not for a second. "I hope it wasn't expensive," he
muttered, as he caught the collar with his fingers and tore. A button pinged against the
brass bedstead.
Above the corset, her breasts were plump and round. Inviting him to kiss, to taste,
to bite. "Damn it, I can't do a thing with one hand."
"Let me," she gasped as he fastened his mouth over one shadowy nipple, wetting
the fine lawn that barely concealed it.
He feasted, while she untangled the laces confining her lovely body, and then he
helped her pull the corset away, wriggle out of skirt and petticoat. By the time she lay
under him, clad only in one layer of thin linen, they were both panting, both desperate.
Awkward, clumsy with only his right hand, he stroked her body, her hip, the lean,
strong length of her thigh. Her body was as lithe and agile as he remembered it, but no
longer boyish. Her bottom was round and full, and he lingered there, feeling its shape,
molding the delicate fabric of her drawers against it. When she moved impatiently, he let
his fingers stray into the cleft and follow it to moist heat, finding no barrier here to his
touch. She was wet and ready for him, as he'd known she would be. He dipped one finger
into her.
"No...no not that way. I want..." She writhed under him, her legs tangling with
his, her hips upthrust. "Oh, please...please... please ...."
Tony awkwardly stripped his britches away, kicked them off his feet. Rolling
back, he reared up on his hands, ignoring the sharp pain when he put weight on the left.
Her legs encircled him, pulled him down.
He slipped inside her, and when she clenched her legs, he broke through a fragile
membrane and buried himself deep. A small faint voice in his mind told him to stop, but he
could not. She was bucking, demanding, and he met her demands with his own.
A wild, abandoned eternity later, he felt her convulse around him. The
contractions forced his own explosion. And then he collapsed atop her, both of them
gasping for breath, bodies slippery with sweat.
After a while, their breathing slowed. He kissed her, rolled away. She was so
small, so delicate, compared to his own stocky frame. Carefully positioning himself on his
left side, he pulled her against him.
Her eyes were closed. He wanted them open, wanted to read her thoughts.
"Lulu?"
She only shook her head.
"Lulu, don't regret what happened. Please. It was right. Good." With one finger, he
stroked her cheek. "I think it was meant to happen, sooner or later."
"You're probably right," she whispered. Her eyes opened and she looked at him. "I
just hadn't expected...hadn't planned for it to happen tonight." Rolling away from him, she
pushed herself upright. "I'm a mess. I must wash." She walked to the screen in the
corner.
He saw a bright stain of blood on the soft linen of her drawers.
Simultaneously moved and appalled, he buried his face in the pillow. She was a
virgin--had been a virgin. He should have known. She was, despite her radical ideas, a
lady.
Lulu stripped and washed, scrubbing between her legs until the cloth came clean.
She seemed incapable of coherent thought. Her body still ruled, demanding to be held and
soothed and loved. She left the soiled drawers on the floor and dropped the camisole
beside them. Her robe, fortunately, hung across the screen. She didn't think she could go
back out there naked.
And why not? There should be no false modesty between you. This is Tao Ni,
the boy you loved. You never forgot him, did you?
If only it hadn't felt so right, having his hands on her, his body coupled with hers.
If only she could stop thinking of how it would be with him, now the terrible urgency was
gone, and they could make slow, languorous, delicious love. Discovering each other,
learning what aroused, what pleased.
So tempting. So damned tempting.
She stepped out from behind the screen and looked across at him. He was on his belly,
his face buried in the pillow. He's sorry for what we did , was the first thought that
came to
muttered, as he caught the collar with his fingers and tore. A button pinged against the
brass bedstead.
Above the corset, her breasts were plump and round. Inviting him to kiss, to taste,
to bite. "Damn it, I can't do a thing with one hand."
"Let me," she gasped as he fastened his mouth over one shadowy nipple, wetting
the fine lawn that barely concealed it.
He feasted, while she untangled the laces confining her lovely body, and then he
helped her pull the corset away, wriggle out of skirt and petticoat. By the time she lay
under him, clad only in one layer of thin linen, they were both panting, both desperate.
Awkward, clumsy with only his right hand, he stroked her body, her hip, the lean,
strong length of her thigh. Her body was as lithe and agile as he remembered it, but no
longer boyish. Her bottom was round and full, and he lingered there, feeling its shape,
molding the delicate fabric of her drawers against it. When she moved impatiently, he let
his fingers stray into the cleft and follow it to moist heat, finding no barrier here to his
touch. She was wet and ready for him, as he'd known she would be. He dipped one finger
into her.
"No...no not that way. I want..." She writhed under him, her legs tangling with
his, her hips upthrust. "Oh, please...please... please ...."
Tony awkwardly stripped his britches away, kicked them off his feet. Rolling
back, he reared up on his hands, ignoring the sharp pain when he put weight on the left.
Her legs encircled him, pulled him down.
He slipped inside her, and when she clenched her legs, he broke through a fragile
membrane and buried himself deep. A small faint voice in his mind told him to stop, but he
could not. She was bucking, demanding, and he met her demands with his own.
A wild, abandoned eternity later, he felt her convulse around him. The
contractions forced his own explosion. And then he collapsed atop her, both of them
gasping for breath, bodies slippery with sweat.
After a while, their breathing slowed. He kissed her, rolled away. She was so
small, so delicate, compared to his own stocky frame. Carefully positioning himself on his
left side, he pulled her against him.
Her eyes were closed. He wanted them open, wanted to read her thoughts.
"Lulu?"
She only shook her head.
"Lulu, don't regret what happened. Please. It was right. Good." With one finger, he
stroked her cheek. "I think it was meant to happen, sooner or later."
"You're probably right," she whispered. Her eyes opened and she looked at him. "I
just hadn't expected...hadn't planned for it to happen tonight." Rolling away from him, she
pushed herself upright. "I'm a mess. I must wash." She walked to the screen in the
corner.
He saw a bright stain of blood on the soft linen of her drawers.
Simultaneously moved and appalled, he buried his face in the pillow. She was a
virgin--had been a virgin. He should have known. She was, despite her radical ideas, a
lady.
Lulu stripped and washed, scrubbing between her legs until the cloth came clean.
She seemed incapable of coherent thought. Her body still ruled, demanding to be held and
soothed and loved. She left the soiled drawers on the floor and dropped the camisole
beside them. Her robe, fortunately, hung across the screen. She didn't think she could go
back out there naked.
And why not? There should be no false modesty between you. This is Tao Ni,
the boy you loved. You never forgot him, did you?
If only it hadn't felt so right, having his hands on her, his body coupled with hers.
If only she could stop thinking of how it would be with him, now the terrible urgency was
gone, and they could make slow, languorous, delicious love. Discovering each other,
learning what aroused, what pleased.
So tempting. So damned tempting.
She stepped out from behind the screen and looked across at him. He was on his belly,
his face buried in the pillow. He's sorry for what we did , was the first thought that
came to
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