Beguiled by Paisley Smith Page A

begging her to stop. The words hung on my tongue, but I forced myself to take it. I wanted to take it. At that moment, I would have done anything Alice asked of me for the pleasure I would receive at her hand.
    “Do you like my fingers up your hot little cunny?” Alice asked.
    When I didn’t immediately answer, her palm found my ass cheek again. The sting burned and then melted into a delicious throb. I yelped and moaned. “Yes, yes!”
    The hand that had so recently popped my bottom tangled into my chignon. She pulled my head up with unthinking force. I cried out—louder than I should have. The fingers between my legs pistoned me relentlessly. Arching, I clawed at the covers. My knees quaked. I’d never been dominated like this.
    I loved it.
    As soon as I surrendered, violent spasms racked me from the inside out. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out again. My channel clenched in frenzied convulsions around Alice’s fingers. I spiraled, soaring on the sensual sensations emanating from my loins.
    Alice’s intrusion slowed and gentled. She released my hair. How did she know I’d quickened? I wilted over the bed, luxuriating in the heavy sexual satisfaction pulsating through me.
    She cupped me and caressed my sex, working her fingers through my swollen nether lips as if she were in love with that part of me. A jolt shot through my loins when she rubbed a drenched fingertip over my throbbing clitoris. I let out a whimper.
    Alice chuckled softly and patted my ass. “Help me get these breeches on.”
    Unable to speak, I nodded. I’d never felt so awkward and aroused and confused around a nude woman before. Shaking, I stood, letting my skirts fall back into place. Although my clothes now concealed my body and no one would know what I’d just allowed another woman to do to me, my damp pantalets rubbed against my thighs, an ever-present reminder of a stolen, secret moment of sin.
    Unable to meet her eyes, I unfolded the shirt, then moved behind her so I could help her slip it on. Inadvertently, my fingers brushed her skin, and I circled her to begin fastening the buttons. She let me. I didn’t doubt she’d let me do far more if I only ventured to try it.
    She watched me so intently, and I trembled so badly I could hardly work the tiny buttons into the holes. The backs of my fingers burned in contact with her collarbone, the flat hollow between her breasts, and the silken skin of her tummy.
    It was a mistake. Alice, I should never have—
    But I couldn’t utter the words. Even now, I longed to run my hands around her waist and lift my lips to hers. Would she kiss me back, or would she be repulsed? My heart skittered as I imagined touching her the way she’d just touched me. What would it be like to explore another woman’s femininity?
    My face heated. The back of my neck sweltered. I felt faint. Finally, I’d fastened the endless row of buttons. I picked up the breeches and bent low, holding them open for her. I avoided looking at the auburn tuft of hair at the apex of her thighs.
    Bracing her hand on my shoulder, she stepped into each leg with difficulty. Slowly, I pulled the fabric up her legs, my thumbs brushing her legs the entire way up. She held up the shirttail as I fastened the buttons. My channel tightened when my fingers grazed her curls.
    Touch her. Is she as wet as I am? Oh God in heaven, just touch her. Reach between her legs and…
    “Belle?” she said, and my heart literally skipped a beat.
    My eyes met hers.
    Her lips parted, and I hung on the moment, waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to bring up what had happened between us. Her gaze warmed, and her pupils enlarged. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I mean, thank you. For the clothes. For the food. For… everything .”
    Fearing what might happen if I didn’t, I stumbled a step backward and nodded. “You’re welcome.”
    You’re welcome ? I felt like an utter fool. I had to get out of