Seymour’s hand, his lips just about grazing it, before shaking Edward Seymour’s hand firmly. The way her mother simpered, it was obvious which of her daughters was intended for their neighbour, as she introduced a giggling, blushing Lucy and Elijah once more air-kissed Susanna’s sister’s hand.
Elizabeth threw Susanna a cool, impatient look, gesturing angrily behind their guest’s back, and she stepped forward on unsteady legs. Elijah turned her way, amusement still lighting those startling eyes as though he’d read every one of her impure thoughts about his fine physique and known exactly on which area of his anatomy her gaze lingered.
She tripped over the edge of the rug as she walked forward and his hand instantly shot out and steadied her, catching her forearm with long, delicate fingers, the heat of which seemed to scorch her. She blushed as hard as her sister, disentangled herself demurely, and bent her head, presenting her hand and avoiding his gaze. His lips came down to make deliberate contact with her knuckles, and she stifled a gasp, a little throb of something between her legs startling her. She stepped back, keeping her head bent as though in subservience, not daring to make eye contact.
They went through to the dining room for lunch, and Susanna found herself seated opposite Mr Storm. She stared down at her plate while she tried to order her scattered thoughts. Certainly she had noticed men’s bodies before, but none had ever been quite so direct and obvious as Elijah Storm. He seemed to wear his very sexuality on the outside for anyone to see. Even her father was clearly intimidated by the man’s virile masculinity, his forceful presence in the room and unique looks.
Susanna had only seen one man naked before, and that was one of their servants, Cuthbert, who she’d discovered bathing in the river to the east of the lodge. Wandering in the woods on a summer day, she had heard splashing and caught flashes of sun-kissed skin through gaps in tree branches. Startled, embarrassed, she had noticed a pile of clothing on the ground and stopped, looking at the underwear on top. She’d cast around before she had delicately fingered the rough, woollen material, imagining Cuthbert, a tall, strapping lad of 19, wearing it. Then, not quite ashamed yet at her forthrightness, she had deliberately ducked behind a tree and spied on him.
He was tanned all over apart from his milk-white backside. Her gaze lingered on the lean cheeks of his bottom, caught a glimpse of the sac swinging between his legs before he pushed off, and started to swim. As he spread his legs, she saw cock and balls dangling in the water, and she clutched at the tree trunk, gaze rooted in fascination.
Cuthbert swam for some minutes, then he stood upright and waded briskly out of the river. Susanna’s jaw dropped open. The equipment between his legs was heavy, his cock turgid, half-hard and thick, surrounded by a dense, dark bush. His balls were big, furry, swinging enthusiastically as he climbed from the water.
Susanna swallowed, crept away through the trees as quietly as she could. She made it back to the house and up to her room with her heart pounding. Once locked in her bedchamber, she paced. She felt too hot. Her dress constricted her bosom, her stockings squeezed her thighs.
She stripped quickly. Looking down, she saw her nipples were rigid against her chemise. She pulled the straps down, rubbed a fingertip lightly over one peak and gasped at the answering sensation that shot down her stomach to her groin. God in heaven, what was happening to her? She throbbed between her legs, an ache of need she could not identify. Peeling down her linen drawers, she perched on the edge of the bed and spread her thighs, looking in the glass. She was swollen, glistening between her distended lips. She touched the bud at the apex of her sex, felt how hard it was, and then rubbed it up and down, feeling wetness seeping from her core.
She knew men
Elizabeth threw Susanna a cool, impatient look, gesturing angrily behind their guest’s back, and she stepped forward on unsteady legs. Elijah turned her way, amusement still lighting those startling eyes as though he’d read every one of her impure thoughts about his fine physique and known exactly on which area of his anatomy her gaze lingered.
She tripped over the edge of the rug as she walked forward and his hand instantly shot out and steadied her, catching her forearm with long, delicate fingers, the heat of which seemed to scorch her. She blushed as hard as her sister, disentangled herself demurely, and bent her head, presenting her hand and avoiding his gaze. His lips came down to make deliberate contact with her knuckles, and she stifled a gasp, a little throb of something between her legs startling her. She stepped back, keeping her head bent as though in subservience, not daring to make eye contact.
They went through to the dining room for lunch, and Susanna found herself seated opposite Mr Storm. She stared down at her plate while she tried to order her scattered thoughts. Certainly she had noticed men’s bodies before, but none had ever been quite so direct and obvious as Elijah Storm. He seemed to wear his very sexuality on the outside for anyone to see. Even her father was clearly intimidated by the man’s virile masculinity, his forceful presence in the room and unique looks.
Susanna had only seen one man naked before, and that was one of their servants, Cuthbert, who she’d discovered bathing in the river to the east of the lodge. Wandering in the woods on a summer day, she had heard splashing and caught flashes of sun-kissed skin through gaps in tree branches. Startled, embarrassed, she had noticed a pile of clothing on the ground and stopped, looking at the underwear on top. She’d cast around before she had delicately fingered the rough, woollen material, imagining Cuthbert, a tall, strapping lad of 19, wearing it. Then, not quite ashamed yet at her forthrightness, she had deliberately ducked behind a tree and spied on him.
He was tanned all over apart from his milk-white backside. Her gaze lingered on the lean cheeks of his bottom, caught a glimpse of the sac swinging between his legs before he pushed off, and started to swim. As he spread his legs, she saw cock and balls dangling in the water, and she clutched at the tree trunk, gaze rooted in fascination.
Cuthbert swam for some minutes, then he stood upright and waded briskly out of the river. Susanna’s jaw dropped open. The equipment between his legs was heavy, his cock turgid, half-hard and thick, surrounded by a dense, dark bush. His balls were big, furry, swinging enthusiastically as he climbed from the water.
Susanna swallowed, crept away through the trees as quietly as she could. She made it back to the house and up to her room with her heart pounding. Once locked in her bedchamber, she paced. She felt too hot. Her dress constricted her bosom, her stockings squeezed her thighs.
She stripped quickly. Looking down, she saw her nipples were rigid against her chemise. She pulled the straps down, rubbed a fingertip lightly over one peak and gasped at the answering sensation that shot down her stomach to her groin. God in heaven, what was happening to her? She throbbed between her legs, an ache of need she could not identify. Peeling down her linen drawers, she perched on the edge of the bed and spread her thighs, looking in the glass. She was swollen, glistening between her distended lips. She touched the bud at the apex of her sex, felt how hard it was, and then rubbed it up and down, feeling wetness seeping from her core.
She knew men
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