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Chapter 9
Esther hesitated for a moment, but then tightened her hand with his while he led her out through the side door. She expected him to take her to another room with another orchestra, but he took her up a level to another chamber. It was empty, but the large bow windows had the moonlight streaming through it to land on a chaise.
He took her to the window and grasped her hands to wrap them around his neck while his hands rested on her hips. “Dance with me?”
Although a bit thrown by the odd request, Esther, as she was wont to do when arrested by the Captain’s mesmerizing eyes, sank into the bubble of fantasy, and agreed to the impromptu dance. To her, nothing mattered, but his attention fixed on her, as if there were no other ladies in the world and that she was all he saw.
Esther found her breast flush on his chest with a soft press on the back, and his mouth was at her ear. “I wish we could dance like this always,” he murmured. “It's more intimate, so much closer, just you and I. The world outside doesn’t exist here.”
His words were almost fanciful, but Esther knew it was not so; Arthur was not the sort of spinning tales or of feeding her lies—she knew what he was saying was the truth. And he was right; pressed tight against the man she was losing her heart to felt glorious.
The more he held her, the more wildly here desire coursed through her veins. As if he could read the emotions building inside her, Arthur’s lips skimmed the curve of her ear. Shocks danced along her skin as his lips traced the delicate shell, and before she could regain her senses, he enveloped the tender lobe in his hot mouth.
Her feet faltered, and her fingers sank into his shoulder while tremors shook her body. Disoriented, she tried to focus on the present, feel the sensations unfurling within her, and dare to believe that they were real.
His touch, his strange kiss was unexpected, sinful... exciting. With her breasts pressed tightly on his, her skin began to chafe against her chemise and went red, the tips of her breasts had grown taut and were throbbing.
Arthur’s lips journeyed from her ear, up the curve of her jaw, flitting across her cheek, and, by instinct, Esther turned her lips to his and as his mouth lowered. Seconds before contact, she felt a tremble of awareness run through her knowing it would be her first kiss.
He sealed his mouth across hers, and Esther allowed him to kiss her; with no further invitation, Arthur possessed her mouth. Flames ignited and raced through her body from their single point of connection, spreading through every muscle and igniting every nerve. She met each tender stroke of his velvety tongue with her own timid touch.
Arthur had one palm splayed between her shoulder blades and while the other at curved over her hip, he kissed her harder. Esther speared her finger into his thick hair and, before she knew it, his hands dipped to her waist. He lifted her onto the protruding windowsill, and crowded into the vee of her legs.
His tongue slid against hers, twisting and twining with her tongue, seducing her with every slick pass while she tried her best to repay in kind. Arthur knew what he was doing; while she felt clumsy, ungainly, and fumbling through it.
Arthur did not seem to notice and kept kissing her intensely while a molten wave of longing washed over her, and liquid heat pooled between her thighs. His broad hands spanned her nipped-in waist, and his thumbs pressed just under her ribs, but she wished they were over her breasts.
Arthur pulled away from her lips, but lingered an inch from them, “May I touch you, Esther?”
A whimper dislodged itself from her throat with a hushed tone, “Please.”
Again, Arthur picked her up and, with three enormous strides, rested her on the chaise. He perched her back on the arm, so she arched nicely and his arm snaked around her to brace her against him. He slid a knee between her legs while kissing down her neck, his hand palmed her breast and he moved his thumb lazily across her hardened nipple.
The sensations overtook her body, and she began to drift on the sea of them, listless. The heat of Arthur’s body over hers, the kiss of his lips, and the stroke of his thumb over her breast carried her farther and farther away. Esther lay, like pliable clay under Arthur’s masterful sculpting. Pleasure slithered through her core, and she dimly felt the rough rasp of his buff trousers against the softness of her inner thigh.
As she registered this last fact, she felt the flush of wetness in her core. Instead of being jolted to reality, she wished Arthur would touch her there as well. But while she luxuriated under his touch, she felt a little confused when Arthur pulled away.
He kissed the side of her neck and sat away.
“Arthur?” She whispered.
“I think we’ve been absent long enough,” he said sorrowfully. “I wish we could do more, but I do not think we have enough time to explore, love. We’ll have to find more privacy another time.”
He helped her sit up, and she pressed her hand to her heart, feeling the wild thump of her umcontrollable organ against her ribs.
“Esther?”
“Yes, yes,” she stood and fixed her skirts and patted her hair. “We should rejoin the orchestra.”
Standing, he extended his hand to her, and she took it while they descended the stairs, tried to digest what had happened between her and Arthur. They slipped back into the room just as the finale of the symphony began to peter away. She nearly collapsed into her seat; she was not ready to go back to the ballroom and face Margaret as she still felt flushed.
Arthur spun his old chair to her and reached out to take her hands.
“Please don’t tell me I’ve disturbed you? I apologize for—”
“No,” Esther rushed to stop him. “You did nothing wrong, it's just…” she trailed off while the patrons left the room. A few women shot looks to her over their fans and behind their champagne flutes, but she kept silent until they left.
Arthur did not notice them at all as his focus was trained on her, and he kept his gaze on her until the room emptied.
