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He smiled as he brought her hair to his lips. “You can help me undress, for one.”
“Oh! Of course.”
She turned and he let the locks slide through his fingers. He still wore the boards on his left wrist, which had necessitated both his shirt and coat being slit up the left sleeves. He stood still as Megs held the coat so he could slip his right hand from it before she eased the garment over his burdened left arm. She had an adorable frown between her brows and her lips were parted as she concentrated, the tip of her tongue curled up and touching her upper teeth.
The sight was too tempting and as she began unbuttoning his waistcoat, he bent and caught her lower lip in a teasing bite.
She blinked, her eyes widening as he straightened. “That’s … that’s very distracting.”
“I apologize.”
She snorted under her breath, her cheeks brightening again as she took his waistcoat off. His neck cloth was next, easily tossed to a chair, and then he watched as she worked at the buttons of his shirt. The room was silent, the only sound the faint snuffling of the puppies in the other room and their own breaths. He was aware that he was breathing deeply, that he was already hard and pulsing, but he was in no hurry. He could spend hours thus, simply watching the constant flicker of changing emotions across her face. She was so vibrant, his Megs, so alive with hope and love and happiness. If she left him—when she left him—he didn’t know how he would return to his old life.
It would be like living without sunlight.
He pushed the thought aside because he wanted to concentrate on this moment, remember it when he dwelt only in darkness again.
Godric lifted his arms, letting her draw off his shirt over his head, feeling the brush of fine linen against his abdomen, the finer brush of her curious fingers. The shirt fell forgotten to the floor and then both of her hands were on him, stroking up over his ribs, brushing through the hair on his chest.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, and his lips quirked in amusement.
He wasn’t anything like beautiful, but if she wanted to call him so, he would let her.
Then her fingertips were on his nipples, circling, and the smile died on his lips. She bent forward and pressed her mouth to one, flattening her tongue against his flesh before licking him like a cat does cream. He couldn’t help the groan that burst from his mouth.
He looked down and met wide brown eyes, watching him even as she kissed him softly. “Do you like that?”
Couldn’t she tell? He nodded jerkily and she hummed to herself before moving to the other side, tonguing him even as she thumbed the wet nub she’d left.
He threw back his head at the sensation, his eyelids half lowering in pleasure. But she moved then, sinking to her knees to remove his stockings and shoes before unbuttoning the placket of his breeches. The position, the nearness of her innocent lips to his randy cock, made him swallow drily. She must have sensed his stillness, for she glanced up curiously at him, pausing a moment when she met his eyes. She froze, looking at him, her hands directly over his hard flesh; then she ducked her head and fumbled the placket open, stripping him of his breeches and smallclothes. His cock bobbed obscenely before her and he held his breath as she seemed to lean closer.
But she rose swiftly and he gave her an ironic glance before climbing awkwardly into the bed. He sat back against the tall, carved headboard and watched as she disrobed. It was perforce a slow process, but somehow the more erotic for that. First came off the gauzy fichu that had been wrapped around her shoulders and tucked into the low bodice of her gown. She sat and removed her slippers and then rolled down her stockings. He might’ve seen her entirely nude, but the sight of her pale, slender ankles, the swells of her bosom as she leaned forward made him catch his breath.
He palmed his cock, watching.
She stood, not looking at him, and began undoing the bodice of her gown. It was a simple day dress, so she was able to take it off herself, the skirts suddenly collapsing about her ankles. She untied her petticoats and stepped free, in just her stays and chemise now. The chemise was very fine and he could make out the shadowy curves of her legs and hips as she turned to pick up the skirts, the dark triangle cradled between her thighs as she straightened.
He groaned under his breath, passing his palm over the head of his cock to gather the liquid seeping there before he stroked firmly down.
She glanced up at him then and stilled, her eyes seemingly caught by his hand slowly gliding up his cock.
His flesh jerked under his fingers.
She blinked and ducked her head, studying her own hands as she began unlacing her stays. But he could see her slyly peeking now and again as she worked.
He bent his far knee and angled himself so that she could see better and was rewarded by her breath hitching softly. His hand made a slicking sound as he watched her slowly open her stays. She looked up again and drew the whole thing over her head, leaving her in the chemise, wrinkles pressed into the nearly transparent fabric from the stays. The top was tightened with a simple ribbon and she plucked the bow undone, gradually drawing it loose. He licked his lips, growling softly when he saw the smile she tried to hide. She was teasing him, enticing him with the slow unveiling of her body.
But then she bent and took off the chemise, throwing it aside, standing like a wild nymph startled by the hunter. Her breasts were full but proudly high, the tips flushed a deep cherry. Her creamy belly was soft, flowing into the sweet curves of her hips. He branded the image into his brain.
“Come here,” he said, his voice degraded into a gravelly growl.
She stepped forward, her lips curved mysteriously, cheeks flushed, but chin tilted confidently. She crawled onto the bed beside him, and then sat back on her knees.
“Here,” he said, indicating his lap with his chin, lowering his bent leg.
She looked uncertain but straddled him, her soft thighs brushing against both his legs and the knuckles of his hand. He let go of himself and brought his damp fingers to her cheek. He should wipe them off on the sheets, they still held the liquid from his body, but some part of him relished the idea of marking her with his scent.
He curved his hand around her neck and brought her lips to his. She opened sweetly for him, accepting his tongue into her mouth as he licked into her, slanting his head to draw her closer. He could feel the tantalizing whisper of her nipples against his chest, the wetness of her cunny as she settled on his thighs just behind his cock. He nearly raised his left hand to grip her hip before remembering and cursing his infirmity.
