Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 94964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
* * *
She took a deep breath and watched his eyes track the movement, her cheeks heating up. “Well…” she said.
* * *
He continued to lean against the closed door, staring.
* * *
“What now?” she whispered hoarsely.
* * *
“May I just…look at you?” he asked, matching actions to words.
* * *
She cleared her throat, looking away uncomfortably. “For how long?”
* * *
He sighed. “I have to say the view is magnificent. I might be tempted to stare all day.”
* * *
She rolled her eyes. This is why Aunt Leticia told me to get under the covers.
* * *
She reached for the curtains, drawing them closed across the window before stepping towards the table and lighting a candle in the dimmed room. She sat down on the bed, crossing her ankles primly and putting her hands in her lap.
* * *
“Well, there you are. Look as much as you please.” She stared at the floor as she gave her permission.
* * *
“And what of touch?” he asked softly.
* * *
She spread out her arms eloquently but didn’t say a word. He gasped, softly, as if to himself before she heard his footsteps approach. The shiny tips of his shoes came into her line of sight, and she looked up into his face. He was watching her intently as if waiting for some kind of sign. She wasn’t sure what sign he was waiting for so she just stared back.
* * *
The tension stretched between them like a heavy wet blanket, enclosing them in a bubble that could be cut with a knife. After a moment that seemed to go on forever, Janice drew a deep shaky breath and leaned back until her head was lying on the pillows. Her dark hair, brushed to within an inch of its life, lay like a dark halo around her head on the white pillow.
* * *
Her bosom heaving, she watched as he loomed over her, his gaze never leaving hers. He smiled. “Are you alright?”
* * *
She shook her head slowly. “I am…” she swallowed, “I cannot believe we are here, at last.”
* * *
A tear slipped from his eye. “It has been a long and arduous journey. I’m glad it is done.”
* * *
She reached for him, pulling him down to her so that their lips could be joined in amorous imitation of what their loins wished to do. She arched up into him, moaning and squirming, impatient to feel his body inside of hers with no impediment to dampen her joy.
* * *
His hand reached for her satiny nightgown, pulling it determinedly upward while refusing to part his lips from hers. At last, it was a choice between keeping the gown on or parting just long enough to slip it off. Reason prevailed and the gown was flung on the floor, while Arthur conducted a close and detailed inspection of her bosom, using his mouth and his hands.
* * *
No amount of squirming with impatience would deter him from making sure no goosepimple went unnoted, her navel unlaved and each pebbled nipple suitably suckled.
* * *
By the time he was done, she was begging for mercy, her body on fire. “Arthur please!” she thrust her hips upwards, trying to demonstrate the urgency of her need. He huffed in amusement against her cleavage, and she might have despaired if she could not feel him, straight and hard as iron as his own hips bucked and he brushed against her thighs.
* * *
“What are we waiting for?” she wailed plaintively. “Take me. Make me yours. I need it.”
* * *
“I need it too my darling. But I don’t want it to end, and I am too close. Should I come anywhere near you, this might be finished before it has even begun.”
* * *
She did not take his meaning and frowned in puzzlement. “What do you mean by that?”
* * *
He smiled wryly. “I mean that I am a hairsbreadth away from spilling my seed on this bed like the most moon-eyed toadeater.”
* * *
She frowned, staring at him uncomprehending before her brow unfurrowed as she remembered how he’d spilled against her thigh when last they did this.
* * *
She looked at him from beneath her lashes. “And where would you prefer to spill them?” she asked in a low throaty voice.
* * *
Before she knew it he had grabbed her legs and thrown them upon his shoulders, as he bent his knees on either side of her hips and pushed into her with controlled violence. She gasped, at the manner in which he suddenly filled her up.
* * *
Before she could get used to the feeling of being split like a peach, he was withdrawing from her body and then slamming into her again. The loud slapping sound of wet flesh against hard might have mortified her in other circumstances but now it just served to amplify the sense of being owned that she felt down to her curled toes.