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“I would do anything to earn your trust, Mariah. Since the bedroom has never been a problem for us, what can I do to build your trust…in the bedroom?”
At that, he looked up, his light blue eyes simultaneously smoldering and hopeful.
He had given her all the power. And blast him, if that did not make her even more eager.
At last, the words came. “I w-want to see you,” she bit out. “All of you. When y-you walked in here without your clothes that d-day, I realized I had n-never seen you…”
“Naked?” that cocky smirk was back but his hand still shook, betraying that he was just as aroused at the thought as she was.
“In the l-light, no.”
“Very well,” he said, rising. “What my lady wants…” he began as he made quick work of his jacket and waistcoat. He sat across from her to remove his boots, once so polished and pristine, they were now scuffed and worn. He rose from the chair in only a linen shirt, braces, and woolen trousers.
Sparing her a glance that was simultaneously smug yet nervous, compassion panged in Mariah’s chest. While he was aware she was attracted to him, James was risking something today. He was surrendering his pride today, offering himself up in a state of absolute vulnerability. It was an exposure they never engaged in during the course of their bedsport, which had previously been confined to the dark sanctuary of night.
Sliding his braces, which were a fine Berlin wool work, from his shoulders, he pulled the linen shirt over his head and heat again pooled at Mariah’s sex. Clearly, the hard work he had done in the trenches had begun to sculpt his chest and his arms in the most becoming way. Unlike Harrison, who was all tall and lean, James had always been thicker, almost stocky, which Mariah had secretly adored. The work he had done only added to the sheer masculinity of his frame, she thought, as she admired his chest. The dark blond hair that scattered across it, traveling down past his navel to…
“Shall I?” He gestured to the placket of his trousers
Yes. Right now.
“Only if you w-wish to.”
The cocky smirk returned, sending crinkles to the corners of his eyes. “Since you wish it my love, it will be so.”
With that, his hands went to the placket and the next thing Mariah knew, his trousers landed on the floor with a soft thud.
The most beautiful man she had ever seen stood before her, lit by the orange and yellow light of the hearth.
O for a muse of fire….
Before she could stop herself, Mariah was standing, strolling with an inexplicable ease to the other side of her escritoire to drink him in.
The dark blond hair that scattered across his chest appeared golden in the flickering light of the hearth. His breathing labored as her proximity kindled a visible tremor within his frame.
Setting her tentative fingertips upon his chest, she stroked that hair, following the trail down his chest to his stomach, which inadvertently jumped at her touch. Pulse pounding at her sex, her fingers followed that trail of hair past his navel, before stopping just above his evident arousal. Standing tall and proud, Mariah noted the vein that pulsed and she took one finger and ran it along his length, stopping briefly to circle the crown of his tip.
As she stroked him, James’s breathing turned ragged, and tears inexplicably bloomed in her eyes. When she was about to grip him, James laid a hand on her forearm.
“Mariah, this is about you.”
Leading her to the four-poster bed at the center of the room, he guided her back to lie on the coverlet.
Kneeling before her once more, though this time sans clothes, James again placed himself between her legs, his hands reached out to the hem of her petticoats. “May I?”
Mariah nodded frantically as moisture again pooled between her legs. Wearing only her morning gown over her petticoats, she writhed as James easily found the seam in her drawers, her knowledge of what he was going to do both wonderful and dreadful.
He had performed such an act only once or twice before, though only at night. Him doing so in the day, him seeing….
Mariah put a hand to her sex just as he began to part the slit in her drawers.
“Do you trust me, Mariah?” James asked, covering her hand with his own rougher one.
“I w-want to,” she answered as honestly as she could.
“I will endeavor to never hurt you. I swear it.”
He appeared so earnest, as he stood completely bare before her. And so, Mariah gave herself over to him. She gave herself over as he pulled the tape of her drawers and slid them down her legs. She gave herself over as he parted her legs and buried himself at the seam of her sex, finding that bundle of nerves and circling them with his tongue. She gave herself over and allowed herself to enjoy the waves of ecstasy that emanated from that place, where his lips and tongue met her sex.
