Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
‘You have,’ she says around my kiss, breathless, ‘on numerous occasions, already removed my lip stain, Frank.’
‘Are you objecting?’
‘Not at all.’ Her hands grab my shoulders, her short, neat nails sinking into my flesh through the material of my shirt. ‘I would never.’
‘I am glad.’ I pull away, panting in her face. ‘And now for this fancy frock.’
She inhales fast, swallows hard. ‘And what of your clothes?’
‘What of them?’ I ask, my tone teasing.
‘Well, I am not an expert, as you well know, but I am certain of it that both parties are usually undressed to partake in such an act.’
I hitch an interested brow. ‘Such an act?’
‘Whatever we are to call it.’ Her nose wrinkles. ‘You will remove your clothes, yes?’
‘Or I might make you do it.’
Her eyes widen momentarily before she corrects it. ‘I might oblige.’
I laugh, and it is a lost, joyous sound. ‘Why thank you.’
‘Welcome. Now, can we get on with this?’
She’s nervous, God love her. But I know I would do well not to point that out. ‘Are you impatient, my lady?’ I ask instead.
‘For you, yes, I am most impatient.’
‘So to torture you would be cruel, would it?’
‘Most cruel.’ She fists my shirt on the shoulders and brings her face close to mine. ‘You are not a cruel man, Frank Melrose.’
‘No, but I am an indulgent one, and I should like to indulge in you, so you will be patient, my lady, for the wait will be worth it.’
She pulls me in for another kiss, and I am taken aback by her hunger, if delighted too, but … I take her hands and detach them, breaking away from her body.
‘You must wait,’ I say, releasing her and turning her round, gathering up her hair and draping it over her shoulder down her front, giving me access to the back of her dress, where a million buttons greet me. I pout, my nose wrinkling. ‘How attached are you to this dress?’ I ask.
She looks back, her chin on her shoulder, her smile small and knowing. ‘Do you like it?’ she asks.
‘It’s a beautiful dress, it must be said.’
‘But …?’
‘I think I will favour what is beneath it.’ I grab the material with two hands and yank, and the silk buttons ping off, scattering far and wide around my room. Her corset is revealed, a cream affair that’s laced expertly. My God. There will be no yanking that. I let the dress fall to the floor, pull a ribbon, and the tie unravels until her corset falls apart, and I have her back. The bare, beautiful, creamy skin of her back. ‘Oh, Taya,’ I whisper, as she lifts her arms, and the corset joins the dress on the floor. I have to take a moment, blinking to clear my vision, my eyes journeying the length of her spine to the top of her bottom. I shake my head in wonder and step back to get a broader view. ‘Just stay there a minute,’ I say, my voice gruff. ‘Just, please, stay there and let me absorb this vision.’
‘You do not want me to turn round?’
‘I need to gather myself before that, Taya, for what I am staring at now is already too much.’ Or not enough. I take my hand to my face and scrub down my cheeks, my mind a mess of thoughts, as my chest constricts and I push away every warning I’ve had and every promise I have made, both to myself and to others, where this woman is concerned.
‘Are you done?’
‘No, I am not.’ I don’t think I will ever be done admiring her. I drop my eyes over the two firm peaks of her backside and down her shapely legs until I am met with the masses of material of her dress. I step in, take her hips, and lift her, kicking the dress and corset aside and setting her down again, frowning when her hands come up to her breasts. She turns round, her eyes low. ‘What did I say, Taya?’ I ask, and she looks up. ‘Don’t hide yourself from me. Not your eyes, not your breasts. Remove your hands.’
They fall to her side.
‘Better.’
Jesus Christ, she is curvy, full in bosom, shapely in leg, tiny in waist, and wide in hips. Perfect, childbearing hips, I think, but the thought jars me.
‘Frank, what is wrong?’ she asks, covering herself again.
I scowl at myself and reach for her arms, taking them back down. ‘Nothing is wrong,’ I assure her. ‘Nothing.’ I lower to my knees before her until I am face-to-face with the triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs. I lean in and kiss her just north, and that alone has her folding and crying out. I can see her skin vibrating, and when her hands find my head and hold it, for support, I expect, I feel those vibrations too. I lick across her tummy, my eyes closing in bliss.