murmured as she lounged back,
her stocking-clad legs stretched out before her and crossed at the ankle,
affording him only a glimpse of the curly hairs that hid her treasures.
“I’m pleased you think so,” she purred, bringing her hands
up to cup her breasts.
His eyes riveted on her fingers, on her nipples poking
between them, Hastings shifted about in an obvious attempt to hide the bulge
beneath his dressing gown, succeeding only in pulling the garment open to the
waist. His chest beneath was bronzed and lightly sprinkled with golden curls
tapering to a fine line over his flat abdomen.
“Mmm,” she hummed. “My nipples are so hard.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Lovely berries.”
“Would you like to nibble my berries?” she asked, fighting a
giggle.
“Christ, yes.”
“Soon, my lord,” she crooned, pinching the stiff peaks and
setting tingles running down her limbs. “We’ve all night.”
“There’ll be no rushing this time,” he promised, raising his
gaze to skim over her features, lingering for a heartbeat on her lips.
Georgie smiled, fully intending to bring him to spend on the
plush velvet chair. Of course she might need to pleasure herself in his bathing
room afterward.
Already she was trembling with desire from his heated gaze,
from his husky voice, from simply looking upon his too handsome face and broad
chest.
Lightly pinching her nipples, she sighed softly as her
desire spiked. Increasing the pressure nearly to the point of pain, Georgie
plucked at her nipples, elongating them before releasing them altogether,
forgetting for a moment that she meant to drive the man before her to
distraction, not herself.
“Do you want me?” she whispered.
“Yes, I want you.”
“Show me,” she purred, her gaze dropping to the evidence
tenting his dressing gown.
Hastings clawed at the belt of the robe, shifting this way
and that until he pushed the garment from his wide shoulders, leaving it pooled
around his hips. His cock rose from a nest of dark curls, long and thick, the
head bobbing as he fell back against the chair with a groan.
With one final swipe across her aching nipples, Georgie
slowly trailed her hands downward, over her ribs to the smooth expanse of her
belly.
Lowering her lashes she watched the handsome lord follow the
movement, his face flushed, his mouth open, his tongue coasting over his lower
lip, back and forth. His eyes were dark pools beneath heavy lids, his hands
fisted on the armrests, and his shaft twitching.
Georgie swirled her fingers through the curls covering her
mound.
“Damn me,” Hastings rasped out.
Forgoing the soft flesh between her legs, she coasted her
hands over her hips and down her outer thighs until her fingers met the ribbons
anchoring her stockings in place. She paused there, contemplated lifting one
leg then the other and slowly rolling the silk down.
Instead she unlocked her ankles and allowed her legs to fall
open before trailing her fingers up along the sensitive flesh of her inner
thighs. When she reached the curls hiding her womanhood she paused to take in
his reaction.
Hastings was captivated by the show, his legs falling open,
his hips jerking and twitching, setting his cock bouncing. His chest rose and
fell as he dragged a raspy breath deep into his lungs.
And still he did not take himself in hand. Rather his hands
came down to rest beside his hips, his fingers clawing at the silk of his
discarded dressing gown.
“You’re killing me,” he groaned, his gaze lifting to her
face.
Meeting the earl’s eyes, she draped one leg over the
armrest, opening herself to him. Trailing one hand up and over her hip, her
waist, she cupped her breast, squeezing the nipple between finger and thumb.
The other hand continued along her inner thigh, coming to rest over her curls,
her fingers dipping down to cover the throbbing bud within.
“Holy shit,” he growled.
And still his fingers grasped the fabric bunched around him.
Georgie circled the
her stocking-clad legs stretched out before her and crossed at the ankle,
affording him only a glimpse of the curly hairs that hid her treasures.
“I’m pleased you think so,” she purred, bringing her hands
up to cup her breasts.
His eyes riveted on her fingers, on her nipples poking
between them, Hastings shifted about in an obvious attempt to hide the bulge
beneath his dressing gown, succeeding only in pulling the garment open to the
waist. His chest beneath was bronzed and lightly sprinkled with golden curls
tapering to a fine line over his flat abdomen.
“Mmm,” she hummed. “My nipples are so hard.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Lovely berries.”
“Would you like to nibble my berries?” she asked, fighting a
giggle.
“Christ, yes.”
“Soon, my lord,” she crooned, pinching the stiff peaks and
setting tingles running down her limbs. “We’ve all night.”
“There’ll be no rushing this time,” he promised, raising his
gaze to skim over her features, lingering for a heartbeat on her lips.
Georgie smiled, fully intending to bring him to spend on the
plush velvet chair. Of course she might need to pleasure herself in his bathing
room afterward.
Already she was trembling with desire from his heated gaze,
from his husky voice, from simply looking upon his too handsome face and broad
chest.
Lightly pinching her nipples, she sighed softly as her
desire spiked. Increasing the pressure nearly to the point of pain, Georgie
plucked at her nipples, elongating them before releasing them altogether,
forgetting for a moment that she meant to drive the man before her to
distraction, not herself.
“Do you want me?” she whispered.
“Yes, I want you.”
“Show me,” she purred, her gaze dropping to the evidence
tenting his dressing gown.
Hastings clawed at the belt of the robe, shifting this way
and that until he pushed the garment from his wide shoulders, leaving it pooled
around his hips. His cock rose from a nest of dark curls, long and thick, the
head bobbing as he fell back against the chair with a groan.
With one final swipe across her aching nipples, Georgie
slowly trailed her hands downward, over her ribs to the smooth expanse of her
belly.
Lowering her lashes she watched the handsome lord follow the
movement, his face flushed, his mouth open, his tongue coasting over his lower
lip, back and forth. His eyes were dark pools beneath heavy lids, his hands
fisted on the armrests, and his shaft twitching.
Georgie swirled her fingers through the curls covering her
mound.
“Damn me,” Hastings rasped out.
Forgoing the soft flesh between her legs, she coasted her
hands over her hips and down her outer thighs until her fingers met the ribbons
anchoring her stockings in place. She paused there, contemplated lifting one
leg then the other and slowly rolling the silk down.
Instead she unlocked her ankles and allowed her legs to fall
open before trailing her fingers up along the sensitive flesh of her inner
thighs. When she reached the curls hiding her womanhood she paused to take in
his reaction.
Hastings was captivated by the show, his legs falling open,
his hips jerking and twitching, setting his cock bouncing. His chest rose and
fell as he dragged a raspy breath deep into his lungs.
And still he did not take himself in hand. Rather his hands
came down to rest beside his hips, his fingers clawing at the silk of his
discarded dressing gown.
“You’re killing me,” he groaned, his gaze lifting to her
face.
Meeting the earl’s eyes, she draped one leg over the
armrest, opening herself to him. Trailing one hand up and over her hip, her
waist, she cupped her breast, squeezing the nipple between finger and thumb.
The other hand continued along her inner thigh, coming to rest over her curls,
her fingers dipping down to cover the throbbing bud within.
“Holy shit,” he growled.
And still his fingers grasped the fabric bunched around him.
Georgie circled the
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