“Is that what I think it is?” Kitty asked in a strangled voice.
There was a table set up by the French doors that provided a collection of items for the benefit of guests.
Kitty picked up a rather impressive ivory phallus. “Do they truly come in such a size?” She grasped it in both hands and pressed it to her torso. “I cannot believe this would fit.”
He choked as he imagined thrusting it—or himself—in and out of her body.
“It would fit,” he said. He took the phallus, shoved it into his pocket, then grasped her hand and dragged her along. The gaslights burned merrily, and several of the doors they encountered were closed. Kitty tried one, turning the knob gently. When it didn’t open, she pressed her head to the door and opened her mouth. “Oh.”
He couldn’t hear anything but had a good idea of what was going on inside. He led her to the end of the hall and up the stairs. They ascended in silence and came to a second set of rooms.
“Check the drawers.” He approached a walnut armoire, but as he rifled inside, the thrill faded. He had expected to feel like athief, a criminal. Instead, there was no tension, no fear of being caught.
“Found one,” Kitty said.
He turned. She was holding a pair of bloomers so the legs were floating in the air. They were simple white cotton without lacing or other embellishments.
“Hm, I suppose that will do.”
Task complete.
How boring.
“What now?” she asked.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, he wasn’t sure how to answer. The night was still young. They had plenty of time to indulge before he’d have to take her home.
His gaze landed on a tall mirror across from the armoire, and a wicked idea formed in his mind. He removed the phallus from his pocket and used it to gesture toward the bed. “What do you think? It’s not as exciting as a hedge maze.”
She reached behind her head and removed her mask. Even with the red welts on her cheekbones and nose from where the mask had pressed into her flesh, she was beautiful.
He tossed the phallus onto the bed and met her in a kiss.
“Turn around,” he whispered against her lips. When she did so, he quickly loosened her bodice and lifted it over her head. Her gloves and corset cover were next. Then he tugged the bottom of her corset out from beneath her skirt and unhooked the front, peeling the item away.
“Why not remove the skirt first?” she asked. She shimmied her hips, making the fabric swish.
He grasped her chemise-clad breasts in her hands. “Because I wanted to do this.”
She tilted her head back. “Oh, yes. Thatisnice.”
He pressed his lips to her nipple, suckling until she moaned and threaded her fingers into her hair. She untied his mask fully, then threw it aside.
He moved his mouth to her other breast. The temptation to pierce her soft flesh was strong, but he hadn’t survived over a hundred and fifty years by being impatient.
He withdrew her head from her chest and reached around her to undo the buttons that would release her skirt. Three petticoats were next, followed by the hoop skirt. Then, at last, she was garbed only in her underthings: chemise, bloomers, stockings, and slippers.
He clasped her hands and drew her over to the mirror, then turned her so faced him. “Undress me?”
She peeled each layer from him with agonizing slowness.
“Why did I design these things to be so difficult to open?” she grumbled as she removed his shirt.
“It extends the pleasure,” he said. As he’d expected, watching her was far better than removing his clothes himself. He drank in Kitty’s expression as each article of clothing came off, hastily thrown into a corner.
Finally, they were both clad only in undergarments, although he kept his gloves. She reached for her stockings. He grasped her hips and shook his head. “Not like that.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind, then walked backward until he fell onto his rear on the bed with her on his lap.
“May I touch you?” he asked.
