cherries!”
Orèlan did not know where to look, every inch
of her skin was flinching with the demand to flee, and then
Wyndham’s hand was beneath her chin. Frantically, she grasped his
wrist trying to halt its motion, and yet he only cupped her chin,
lifting her gaze to his as her hands fell away. His irises were so
dark purple they were nearly black as she searched them anxiously
with her gaze. She could see determination and strength in his
gaze, strength so powerful she clung to it. Then, she saw the
barest hint of regret and it was her savior, because it calmed her
as nothing else could have. She felt Wyndham’s hands moving to her
bodice and she clung to his gaze as even the rancorous bidding
faded from her hearing.
Wyndham’s hands were hot on the iciness of
her bare shoulders as they slid downward, pulling the gown with
them. So slowly the fragile material moved, inching its way lower
to the cusps of her nipples . . . hanging on the turgid pinnacles .
. . then falling loosely to her waist. Cool air flashed across her
shivering flesh and goosebumps rose, light and pink, in the circle
of her areolas. Her lips parted, yet no sound came forth, then
suddenly Wyndham’s wide hand was clasping her throat. The
torridness of his palm and fingers searing the flinching column of
her throat. He used this leverage to turn her on his lap, until her
spine was compressed to his chest. The angle of supplication thrust
her naked and quelling breasts further outward. Her fingers
clenched in the silk of her skirts as the rushing sound of the
crowd around them came back into her hearing. Particularly,
Alexei’s shout, “I have won! They are pink and wickedly
aroused!”
Acute humiliation and embarrassment flushed
her body to a fevered pitch as she turned her temple to press along
Wyndham’s hard jaw with her eyes closed against the men and women
gazing at her exposed nudity.
“You are more beautiful than any other woman
I have ever seen,” Wyndham whispered fiercely into her ear. “These
men drool over the youth and perfection of your breasts. These
women drip with envy. You should be proud, Spitfire. As proud and
as bold, as I know you can be. Come drink champagne with me, little
love, and flaunt your beauty. Flaunt it in Alexei’s face, and let
him know how brave and unconcerned you are.”
Wyndham held his breath as he realized
fighting in the war and maiming his leg had been easier than
allowing Alexei Tropov to gaze at his woman’s naked breasts. Yet,
he would be damned if he let this vanquish them, because he knew
that worse was yet to come, and together he and Orèlan would be
stronger than this or anything else that Alexei would do to them.
If only Orèlan would . . .
Suddenly, her body moved, rising from his
hand clasped to her throat as she stiffened her spine straight,
while sitting in his lap. Grasping his hands firmly, she lifted his
palms down over her breasts, making a cup of both of their hands as
she laughed, and then she exclaimed, “My golden Lord Hawkenge loves
my breasts and he promises me champagne to drink and ruby’s to
adorn them!”
The crowd happily, although drunk, cheered
their approval to her claims. They lewdly roared their acclaim when
she removed his hands completely from the pale shivering globes,
letting his hands drop to her waist. Then, she reached with a
flourish for a fluted glass of champagne, arching her back to
brazenly display her naked breasts to the crowd as she toasted
them. Alexei gazed at her with sly amusement in his cobalt irises
and Wyndham saw her winking at Alexei imprudently. Yet, even as she
did this, she hissed beneath her breath. “My golden puma, you had
better not lose to him again or you will feel your
Spitfire’s claws down your back.”
The tension was edgy, yet Wyndham could not
help the clipped laugh that escaped him as he reached forward and
knocked the table indicating the deal for the next round would
begin. When he reached forward, he caught
Orèlan did not know where to look, every inch
of her skin was flinching with the demand to flee, and then
Wyndham’s hand was beneath her chin. Frantically, she grasped his
wrist trying to halt its motion, and yet he only cupped her chin,
lifting her gaze to his as her hands fell away. His irises were so
dark purple they were nearly black as she searched them anxiously
with her gaze. She could see determination and strength in his
gaze, strength so powerful she clung to it. Then, she saw the
barest hint of regret and it was her savior, because it calmed her
as nothing else could have. She felt Wyndham’s hands moving to her
bodice and she clung to his gaze as even the rancorous bidding
faded from her hearing.
Wyndham’s hands were hot on the iciness of
her bare shoulders as they slid downward, pulling the gown with
them. So slowly the fragile material moved, inching its way lower
to the cusps of her nipples . . . hanging on the turgid pinnacles .
. . then falling loosely to her waist. Cool air flashed across her
shivering flesh and goosebumps rose, light and pink, in the circle
of her areolas. Her lips parted, yet no sound came forth, then
suddenly Wyndham’s wide hand was clasping her throat. The
torridness of his palm and fingers searing the flinching column of
her throat. He used this leverage to turn her on his lap, until her
spine was compressed to his chest. The angle of supplication thrust
her naked and quelling breasts further outward. Her fingers
clenched in the silk of her skirts as the rushing sound of the
crowd around them came back into her hearing. Particularly,
Alexei’s shout, “I have won! They are pink and wickedly
aroused!”
Acute humiliation and embarrassment flushed
her body to a fevered pitch as she turned her temple to press along
Wyndham’s hard jaw with her eyes closed against the men and women
gazing at her exposed nudity.
“You are more beautiful than any other woman
I have ever seen,” Wyndham whispered fiercely into her ear. “These
men drool over the youth and perfection of your breasts. These
women drip with envy. You should be proud, Spitfire. As proud and
as bold, as I know you can be. Come drink champagne with me, little
love, and flaunt your beauty. Flaunt it in Alexei’s face, and let
him know how brave and unconcerned you are.”
Wyndham held his breath as he realized
fighting in the war and maiming his leg had been easier than
allowing Alexei Tropov to gaze at his woman’s naked breasts. Yet,
he would be damned if he let this vanquish them, because he knew
that worse was yet to come, and together he and Orèlan would be
stronger than this or anything else that Alexei would do to them.
If only Orèlan would . . .
Suddenly, her body moved, rising from his
hand clasped to her throat as she stiffened her spine straight,
while sitting in his lap. Grasping his hands firmly, she lifted his
palms down over her breasts, making a cup of both of their hands as
she laughed, and then she exclaimed, “My golden Lord Hawkenge loves
my breasts and he promises me champagne to drink and ruby’s to
adorn them!”
The crowd happily, although drunk, cheered
their approval to her claims. They lewdly roared their acclaim when
she removed his hands completely from the pale shivering globes,
letting his hands drop to her waist. Then, she reached with a
flourish for a fluted glass of champagne, arching her back to
brazenly display her naked breasts to the crowd as she toasted
them. Alexei gazed at her with sly amusement in his cobalt irises
and Wyndham saw her winking at Alexei imprudently. Yet, even as she
did this, she hissed beneath her breath. “My golden puma, you had
better not lose to him again or you will feel your
Spitfire’s claws down your back.”
The tension was edgy, yet Wyndham could not
help the clipped laugh that escaped him as he reached forward and
knocked the table indicating the deal for the next round would
begin. When he reached forward, he caught
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