be up to your partner to distract you.” Duldon came to stand behind her and she could feel the heat of his thighs through the back of her skirt. A small tendril of excitement sprang from even the slightest brushing touch. Yes, she could see how distraction might work.
She did not answer, her entire focus on the couple in the next room. Up until this point it had been mostly cuddles and kisses. Naked cuddles and kisses, but still cuddles and kisses. It had all been very sweet and almost as romantic as erotic, if that were possible. Now, however, Mrs. Binkshaw moved to position herself by bending over the bed in a way reminiscent of how the woman, Julianna, had bent over the library desk at the Evanstons’ ball. She did not stand straight on to the peephole, but rather positioned her hips at a slightest angle away. Bliss caught a hint of the pink flesh glistening between her legs but her gaze swiftly turned to Mr. Binkshaw, who had come to stand to the side of his wife. He had not stripped completely down, still having his breeches on, below his bare chest and belly. His eyes became more heated as he stared down at his wife’s behind. Reaching out he placed a hand on each of buttocks and began to massage and squeeze. His wife’s hips eased farther back, seeking further contact. His fingers worked the lightly muscled cheeks, massaging and separating, his entire focus caught by the pink flesh beckoning him.
Bliss found herself swallowing as he kneaded the soft skin, his fingers leaving pink marks that faded almost as quickly as they arrived. She pressed her knees together as she imagined the sensation of having somebody squeeze her like that, look at her like that. The heat of Duldon behind her was almost too much. She stared straight ahead, concentrated. There could be no mistaking where Mr. Binkshaw’s eyes were focused. Nobody had ever seen Bliss there since Nurse changed her nappies. What would it feel like to have a man touch her there, stroke her there? What did it look like? What did she look like? Bliss realized she had only the faintest idea and found herself wishing that Mrs. Binkshaw would shift so that she could get a better look. Did she glisten like that? Did her flesh look as if it begged to be touched, examined? Would Duldon look between her legs with such desire, such fascination?
Had she really just thought that?
An image came to her mind of Duldon’s face enrapt, of him staring down at shadowed flesh, pale in the moonlight. She could see him standing there, his buttocks firm and hollowed on the side, see the strain as he surged forward, see…
She closed her eyes against the image and then opened them again, staring at the Binkshaws. Such thoughts were forbidden. Even here, even when she was exploring her own desires, she refused let her mind wander there.
Bliss knew color was rising in her face and pressed it more determinedly against the peephole, her eyes fixed on Mr. Binkshaw’s fingers as they glided and moved. Mrs. Binkshaw was shifting and squirming, her face tight, her mouth slightly open. Bliss wished that she could hear what was happening. Were those moans or sighs escaping the parted lips? She knew her own lips had parted, her body alight with imagined sensation—and real sensation as well; there was no denying what effect watching was having on her.
She felt breathless and achy and needy, her body longing for…Her own heart sped and beat harder, her breaths increasing in intensity. When Mr. Binkshaw parted the cheeks of his wife’s behind and his thumbs moved into the deep crevasse between, Bliss found herself squirming and shifting. The back of her legs bumped into Duldon and she froze. She could feel the warmth and strength of his body surrounding her, the hardness and thrust of his thighs. She should move away, but found herself powerless to do so. The desire to press back into him was almost overwhelming, dizzying. Biting down hard on her lower lip, she tried to control the
She did not answer, her entire focus on the couple in the next room. Up until this point it had been mostly cuddles and kisses. Naked cuddles and kisses, but still cuddles and kisses. It had all been very sweet and almost as romantic as erotic, if that were possible. Now, however, Mrs. Binkshaw moved to position herself by bending over the bed in a way reminiscent of how the woman, Julianna, had bent over the library desk at the Evanstons’ ball. She did not stand straight on to the peephole, but rather positioned her hips at a slightest angle away. Bliss caught a hint of the pink flesh glistening between her legs but her gaze swiftly turned to Mr. Binkshaw, who had come to stand to the side of his wife. He had not stripped completely down, still having his breeches on, below his bare chest and belly. His eyes became more heated as he stared down at his wife’s behind. Reaching out he placed a hand on each of buttocks and began to massage and squeeze. His wife’s hips eased farther back, seeking further contact. His fingers worked the lightly muscled cheeks, massaging and separating, his entire focus caught by the pink flesh beckoning him.
Bliss found herself swallowing as he kneaded the soft skin, his fingers leaving pink marks that faded almost as quickly as they arrived. She pressed her knees together as she imagined the sensation of having somebody squeeze her like that, look at her like that. The heat of Duldon behind her was almost too much. She stared straight ahead, concentrated. There could be no mistaking where Mr. Binkshaw’s eyes were focused. Nobody had ever seen Bliss there since Nurse changed her nappies. What would it feel like to have a man touch her there, stroke her there? What did it look like? What did she look like? Bliss realized she had only the faintest idea and found herself wishing that Mrs. Binkshaw would shift so that she could get a better look. Did she glisten like that? Did her flesh look as if it begged to be touched, examined? Would Duldon look between her legs with such desire, such fascination?
Had she really just thought that?
An image came to her mind of Duldon’s face enrapt, of him staring down at shadowed flesh, pale in the moonlight. She could see him standing there, his buttocks firm and hollowed on the side, see the strain as he surged forward, see…
She closed her eyes against the image and then opened them again, staring at the Binkshaws. Such thoughts were forbidden. Even here, even when she was exploring her own desires, she refused let her mind wander there.
Bliss knew color was rising in her face and pressed it more determinedly against the peephole, her eyes fixed on Mr. Binkshaw’s fingers as they glided and moved. Mrs. Binkshaw was shifting and squirming, her face tight, her mouth slightly open. Bliss wished that she could hear what was happening. Were those moans or sighs escaping the parted lips? She knew her own lips had parted, her body alight with imagined sensation—and real sensation as well; there was no denying what effect watching was having on her.
She felt breathless and achy and needy, her body longing for…Her own heart sped and beat harder, her breaths increasing in intensity. When Mr. Binkshaw parted the cheeks of his wife’s behind and his thumbs moved into the deep crevasse between, Bliss found herself squirming and shifting. The back of her legs bumped into Duldon and she froze. She could feel the warmth and strength of his body surrounding her, the hardness and thrust of his thighs. She should move away, but found herself powerless to do so. The desire to press back into him was almost overwhelming, dizzying. Biting down hard on her lower lip, she tried to control the
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