“As you wish.” Tommy trailed the tip of her finger up the back of Philippa’s hand, over her wrist, and up her arm, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. “You like kisses. Shall we begin there?”
Philippa managed to nod. She wanted that very much.
Tommy raised Philippa’s hand and pressed a soft kiss to the palm. Barely lifting her mouth, she moved to the sensitive skin on the inside of Philippa’s wrist, lingering there for a long moment as though drawn to the scent and taste of the rapidly fluttering pulse point there.
Leisurely, teasingly, Tommy’s kisses made their way up Philippa’s arm to her shoulder. Tommy touched her tongue to Philippa’s clavicle before lowering her lips to the ridiculously high shelf of Philippa’s bosom. Her breasts swelled and tightened in anticipation of Tommy’s warm lips against her flesh.
Lips…and tongue. Tommy was not just kissing her but tasting her. Slowly. Reverently. As though savoring the flavor of each new inch and curve and crease. But most of Philippa’s bosom—the best, most interesting parts that yearned to be touched—were hidden away.
“You can take off my stays,” she said in a rush.
“I shall be delighted to.”
Rather than turn Philippa around, Tommy stepped closer and kissed her. Their bosoms touched. Philippa could feel it now, the tips of her nipples straining through her shift to brush against the curved silk of Tommy’s waistcoat.
It was wanton and wonderful.
Tommy took her time unlacing the ribbon, as though committing every detail of the moment to memory. Philippa was doing the same. The first loop. The second. The soft scrape of cording sliding against gooseflesh as Tommy exposed each new inch.
When Philippa’s stays were loose enough to set her bosom free beneath the linen shift, her nipples tightened in the cool air. Or perhaps it was because she was rubbing them against Tommy’s chest as they kissed.
Knowing the hard peaks of her breasts were now clearly visible, Philippa cast her stays to the floor beside the bed.
“This is too slow,” she blurted out, her heart pounding in nervousness and excitement. “I want to be in the bed. With you.”
“As you please.”
Tommy removed her waistcoat. Three small buttons, wrapped in the same emerald fabric. She slipped the waistcoat from her shoulders and dropped it atop Philippa’s discarded stays. It landed with the faint rustle of one fabric kissing another. Her breasts were small and unbound, the dusky nipples visible through the thin cambric. Tommy slipped off her trousers and tossed them aside. She was now clad only in silk stockings and a billowing gentlemen’s shirt that fluttered to mid-thigh.
Philippa had never imagined that seeing Tommy dressed in nothing but a man’s shirt could be so erotic. It felt daring, like everything Tommy did. Reckless and free, she was at her most attractive when she was just being herself.
Tommy’s lack of inhibition made Philippa feel bold, too. She grabbed Tommy and pulled her close. Their hips came together. Their mouths met in a searing kiss. This time, there was nothing but soft linen separating their bodies. The tips of Philippa’s breasts brushed the underside of Tommy’s, touching with her nipples where she had not yet caressed with her hands.
Tommy’s smile was slow and seductive. “The bed, you said?”
Philippa nodded breathlessly. She unwound her hands from Tommy’s neck and scrambled backward up onto the mattress, not wanting to divert her gaze for even a moment. She wanted to learn everything there was to know about Tommy’s body. Its silhouette against the orange firelight. The hills and valley of her breasts visible above the gapping neck of her men’s shirt as she climbed atop the bed to join Philippa.
Tommy’s mouth caught hers, but only briefly. “Stop or continue?”
“Continue.” Philippa’s head fell back against the pillow.
Tommy slid beside her. Her lithe, warm body touched Philippa’s from shoulder to toe. Tommy bent her top leg, resting her smooth thigh atop Philippa’s. The welcome weight of Tommy’s leg felt possessive and intimate. As though they were branding each other with their bodies. Tommy hooked an arm around Philippa’s midsection, just beneath her breasts. Not quite sexual…but adjacent. As though her touchcouldbe sexual, if Philippa wanted it to.
“Stop or continue?”
“C-continue.”
Tommy shifted so that she was atop Philippa. Not lying on her, exactly. Their legs were entwined and their pelvises touched, but Tommy’s arms propped her up so that there was a gap between their breasts.
Philippa stammered, “What are you…”
Tommy slid toward the foot of the bed. Not far—a few inches. Just enough to allow her mouth to reach the spot where the hem of Philippa’s neckline met the plump curve of her breast. Tommy dropped soft, slow kisses along that line from one edge of Philippa’s bodice to the other. The first row of kisses was on the exposed flesh of Philippa’s breasts. The second row of kisses was just below the hem, along the thin linen.
Having a layer of linen between Tommy’s kisses and Philippa’s skin should have felt more chaste. Instead, her nipples tightened in awareness that Tommy’s mouth was drawing ever closer.
Tommy paused when her mouth was so close to Philippa’s nipple that she could feel Tommy’s breath through her shift. “Stop or continue?”
“Continue.” The word came out raw, a shameless, helpless plea.
