hem of her drawers and move up her bare thigh...
Her breath quickened, low moans reverberated from deep inside her, and her body reeled with newfound sensations. His hands, his lips, the tip of his tongue all ministering to her at once was nearly overwhelming... as if she were being drawn into a world of almost unbearable sensual pleasure. All she knew was, she did not want the buggy ride, or the glorious things Adam was doing, to ever end. But when it did, which to her dismay would be inevitable, she prayed she would no longer be a maiden lady. She was ready to dispense with that hallowed burden...
CHAPTER FIVE
It is a natural virtue incident to our sex to
be pitiful of those that are afflicted.
— Elizabeth to Spanish ambassador, De Feria , 1559
Morning light, and Priscilla felt more frustrated than she'd ever felt before. Adam had almost made her a woman, and all she'd wanted was for him to finish the job. But he'd pulled away when they were flesh to flesh, him primed to complete the deflowering, her in a state of ecstasy and desperate for him to bring to fruition the glorious feelings that had been building toward something she couldn't quite grasp, like a gathering of the most sensual of bodily pleasures. Whether Adam had withdrawn from guilt over the prospect of taking a maiden woman's virtue, or because the buggy bogged down and came to an abrupt halt, she wasn't sure, because he'd pulled back before the buggy bogged down. But once the buggy stopped, he'd shoved his male part back into his britches, while she hastily pulled her skirts down and drew her bodice across her breasts. And with no time to spare.
Moments later, the buggy driver rapped on the window and announced that he would walk for help. While the driver was gone, Adam had not attempted to get back to where they had been before the untimely interruption, but instead, apologized for his bad behavior, climbed out of the buggy, and stood outside until the driver returned with help.
During that time, it took all of Priscilla's willpower to keep from throwing open the door, grabbing Adam by the arm, hauling him into the buggy, and insisting he complete what they had started. But as frustrated as she'd felt, she imagined he must have been yet more frustrated. Before their intimacy in the buggy she'd known little about the physiology of men. She'd heard that changes took place in their male part when they were ready for a woman, and she'd seen evidence of it in the way his trousers sometimes stretched tight across the front, like a pole trying to poke through a tent, but she had not known just how drastic the change was, or what happened to it when the act was unconsummated. But that had not been discussed during their ride home.
Their conversation from that point on had been so reserved, it was almost as if they'd just met. All intimacies they'd shared—the passionate kiss at the picnic, the near deflowering in the buggy—were clearly to be kept mum, even between them. She didn't know whether to be embarrassed, humiliated, angry or flattered that he thought so highly of her that he'd refrained from taking her virtue, when it was his for the taking.
And when they arrived home and he walked her to her bedroom suite on the way to his bedroom, he said good night, but didn't attempt to kiss her. Maybe he never would again. Maybe she'd never experience the culmination of an intimacy between a man and a woman. Perhaps, like Queen Bess, who had gone down in history as the Virgin Queen, she too would remain a virgin for the rest of her life. It was a bleak thought, now that she'd been awakened to the kisses and intimate caresses of a man who truly stirred her.
Deciding it was pointless to remain in bed all morning feeling sorry for herself, she went about the business of putting herself together. After arranging her hair in a bouquet of curls on top of her head, she turned her attention to her face. She reasoned that a light application of
Her breath quickened, low moans reverberated from deep inside her, and her body reeled with newfound sensations. His hands, his lips, the tip of his tongue all ministering to her at once was nearly overwhelming... as if she were being drawn into a world of almost unbearable sensual pleasure. All she knew was, she did not want the buggy ride, or the glorious things Adam was doing, to ever end. But when it did, which to her dismay would be inevitable, she prayed she would no longer be a maiden lady. She was ready to dispense with that hallowed burden...
CHAPTER FIVE
It is a natural virtue incident to our sex to
be pitiful of those that are afflicted.
— Elizabeth to Spanish ambassador, De Feria , 1559
Morning light, and Priscilla felt more frustrated than she'd ever felt before. Adam had almost made her a woman, and all she'd wanted was for him to finish the job. But he'd pulled away when they were flesh to flesh, him primed to complete the deflowering, her in a state of ecstasy and desperate for him to bring to fruition the glorious feelings that had been building toward something she couldn't quite grasp, like a gathering of the most sensual of bodily pleasures. Whether Adam had withdrawn from guilt over the prospect of taking a maiden woman's virtue, or because the buggy bogged down and came to an abrupt halt, she wasn't sure, because he'd pulled back before the buggy bogged down. But once the buggy stopped, he'd shoved his male part back into his britches, while she hastily pulled her skirts down and drew her bodice across her breasts. And with no time to spare.
Moments later, the buggy driver rapped on the window and announced that he would walk for help. While the driver was gone, Adam had not attempted to get back to where they had been before the untimely interruption, but instead, apologized for his bad behavior, climbed out of the buggy, and stood outside until the driver returned with help.
During that time, it took all of Priscilla's willpower to keep from throwing open the door, grabbing Adam by the arm, hauling him into the buggy, and insisting he complete what they had started. But as frustrated as she'd felt, she imagined he must have been yet more frustrated. Before their intimacy in the buggy she'd known little about the physiology of men. She'd heard that changes took place in their male part when they were ready for a woman, and she'd seen evidence of it in the way his trousers sometimes stretched tight across the front, like a pole trying to poke through a tent, but she had not known just how drastic the change was, or what happened to it when the act was unconsummated. But that had not been discussed during their ride home.
Their conversation from that point on had been so reserved, it was almost as if they'd just met. All intimacies they'd shared—the passionate kiss at the picnic, the near deflowering in the buggy—were clearly to be kept mum, even between them. She didn't know whether to be embarrassed, humiliated, angry or flattered that he thought so highly of her that he'd refrained from taking her virtue, when it was his for the taking.
And when they arrived home and he walked her to her bedroom suite on the way to his bedroom, he said good night, but didn't attempt to kiss her. Maybe he never would again. Maybe she'd never experience the culmination of an intimacy between a man and a woman. Perhaps, like Queen Bess, who had gone down in history as the Virgin Queen, she too would remain a virgin for the rest of her life. It was a bleak thought, now that she'd been awakened to the kisses and intimate caresses of a man who truly stirred her.
Deciding it was pointless to remain in bed all morning feeling sorry for herself, she went about the business of putting herself together. After arranging her hair in a bouquet of curls on top of her head, she turned her attention to her face. She reasoned that a light application of
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