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“I’m sure you’ll feel quite differently once the gossips pick up the story,” she replied sourly. “It’s bad enough having your own family making fun of you, but that’s nothing compared to public ridicule.”
He grasped her by the shoulders so that he could stare right into her wide, grey eyes. “I’m not so easily frightened off.”
Taking her in his arms, he determined to prove it to her. Her lips were like berries at the peak of ripeness. He ran his tongue across their crease, teasing until she opened on a sigh. Slowly he plundered the sweet darkness of her mouth, tasting her, learning her.
She was dressed like a boy, but the curves he felt beneath his hands were lush and womanly, unhindered by stays. By Jove, her natural form was crafted to drive a man to madness. With reverence, he confirmed her shape, pulling her into him, pressing her against the sudden ache in his breeches.
To his surprise, she yielded and leaned into him rather than going stiff. Her softness against him was a revelation of pleasure so acute it made his whole body tighten with need. He burned with the desire to touch her.
Pulling her shirt out of her breeches, he reached beneath it to cup a warm, full breast. The goddess in his arms moaned aloud and stilled as he gently massaged the sensitive flesh, lightly rubbing her rigid nipple against his palm. Lifting her shirt, he bent and closed his lips over it, teasing with his tongue.
She moaned and her knees gave. Gently, he laid her down on the grass. When he treated her other breast to the same attention, she tightened her grip on his shoulders in a silent plea for more.
But even as his hand slid downward, Julius stopped. The fact that she was wearing breeches gave him pause, if only because it felt exceedingly odd to encounter a man’s button flap that was not his own. Her hips rose invitingly. Looking down at her all flushed and lovely, he knew he could quite happily take her here and now. But she deserved better than to be ravished in an open field.
With a pang of regret and no small amount of physical discomfort in his nether regions, he rolled away.
Her eyes popped open, the question in them clear.
“I’ll not take you here in the field like a peasant wench,” he rasped, struggling to control himself.
“The hell you won’t,” she muttered, hooking a leg over his midsection and rolling to sit astride him.
The sudden pressure of her lithe body atop him was a pleasant shock. A shock that instantly galvanized his lust. His arms snapped up, dragging her down across his chest.
It was a kiss that was reckless and uninhibited, a kiss that stole his breath away completely.
Photo by Glamour Shots, 2012
