compare. Watching him across the dining table, hearing his laughter, feeling his heated admiration follow her every move, she'd felt shattered. Not so that anyone might see. The hairline breaks and cracks were deep in her bones and they hurt; they threatened to stretch into one another, weaken her structure. Spread to her heart. It was a sickness, she decided. Perhaps he brought it back with him from his travels in the jungle. In which case, they might not have long to live. Another reason to seize the night.
He was no longer smiling playfully, no longer teasing. With one lean, sensual hand he swept his dark, wavy hair back from his brow and regarded her steadily, intensely. His mouth was hard, but beautifully carved, his jaw strong. Already she thought about kissing him again.
She'd imagined a few hours in his company would be enough to rid her of that ridiculous adolescent fantasy about the Prince of Charming. Usually, only a short amount of time alone with a man was more than adequate to remove any mystique. Only the Earl had held her interest for longer and even her relationship with him had become more profession and habit than pleasure. On honest days she could admit that to herself.
But a few hours with Brandon had not been sufficient to relieve her curiosity.
"Let's spend all night together," he murmured, looking deep into her eyes.
"Very well," she said finally, "but this time the terms are mine."
His nostrils flared, cheeks hollowed as he sucked in a deep breath.
"You'll do exactly as I say," she added.
He hadn't blinked. She held him in her gaze and he held her. The grip was equally strong on both sides. Seldom had she met a man so well matched with her.
At last he dipped his head and conceded, "At your command, Mrs. Kent."
She lifted the layers of skirt and petticoat, bunching it over her thighs. "You may touch me. I suppose you want to feel the barber's work again." It had, in fact, been on her mind through much of dinner, as if he already ran his fingers over her mound, caressed and petted her under his grandmother's polished table.
His hand drifted over her stockings and garters. She parted her legs just half an inch as he neared his wicked goal with those brazen fingertips. The moist heat in her loins multiplied quickly. "Will you allow me to suckle your delicious bubbies, Mrs. Kent?" he whispered.
She pretended to consider his request and then raised her hands to her collar, carefully unhooking the jet brooch and unbuttoning the front of her bodice. Brandon ran his fingertip up and down the slit in her drawers without entering through it to touch her flesh. She felt her sensitive core expanding with need.
"Thank you, Mrs. Kent," he said softly, his gaze on the upper curves of her bosom as it was gradually revealed a little more with every pop of a button.
The grinding need he'd begun with his teasing caress between her thighs, now reached up into her belly and higher. It even tightened her throat so that her breath hurt. He made her open all the buttons until her gown gaped open to the waist. She knew her nipples, two dark brown half circles, would be visible through the lace of her chemise, the erect peaks just rubbing uncomfortably on the edge of her binding corset. Tonight she wore one that laced in the front.
"Untie it," he growled. "Just a few inches. Then pull down your chemise and cup those gorgeous titties in your hands."
"Mr. Wilder, I told you I am in charge tonight," she reminded him in a terse breath.
He cursed thickly and she took pity. Very slowly she loosened the ribbons of her corset, while he impatiently moved two fingers through the slit in her drawers and rubbed her roused pussy lips, almost frantically, until she gasped, arched her back. Now with trembling fingers she tugged on the ribbons and eased the lacy chemise down over her breasts. Brandon's fingers slipped between her wet labia and he grunted in approval.
"The hair has hardly grown back at all."
She'd kept it up,
He was no longer smiling playfully, no longer teasing. With one lean, sensual hand he swept his dark, wavy hair back from his brow and regarded her steadily, intensely. His mouth was hard, but beautifully carved, his jaw strong. Already she thought about kissing him again.
She'd imagined a few hours in his company would be enough to rid her of that ridiculous adolescent fantasy about the Prince of Charming. Usually, only a short amount of time alone with a man was more than adequate to remove any mystique. Only the Earl had held her interest for longer and even her relationship with him had become more profession and habit than pleasure. On honest days she could admit that to herself.
But a few hours with Brandon had not been sufficient to relieve her curiosity.
"Let's spend all night together," he murmured, looking deep into her eyes.
"Very well," she said finally, "but this time the terms are mine."
His nostrils flared, cheeks hollowed as he sucked in a deep breath.
"You'll do exactly as I say," she added.
He hadn't blinked. She held him in her gaze and he held her. The grip was equally strong on both sides. Seldom had she met a man so well matched with her.
At last he dipped his head and conceded, "At your command, Mrs. Kent."
She lifted the layers of skirt and petticoat, bunching it over her thighs. "You may touch me. I suppose you want to feel the barber's work again." It had, in fact, been on her mind through much of dinner, as if he already ran his fingers over her mound, caressed and petted her under his grandmother's polished table.
His hand drifted over her stockings and garters. She parted her legs just half an inch as he neared his wicked goal with those brazen fingertips. The moist heat in her loins multiplied quickly. "Will you allow me to suckle your delicious bubbies, Mrs. Kent?" he whispered.
She pretended to consider his request and then raised her hands to her collar, carefully unhooking the jet brooch and unbuttoning the front of her bodice. Brandon ran his fingertip up and down the slit in her drawers without entering through it to touch her flesh. She felt her sensitive core expanding with need.
"Thank you, Mrs. Kent," he said softly, his gaze on the upper curves of her bosom as it was gradually revealed a little more with every pop of a button.
The grinding need he'd begun with his teasing caress between her thighs, now reached up into her belly and higher. It even tightened her throat so that her breath hurt. He made her open all the buttons until her gown gaped open to the waist. She knew her nipples, two dark brown half circles, would be visible through the lace of her chemise, the erect peaks just rubbing uncomfortably on the edge of her binding corset. Tonight she wore one that laced in the front.
"Untie it," he growled. "Just a few inches. Then pull down your chemise and cup those gorgeous titties in your hands."
"Mr. Wilder, I told you I am in charge tonight," she reminded him in a terse breath.
He cursed thickly and she took pity. Very slowly she loosened the ribbons of her corset, while he impatiently moved two fingers through the slit in her drawers and rubbed her roused pussy lips, almost frantically, until she gasped, arched her back. Now with trembling fingers she tugged on the ribbons and eased the lacy chemise down over her breasts. Brandon's fingers slipped between her wet labia and he grunted in approval.
"The hair has hardly grown back at all."
She'd kept it up,
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