AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But Caleb didn’t look angry anymore, at least. As she reached for her petticoat strings, his brow furrowed as if he were slightly puzzled by something and needed to pay close attention. She untied the strings, struggling with the knot for a moment, but assuring herself she would still be covered when the petticoats fell to the floor.
They dropped with a rustle that seemed far louder than normal. She knew Caleb was looking at her, but she could no longer look at him. She pressed the two sides of her corset together to free the first few hooks. It took no time. She’d lost weight and never bothered to tighten her corset, so now it opened easily.
She hadn’t done this before. She’d been pawed at and stripped, but she’d never taken off her own clothing in front of a man, letting him watch. She didn’t know what to do now. Her shift covered her to her knees, and her drawers peeked out underneath, but below that, it was only her black stockings and brown boots, and—
“My boots,” she murmured in confusion. Did he want her boots and stockings off too, or only her underthings? The boots wouldn’t be in the way, after all.
“Let me,” Caleb said, the tone of his voice more reminiscent of how he’d once spoken to her. And then he knelt at her feet.
His movement so startled her that her arms jumped up to fend him off, but he didn’t attack her. He only reached for her bootlace. The boot began to loosen, and Jessica stared down at the top of his head, at the tousled waves of his brown hair. The scruff on his face before he’d shaved it had been darker than she remembered, but his hair was the same color it had been two years before. Dark and golden at the same time. Her hands hovered over him, fingers spread.
When he brushed her ankle, she lifted her foot automatically so he could pull her boot off. His strong fingers were warm around her bones. The lamplight shifted in his hair.
Jessica touched him.
He froze in the act of setting her foot back on the floor. His hand stayed wrapped tight around her ankle as Jessica slipped her fingers into his hair. It was warm and soft, a contrast to the cruelty he meant to show her.
She’d never been free to feel him before, but she was a whore now, and she could act like one, so she twisted her fingers lightly into the strands, then smoothed them down. He sighed as she petted him, a deep, quiet exhalation that bent his head a little farther forward. His forehead touched her belly. He let it rest there as she stroked down to his neck.
Perhaps being his wife would have been like this. Touching him whenever she wanted. Feeling him relax into her. Knowing she was his, not because he’d bought her, but because she’d said yes to it all.
This would’ve been what it was like to get ready for bed after a long day. He’d kneel to help with her boots as he always did. He’d kiss her next, gently, and she’d melt into his arms and open for him. Her mouth, her legs, her heart. He would make it good and sweet and sacred.
Her hand cupped the back of his head. “Caleb,” she whispered.
He sighed again, his fingers sliding softly up the back of her calf to rest behind her knee. Then he raised his head to look at her. The lamplight caught so fiercely in his eyes that she thought they might have been wet with tears, but a moment later they narrowed with anger. He took another deep breath and bent his head to unlace her other boot. His movements were rougher now, jerking her foot forward an inch on the floor as he tugged at the knot.
She lifted her hands and didn’t touch him again. He rose and let her toe the second boot off herself.
“Now the rest of it,” he said tersely, sitting back on the bed as he slipped off his suspenders and began to unbutton his shirt.
Hurt twisted inside her, winding around her gut, her lungs, her heart.
She’d remembered for a moment what it had been like to love him. To know he’d never hurt her. But she’d made him hate her. She’d done that.
Jessica dipped her chin in acknowledgment, and she removed the rest of her underclothes as quickly as she could. First her shift, then her drawers, then she tugged her stockings down. The air of the room was cold on the warmest parts of her body. Her nipples hardened into painful buds. She covered them with one arm and shielded her private parts as best she could with the other.
She’d never been quite this nude before. Not with a man. But Caleb didn’t want protestation. He wanted her naked. Bare. She’d give him that.
She couldn’t look at him, but her ears strained for some sound. He was quiet for a long while as the hurt twisted tighter inside her. What was he thinking? Had he seen this before, or was it new? Had he visited whores? Should she be hurt if he had?
She didn’t even know if she wanted him to think her beautiful or if she wanted him as ashamed of her nudity as she was. Her body was no longer her temple. It was only a used vessel that could not be cleaned.
Just as the silence began to buzz in her ears, she heard the rustle of fabric. She dared a glance and saw that he’d removed his shirt. His wide shoulders looked startlingly large. The muscles in his arms bulged as he shifted. Hair covered his chest. He gestured her closer.
She knew this part, at least. She stepped into his reach and forced her rigid arms to give up some tension. She let one hand fall to her side and slid the other down to press against her stomach
instead of her breasts.
He touched her, just as she’d expected. His fingertips moved over the side of her breast, and she cringed. But he didn’t grab her. He didn’t squeeze her or pinch her nipple. His fingers traced a slow circle over her skin, trailing goose bumps. He cupped the underside of her breast. Then his thumb feathered over her nipple. Once, then twice, the strange, soft feeling making her shiver.
He did the same with her other breast, his breath quickening, even as she held hers. His touch made her feel too…uncertain. She was filled up with fear and expectation and the horrible awareness that the parts of her body she’d kept hidden nearly her whole life were exposed. She wished the lamps were low. Wished it were pitch-black. Wished he weren’t watching as his tanned fingers spread over her white skin, the contrast a secret message that he should not be here. That she should not let him.
She finally inhaled, and his hands slid down, over her ribs to the softer curve of her hips. He’d shaped her hips just like that the last time he’d kissed her. Her whole body had tingled with excitement at the stolen touch. But there was nothing stolen about it now. She’d been bought and paid for.
His hands moved down to cup her backside. He made a noise, a soft moan as he squeezed her flesh and pulled her closer. She stumbled into him. His mouth caught her nipple. She cringed, waiting for it to hurt. And then…then it didn’t hurt. His mouth was warm and careful, his tongue circling her nipple lightly at first, then more firmly.
Jessica blinked rapidly, confused that this act could feel so different with him. Her hands, raised in alarm yet again, hovered over his head. When his mouth drew at her, she gasped. Then she fisted her hands in his hair and moaned.
