Blind but not deaf, for he had never heard anything so maddeningly exquisite as the breathy moans Julianna was making. If only he could attend a symphony composed entirely of such moans.
“Keep going,” she said, making him realize that although she was still rocking her hips, his had slowed, so focused had he been on the glorious symphony.
He rocked against her, and pure pleasure bloomed in his belly.
“Oh,” she said, so low and quiet, she almost sounded like someone else. It was followed by another “Oh,” the single syllable as different from the first incantation of such as it was possible to be. It was high and girlish and astonishing, and it made his eyes fly open.
Hers were closed, which afforded him the opportunity to watch in fascination as her face screwed up, almost as if she were in pain. Before he could fully register that expression, it was replaced by one of shock as her eyes and mouth alike opened. Her gaze latched on to his, and her body began to quake. It was glorious.Shewas glorious.
He was glorious, too. A great surge of pleasure moved through his body, and his hips bucked, losing their rhythm. If Effie had not known love, or desire, before, it was only because he was meant to know them here, now, inside this living painting. It was akin to what Simon had said about not wanting to catch a glimpse of the Pavilion before he was ready to contemplate its full glory. He shouted, and he felt the beauty all around them.
He could no longer hold himself up as he had been, keeping most of the weight of his upper body off Julianna, so he rolled to his side. He had spent partly on her stomach, partly on the bed and was now lying on the wet spot. He had never been happier.
She stayed where she was, and in fact took the space vacated by him to spread her limbs a bit, but she turned her head in his direction so they maintained eye contact. Neither spoke for a long while. They merely panted and smiled.
“What are you thinking about?” Effie finally said.
“Lately, I’ve been comparing myself to a starfish.”
A great big laugh burst out of him. “That was the last thing I expected you to say.”
“I keep finding myself sprawled out, having lost my wits. I was lounging exactly like this on my bed at home after you sent meArcher’s Lady’s Book, and before I knew it, I was on a Brighton-bound coach. Sprawling mindlessly with one’s limbs akimbo brings to mind a starfish, though perhaps I defame starfish. For all I know they are quite intelligent.”
“So you were thinking about the fact that you weren’t thinking.”
“I suppose I was. What wereyouthinking?”
“I was thinking that I was under the impression that I was meant to seek out a bud of flesh between your legs. Just now, I mean.”
“You did.”
“I did?” He held up a hand and considered it quizzically. Had he forgotten?
She laughed, rolled onto her side to face him, and took the hand in question. “You did it with your . . . member.”
“I did?”
“Yes, when we were rocking back and forth, it provided just the right sort of continuous pressure.”
“Well, that’s all right, then.” He paused. “It was just the right sort of continuous pressure for me, too.” Another pause. “In case you couldn’t tell.” He grinned, knowing he was being ridiculous—she had on her stomach the very residue of his enjoyment. He took up his shirt, which was within arm’s reach, and blotted.
When he returned his attention to her face, she looked . . . not sad exactly. Wistful.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Remember when you said just now that you approve of everything that brought me here?”
“Yes.”
“If that is the case, I think I ought to confess something,” she said, running her fingers up and down his chest in a way that was making him a little crazy. “Or, not that Ioughtto exactly, in the sense of feeling compelled, but I find myselfwantingto.”
“Please do.” He was hungry for knowledge of her. He wanted more remarkable items for his list.
“You were my third, not my second.”
Effie had meant what he said before. He was glad one of them had some experience. He didn’t disapprove of her for having lain with others. He just . . . didn’t want her to do it anymore. “Oh, so there weretwolucky gentlemen before me. I wonder that one of them didn’t come up to scratch.”
“One tried. He was—is—one of my regular engravers. He proposed.”
