She was cautious, and he moved slowly for her sake. Her ran his roughened fingertips down to where the fabric cupped her breast. He pulled the fabric down, exposing her and her perfectly taut nipple. He ran his thumb over it, and she squirmed. He leaned forward and took her lips.
He worked one hand into her hair while the other exposed the second breast, thumbing that nipple in the same way. Tristan shifted his body, scooting Eleanor off his lap and onto the ground. Repositioned, he dipped his head to lick the valley between her breasts before moving to one side. He licked her nipple, letting the cool air do its own work. His other hand moved along her leg, pulling up the heavy woolen skirt and its petticoat. She still wore her thick woolen stocking on one leg, having discarded the other when he’d examined her ankle.
Her hand slid into his hair, scratching his scalp ever so lightly with her fingernails. He whimpered. Something aboutthat possessive gesture from her made him want to spend right away. How did she know to do that? His focus returned, and he continued sliding his hand up past her knee, to the soft bare flesh of her thigh. He unclipped the garter holding up her woolen stocking, rolling it down to give himself more space to play.
Her thigh shook as he took a great handful of her leg. He paused his ministrations to her breast. “Is your ankle all right? Do you need me to stop?”
She looked down at him, her mouth open as she panted. “Don’t. Stop.”
Tristan grinned and moved to the other breast, her fingers still entwined in his hair. He continued his exploration of her thighs until he reached her center. The wet seam was tantalizing. He ran his finger up and down it, intentionally going slowly enough that even an inexperienced virgin might buck at the teasing.
He delved in between her folds and found that perfect nub. She thrust against his hand. God, it was incredible to have her react to him like this. His cock strained in his trousers, rubbing against her hip. Her hand fisted his hair and pulled him up to look her in the eye as she sputtered and arched. Her cry, unfettered by decorum, was a potent aphrodisiac.
Having given her one climax, he caught her lips, kissing her deeply as he used his fingers to coax her into another. “My beautiful Eleanor, I want to see you come again.” He nipped at her breast, one then the other, letting the cool air do the work for him. “Let me see.”
Again her back arched, wordless noises of pleasure echoing off the walls. She returned to herself, catching his soaking hand. “My turn,” she panted. “Clothes. Off.”
A thrill ran through him at her commands. She struggled to keep her composure, and she looked every inch debauched. Her gorgeous breasts were displayed to the air, her nipples wetand pointed from his kisses, her skirts pushed up to her waist. His fingers skated across every one of his buttons, and soon he dropped his waistcoat to the ground, shucked the braces from his shoulders and pulled his shirt over his head. “Do you like what you see?”
Her expression was feral. “You’re so beautiful, Tristan.”
“As are you, my darling.” He unbuttoned his trousers and let them fall. He finished undressing, trying very hard to not think about her staring at his painfully throbbing cock, because that would end things sooner than he would like. He lay down beside her.
“It’s not what I thought it would look like,” she confessed.
He searched her meaning. “My cock? What did you think it would be like?”
She shrugged. “Smaller, I think.”
He threw his head back and laughed. He cupped her jaw with one hand, kissing her lightly on the lips. “Would you like to touch it?”
She nodded, biting her lip, as if now she were shy. He didn’t think it was a game or a ploy on her part, and it was driving him absolutely out of his mind. She gripped him in her smooth pale fist.
He let out a steadying breath. What else could he think about? Bugs. He could think about bugs. She slid her hand up to the tip, her thumb swiping the moisture leaking from the tip.
“Oh,” she sighed, in a way that sounded both pleased and revelatory.
Bugs were not enough.
“Are you well? I’m not hurting you, am I?” Eleanor was very concerned.
He shook his head, unable to speak, for fear of spending. “Eleanor. I’m so very close. And I would very much like to be inside you.”
“I would prefer it,” she said.
He flipped her on her back, taking another steadying breath. He needed to last. “Is your ankle—”
“My bloody ankle is bloody fine. Give me your cock.”
Tristan gritted his teeth. She was a marvel. “Your preferences are going to drive me mad.”
He rubbed the tip of his cock on her blessed little nub, and it made her legs widen. Of her own volition, her hand rubbed at one of her nipples. He stared, fascinated by the white skin massaged by her delicate fingers. She seemed like she might be getting close again. What a fucking wonder she was.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded, lifting her head to see. He circled her entrance with his cock, trying to relax her, make her ready. Was she ready enough? He’d never bedded a virgin. He moved slowly, entering her inch by inch, trying very hard to pay attention to any discomfort on her part. But she felt like slick perfection, warm and boundless. He slid all the way in, and to his surprise, she clutched at his arse, pulling him into her.
Another gesture of possession that almost made him lose control. She was his, perhaps, but more importantly, he was hers. He liked that thought. In the world, he could take care of her, and at home, she would take care of him. He thrust gently, listening to her breath catch with the friction between them. He touched that nub again, and moments later, her quim pulsed on him, milking him, pulling at him.
