was thin silk. He probably knew, too, that she hadn’t worn a corset. It was difficult to walk while wearing a proper corset, even without the prospect of meeting Clare.
Pink heat flared in her ears and cheeks as Gloria traced her own breasts through the fabric. She stole a look at Clare, and her eyes widened as she discovered his teeth clenched together and his nose flaring with short, harsh breaths. Colour had formed along his cheekbones, and his half-open eyes sparkled beneath the lids.
“Open it,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, but just as low.
Gloria held her breath and listened to the sound of him, lying so still in the bed. Clare’s hands were clenched tightly into the sheet that covered him. If not for his breathing, silence would have echoed in the brightly lit room. Exquisitely aware that he would do nothing to stop her if she turned and left the room instead, Gloria slowly gripped the front panels of her bodice and pulled it apart, her eyes on Clare.
He didn’t even pretend to meet her gaze. His chin lowered and his eyes brightened. The colour in his cheeks changed to a deeper red.
What would he think of the black silk she wore? Gloria could detect no censure or disapproval, only an animalistic expression on Clare’s face.
Gloria was well aware that most men would be surprised by her chemise. Her mother had vociferously disapproved of the expensive garments when she had discovered Abigail and Gloria with the private seamstress. Abigail had simply smiled and continued on discussing the merits of red silk for a robe and vivid turquoise and dark purple laced with white ribbon for corsets and chemises, unperturbed by any idea that Meriden might disapprove. Gloria had determinedly ordered only black—if for no other reason than the year of mourning which had only just begun—but she had secretly envied Abigail’s confident demeanour.
From the beginning, Gloria had loved the fine garments against her skin. Now she was doubly glad she’d fallen in with her sister’s scheme. Clare’s mouth opened a bit, so she pulled her arms from the sleeves and let the bodice fall behind her, well aware she’d done more and less than he’d asked. Her breasts felt tighter, and the peaks he’d sucked were hard and poked through the screening fabric.
She touched the black ribbon that held the silk bound over her breasts. It laced both above and below her breasts, and pulling the bow would completely reveal what was now partially obscured by the translucent black fabric.
Gloria gasped, realising suddenly what she was doing, what she was going to do. Her eyes flew from her fingers to his face, but all tenderness had left his expression. He grunted, a sound she could only interpret as encouragement.
Obligingly, all conscious thought subsumed beneath the intense expression on Clare’s face, Gloria tugged the ribbon loose. The silk chemise slid down until the top hem caught on her nipples. The swish of the silk rang in her ears until he groaned, a desperate sound that accelerated Gloria’s heartbeat until it thumped hard inside her. She whimpered. The slight vibration of her rib cage caused the silk to graze her aching nipples and fall forgotten around her waist.
Heat spread from her ears to her cheeks and lower. Gloria couldn’t bear the embarrassment. She lifted her hands to cover herself—
His voice was harsh and loud in the stillness. “Don’t hide them. You’re so lovely, I’d love to have you brazen and bare for me all the time. Cup them, squeeze them for me, as if my hands were touching you. Show me how to pleasure you.”
An unfamiliar noise came from Gloria’s throat, and a hot flash of aching pleasure shot through her abdomen and womb even as her hands obediently shifted and cupped the firm mounds. She didn’t look down, but kept her eyes on Clare as she squeezed the flesh in her fingers, pushing them together.
“Pinch your nipples,” he demanded, finally shifting in the bed. Gloria’s
Pink heat flared in her ears and cheeks as Gloria traced her own breasts through the fabric. She stole a look at Clare, and her eyes widened as she discovered his teeth clenched together and his nose flaring with short, harsh breaths. Colour had formed along his cheekbones, and his half-open eyes sparkled beneath the lids.
“Open it,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, but just as low.
Gloria held her breath and listened to the sound of him, lying so still in the bed. Clare’s hands were clenched tightly into the sheet that covered him. If not for his breathing, silence would have echoed in the brightly lit room. Exquisitely aware that he would do nothing to stop her if she turned and left the room instead, Gloria slowly gripped the front panels of her bodice and pulled it apart, her eyes on Clare.
He didn’t even pretend to meet her gaze. His chin lowered and his eyes brightened. The colour in his cheeks changed to a deeper red.
What would he think of the black silk she wore? Gloria could detect no censure or disapproval, only an animalistic expression on Clare’s face.
Gloria was well aware that most men would be surprised by her chemise. Her mother had vociferously disapproved of the expensive garments when she had discovered Abigail and Gloria with the private seamstress. Abigail had simply smiled and continued on discussing the merits of red silk for a robe and vivid turquoise and dark purple laced with white ribbon for corsets and chemises, unperturbed by any idea that Meriden might disapprove. Gloria had determinedly ordered only black—if for no other reason than the year of mourning which had only just begun—but she had secretly envied Abigail’s confident demeanour.
From the beginning, Gloria had loved the fine garments against her skin. Now she was doubly glad she’d fallen in with her sister’s scheme. Clare’s mouth opened a bit, so she pulled her arms from the sleeves and let the bodice fall behind her, well aware she’d done more and less than he’d asked. Her breasts felt tighter, and the peaks he’d sucked were hard and poked through the screening fabric.
She touched the black ribbon that held the silk bound over her breasts. It laced both above and below her breasts, and pulling the bow would completely reveal what was now partially obscured by the translucent black fabric.
Gloria gasped, realising suddenly what she was doing, what she was going to do. Her eyes flew from her fingers to his face, but all tenderness had left his expression. He grunted, a sound she could only interpret as encouragement.
Obligingly, all conscious thought subsumed beneath the intense expression on Clare’s face, Gloria tugged the ribbon loose. The silk chemise slid down until the top hem caught on her nipples. The swish of the silk rang in her ears until he groaned, a desperate sound that accelerated Gloria’s heartbeat until it thumped hard inside her. She whimpered. The slight vibration of her rib cage caused the silk to graze her aching nipples and fall forgotten around her waist.
Heat spread from her ears to her cheeks and lower. Gloria couldn’t bear the embarrassment. She lifted her hands to cover herself—
His voice was harsh and loud in the stillness. “Don’t hide them. You’re so lovely, I’d love to have you brazen and bare for me all the time. Cup them, squeeze them for me, as if my hands were touching you. Show me how to pleasure you.”
An unfamiliar noise came from Gloria’s throat, and a hot flash of aching pleasure shot through her abdomen and womb even as her hands obediently shifted and cupped the firm mounds. She didn’t look down, but kept her eyes on Clare as she squeezed the flesh in her fingers, pushing them together.
“Pinch your nipples,” he demanded, finally shifting in the bed. Gloria’s
Similar Books
