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he kissed the tops of those enticing swells before hauling her up and flipping her around. Plucking at the laces, he slowly released her from her sartorial confinement.
She wriggled, and he groaned at her change of position. He began yanking at the laces. Tossing aside the beastly contraption, he moved on to the ties of her skirt, working feverishly until it, too, sagged about her waist.
His hands now roamed freely from her shoulders to her hips. “You don’t need a corset to enhance your shape, love. You’re perfect the way God made you,” he murmured as he admired the deep curve of her waist with his hands. He reached around to cup warm, full breasts, his palms lightly grazing her rapidly hardening nipples.
He wanted to see those rosy gems.
Again, he wrapped his hands about her tiny waist and lifted, turning her about to face him. Her breasts were perfection, gleaming in the firelight, beckoning him. Closing his eyes against the sight, he tugged her down and nuzzled her neck, letting her sweet-scented hair tumble about his shoulders like a veil of midnight.
She shifted forward, presenting her breasts like a bounty.
He could take it no more. Flipping her onto her back, he took a ripe bud into his mouth, circling it with his tongue until she moaned and clutched at his hair.
Repeating his attentions on her other breast, he moved back and forth between the happy pair, teasing, flick-flicking with his tongue until she whimpered and her hips bucked beneath him. Withdrawing, he rocked back on his knees to stare at her.
“Victoria, are you absolutely certain? Once we do this, there is no going back.”
She looked at him and lifted one raven brow. “If you stop now, I will kill you.”
Surprise at her ragged threat made him chuckle. He’d thought she might tell him she loved him. “You’re a shameless wanton, that’s what you are. And soon you’ll be my shameless wife,” he teased, bending to kiss her once more. He shuddered as she ran her tongue across the corner of his mouth. Reaching down between them, he tugged at her skirts and petticoats until they slid off. Her stockings and garters he left intact, not wishing her to catch a chill. It was still frigid in the room, despite the fire, and he could see the faint dimpling of gooseflesh on her skin.
He had no complaints about the cold, himself, for his body fairly burned at the sight of the paradise laid out before him. Hair the shade of deepest night spilled about her perfect face like a dark, turbulent river, the firelight glinting in it like a thousand tiny embers caught in a net. Her skin glowed warmly in that same soft light. It became stained with a rosy blush as she followed his lingering gaze.
His gaze roved freely, memorizing her. When he came to the mysterious dark triangle nestled between her legs, he stopped. Hidden there, he knew, was the seat of her pleasure—and of his. Spreading her knees slowly, he smiled.
She turned her head away, clearly embarrassed.
“Sweetling, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he murmured, stopping to reach up and caress her face until she again opened her eyes. He dropped little kisses on her cheeks, nose, chin, and mouth. “There is nothing about you that is not lovely, Victoria. Do not be afraid.”
She nodded, and after one more kiss, he moved back down to heaven’s gate. Slowly, he ran his hands up her thighs until at last he parted her. There lay the glistening jewel of her femininity, revealed in all its glory. Dipping into her swollen flesh, he marveled at the slickness there.
His soon-to-be-wife was an incredibly sensual woman.
Gently he massaged the swelling bud, watching as her lids fluttered and finally drifted shut. She lay quiescent, surrendering to his touch as he stroked her, until her hands clenched the blankets on either side.
He shifted, replacing his hands with his mouth and plunging his eager tongue into her fevered flesh. The salty sweet taste of her was like divine nectar, and he reveled in her gasp of pleasure as the stiffness in his breeches became almost unbearable.
Withdrawing, he stood and stripped off the offending barrier with such speed that Victoria had barely enough time to open her eyes and protest the deprivation of his warmth before he kicked his breeches away.
Her eyes widened as she gazed upon his jutting member, which was thick and heavy with desire.
Smiling, Julius pulled off his waistcoat and shirt with much less haste than he’d done his breeches, giving her time to appraise him before he knelt beside her. “If you wish to wait, I’ll understand.”
She shook her head, blushing. “No. If we do not—not…”
“Make love?” he supplied.
She nodded. “If we do not, they may not agree to let us marry. I wish to take no chances.”
“Very well,” he said softly, kneeling beside her.
She reached out a tentative hand, but then jerked it back as though burned. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said, her cheeks darkening.
“Just touch me as you would wish to be touched,” he answered. Gently, he guided her hand the rest of the way.
HIS COCK JUMPED to rigid attention at her touch, and Victoria squeaked, then laughed in embarrassment.
“It has a life of its own,” said Julius. “Which is why men often find themselves at the mercy of the opposite sex.”
