He had a cockstand.And it was currently pressing against her arse.
“I am sorry,” he said.“I—It is… the position—”
Of course, she thought, he wouldn’t want her to think that his natural reaction to the proximity of a woman meant that he felt any particular attraction to her.
“It is fine,” she snapped.“You can’t help it.”
“I am sorry—I know you wanted me to not trouble you any longer and—”
“Well, here we are anyway.”
“Yes,” he said on an exhale.
They had no choice but to sit there in the dark like that.
And that arousal, which had flared in her before, now beat within her double time.She grew hot and wet between her legs.His length did not appear to be flagging and, through her summer dress and petticoats, it provided a pleasant pressure.She tried to perch away from his body, but, if anything, it made the pressure worse.
Her core clenched and then clenched again.She had no choice—her body acted of its own accord.She had been deprived of such a touch for so long.Not since Thomas Garrison had a man held her so close, and that was years ago now.
She couldn’t help it.
She arched herself against him.
“Christ, Scarlett…” He gasped.“Don’t do that.”
“I am sorry,” she said, repeating his line back to him.
He brought a hand to her stomach, as if to steady her.But then she realized he was pressing her into him, making the pressure deeper.She gasped.It wasn’t much, through their clothing, but it was somehow enough.
“I am sorry,” he panted.
“This is ridiculous.”
She turned around, brought her hands to his face, and kissed him.He gasped again but did not protest.He tasted, strangely, of cinnamon, and the taste was so good and so pleasant that she moaned.
Feeling bold, she opened her mouth and traced her tongue around his bottom lip.He accepted with eagerness, groaning.
She was nearly straddling him now, which was indecent to say the least.But since she was here, in some kind of fever dream, she did not hesitate to grind herself into him once more.It felt so good that she heard herself gasp into the dark air.“Please.”
“Please what, darling?”
Darling.
No one had ever called her that before.
“I-I don’t know.”
She really didn’t know.Or she did and she didn’t.She wanted him to give her release.To give her what she found alone in her chamber.But she had no notion of how to ask for such a thing.
But it appeared that she did not need to.
He grunted in response, turning her so that she had her back to him once more, that position where she could feel his length so delectably.And then she felt his hand on the hem of her skirt.
She bit her lip.She should object.But she couldn’t.Her desire was too high, her body too thick with what she wanted.
He raised her skirts and thin petticoat.His hand went to her thigh and, wantonly, she opened her legs.
Her open drawers did not impede his access to her core.His fingers brushed against her wetness.
