“Oh!” She sounded shocked. “I hadn’t thought…but of course I could, couldn’t I?”
He nodded.
“A bit difficult, however, since I share a bed with—”
“With?” He could have sworn she said she would never be unfaithful. He’d thought her a widow.
Was she still married, then?
“None of your concern.”
Her movement caused a stab of pleasure-pain that left him groaning.
“Am I doing this correctly?” she asked.
Well, his manhood was weeping, so yes. But she didn’t need to know how thoroughly she’d broken his customary control.
“If I’d brought oil, this would be so much better.”
“Better?” she queried.
“Everything feels better wet.”
“You didn’t use oil on me.”
Proper, inquisitive governess. “A woman’s body makes its own lubrication—”
She released him.
“No, don’t stop. I-I can take the pain. Just—go lightly.”
“Please?”
“Go lightly,” he gritted. “Please.”
“I will proceed”—she resumed stroking him—“out of curiosity, you understand. Not because you asked.”
He snorted. “I suspect you are punishing me.”
“Not punishing, per se. But you did call me a witch.”
“Witch,” he groaned again as she attended him in intimate places. “As in Siren, not hag.” Damnation, her hand felt good.
“Siren,” she repeated thoughtfully. “I’d like to be a Siren.”
“Would you sing me to my death?”
“What an excellent idea.”
“What have I ever done to you?”
She was silent for a moment and then sighed.
He tried to gather his thoughts, regain the offensive. But he’d become nothing more than a string she was lightly strumming. A out-of-tune string desperate to be tightened.
“Would you like me to suck your nipples?”
His startled response ended in a chuckle.
