The thrill Grace felt was truncated as he muttered, “Only it seems wrong to compare you.”

“Because she was pure? And I am not?”

Grace raised her head and studied his face. His heightened colour was his only answer.

Forcing his painful words from her mind, she rose to a sitting position, reaching down to cup his balls. He gasped at the unexpected sensation, hardening instantly, holding his breath and clasping her shoulders as she gently squeezed.

“You like it?” Her voice was husky. Suggestive. The same tone she used on all her clients, yet what was in her heart was so different.

“I shall disgrace myself in two seconds if you continue.” His breathing was laboured. “Stop doing that. I want to feel you.”

She remained sitting, straddled upon him as his hands roamed over her, as if he were committing her to memory. Grace registered his frown, his growing excitement as he contoured her with the concentration of a sculptor exploring the possibilities of his subject.

“I can feel you … like I can see you.”

She breathed deeply and surrendered herself to his touching. How thrilling it was to again be the object of his enjoyment.

He raised his head as if looking for something, pulled her down so he could take her nipple into his mouth, then gently sucked while his other hand massaged her right buttock.

“I can imagine every part of you,” he marvelled, drawing his head away. “I’m an artist. I can’t paint you but I can … make you. I could make you in clay.” His breath came faster.

So did Grace’s. Electric impulses surged through her, excitement roiled in her lower belly and moisture glistened between her legs.

“You can be my muse. I can sculpt you. I can.”

Hope clawed at her, just a little more forcefully. Perhaps there really was a shared future for them …

“Tell me everything. Your hopes, your dreams, your disappointments. I need to know you from the inside. It’s the only way I can create you.”

His rising excitement coincided with the crashing of her hopes.

His muse? She’d told him enough, already. She lay still beside him. “If I tell you everything, sir, you will want nothing more to do with me.”

At the dull resignation in her voice, he checked himself. “Are most whores as honest as you?”

Despite herself she gave a soft laugh. “We quickly learn when we must lie. But I am not lying when I say I want you to make love to me.”

“You really want that?”

Ever so briefly she touched her lips to his mouth before drawing back in sudden alarm as the familiar longing surged through her. It was too dangerous. Before long she must leave him.

Probably forever.

“Yes, I want you.” She heard the almost desperate note in her voice as she rose above him, rubbing her sex over his now rampant erection.

He held her tightly, his breath hot in her ear. “And I want you, too. Oh, God—”

She’d reached down to grasp his cock, which she was sliding the length of her slick entrance and back again. His breath was now coming in convulsive gasps which matched hers as she guided him into her slippery depths—and as he filled her she felt the most heightened sensation of coming home.

“David.” She breathed his name upon the faintest of whispers as he withdrew slightly before thrusting into her again and she felt herself clamp over him as need and joy and pleasure swirled through her.

“Oh God!” he cried again as he re-entered her, his passions ratcheting up with unstoppable force on a journey she shared.

He was still little more than an untutored virgin and she didn’t mind that he came quickly upon a final thrust for she was so ready, shattering around him, her brain whirling, her heartbeat pounding as she collapsed on top of him.

For a long time companionable silence enveloped them. The clock in the passage struck three o’ clock and the sounds of carriage wheels from the street below lent a strange normality to the sensation that nothing and everything was changed.

David was the first to speak. Shifting her against his side so that her head nestled into the crook of his neck, he held her close as he gently stroked her.

Tags: Beverley Oakley Fair Cyprians of London Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net