He shot up, suddenly at attention. “Did my lesson produce noticeable effects?”
“I suppose it did,” said Jane, “as did your very stimulating presence.”
Sebastian helped draw her skirts up to her waist, at which point he paused for a moment in wonder.
“You wear no drawers,” he said, taking in her legs, bare aside from garters and stockings, and her entirely unclothed nether bits.
“I know some ladies are now wearing drawers, despite their scandalous origins, but I find them rather disruptive to my walking,” said Jane. “Would you prefer I add them to my daytime wardrobe?”
He swallowed hard. “Not at all,” he said, never removing his eyes from her thatch of curling brown hair and the hint of splitting lips beneath it. “Being able to toss up your skirts and find you ready to take me seems like one of the chief delights of marriage.”
Jane eased back on the table, slightly allowing her legs to part. “And what are the others?”
“Aside from having beside me the most beautiful, understanding wife in all of London?” he asked, stealing a peck. “Stroking your secret mink pelt, sinking deep into your perfect body, and unloading the seed that will plant my heirs in your belly?”
Jane grabbed her husband’s hand and brought it to the apex of her thighs. “And what of my delights in marriage?” she asked. “A husband willing to instruct me in the bedroom and pet me at all hours of the day?”
“Open,” he said roughly while tapping her thigh and taking a seat at the table before her spread body. “I plan to take an inventory of my own.”
Jane pulled her thighs apart until her heated quim opened before Sebastian’s face as he watched in appreciation. The keys on her chatelaine clinked, fueling his lust.
“The smell of your quim,” he said, his eyes nearly rolling back in bliss as he drew his nose through the hair on Jane’s outer lips. “I smell your honeysuckle soap clinging to this beautiful pelt,but you’re there too, not letting those flowers cover your natural perfection. You’ve been hot and wet for me today?”
“I feared I might make a mess of my skirts, Sebastian,” Jane whispered. “It can’t be normal to be so wet, can it?”
“Your cunny knows it needs to be ready for me to slide in,” he said. “Did your little peppercorn throb for want of my touch?”
“My…?” asked Jane in confusion.
Sebastian settled the pad of his middle finger on his wife’s swollen clitoris and gently slid its hood over the bump.
“Oh, that, oh,” she said, her breath coming faster.
“And your array of bay leaves,” he said, sliding her inner lips open to his hungry view. “Can you see yourself in bloom?”
Jane struggled to see over her skirts, then collapsed back down. “I’ll just have to feel,” she said.
“Would that we could wander the house naked all day so that you might have occasion to study your bloom whenever passing a mirror,” he said.
“I’ll settle for your words instead if it means we can keep the servants happy,” said Jane. “And your touch.”
Sebastian dragged his index finger from his wife’s weeping channel to her hood, teasing along the way until he settled back on her nub, which pulsed under his ministrations. With his other hand, he traced her hole, never venturing inside.
“No visible wound,” he said, placing a kiss over it as Jane moaned and struggled to keep herself even partially propped up.
“Take out your breasts for me, my love,” said Sebastian. “Does your bodice allow it?”
Jane struggled with her modest day dress until she could free one breast.
“That’s it,” he said. “Rub your nipple, pinch it.”
She complied, her legs beginning to shake from the effort of holding herself up and the sensual stimulation at the hands of her husband.
“Sebastian,” she gasped. “Seb, oh—”
“Keep going, keep tweaking your nipple. I’ve got you, love,” he said.
“I need, oh, I need—” she gasped.
