasped her hips, leaned his head forward to press his mouth to the sweet hollow between her wet breasts and let her ride out the crisis as she wailed and moaned and at last whimpered his name.
He pushed her from him as the pleasure became too much, sliding her backward on his lap so that he popped free before he came in great gasping gulps that were lost in her mouth when she kissed him.
Their bodies were still tangled for a while afterward, her legs wrapped around him, his fingers stroking out a pattern along her spine as their panting breaths merged and slowed between kisses.
“Breakfast?” she whispered at last.
He chuckled as he leaned up to kiss her damp temple. “Sounds perfect,” he said.
They took their time getting ready. She straightened him and tied his cravat, he fastened her even though she had those magical gowns that she could put on and take off without help. The fact she let him felt meaningful in some way.
But in not a very long time, they exited her chamber together and came down not to the formal dining room where he’d broken bread with her sisters the night before, but to a smaller, cozier breakfast room. As he settled himself in and watched her pour them each tea, he really looked at the room.
The rest of her house was made to be seen. The chambers she’d opened to him over the weeks were perfectly decorated and inviting, with bold colors and artwork that reflected her sensual nature and position in life.
But this room was something different. It was private, he thought. Something she perhaps only shared with her sisters. It was full of light and the tea set was mismatched and she looked more at home when she sat at that table than he’d ever seen her.
