“Then do not look,” he announced calmly.
He took off his coat and tugged his shirt from out of his breeches. No sound from Georgia. No words or movement.
She watches me undress. How delicious.
He kicked off his boots and drew his shirt off over his head. Then he unbuttoned his breeches and pulled them off with difficulty, too. The wet material clung to his legs like glue, but finally, he was free of them, standing before her in his small clothes. He was aroused and had nothing with which to hide it.
Georgia’s breath was coming quickly and hard. She muttered something he could not hear. Then he heard the sounds of her own garments being removed. When he approached to help her, she batted him away.
“Just listen,” she told him.
Keaton did indeed listen, in an agony of anticipation. The sound was a pair of shoes being tossed to the floor. The soft whisper of stockings being rolled down and removed. He flinched as they were tossed towards him to land on his shoulder. Then the louder, more distinct sound of a dress being removed.
She stands before me in her chemise, corset, and no stockings. More naked than she has ever been before a man. Less naked than I would have her be.
He stepped forward when he heard the sound of a light cotton garment sinking to the floor, knowing what it must be. Herhands met his, her fingers intertwining. She stepped close enough that he could feel the hard tips of her nipples pressing against his chest. He had to remember to breathe. His head spun. There could be no doubt that his vision of Georgia, naked before him, was far more intoxicating than she could possibly have been had he been able to simply see her.
If I could see her, there is no possible chance she could live up to the image I have of her in my mind.
Leaving her hands raised, he traced his hands down, letting his fingers cross her palms, then the inside of her wrists and forearms.
“Raise your arms,” he commanded.
He feathered his fingers down her upper arms, savoring the feel of her exquisitely soft and perfect skin. He reveled in the sighs, squeaks, and suppressed moans that leaked from her at his touch. It was immensely exciting to know he gave her such pleasure. His resolve to remain aloof from her vanished like a hat plucked from his head by a strong wind. It flew from him, dancing and spinning in the powerful clutches of natural force. He deliberately teased as he reached the top of her arms, tickling beneath and making her giggle and writhe.
“Do not move,” he commanded, roughly.
She froze, but he could feel the tension in her body, the need to twitch and squirm. That she strove to obey made Keaton’s cock leap and strain. He grunted against the wave of pleasure that ranthrough him from the heart of his masculinity. With a sudden movement, he moved both hands to her breasts, cupping and squeezing. A nipple slipped between two fingers, was trapped there, and he lowered his head to suckle until it stood proud and hard. He nipped it with his teeth, and she whimpered in response.
The other breast was not neglected. Stepping closer to her, he could feel the quivering of her thighs as he fondled her bosom. Her breath came in quick, hard pants. The fire was hot and hungry against one side of his body, the cold air from outside making the other frigid. He turned Georgia so that her back was to the fire and began to lower himself to his knees.
“No!” she cried out.
He stopped, heard her lick her lips, then felt her hands on his shoulders.
“I want it more than I want air in my lungs, but you have bestowed that pleasure on me already...”
“It is a gift that can be given over and over,” he returned
“And I would not be a selfish taker. I would be as generous as you.”
He did not know she had knelt before him until he felt her hands on his hips and the tickle of her soft hair against his thighs. He opened his mouth to speak, but words dissolved in his throat. Allthat came out was a long, ragged exhalation. Her hands gripped his buttocks, and sounds came from her mouth that were the most erotic he had ever heard, so suggestive were they of her activity.
A pleasure such as he had never felt nor expected to feel, coursed through him at her tongue, emanating from his manhood and suffusing his entire body with fire. Every muscle tensed, screaming for release, while at the same time demanding that the tension be extended into infinity. Had he possessed the power, he would have stopped the world turning at that moment for this moment to go on forever.
But it could not last, and her movements, inexpert though they were, had a potent effect that he could not withstand for long. He cried out her name, long and loud, at the moment of climax, uncaring if the entire population of London stood within earshot.
CHAPTER 19
“Your Graces!” Rutherford exclaimed as the sodden pair returned to Westvale.
“It has been raining heavily, Rutherford. Have you never seen water before?” Keaton replied.
Georgia laughed from beside him. “We decided to promenade in Hyde Park and were caught out. But we did manage to get the worst of it dried.”
Her dress felt itchy and stiff from drying in front of the fire. She was conscious of it against her body. She was also conscious of her body above all, still feeling Keaton’s deft caresses and expert touches.
I did not believe it possible that such pleasure was attainable outside of divine bliss. I feel like a wanton woman, but after all, he is my husband.
