Page 79 of Barbarous

She stood with her hands clasping the gown to her breasts. Hugh took her unresisting fingers and lifted them, his gaze riveted as the gown slipped from her grasp. She made a small noise in her throat but her chin tilted defiantly as she submitted to his inspection; Hugh allowed himself a long, lingering look. She was slender and fine-boned, her tiny waist flaring out to unexpectedly generous hips and long, long shapely legs. Her chemise and corset were the same shade as her blushes, her stockings held up with garters embroidered with roses.

Hugh reached both arms around her and located the laces. He loosened the first few eyes, but then, instead of releasing her from her bondage, he pulled the laces tighter. She gasped as he tightened the bone-and-cloth prison, the corset forcing her breasts higher.

Hugh wrapped the silken cording around his fist and held her away from him to inspect his work. Creamy breasts spilled over the corset, her nipples jutting upward, two hard, pink pebbles.

“Bloody hell.”

Only when she shuddered did Hugh realize he’d spoken out loud. He felt as if he’d been struck in the head by a boom mast. He bent low and sucked a nipple into his mouth, grazing her with his teeth. She moaned and arched. Encouraged, he suckled her harder, ruthlessly stiffening the already hard peak even more before doing the same thing to her other breast.

She shuddered and Hugh’s fingers took matters into their own hands, working in a blind frenzy to loosen the laces enough to push the garment down over her slim hips.

Without being bidden she stepped daintily out of the circle of clothes and stood in her chemise, partly transparent from the moist trail his mouth had made.

“My God.” His throat was so thick he could barely speak. She raised her hands instinctively to cover herself from his gaze. Hugh caught them and shook his head emphatically. “Oh no, darling, fair is fair.” He gawked like a schoolboy at the beautiful sight before him while his mind raged; his own private parliament engaged in a critical debate: Naked? Not naked? Naked? Not naked—

She turned her head to the side, the taut column of her throat flushed.

“Daphne.”

But she wouldn’t turn.

He circled her, enjoying the view from all angles. Like every good governing body, his brain reached a compromise: leave her chemise and stockings—an erotic package to unwrap later at his leisure.

He smiled at his decision and buried his nose in her hair and inhaled before asking, “Don’t you like me looking at you?”

Receiving no response, he stopped behind her and pressed himself against the whisper-thin muslin of her chemise.

“You can feel how much you excite me, can you not?” he said, nuzzling her thick hair as his hands explored her from throat to hips, all the while stroking his erection against the sweet curve of her back. She didn’t speak, but he felt her nod slightly.

His hand moved lower, grazing her mound with his palm while his other arm formed a rigid band around her slim waist. He felt the answering pressure of her buttocks pressed against his thighs, firm and round through the thin muslin.

Hugh laughed softly as she moved against him, provoking his hardness, teasing him until it hurt.

“That is a sweet torture, my love, but you move far too quickly and I like to wait for my pleasure.” He scooped her into his arms and laid her out on the bed. His eye roamed her body as he straddled her and pressed his erection into the crease between her thighs, stroking against her silky skin as he bent his head to savage her mouth. She responded with equal ardor, pressing herself against him while her hands explored his body, kneading the muscles of his back on the way to his buttocks, which she caressed and teased over and over with a firm, forceful touch.

A distant part of his mind reminded him that although Daphne had children—and had apparently done a damned fine job of memorizing the racier bits of Fanny Hill—she’d never consciously engaged in the sexual act. He was dangerously aroused by the feel of her hands on him and he needed to slow down.

She made a small, disgruntled sound as he moved out of her grasp, her lips clinging to his as he pulled away. He smiled at her irritable moue and gently pushed her back onto the bed, propping himself up on his elbow beside her.

Her lids were heavy and low, her eyes mere crescents of blue. Hugh smiled at what looked very much like sexual frustration. Good. As long as she wanted more, he wouldn’t be overwhelming her.

Her chemise had bunched up behind her, the fabric pulled so tight over her chest and hips it fit her sleek form like a rosy second skin. He circled her nipples through the thin fabric, brushing over her again and again with his palm, only gradually allowing his hand to drift from her breasts toward the swell of her stomach, his finger dipping into the dimple of her navel. Daphne made a sound suspiciously like a laugh.

“Ah, you are ticklish here.” He tucked away that information for future exploration and took her lobe into his mouth while his hand worked from her breasts to her stomach, stopping only when he felt the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. He circled his hand over her, stroking her pelvis from side to side until her hips pressed against his palm on the next sweep over her sex.

Hugh smiled at the familiar gesture of need and cupped her in his hand before dipping a finger between her swollen lips. She reacted with a convulsive thrust and he probed deeper, working her with a gentle but persistent rhythm, each stroke a little deeper, a little harder. She swelled around him and her hot wetness told him when she could take more. A second finger joined the first and her hips responded eagerly, thrusting in time to the motion of his hand.

“God, you’re so wet. So sweet and tight,” he whispered, the words causing her body to shake.

Hugh felt as though he’d barely begun when she contracted, her hips bucking hard, as if she couldn’t get him deep enough. He watched her face as the first wave of pleasure hit her, her eyes squeezed shut to contain the sensation within herself. She shook her head back and forth as the waves washed over her, her skin sheened with sweat and as luminescent as a pearl.

Hugh gently stroked her quivering stomach in the aftermath and she opened her eyes.

“Hello, Daphne.” Her already flushed cheeks darkened. “I need to be inside you before I go mad.” He ran a string of kisses down her throat and smiled into her neck when he heard the two words he wanted.

“Yes, please.” Her thighs spread wider in silent invitation.

Hugh groaned. “I want to feel your skin beneath me. Lift a little so that I might remove your chemise.” Hugh left her stockings on, the sight of them against her flushed, spread thighs almost bringing him to climax as he lowered himself over her.