When he was finally done, she was able to lower the gown over her hips and she stood there in only her shift, her stays, and her stockings. He pulled her close and kissed her deeply while his strong fingers worked on the laces to her stays. Finally, that garment, too, gave way and she tossed it aside.
“Now you.” She nodded to him.
Christian had forgotten that he was still fully dressed. His boots were already gone, so he had only to remove his stockings, his breeches, and his shirt. He nearly ripped his cravat from around his throat and tossed it aside.
“Careful. That looked expensive.” She smiled.
“I don’t care. I’ll buy ten new ones if I must.” He pulled his shirt over his head with both hands.
When his chest was bare, Sarah sucked in her breath.
“Oh, Christian, you’re so, so…”
“I spend a lot of time fencing,” he said with a wicked grin as she traced her hands down his flat abdomen to the muscles that stood out in stark relief along his middle. “Your hand on me is like torture,” he whispered.
“Now your breeches,” she whispered back, excitement filling her.
His hands were at the buttons of his breeches, and he watched her while he undid each button of the placket. Sarah held her breath.
He shucked his breeches and stockings in one quick move and stood naked before her, tall, lean, muscled. His manhood jutted out toward her, hardened by his desire.
She had the sudden urge to touch it but was immediately reminded of the fact that he was naked and now she should be, too.
She turned toward the bed and crawled onto it. Without saying a word, she pulled off her shift and tossed it on the floor. She had only her stockings left. She reached down to push them off, but Christian’s hand stopped her. “No. Leave them on. I find them completely alluring.”
She nodded and reclined against the pillows. Christian watched her, her long hair spread out black against the stark whiteness of the sheets. Her full, perfect breasts, her tiny waist, her long, sleek legs. She was breathtaking.
She was watching him, too. Her eyes devoured his frame from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet. He lay down on the bed next to her and she flinched.
“I won’t hurt you, darling. Trust me,” he said.
She bit her lip. “Mother told me it will hurt terribly, but—”
“Your mother doesn’t know everything,” he said.
“Kiss me,” she breathed, and he complied. He took her face between his fingers and moved his mouth over hers.
“Sarah, I’m going to do something. Something that won’t hurt you at all. Something I hope you’ll like. Something that should make you wet, ready for me.”
She felt herself blush. “Is it… what you did in Surrey?”
He grinned wickedly again. “Yes.”
“Then by all means, I trust you,” she murmured.
He kissed his way down her torso, stopping to ravish each breast with his mouth and hands. By the time his head descended toward the apex of her thighs, she was panting and mindlessly wanting him. “Christian, please,” she breathed.
“Patience, my love,” he replied.
Her hands dug into the bedsheets as his mouth covered her most intimate spot and his tongue licked deep between her cleft, finding that perfect point and torturing it with the tip of his tongue. Sarah’s eyes rolled back in her head. “Oh, God. Christian!” she called, wanting it never to end.
The feeling that surged through her began between her legs and pulsed throughout her body, spreading like fire to every nerve ending in her body. She cried out and splintered apart, cradling his head between her legs.
He lifted up on one elbow and grinned at her. “Did you like that?”
She couldn’t answer. Panting and a nod were all she could manage.
“Good.” His hand slipped between her legs and he slowly pushed one finger inside of her. She groaned. “You’re so wet. So wet for me, my love.”
