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Mari felt his caress through her whole body. To her toes. Through the ends of her hair.
She was bewitched by the new sensations.
In the wavering firelight she could see his darker hands covering her pale, freckled breasts.
She shook her head and her hair swished sensuously over the tips of her breasts where he had them surrounded, as if he were making an offering.
He positioned her on his lap, facing away from him.
Like a kettle letting out a little bit of steam, the sighs that escaped her lips told a story to any listener. She was about to boil over.
About to be turned to steam and dissolve into the air.
He was so hard behind her, so strong and commanding.
She tried to slide back against him but his hands trapped her, not letting her move backward.
He pressed his thumb into the depression in her belly.
“You should tell me to stop,” he said, low and hot in her ear.
“Don’t you dare stop,” she commanded breathily.
He laughed. And then she wasn’t capable of speech. Because he lifted her shift and slid his fingers between her thighs. She wore no drawers. She was completely naked and exposed to him.
He spread her with his fingers, nudging her thighs open with his legs.
He paused, his fingers opening her, and she waited, needing him to continue.
“Edgar,” she said, laying her head back against his shoulder.
“Mari,” he whispered in her ear, kissing and biting her earlobe. He slid a finger over the sensitive flesh between her thighs, slick with moisture.
His finger slid inside her body.
The shock of it should have brought her back to her senses, made her stop him, but instead she wanted more. She squirmed against his finger.
He opened her further, two fingers now, inside her.
She could see everything he was doing to her but she couldn’t see his face. It was maddening, and arousing at the same time.
She wanted to taste him. She tried to twist in his arms, tried to turn so that she could kiss him, but he wouldn’t let her.
He held her trapped, his fingers moving inside her in a soft, steady rhythm. His thumb flicking over the swollen place where all the sensations emanated from.
“I want to kiss you,” she protested.
“You can’t. Your lip is split, remember?”
“But I don’t care,” she gasped, as his fingers rocked inside her, faster now. “I want to kiss you.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re the one being pleasured, not me.”
“Not...I,” she gasped.
