Page 63 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

“Hmmm,” he murmured in agreement, though taking a glass of anything was very far from his mind right now. “Should I have lit the fire?” he asked, glancing over at the grate, as the thought suddenly occurred to him.

Dora shook her head. “You can keep me warm,” she answered so sweetly he had to catch his breath.

“I’d like that.”

“So would I.” They smiled at one another, and Clem felt like there was a bird trapped in his fucking chest.

“Finish your drink, Dora.”

“Let me savor it,” she protested. “I can’t just knock it back like you did. That was a terrible waste.”

Clem rolled his eyes and slid a hand down her stomach, before dipping down into her drawers. There was some advantage to her wearing them so loose, he decided as his questing fingers slid between her legs.

Dora made an interesting sound, part murmur, part exclamation, but as he simply cupped her there and propped his head on his hand to watch her face, she relaxed again and took another sip of her drink.

“You’re spinning that out,” he accused her lazily, but he did not really mind in truth. Not now his hand was where it was.

Dora gave a gurgle of laughter. “No such thing! This is delectable nectar and I mean to enjoy it.”

Clem slowly traced the ribbon down her thigh and then slipped his fingers into her cleft. Her words held just as much relevance for himself. She was already delightfully slippery down there. Dora shifted against her pillows. “Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he murmured.

She breathed out before replying. “Like last time,” she confessed unevenly.

“Ah, but you were helping last time,” he reminded her, sliding his fingers through her increasingly wet folds.

“You’re doing fine,” she assured him, even though he was deliberately avoiding her pearl. After a minute of these ministrations, Dora whimpered and started moving against his hand, trying to steer him right.

“Tell me what you want, Dora,” he practically purred.

“Um—you—not there,” she broke off frustratedly.

By rights, he should torment her more, but he was too keen. He tapped her clitoris. “Here?”

Dora gasped, shutting her eyes a moment. “Yes,” she gasped. “Oh yes, please.”

Well, fuck, he wasn’t going to be able to deny her anything when she asked so nicely. Instead, he concentrated on teasing that pretty bud, any way he could think of. Dora sobbed and arched her back, sloshing the last of her raspberry liqueur over her breasts and staining her boring chemise with dark red spots.

“Oh no!” she squeaked in dismay. He plucked the empty glass out of her hand and set it down beside his own.

“Never fear,” he said leaning forward and sucking the first of the wet spots on her chemise. Dora’s breathing hitched as he inched his voracious mouth closer and closer to her nipple.

“Clem,” she repeated faintly, then gave a disappointed moan when he retreated and started licking toward her other breast. He repeated his tease until her hand closed about the back of his neck, making him draw in a sharp breath. This was what he had been waiting for, he realized, feeling stunned as he shuddered with pleasure.

“Guide me,” he said thickly. “Tell me where you want my mouth.”

Wordlessly, she tightened her grip, steering him toward her nipple.

He nudged it with his nose. “Here?”

“Please, Clem.” He did not make her wait and Dora made an explosive sound as he sucked her nipple through her chemise with almost an indecent amount of pleasure. Her fingers pinched on his neck, and he slid his middle finger right up inside her making her jolt. “Clem!”

“Never slipped a finger inside before?” he asked.

She hesitated, then cleared her throat. “Yes, but your fingers are much bigger than mine.”

Clem had to take a deep breath. Damn, he liked how she told him everything. Liked it too much. “Anything else ever get in here?” he asked hoarsely.

Dora’s eyes widened. “Like what?”