Lessons in Pleasure

The skin of her shoulders gleamed in the lamplight. Her cheeks were soft pink when she started to turn toward him, but then she paused and turned her back again, and James watched the blush creep toward the nape of her neck. The combination of her modesty and her bare skin twined together and dug deep into his body. She was so innocent, and still she wanted him.

Trying to tamp down the need that already throbbed through him, James slowly crossed the room. He paused a foot from her, taking in the sight of her cinched waist and gauzy chemise. He’d never seen her thus: fully covered, but completely indecent. When he reached for her stays, his hands trembled.

Her gasp echoed through the room when he moved his fingers beneath the crossed strings and tugged. A few more pulls, and her ribs expanded as she inhaled a deep breath. Something about the breath rushing past her lips made him even harder.

She pressed both hands to her waist to unlatch the front hooks, and the corset fell to the floor to land at her feet. They stared at it together, but when James noticed the way she rolled her shoulders, he put a hand to her back to rub the tension away.

Reveling in the surprising heat of the slightly damp linen, James pressed his thumb along the edge of her spine.

“Ah,” she sighed.

“It must be a relief to take that thing off.”

“Yes.”

He put his other hand to work on the left side of her spine.

“Oh, James. That feels so good.” Her head bowed, stretching her neck out for his view, only inches away. Tempted, he lifted the heavy fall of her hair and pushed it over one shoulder. Now her spine was exposed from the middle of her back to her hairline. His thumbs crept up to bare skin and elicited a soft whimper with each circle he pressed to her muscles. The sounds vibrated through the pads of his fingers and chased along his nerves until his cock throbbed.

As soon as he reached her shoulders, he stepped closer and put his mouth to the side of her neck, finally tasting her. This new, wanton Sarah let her head fall to the side so that he could nibble to his heart’s content. Even more surprising, she pressed her backside to his erection.

“Will you . . . ?” She took a breath and tried again. “Will you douse the lamps?”

James didn’t bother answering; he simply let go of her shoulders and moved toward the closest lamp. But it made no difference. The faint light of the lowering sun still exposed her to his view. He did not volunteer to close the thicker drapes. Instead, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Eyes wide, she watched, gaze lowering as each button slid free. When he shrugged the shirt off entirely, her eyes closed.

“Does my body disturb you?” He tried to ignore the sharp hurt that caused.

“Of course not.” Her eyelids rose, her gaze darted frantically over his chest, then to the floor, back to his body and then his eyes. “I should not like to stare.”

Honest relief made him smile. “You wouldn’t like to or you are trying to be all that is proper?”

Her attempt to answer his smile did not quite succeed, so he only took her hand and led her across the room to their bed. “Close your eyes, Sarah,” he murmured.

Facing him, she stood still and closed her eyes, not offering a protest when he reached for the hem of her chemise and slowly dragged it up. First her drawers were revealed, stark white against her ivory skin. Then her belly, soft and smooth.

James averted his eyes when he pulled the chemise over her head. He wanted to see all of her, needed that, so before taking her in, he reached for the tie of her drawers and freed her from every stitch of fabric.

Then . . . By God. The moonlight views he’d stolen of his wife were nothing to this. Her rose-tipped breasts a bit too small to fill his hand. Her waist where it nipped in just before flaring out to succulent hips. Her sex, the dark curls of her mound. James held back a hum of approval.

Though her hands fisted at her sides, Sarah did not cover herself. She only stood, eyes closed, and let him look.

James went to his knees. His fingers felt too thick as he fumbled at the clasps of her stockings. All his coordination had been stolen by the shock of the view. He could see past her curls from this vantage to the beckoning pink beneath. He could smell her heat, the musky scent of feminine arousal. His mouth watering, he thought of kissing her there. Would she cringe in horror? Would she sob in pleasure?

The idea of shocking her proved impossibly tempting. He wanted her shocked. Scandalized. By him.

He pushed the stockings down, one at a time, then smoothed his palms back up her bare legs, slowly, slowly. When he reached her outer thighs, he pushed farther around, so that his hands slipped up to the perfect roundne

ss of her buttocks. Sarah gasped, and her hips jumped forward just a bit, offering a more generous peek of glistening pink.

His mouth watered for a taste. Just a taste. How could she know if he didn’t show her?

James spread his fingers out, taking a firmer grip on her round bottom. Then he pressed one chaste kiss to the triangle of dark curls that tempted him.

“Oh!” she gasped. But she did not pull away.

He kissed again, lower, and let the tip of his tongue delve in to graze her plump flesh.