[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
consciousness. He pulled back. His dark eyes startled and searching.
She knew he asked for permission or guidance. She knew only that she needed more of
the same. Jack, she whispered as she cupped his jaw and drew him forward. Jack, again. The
sweetness of his kiss undid all her senses. Again, she begged when he pulled away once more.
Emma. His lips were on her cheek, her lower lip, her shoulder. All as he had promised.
She pushed him away. His midnight hair was mussed, his eyes clouded, his shirt gaping
open to reveal the contours of his naked chest. And on his face was the question, shall we go on?
Yes, let me up.
He pulled her to her feet. Emma?
She presented her back. Undo me.
He groaned, muttering something about ties and seamstresses as his fingers worked at the
fastenings and his lips took a journey down her spine, pressing kisses to her flesh. God, you are
lovely. He twirled her around. Take it off. His eyes sought hers. Take it off, Emma.
She had wanted to lead. She was. He required it. She tried to smile but the need to be rid
of the gown was her most urgent goal. She crossed her arms and tore at the bodice to tug the
gown to her waist.
His eyes narrowed. His breathed quickened. His nostrils flared. Step out. He retreated. I
want to watch you. He lifted a finger to point to her chemise. The rest.
She swallowed hard. Mad to have him now, she pulled at the tiny ribbon threaded
through her thin cotton bodice, knowing beneath, save for her thigh-high stockings, she wore not
a stitch. Are brides always& ?
Naked? he asked. His gaze went from hers to her fingers. They should be.
Right you are, she agreed on a surge of daring and lust, then pulled the last of the ribbon
through her garment. The thing fell and she was free, the cool air caressing her breasts and making
her nipples pucker and her nether regions pulse in need of whatever her husband would
provide.
How long she stood there looking over his shoulder at the wainscoting she could not
measure. But from the corner of her eye, she could tell he toured her body like a man intent on
making notes. Making maps. Making journeys she knew not of.
If you don t say something soon, I shall leave, she threatened him.
You are gloriously made, my darling Emma.
She gulped back some of her fear he would reject her. Truly? she prodded and he
affirmed her beauty once more. My breasts are not too small?
Each will fill the palm of my hand.
She ventured a glance at him then. His eyes, dark slate and heavy with lust, drifted to hers
and back down her body. And my hips are not too thin?
Svelte as a siren, darling.
She cleared her throat. And my legs are not ugly?
Straight near your thighs, curvy little knees, long calves. And delicately boned feet.
I am acceptable?
More than, sweetheart. Any man would prize you.
Oh, Jack, she cried, her voice breaking in nerves, no need to say that if you don t think
it. I have no need for compliments. Really. If you will just please stop looking at me like that.
May I hold you? he asked, a reverence in his tone she d not yet heard there.
Oh, yes. And kiss me, too. I want to be kissed. Make me warm like you did in the coach.
He opened his arms. You need to be near me, then.
Stepping over her wedding dress and chemise, she took a step toward him. You need no
clothes, either.
Shall I discard them?
In a flood of reason, her mind declared he must be naked to make love to her. I want to.
She stood ever so near again, her fingers to his shirt, his buttons, his flies, his small clothes while
he stepped out of his boots.
As his breeches fell and his undergarments with them, she looked down at his body. Her
daydreams of how a man s cock might look were astonishingly inadequate. He was huge, red and
standing tall. A long, thick, rigid piece of flesh she found enticingly handsome.
He took both her hands in his. Have you never seen a man before?
She shook her head, mesmerized by the sight of his assets.
Never known what a male animal looks like?
Oh, yes! She told him forthrightly. Horses and dogs. Cattle, too. But none are as lovely
as you.
He snorted. Darling, a man s accoutrements are never called lovely.
But you are, she felt quite taken with the length of him. And the girth. She reached out
a hand.
As she snatched it back, he caught her. Want to touch me?
Her eyes, she knew, must be large as melons, as she nodded and said, I do.
Then, here.
Oh, my. His skin was soft as down. She stroked his length. But hard as iron.
He clamped her hand. Darling, you must go slowly.
Really? She stared at his cock in amazement. Does it not like to be caressed?
Most definitely. He inhaled deeply. But you see if you& ah& stroke me too long or
hard, then I wish to proceed too quickly.
Mating is not a moment s passion?
He looked appalled. It should never be only a moment s. But hours.
Hours? she could barely say the word.
Who told you less? he said with sad amusement as he led her to stroke his shaft in
languid ease. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]