Page 57

Dora gave a gurgle of laughter. “He took it pretty well on the whole, you have to admit.”

Clem would admit no such thing. They finished up and he filled a bucket with hot water for their wash, carrying it up to the second floor while Dora changed into her long cotton nightgown. It would be a lot easier if they had a bathroom on their own floor, he reflected, as he first lit the fire in their bedroom and then took his own wash, once she was done.

By the time he joined her under the covers, he fancied he could feel some heat from the fireplace.

“How about you take off one pair of socks, Dora,” he teased.

She rolled toward him. “One pair?” she asked archly. “Well as you asked so nicely …”

Ten minutes later, Clem rolled off her with a strangled expletive. Fuck. His chest was heaving like he had run ten miles. Just a bit of touching and kissing should not get him into this worked-up state.

“I am sorry, Clem,” Dora said, misinterpreting his muttered curse.

“No, no,” he said swiftly. “I am only annoyed with myself. “I should have thought of getting you a—er—preventative before. I knew a career was your priority. You told me upfront. That was why you married me after all.”

Dora bit her lip. “I should have thought of it too,” she said disarmingly, “but I never considered that—well.” She flushed and glanced away.

She had not thought their contractual marriage would include consummation, he reflected wryly. Of course, neither had he, at first. Then he had changed his mind. “We have both had a lot to contend with lately,” he said forcing a mirthless smile to his lips and fighting down the clamor of disappointment from his cock. “I think we can be generous and let ourselves off the hook.”

She brightened at this. “Yes, that is true,” she agreed. “I do hope we will not have to wait six weeks though.”

Clem lifted his head off the pillow to look at her. “Six weeks?”

“For mail order,” she explained. “Sometimes my dress patterns can take as long as two whole months to arrive.”

Clem exhaled noisily. “I can get hold of one if I put my mind to it. There are places in addition to newspaper advertisements.”

“What places?” she asked, immediately curious.

“Places that no respectable woman would frequent,” he admitted.

Her face clouded over. “It is so stupid how such matters are managed.”

“Agreed,” Clem huffed, blowing out a puff of air and leaning back on one elbow. “But I’m damnably glad I don’t have to wait six weeks though,” he admitted, glancing down at her relaxed body. His gaze lingered, and picking up on his mood along, no doubt, with his throbbing erection, Dora rolled onto her side toward him.

“Do you want me to—that is, shall I bring you to completion with my hand?” she asked. “I’m quite happy to.”

“Yes, please,” he answered thickly, and without even the slightest hesitation, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her hand around his cock. Clem could not hold back his relieved groan. Then she started working him, and it was so good his mind went mercifully blank.

He dropped his head back on the pillow and tried to shut his eyes to savor it, but for some godsdamn reason, his eyes kept springing open to look at Dora’s face. He wanted to check if she was really comfortable with performing this act upon him and was not repulsed by his inability to hold back his guttural grunts.

He had no idea what was acceptable or not acceptable to expect from your wife in the bedroom, never having had one before. He just knew it was fucking shameful how fast he was hurtling toward spending in her hand. He went from relieved to frantic in what felt like the blink of an eye.

All too soon he was a panting, heaving mess beneath her ministrations. Every time he thought he had reached his limit, she would pause and adjust her stroke saying, “Wait, no, I think I have it now,” and the torture would start up again.

He watched her through half-closed lids, the expression of utter absorption and concentration on her face. Was she doing it deliberately? he wondered in bewilderment. How would a sheltered virgin like Dora know about the benefits of delaying pleasure?

“Is this the angle?” she asked, looking up at him suddenly. Clem’s hips jolted and he whimpered. “It all feels good,” he gasped. “Everything you do to me.” Dora’s satisfied smile nearly sent him over the edge. “Fuck—I’m about to—”

Dora’s eyes widened; she looked around in alarm. “Wait, I forgot to get a washcloth—” she blurted in panic.

Clem growled and rolled over her, caging her in with his body. “Dora,” he groaned. “I want to come on your belly, can I?”

“My belly?” She sounded faintly astonished. “Well, yes, if that’s something you—”

Clem levered himself up on his knees and barely got his hand to the base of his cock before he started releasing in a series of long, hard spurts. Dora gazed down between them to watch with a fascinated eye, but as for Clem, he planted his free hand next to her head and he kept his eyes glued to her face.

Only once he finished with a guttural half-sigh, half-groan did he lean back and look down at the glistening mess he had made of her smooth belly. He caught his breath and stared, letting his gaze travel up to her flushed face and back down again. He let out a shaky breath and swallowed. Holy fuck.