would surely burn up with heat.
"I am afraid," he said at last, combing his fingers through her loose hair and drawing her head downward once again so that his lips were touching hers, "that my leg wound makes me less mobile than I would wish to be at this moment. You are going to have to come on top of me and do most of the work. Stand up for a moment."
When she did so he turned back the covers so that she could join him on the bed. Her knees almost betrayed her then. She almost forgot to breathe. She set one knee on the bed, and he grasped the hem of her shift with both hands. She lifted her arms as he peeled it off and sent it to join their other garments on the floor.
She was startlingly aware of the candle burning on the table beside the bed.
He was gazing at her with narrowed gaze and pursed lips.
"In fairness to other women," he said, "there ought to be some imperfection in your person. But, if there is, I fail to see it. Come."
She was twenty-two years old. She was not entirely ignorant of what happened. But he would surely expect experience and skill. She had told him once, though, that she was the one who catered to the taste for demure innocence.
"You must instruct me," she told him. "I am new to this, remember?"
He laughed softly. "Come astride me," he said, "and I will give you a lesson in love-though I daresay I will end up as more pupil than teacher."
She blessed his bandaged thigh at that moment. Having to move across him and settle herself above him in such a way that she did not jolt him or inadvertently touch the wound somehow alleviated the awkwardness and intense embarrassment she might otherwise have felt at being above him. She could feel his body heat beneath her spread thighs.
A weakness that was almost painful spiraled up inside her until even her throat ached. She set her hands on his shoulders and leaned over him, her eyes on his.
He took over at that point, cupping one hand behind her head and kissing her openmouthed again, his tongue plundering her mouth so that she was soon consumed by needs her body had never before dreamed of.
He touched every inch of her over the next several minutes-with his hands, his palms, his fingers, his fingertips, his thumbs, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He touched her in ways she had not known there were ways. He suckled her breasts, moistened her nipples with his tongue, nipped them lightly with his teeth until they were hardened and almost unbearably sensitive. He set one hand flat over her throbbing private place, almost startling her into madness, and then probed the folds, exploring, caressing, teasing, scratching lightly-and sliding one finger and then two slowly up inside her. She was wet there, she realized, as muscles she had not known she possessed clenched hard about him.
She was not idle while he gave her an education in foreplay. Her hands roamed over him too, marveling at the solid maleness of him and by very instinct knowing where to pause and caress. After he had suckled her breasts she lowered her head and licked one of his male nipples, startling a gasp and an exclamation from him. She raised her head and smiled into his eyes.
"Does that feel good?"
"Witch!" he said.
She moved her mouth to the other one.
"If you do not mount me soon," he said at last, "I am going to disgrace myself."
But he did not wait for her to take the initiative. He set his hands on her hips and brought her down until she could feel him hard against her entrance, which was pulsing and aching with raw need. And then he pressed down firmly on her hips and she felt herself being penetrated and stretched until there was increasing discomfort, a sharp pain, and then no more as he came deeper than she could ever have imagined.
For a few moments her mind could not grasp at any coherent thought. There was only the pure physical shock of lost innocence. Her teeth clamped onto her lower lip at the same moment as she heard his muffled exclamation.
"Deuce take it . .
"I am afraid," he said at last, combing his fingers through her loose hair and drawing her head downward once again so that his lips were touching hers, "that my leg wound makes me less mobile than I would wish to be at this moment. You are going to have to come on top of me and do most of the work. Stand up for a moment."
When she did so he turned back the covers so that she could join him on the bed. Her knees almost betrayed her then. She almost forgot to breathe. She set one knee on the bed, and he grasped the hem of her shift with both hands. She lifted her arms as he peeled it off and sent it to join their other garments on the floor.
She was startlingly aware of the candle burning on the table beside the bed.
He was gazing at her with narrowed gaze and pursed lips.
"In fairness to other women," he said, "there ought to be some imperfection in your person. But, if there is, I fail to see it. Come."
She was twenty-two years old. She was not entirely ignorant of what happened. But he would surely expect experience and skill. She had told him once, though, that she was the one who catered to the taste for demure innocence.
"You must instruct me," she told him. "I am new to this, remember?"
He laughed softly. "Come astride me," he said, "and I will give you a lesson in love-though I daresay I will end up as more pupil than teacher."
She blessed his bandaged thigh at that moment. Having to move across him and settle herself above him in such a way that she did not jolt him or inadvertently touch the wound somehow alleviated the awkwardness and intense embarrassment she might otherwise have felt at being above him. She could feel his body heat beneath her spread thighs.
A weakness that was almost painful spiraled up inside her until even her throat ached. She set her hands on his shoulders and leaned over him, her eyes on his.
He took over at that point, cupping one hand behind her head and kissing her openmouthed again, his tongue plundering her mouth so that she was soon consumed by needs her body had never before dreamed of.
He touched every inch of her over the next several minutes-with his hands, his palms, his fingers, his fingertips, his thumbs, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He touched her in ways she had not known there were ways. He suckled her breasts, moistened her nipples with his tongue, nipped them lightly with his teeth until they were hardened and almost unbearably sensitive. He set one hand flat over her throbbing private place, almost startling her into madness, and then probed the folds, exploring, caressing, teasing, scratching lightly-and sliding one finger and then two slowly up inside her. She was wet there, she realized, as muscles she had not known she possessed clenched hard about him.
She was not idle while he gave her an education in foreplay. Her hands roamed over him too, marveling at the solid maleness of him and by very instinct knowing where to pause and caress. After he had suckled her breasts she lowered her head and licked one of his male nipples, startling a gasp and an exclamation from him. She raised her head and smiled into his eyes.
"Does that feel good?"
"Witch!" he said.
She moved her mouth to the other one.
"If you do not mount me soon," he said at last, "I am going to disgrace myself."
But he did not wait for her to take the initiative. He set his hands on her hips and brought her down until she could feel him hard against her entrance, which was pulsing and aching with raw need. And then he pressed down firmly on her hips and she felt herself being penetrated and stretched until there was increasing discomfort, a sharp pain, and then no more as he came deeper than she could ever have imagined.
For a few moments her mind could not grasp at any coherent thought. There was only the pure physical shock of lost innocence. Her teeth clamped onto her lower lip at the same moment as she heard his muffled exclamation.
"Deuce take it . .
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