“I want to kissyounow.”
He found her mouth with his and palmed one of her breasts, thinking that this was now the time when he might slake his thirst for touching her ripeness, her nipples, the soft skin and firm flesh of her breasts as he kissed her.
But she laughed under his lips and tongue and when she broke the kiss, she said, “Yes, but no, Alasdair, I want to kiss you onyoursex.”
His cock, which had stiffened considerably with her passionate kiss, became now throbbingly, fully hard, poking into the crevice between her lower thighs.
“I can feel that you like that idea.” She put her hand on Alasdair’s sex and began to slither away from his face, down toward his groin, stopping briefly to lick one of his nipples and to inhale the scent of his chest.
“Uh, uh, uh,” he said and grabbed her under her armpits, lifting her back up so her face was even with his again.
“May we have a moment of discussion, please?” His voice was a little stern.
Disappointed, she released her grip on his member—oh, his shaft was so hard but the skin was so silky smooth and she had already imagined that skin gliding under her tongue and over her lips.
“That is not something wives do,” he said.
“How do you know, Alasdair?”
“How doyeknow, Arabella?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “Are you asking me, Alasdair, if I have done something like that before? Then ask me!”
“I would ne’er ask ye something like that!”
She rolled away from him. “Then you will never know the answer.”
There was a pause. She had a strong sense that this might be a crucial moment in their new marriage. She waited. But she did not know how long she would be able to wait.
She did not have to wait long. After all, her husband was the not-stupid man.
She felt him shift on the mattress and then his chest with its copper fuzz pressed against her shoulders, a long and strong arm came over her arm, his abdomen formed a mold around her buttocks, and she felt his hardness poke into the backs of her thighs. And then the most delicious soft whisper in her ear.
“Have ye e’er done something like that before, Mrs. Andrews?”
She pushed her bottom back against him. “Since you ask, Dr. Andrews, no.”
“Then why do ye think ye should?”
“Because I want to,” she said, still facing away from him but sliding down lower on the bed so that the cheeks of her bottom rubbed against his shaft. She was rewarded with heavier breathing in her ear. “Because I think I would like being wicked like that and I know,” and now she took her top arm and reached behind her and found his stiffness and held it, “you would like it. This gentleman here certainly approves of the idea.” And she gave a little tug to his cock and he groaned.
“A month before I first met you, Alasdair,” she gave a squeeze and elicited another groan, “I was traveling with my sister Mary and her husband in Cornwall. You have never met them, have you?”
“Uh,” he grunted.
She moved her hand down to the base of his shaft and felt his hair there tickling the side of her hand. As she spoke, she kept her hand loosely on his member and trailed her hand up and down his shaft over and over again.
“We were at the same inn for about a week and I went into Mary’s room just after luncheon. She had said she wanted to rest but I had forgotten and went into the room to fetch a book she had said she had finished reading. As soon as I entered the room, I saw David, her husband, fully dressed and standing and facing away from me. His head was hanging down. I almost said something and then I saw my sister—also dressed—on her knees in front of him, her husband’s hand resting on her head. There was a sound of some wetness, I suppose, and something like the smacking of lips, and David was whimpering. You will be astonished by this story when you meet the viscount, Alasdair. It is hard to imagine that he ever loses control, let alone whimpers. I fled, and I thought my sister had not seen me. But later that afternoon, she took me on a long walk along the shore and we discussed many things. About what men and women do together. Mary is very sensible. I think you will like her.”
He was panting. “I ... ken ... I will like ... her, too.”
Then she discovered something and she stilled her hand.
“You are a little wet,” she said.
“Aye,” he said.
Arabella realized she had never stroked him for so long. At this point, he was usually inside her.
