held her weight trembled. His fingers turned the thin circle of gold around her ankle. “Does some man have a claim on you?” he said, his tone hard and unforgiving.
“It is something I brought back from my travels. I admired the adornments of a native people, and an artisan fashioned something similar for me.”
“You are either a practiced liar or a whore. Or, perhaps, both. I suppose I shall discover the truth tonight.”
His fingers curled around her leg, holding her fast as he reached over with his other hand and stroked her parted slit with the callused pad of his thumb. A frisson of pleasure jolted through her. She nearly keeled backward from the shock of his bold and intimate touch.
He seized her hand to steady her. “The fire is dying. Why don’t you see to it?”
She nodded. As he released her, his fingers lightly grazed the palm of her hand, a simple touch that sent an exquisite shiver up her back. She could feel her nipples tighten, a physical reaction that did not escape his notice. She removed her foot from atop his thigh but slowly, relishing the musculature of his thigh.
A twinge of modesty overtook her and she reached to grab the satin wrap draped over the arm of the chair, but he snatched it first and flung it away. “I want you naked.”
Jessie stood so close she could feel his breath on her skin. His carnal stare was fixed on her breasts.
“Are you cold?” He blew lightly on one of her erect nipples, making her desperate for his touch. Though she was still wary of him, unexpected desire coursed through her. He peered up at her now. His strong, square jaw and firm, well-formed mouth made him the most handsome man she had ever seen. He sat forward, his tongue rasped across her taut nipple, and she nearly collapsed into his lap. “The fire, Lady Blackwood,” he reminded her.
In a daze, she approached the hearth. He’d merely run his tongue across her breast, and she was ready to melt into his arms. She bent over to stoke the fire. Behind her she could hear a moan from the man still sitting in the chair. She felt wanton knowing he was seeing every inch of her in the flesh, but somehow it didn’t matter. She rather liked the feeling. As she hung the fire poker back on the brass rack, she sensed him come up behind her. His hands reached around her, and he began softly teasing her nipples with
his thumbs. She leaned back against him. His chest was now bare, but he still wore his trousers. She could feel his huge erection pressing into her back.
“I want you on your hands and knees,” he whispered into her ear. An erotic thrill ran through her body at his shocking demand. He stopped fondling her nipples and pulled the pins from her hair so that it fell like a shawl over her naked shoulders. He pointed to where he wanted her positioned.
“Obedient, little wench, aren’t you?” he said as she complied with his demand.
Her long hair draped her face, the ends skimming the rug. She turned her head to peer at him, a sly smile on her lips. “What is a wife if not a slave to her husband’s desires?” Acting the coquette was new for her. She was toying with him and enjoying it. He was too exciting a man to deny.
“Before tonight, I’d never thought of marriage as a satisfying enterprise.” His booted foot wedged between her legs, nudging them farther apart, until she was exposed and open to him. With the light of the fire, he could surely see every intimate part of her. “And this exotic little tattoo—” he traced the tiny blue star on her hip, “—is this also a souvenir from your travels?”
“Yes. I had that done in Cape Palmas.” Besides herself and the person who’d etched it into her skin, he was the only person to see it. She had not told her parents about it. “It is the work of a woman,” she added, anticipating his next question. “I doubt that it shall make any difference to you, but I am a virgin.”
“Of course,” he said with a sarcastic laugh.
She jolted
“It is something I brought back from my travels. I admired the adornments of a native people, and an artisan fashioned something similar for me.”
“You are either a practiced liar or a whore. Or, perhaps, both. I suppose I shall discover the truth tonight.”
His fingers curled around her leg, holding her fast as he reached over with his other hand and stroked her parted slit with the callused pad of his thumb. A frisson of pleasure jolted through her. She nearly keeled backward from the shock of his bold and intimate touch.
He seized her hand to steady her. “The fire is dying. Why don’t you see to it?”
She nodded. As he released her, his fingers lightly grazed the palm of her hand, a simple touch that sent an exquisite shiver up her back. She could feel her nipples tighten, a physical reaction that did not escape his notice. She removed her foot from atop his thigh but slowly, relishing the musculature of his thigh.
A twinge of modesty overtook her and she reached to grab the satin wrap draped over the arm of the chair, but he snatched it first and flung it away. “I want you naked.”
Jessie stood so close she could feel his breath on her skin. His carnal stare was fixed on her breasts.
“Are you cold?” He blew lightly on one of her erect nipples, making her desperate for his touch. Though she was still wary of him, unexpected desire coursed through her. He peered up at her now. His strong, square jaw and firm, well-formed mouth made him the most handsome man she had ever seen. He sat forward, his tongue rasped across her taut nipple, and she nearly collapsed into his lap. “The fire, Lady Blackwood,” he reminded her.
In a daze, she approached the hearth. He’d merely run his tongue across her breast, and she was ready to melt into his arms. She bent over to stoke the fire. Behind her she could hear a moan from the man still sitting in the chair. She felt wanton knowing he was seeing every inch of her in the flesh, but somehow it didn’t matter. She rather liked the feeling. As she hung the fire poker back on the brass rack, she sensed him come up behind her. His hands reached around her, and he began softly teasing her nipples with
his thumbs. She leaned back against him. His chest was now bare, but he still wore his trousers. She could feel his huge erection pressing into her back.
“I want you on your hands and knees,” he whispered into her ear. An erotic thrill ran through her body at his shocking demand. He stopped fondling her nipples and pulled the pins from her hair so that it fell like a shawl over her naked shoulders. He pointed to where he wanted her positioned.
“Obedient, little wench, aren’t you?” he said as she complied with his demand.
Her long hair draped her face, the ends skimming the rug. She turned her head to peer at him, a sly smile on her lips. “What is a wife if not a slave to her husband’s desires?” Acting the coquette was new for her. She was toying with him and enjoying it. He was too exciting a man to deny.
“Before tonight, I’d never thought of marriage as a satisfying enterprise.” His booted foot wedged between her legs, nudging them farther apart, until she was exposed and open to him. With the light of the fire, he could surely see every intimate part of her. “And this exotic little tattoo—” he traced the tiny blue star on her hip, “—is this also a souvenir from your travels?”
“Yes. I had that done in Cape Palmas.” Besides herself and the person who’d etched it into her skin, he was the only person to see it. She had not told her parents about it. “It is the work of a woman,” she added, anticipating his next question. “I doubt that it shall make any difference to you, but I am a virgin.”
“Of course,” he said with a sarcastic laugh.
She jolted
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