Page 67 of Kathryn

Gerrit gritted his teeth and turned his back until the garment was hidden from view, his eyes on his wife as she pulled the thick auburn rope over her shoulder and untied the bit of ribbon. When she would have thrown it down with the cap, he wordlessly plucked it from her fingers and slid it into the pocket of his banyan, his thumb absently caressing the smooth strip of silk.

She raised her eyebrows but did not comment.

Gerrit watched in fascination as she unraveled the strands and her hair, the color of banked coals, sprang to life.

“Curls,” he said, and then wished he could snatch the stupid word back.

She gave him a rueful look. “Yes. A great many of them.” The curls quickly built into a thick froth as she carded her fingers through the bright auburn spirals that fell to the middle of her back.

The compulsion to feel it was too strong to resist and Gerrit took a fistful. Kathryn stiffened but did not move away when he raised the curls to his nose and inhaled, pleased that he could smell the scent of woman rather than heavy perfume.

Her chest was rising and falling faster as she watched him, desire blazing in her eyes. When she tipped her head back and parted her lips, he lowered his mouth over hers. It was the first time they’d kissed since that night in the garden, and her body went pleasingly pliant against his, the press of her full, soft breasts pushing against his banyan.

Savage bolts of pleasure shot from his groin to every part of his body, speeding his heart and fogging his brain. He slid his fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her head, tilting her so that he could feast on her sweetness, and she was sweet, he was not imagining it. Caramel and the faint hint of raspberries. Gerrit normally had no taste for dessert, but he was enjoying it tonight.

He slipped his free hand between the front edges of her dressing gown and splayed his fingers over the ripe globes of her buttocks before pulling her close enough that his erection was pressed firmly against the gentle swell of her belly.

He was pleasurably surprised when her hands cupped his hips until she was mirroring his actions, her long, delicate fingers turning into claws as she dug into the muscles of his arse.

Gerrit deepened his kiss, fucking into her with slow, thorough sweeps of his tongue, his actions illustrative of what he would soon be doing to her. His hips rolled, pulsing his sensitive shaft against her soft body. An answering shudder wracked her tall, slender frame and she ground herself against him, jerky with need.

He steeled himself and pulled away, her lips chasing his until he set her at arm’s length. “I want this off,” he said in a gravelly voice, pushing her dressing gown off her shoulders and for once not caring that it pooled untidily on the floor.

He fumbled with the buttons on her nightgown, unfastening just enough to pull the garment over her head.

“Dulverton,” she said, staying his hands before he could lift the garment over her head.

Gerrit looked up from her nightgown to find her staring up at him, her lips swollen from his kisses, her pupils huge black pools.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

“May I—may I remove your robe?”

Gerrit felt positively woozy. When had a woman ever wanted to look at him? Even his mistresses—whom he had paid ridiculously well—had never been in any hurry to uncover his brutish body. He jerked a nod. “Yes.”

The syllable was barely out of his mouth before her fingers tore at the sash. Gerrit shrugged the garment off his shoulders, not caring when it fell to the floor.

It seemed it was a night for firsts.

His prick was heavy and swollen and he wouldn’t have believed it could harden any more, but when she gawked at him, her tongue peeking from between her coral pink lips, his balls clenched, and a hot bead of pre-ejaculate slid down his throbbing shaft.

“Oh,” she mumbled, the soft sound just about undoing him.

“Arms up. Now, Kathryn,” he ordered when she continued to stare at his prick, his voice even harsher. He’d be spilling on their bare feet if he didn’t get inside her soon.

She wordlessly obeyed and Gerrit dropped the fine muslin to join the pile, his jaw dropping as he reveled in her perfection. It was the first time he’d seen her completely nude, and the sight wiped every thought from his head.

He could not say how long they both stared at one another without touching, but it was long enough that the cool air caused her pale, flawless skin to grow goose pimples.

Gerrit wrenched his gaze away from her mouthwatering breasts, caught up her hand, led her to the bed, and yanked back the bedding. “Get in,” he ordered gruffly, shamelessly gorging on her plump arse as she mounted the two steps that led to the high mattress.

He climbed in with more haste than grace and lowered his torso over hers, unable to resist one more taste of her sweet lips. She opened to him, welcoming his tongue into her wet heat with a low, encouraging moan, her arms snaking around his neck and holding him close.

He’d intended the kiss to be a brief one, but she rippled beneath him like human silk, her hips lifting as she offered herself to him.

Gerrit took up her gauntlet, kissing her so deeply and without reserve that for one strange moment it was hard to tell where he left off and she began.

Only the dull, painful ache in his balls finally penetrated the fog of lust that had built between them. He pulled back to give her a chance to breathe. “Are you cold?”