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He stood, removing his shoes and socks—yet another experience Clara hadn’t imagined. The sight of his bare toes and large, pale feet was startlingly intimate. When had she seen a man’s bare feet?
She was still admiring them when he pulled off his dark trousers. Standing before her in white knee-length drawers, his erection was no longer an impersonal tent behind his trousers; it jutted to the side underneath the thin fabric.
“I want to see it,” she spoke aloud without thinking.
James made a strangled sound, and his sex bobbed in his drawers. “You will.” He took hold of his cock through his drawers.
“Now,” she breathed.
His eyebrows rose, but his hands moved without delay to untie the band around his hips, loosening his drawers without removing them, and strutted toward her.
He peeled her hands from between her legs and placed them on his chest, covering them both with his own warm ones. She looked up at him questioningly.
He bent and kissed her mouth. “Youopen me.” Then he let go, freeing her to do as she wished.
His heart beat under her hands, and Clara felt powerful, wanted.
Her middle finger trailed downward. Taking her time, she circled his navel.
James swallowed, then his head fell back. When her fingertip reached the top of his drawers, he jerked his gaze back down. She watched just as raptly as her fingers stroked his taut abdomen, nearing his rigid penis, begging for her attention.
He moaned when she explored him lightly through the translucent fabric.
When she stroked him more firmly, a raw sound tore from his throat, and she felt an answering ache.
She pulled down his drawers until they fell to the floor. Freed, Mr. Robertson’s veined cock jutted from a crown of dark hair. He stood taller and looked down at her, breathing in sharply when her fingertips played in his nest.
His testicles hung heavily between muscled thighs. No drawing readied her for his vitality—the veined ridges that filled his shaft with blood; how it bobbed as if begging for her; the slight musk emanating from his warmth.
No longer wary of baring herself now that James was nude, she scooted back onto the large mattress, maintaining eye contact with him so he’d know how much she desired him.
Lowering herself until she reclined on her elbows, Clara spread her legs very slowly. She whimpered at the pure hunger on his face, and the sensation of openness as her drawers gaped.
He joined her on the bed, and her knees trembled when he positioned his head between them, staring at her. He made a low sound when he saw her labia, softly pelted with dark hair, spread just enough to see glistening pink.
He wants to see this?she questioned wildly. Then he gave a raw, low moan, and she stopped wondering.
Moving up the bed to lie next to her, he kissed her mouth, then drifted down to her neck to anoint her with slow, open-mouthed caresses to the last bit of skin he could reach before encountering her chemise.
He stretched the thin fabric across her chest. Clara looked down from his transfixed face, watching as his large thumb circled the perimeter of a light pink nipple, pressing against the linen, much as his cock had against his drawers.
He cupped the underside of her breast, plumping it, squeezing it gently, but still he didn’t make contact with her begging tip.
Clara’s mouth gaped as he dropped his head to her breast, but his lips only teased, mouthing the bottom swell of her breast through her chemise, pressing kisses around her pink circle.
She arched her back, breasts rising in a plea. James responded, his thumb and forefinger finally plying, caressing, and flicking her nipple again and again while she arched, breathing heavily.
With a whimper, he dropped his head, and his lips enveloped her.
She cried out brokenly as his hot, wet mouth soaked the fabric and his tongue worked her. His lips moved left and right over her turgid tip; his teeth teased, tugged ever so gently.
Clara experienced anew the invisible connection between her breasts and the sex between her legs; each lick, suckle, and bite became a throb between her thighs.
She shook her head in frustration when his mouth left her. Dazed, she realized he was trying to remove her shift.
He tossed the garment away. “Move up against the pillows.”
Clara did his bidding, reclining against the lush cushions. With each breath, her white breasts lifted.
